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rynwritesreid · 1 day

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Idea for fic: enemies to lovers Dom older Spencer and f reader with age gap can’t stand eachother at work and then away on a case they get paired up to be in a room and there’s one bed anyways reader goes and showers and comes out wearing nothing but her bra and panties since she left her tank top the bed and Spencer is shocked and teases her all night and thennnnn rest is history😏

A/N: has this been sat in my inbox for over 3 months? Yes. I hope this makes up for the wait, sorry it tool awhile :( but I did see it when it was first asked, but I’ve been dealing with a lot in the past few months, and I’ve been dealing with some writers block. But I hope you guys enjoy it :)

Summary: Basically what ANON asked for. Spencer and reader hate each other, but Emily has a plan that could resolve all the issues or make them worse.

Content: Fem!reader. Dom!Reid/Sub!reader. Use of Y/N. Spanking. Degradation kink. Praise Kink. Power imbalance kink (kind off). Use of sir, slut, good girl and sweetheart. PinV/creampie. No mentions of contraception. No mentions of aftercare.

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You and Spencer hated each other. Maybe it’s because Spencer felt genuine competition from you, or maybe it was because you seemed to effortlessly outshine him in everything you did. And well you hated him, because every time Spencer walked into a room, he carried with him an air of superiority that grated against your nerves. You could see the jealousy in his eyes whenever someone praised your work or complimented your achievements.

Everyone had grown tired of the way you both acted around here. Emily would often call you both into her office to yell, “You are two of the best agents. Two brilliant minds. And yet no one can stand to be in the same room as you two.”

You both sat in Emily's office, the tension thick between you. Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding eye contact with you as Emily’s words hung heavily in the air. You couldn't deny the truth in Emily's words - your rivalry with Spencer had reached a breaking point, affecting not only your own work but the entire team dynamic.

Emily heaved a sigh, running a hand through her hair before continuing, "This behaviour ends now. I'm not going to tolerate this any longer. I need you two to figure out a way to work together, or I will have no choice but to reassign one of you."

“Oh, my god. Reid, do you ever shut up?” you muttered under your breath, unable to hide your irritation at Spencer's endless rambling.

Spencer shot you a glare, his frustration evident in the way his jaw tensed. "At least I have something worthwhile to say, unlike you," he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Oh, please. Your so-called facts and statistics don't mean anything in the field. It's called real-life experience, something you clearly lack."

“Lacking real-life experience? Really?” Spencer paused, his voice fuelled with anger “I am older than you, and I have experienced things you wouldn’t even believe.”

Spencer's outburst surprised you, the raw emotion in his voice catching you off guard.

“Whatever you say, Dr Reid. From now on I’ll just worship the ground you walk on, shall I?” you retorted, trying to mask your unease with a casual tone. Inside, you felt a twinge of admiration for his ability to get under your skin so easily.

Emily glared at you both from across the room, she knew she had to put an end to this, but she wasn’t sure how she was going to do that.

Spencer's nostrils flared with indignation at your remark, his eyes flashing with a mixture of hurt and frustration. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, Emily's stern voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"That's enough!" Emily's command was sharp, her gaze piercing. "I've had it with this childish bickering between you two. This behaviour is unprofessional and completely unacceptable."

You both fell silent under Emily's unwavering stare, guilt creeping into your conscience as her words echoed in the room. The weight of her disappointment hung heavy in the air, suffocating the animosity between you and Spencer.

"I don't care who started it or whose ego is hurt more," Emily continued, her tone firm. "What I care about is that you two find a way to work together effectively. The team's safety and success depend on it."

Emily was sick and tired of how the both of you acted, and she knew she needed to act fast. She didn’t want to lose either of you, but she also couldn’t let things carry on. So, she devised a plan, one that could go horribly wrong or one that could go perfectly.

“Hey, everybody.” Emily’s voice echoed through the jet, “the hotel we are staying at doesn’t have enough rooms for us all to have our own.” She paused for a brief second, she didn’t want anyone to catch on to her, “so, Rossi and I will have our own room. Tara and JJ, you’ll share, Luke and Matt you’ll share and erm… Y/N and Reid you guys will also be sharing.”

You exchanged a wary glance with Spencer as Emily assigned you to share a room. “Emily, I’m sorry. But what is this? You expect me to share a room with Reid? Also assigning us rooms, what are we like thirteen or something?” you scoffed, the incredulity evident in your voice. Spencer's expression mirrored your own disbelief, his eyes widening in surprise at Emily's unexpected announcement.

Emily raised an eyebrow at your protest, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, I expect you two to share a room. It's high time you both learn to work together and put your differences aside. Consider this a team-building exercise," she stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

You opened your mouth to protest further, but Emily's steely glare silenced any objections before they could form.

“Seriously, one bed. Is she serious. I hate her, just as much as I hate you.” you spat out, glaring at Spencer as you both entered the hotel room assigned to you. The tension between you was palpable, suffocating the space as you stood on opposite sides of the room. The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the sound of Spencer's exasperated sigh.

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual," Spencer shot back, his tone laced with irritation as he surveyed the small room. The single queen-sized bed in the centre of the room seemed to mock your predicament, a constant reminder of the forced proximity between you.

“Because, unlike you, I’m nice. You can have the bed, as long as I can shower first.” You retorted, determined not to back down in this battle of wills. Spencer's jaw clenched at your words, a muscle ticking in his temple as he fought to keep his composure.

"Fine. Just make it quick," Spencer replied through gritted teeth, his pride wounded by the concession.

Before you headed towards the shower, you started to unpack, you hated keeping everything in your bag when you were in the hotel room. Once, you had finished you grabbed your essentials and headed towards the bathroom without so much as muttering a word to Spencer.

Spencer watched as you disappeared into the bathroom, the click of the door echoing in the tense silence of the room. Alone now, he took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him. The mere thought of sharing a room with you made his skin crawl, but he knew Emily's intentions were well-meaning, if not a little misguided.

The rush of the warm water against your skin did little to soothe the simmering frustration that lingered within you. As the steam filled the bathroom, you tried to shake off the tension that had built up between you and Spencer. But every time you closed your eyes, his infuriating presence seemed to seep through the cracks of your composure.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” As you looked at the pile of clothes you had in the bathroom, you realised you hadn’t brought in your PJs, and all you had was a pair of panties and a bra. You were too embarrassed to ask Spencer to bring you the rest of your clothes.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options, but you weren’t going to be admitting defeat anytime soon, and maybe some part of you wanted to flaunt to Spencer something he could never have.

You dried yourself off and stepped out of the bathroom in just your underwear. Spencer’s eyes widened in disbelief as you emerged from the bathroom clad only in your underwear, the audacity of your actions catching him off guard. His cheeks flushed with a deep crimson hue, his gaze darting away as if to shield himself from the unexpected sight before him.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Spencer’s voice wavered slightly, a mix of shock and embarrassment colouring his tone. He struggled to maintain eye contact, opting instead to focus on a random spot on the wall.

You couldn’t help but smirk at his discomfort, a sense of satisfaction blooming within you at having turned the tables on Spencer for once. The power shift in the room was palpable, the tension crackling between you in a different way now.

“Just grabbing my clothes,” you stated nonchalantly, making no move to cover up as you retrieved your pyjamas. “Do you like what you see, Spencer?”

Spencer's cheeks burned hotter at your teasing words, his jaw clenching in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. He struggled to find the right response, his mind racing to come up with a comeback that would regain the upper hand in this unexpected exchange.

"Very funny," Spencer finally managed to choke out, his tone strained as he averted his gaze, refusing to give you the satisfaction of seeing how flustered you had made him.

“You know the way you’re acting right now, Y/N, isn’t of someone who hates me.” Spencer teased through gritted teeth, his attempt at levity falling flat in the charged atmosphere of the room. Your smirk faltered for a split second at his remark, a flicker of something unidentifiable crossing your features before you regained your composure, your mask slipping back into place.

"Let's get one thing straight, Spencer," you retorted, your tone firm as you met his gaze head-on. "Just because I'm not actively trying to strangle you right now doesn't mean I don't still think you're insufferable." The underlying tension between you simmered beneath the surface, waiting to reignite at the slightest provocation.

Spencer raised an eyebrow at your response, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. “Or you’re not actively strangling me, because you’d rather I’d be doing that to you.” Spencer paused, the words hanging in the charged air between you. His attempt at humour fell flat, the gravity of the situation pulling at the corners of his smile.

“What? No. What?” It was your turn to be embarrassed now as your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red at Spencer's unexpected remark.

“Oh, so I’m right. You do like the idea of me choking you.” Spencer paused, his eyes widening in realization at the slip of his words. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension between you both reaching a new peak as his inadvertent confession hung in the air, heavy and loaded with unspoken implications.

You swallowed hard, trying to mask the sudden rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. Spencer's gaze bore into yours, searching for a reaction, for any sign of the impact his words had made. And in that charged moment, something shifted between you, an invisible thread pulling you closer even as you both stood at opposite ends of the room.

“Spencer, I…” your voice wavered, uncertainty creeping into your tone as you struggled to find the right words to respond. The weight of his words hung heavy between you, begging for acknowledgement, for resolution.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything. Brats like you always act out when they are attracted to someone.” Spencer paused, his gaze softening as he took a step closer to you. The air between you crackled with a newfound vulnerability, baring emotions that had long been buried beneath layers of animosity and pride.

“Spencer, you have a very active imagination. I have, erm, I have never thought of you like that.” You stumbled over your words, the admission weighing heavily on your conscience. Spencer's expression softened at your response, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes as he processed your words.

“I do not believe that for one second, sweetheart.” Spencer 's voice was barely above a whisper, his words laced with a raw honesty that left no room for doubt. The tension in the room had shifted once again, morphing into a charged undercurrent that pulsed between you, drawing you closer in a dance as old as time.

In one swift motion, Spencer seemed to have place you on top of his lap, your ass up in the air, and the palm of his hand striking against your backside.

Your breath hitched at the unexpected contact, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as Spencer's touch sent a jolt of electricity through you. The sting of his hand against your skin reverberated through your body, igniting a primal fire that had long been smouldering beneath the surface.

“Now, you’re going to be a good girl, and say thank you after every time I spank you.” Spencer paused, his voice low and commanding as he laid down the rules of their newfound dynamic. Your head spun with a mixture of confusion and a strange exhilaration at the turn of events, the rush of adrenaline heightening your senses.

“Yes, sir.” You replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you complied with Spencer's demand, the unfamiliar title sending a thrill down your spine. Each strike of his hand against your skin sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, a heady mix of pain and desire intertwining in a dangerous dance.

“Are you sorry for been a brat? For constantly picking fights with me over nothing? For making Emily do this, just so I can use you like the slut you are.” Spencer paused; his voice laced with a deliberate edge as he pushed the boundaries of your newfound dynamic. Your breath caught in your throat at his words, a surge of conflicting emotions crashing over you. The raw honesty in Spencer's tone stripped away the layers of pretence between you, exposing the raw desire that simmered beneath the surface.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of submission and defiance.

Spencer’s hand moved over your panties, so he could feel the ever-growing wet patch. “Do you like that? You like calling me sir, and me calling you a slut. You know for the type of brat you are out in the office or in the field, you break a lot easier than expected.”

Your breath caught in your throat as Spencer's words sent a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through you. The intensity of the moment hung heavy in the air, the boundaries between desire and shame blurring as his touch ignited a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing second.

“Yes, sir.” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensations that pulsed through your body. The weight of his hand against your skin, the pressure of his touch against your most intimate places, all served to push you to the brink of a precipice you had never dared to explore before.

“Good girl, now stand up and take off your bra and panties.” Spencer demanded, his voice firm and authoritative. You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest as you grappled with the new dynamic unfolding between you. But you knew that you wanted this, needed this, and so you did as he commanded.

With trembling hands, you unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor. Then, you stepped out of your panties, your legs feeling unsteady as you stood there before him, naked and exposed. The air between you was thick with desire, and you could feel Spencer's gaze raking over your body, devouring every inch of you.

"Now, bend over the table," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. You did as he said, your hands gripping the edge of the table as you lowered your body, presenting yourself to him. The cool surface of the table against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat that was building inside you. You could feel the moisture between your legs as it dripped down your thighs, a testament to the arousal that was consuming you.

Spencer stepped closer to you, his cock hard and pulsating with need. He ran his fingers through your hair, tangling them in the strands as he pulled your head back, his gaze never wavering from your exposed ass.

"You're such a naughty little slut, aren't you?" he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "You know you want this, don't you? You've been craving my cock since the first day we met."

You could only nod in response, your body trembling with anticipation as his erection pressed against your wet sex.

"Good," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Because I've been waiting for this moment ever since I saw you, too."

With one swift movement, he positioned himself at your entrance and thrust inside you in one smooth motion. Your eyes widened at the sudden invasion, the pleasure and pain intermingling in a way that was unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

You gasped, arching your back as his cock filled you completely. Spencer's hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he began to move within you. His thrusts were rhythmic and powerful, filling you to the brim with each movement.

Your moans filled the room as Spencer's cock slid in and out of you, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as he fucked you hard and rough. Your mind was a blur of mixed emotions, guilt mingling with desire as you surrendered to the animalistic lust that was consuming you.

You could feel his hips slapping against your ass with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the room. Your legs were trembling with each movement, your body submitting to his every command.

"You feel so good, baby," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "So tight and wet. Just the way I always imagined you would be."

His words sent a rush of pleasure through you, making you clench around his cock. Spencer thrust deeper, his hips moving in a relentless rhythm that had you gasping for breath.

"Tell me you want me, baby," he growled, his voice harsh with need. "Tell me how much you love my cock inside you."

You couldn't form words, your mind lost in the haze of pleasure and desire. All you could do was cry out and arch your back, begging for more.

"Please, please, please," you moaned, your voice ragged with need. "More, oh please, more."

Spencer's smile was wicked, his eyes dark and full of lust. "Tell me you want me, baby," he demanded, holding your hips tight as he thrust into you.

"I want you, oh, I want you so fucking much!" you cried out, your body writhing beneath him. Your nails dug into the edge of the table, your legs trembling as you pushed back against him, taking him deeper inside you.

His thrusts became harder, faster, each one a razor's edge of pleasure and pain. You could feel his fingers digging into your hips, his breath hot against your skin as he possessed you completely.

"Tell me, slut," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Tell me you're mine, and that you'll do anything I say."

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest as you grappled with the new dynamic unfolding between you. But you knew that you wanted this, needed this, and so you did as he commanded.

"I'm yours, sir," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you surrendered to the power, he held over you. "I'll do anything you say."

Spencer's eyes widened at your submission, a sense of triumph and desire flooding his entire being. He thrusted deeper into you, his cock aching to be buried inside you even further.

Your moans grew louder, your body shaking with every thrust as he took control of you. The power he wielded over you sent ripples of ecstasy through your entire being, your mind hazy with pleasure.

"That's it, baby, let me hear you," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Tell me how much you love taking my cock, how much you love feeling me inside you."

You couldn't form words, your breaths coming out in short, sharp gasps. Your fingernails left marks on the edge of the table, your body writhing under his assault.

"Mmm, that's it, tell me baby," he urged, his hips moving in a relay and powerful stroke. "Tell me how much you love my cock inside you, how much you need it."

You could only whimper in response, your body trembling with each thrust. Your moans filled the room, and your entire body was on fire with pleasure and desire.

"Say it, baby," he demanded, his voice growing rough with need. "Say you love my cock inside you."

"I-I love your cock inside me," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you, please don't stop."

Spencer's eyes darkened at your plea, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust into you harder. Your moans filled the room, your body arching and begging for more. You could feel the tension building, the wave of pleasure and desire crashing over you.

"That's it, baby," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Come for me, let go of all that pleasure and surrender to me completely."

Your body shuddered, your moans growing louder as the orgasm overwhelmed you. Your pussy clenched around his cock, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure through Spencer's entire being.

He continued to thrust, his cock sliding in and out of you in a relentless rhythm. Your moans grew louder, your body trembling with each movement.

You could tell Spencer wasn’t far off from his own release, the muscles in his abdomen tightening with every thrust.

The feeling of him inside you was indescribable, the intensity of your orgasm mixing with the pleasure of him taking you so roughly. You could feel him hardening even more, his cock pulsating with need as he fucked you deeper and faster.

"I'm gonna cum, baby," he growled, his eyes locked on yours. "I'm going to fill you up with my cum."

Your mind was a blur of thoughts and emotions, pleasure, and lust mingling with the desire to please him. You wanted him to take you, to possess you completely.

"Yes, sir, fill me up," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want to feel you cum inside me."

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ronearoundblindly · 1 day

Text

No Promises (2)

Lloyd Hansen x rival assassin!Reader

Don't Be Blue, Bunny Boy (see previous or LH Masterlist)

Summary: Lloyd underestimates how dangerous you are when he finds you wrapped like a gift in his hotel room.

Warnings for smut, but it's Lloyd so there's a knife, a gun, name-calling, cursing, drugging, dubcon due to somno, two a**holes in competition, unprotected sex (honestly, just never do anything Lloyd would do, okay? great. excellent. good chat), and possibly the best banter I've ever written gdi. Darkfic...but, like, funny??? For the love of everything, MINORS DNI. I have plenty else for you on my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you! WC 2k 🫣

*This CT 2024 Challenge work can be read completely out-of-context from the rest of the mini-series (which isn't even written yet anyway, lalalahhhh).

It’s bad enough you took the keycard off that fat fuck of a target first, but failing to follow you smacks Lloyd’s ego in just the wrong way. By the time he gets back to his luxurious hotel room, he’s fuming and itching to shoot something. You don’t need to be a mind-reader to know this; the man is still a man, after all, no matter how trained and controlled he thinks he is.

That’s why you’re here, trussed up in a sapphire blue bodysuit, smirking at the irritation radiating off of your rival as his eyes rake the length of your mostly-bare figure.

“Darling,” you burst, posing like a ‘50s housewife by the armchair, playful and sickeningly sweet. “You’re home! I was so worried.”

Anger quivers his lip coat till he vaguely resembles a pouting porcupine. God, you hate mustaches. You’re willing to bet—if you really put your back into it—you could hump his face with such friction, it’d rub him smooth. There are less-worthwhile endeavors that you’ve completely only today. Why not experiment?

“You have some fucking nerve, bitch.”

Lloyd keeps his steps forward into the room slow and casual, though his ire is obvious. He stops halfway across the carpet, unzips his leather jacket, and tosses it onto the foot of the bed.

He seems surprised when you strut over without hesitation; he hasn’t handed over any weapons, but you haven’t asked for a reason. Lloyd’s reputation is cocky, commanding, and curious—in that order—so he won’t start speculating till it’s too late.

Indeed, what possible harm could you inflict wearing this lil’ ol’ thing, huh?

As you get closer, his hand reaches out instinctually.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tsk in warning. “If you rip my lace, I will gut you like a fish. Understood?”

“Can’t make any promises, but…”

Lloyd, undeterred, clamps his hand between your legs and runs a finger through your folds, proving the crotchless lingerie isn’t in danger of typical snags.

The pad of his digit is rough and teasing.

“I think we can work with that,” he growls.

Oh yes, he’s definitely, perfectly, and predictably cocky. What fun you’ll have.

You make a show of gasping when he starts dipping two fingers into your heat, rolling your head as if truly undone by the minimal effort, and wait for him to watch his own ministrations, distracted.

Then you strike.

You grab his wrist, twisting harshly, yanking the arm behind him, straddling his shoulders so your legs pinch over his neck, and he turns slightly to nip at your thigh. You’re not surprised he still thinks he’ll win.

His steely eye winks as he looks up.

“Bet I can make you cum first.”

A dramatic sigh escapes you. You release his arm to sensually smooth your palm down his body, bending to whisper, “that implies I give a shit if you come at all.”

You fling yourself backwards, using the momentum to catapult him over you and into the side of the bed.

The mustache emphasizes his sneer when Lloyd pushes up on an elbow.

“I, too, like using a firm hand when breaking bitches’ spirits,” he mutters, reaching for his switchblade which you present instead, wiggling it in your hand with a grin.

“Oh, bunny boy, were you too firm to notice my gentle caress?” You deftly unlatch and expose the knife’s edge. “Now, strip.”

You tick the blade quickly for effect.

“Show me some skin so I can mark my two points so far. I know how you love to keep score.”

Lloyd rights himself, peeling his black turtleneck over his head and smoothing his hair into place calmly. “I can kill you just as easily naked as I can clothed.”

“Of course, cutie pie, and I’m counting on many little deaths.” You look at the knife in your hand, concerned. “Please tell me this isn’t the biggest weapon you're packing, or I’ll be so disappointed.”

He’s smug while unbuckling his belt and shucking off his pants. Lloyd Hansen now proudly stands stark nude.

You let your eyes go comically wide, but then your brow furrows and you shrug.

“You’re welcome to keep talking while I sit on your face, but otherwise… I’m unimpressed.”

Lloyd huffs with indignation.

“Fuck you.”

Like the footballer he used to be, he rushes you.

“Promise?” you coo, dodging him and landing a sharp smack to his butt cheek. It’s spectacularly sculpted, plump, and rock hard all at once.

“Oh my! Darling, you did not lead with your best asset…” You notice the faint scar on his pale skin and giggle. “Little prick got pricked, I see.”

Your amusement gives him a split second to grab you, and Lloyd uses the opportunity to shove you back into the window so violently the thick glass rattles its frame.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he spits viciously, not so cocky as before.

“Isn’t that what I’ve been begging you to do for me, sweetheart?”

Mouth hanging open in a taunt, one hand strokes him, the other warns. The tip of the knife you still wield barely grazes the notch between ribs where you could swiftly puncture his lung. Lloyd watches, fuming and mesmerized, until you transfer the pooling saliva to your palm and resume jerking his cock.

“A firm hand really does make you harder, doesn’t it?”

That snaps him out of it.

He scrambles to bend you over that same armchair you started at, and Lloyd’s version of prep is a single, perfunctory dig of two fingers into your cunt.

To his credit, you are dripping wet for him, so, though his need to check before chaffing himself wasn’t necessary, he rewards you with a beautifully debauched moan as he sinks to the hilt with one thrust.

Lloyd’s got something to prove.

Good.

He’s so focused on groping around to your breasts beneath the stretchy lace that you stick the switchblade deep into the chair’s cushion and hold on; whatever else you’re doing is irrelevant to him. There is only fucking. There is only feeling as if he owns you in this moment.

You let out a high whine and goad him. “Love it when you’re gentle with me, sweetie.”

That earns you an unhinged snarl and the pummeling slap of his hips against your thighs.

He’s so easy to motivate, a majestic maniac on a mission to turn you stupid, if only until the stench of sex dissipates. If the idiot would just reach down to your clit, you’d spare him, but Lloyd is a man.

A selfish, egotistical princeling who’s a good marksman and a shit human. Good, for the business you two are in. But not as good as you.

You sigh like you’re bored, sinking your chin to rest on your outstretched arms.

He stops moving, grunting as he pulls out of you and snapping one of your shoulder straps.

“Fine. You wanna put in the work, sunshine? You go for it.” Lloyd flops onto the bed, face up, his arms spread wide and high.

Of course, he’s going for the gun under the pillow. You know it, you’ve anticipated it, and you decided it would be a nice safety blanket to leave him, to keep him feeling comfortable.

So you crawl on top of him anyway, rocking yourself against his cock for a few seconds before shifting higher. You giggle for emphasis.

You’re just here to fuck him. You’re just here to fuck with him. That’s the truth, and he knows it. Lloyd simply doesn’t know the conditions of both your releases…yet.

“Such a desperate slut,” he rumbles as you settle above his face.

Before you cover your view of him, you pinch at his jaw and smirk.

“Only munches wear a fucking mustache.”

His cheek gets a condescending pat when he smiles back.

He’s cute when he’s having fun, apparently.

Lloyd licks his lips and slowly lifts his head to swipe at your entrance. “You owe me that fucking keycard.” He delicately kisses your folds before his tongue darts out to circle your clit. “And I’ll get it from you one way or another.”

You can hear the rustle of his hand over the sheet. Not even a solid suck on your cunt, and he’s already going for the gun…

“Oh, come on,” you plead, ignoring his threat. “Finish your meal, champ. I know you can do it.”

His eyes narrow, peeking past your mound as he growls, gripping your thighs hard enough for you to collapse forward.

Sloppy. The best word to describe Lloyd eating pussy is sloppy. He contributes as much as you do to the glide of his whole face over every intimate inch of skin. Because you’re sitting with weight mostly on him—some of it still rests on your knees—each movement pushes his nose, lips, tongue, and stache around with enough fervor to polish your raw nerves.

Honestly, it’s a shame he ruins the moment by slipping his hand under the pillow and pressing the silencer's muzzle to your side.

Petulance dialed to maximum, you whimper, “you said I could come first!”

Your hand falls below your navel, clutching the lace like he’s already wounded you, and Lloyd proceeds to laugh right into your cunt.

He doesn’t have time to form a comeback once you peel the sheer, protective layer away from the patch of fabric a mere inch above the opening of the bodysuit. If he’d have paid any proper attention to you, he’d’ve found it, but he didn’t.

The fumes of chloroform-drenched cobalt engulf Lloyd in the suffocating proximity of the bed and your body. He has nowhere to go but under.

The gun falls away once his limbs go lax.

You sit directly on his chest for the few seconds it takes to realign the inner and outer barriers of your dainty, chemical warfare, then you shimmy off of him.

He actually looks quite peaceful this way.

His features are carefree, his broad, smooth chest rises and falls steadily, and his…

Well.

Lloyd’s dick lays erect and proud on his stomach, unfazed by unconsciousness. It’d be an even greater shame to waste that.

“It’s ok, peanut,” you whisper out of habit now, forced to imagine the twitch of his lip, the pop of the vein in his neck. “This is your chance to make it up to me.”

It’s not difficult to take him into your still-sopping core, and once you angle yourself to grind on the cut of his abs, all Lloyd’s previous buildup rushes back. His ass may be the star of the show, but his dick is no fluffer act. He’s packing enough to nudge at that perfect spot relentlessly as you ride him, and you openly mewl as you approach the height of your orgasm.

You imagine he’d say you sound so pretty and pathetic.

He’d probably ask if this is the best you can do, but that makes you fuck him harder until you crash into a wall of pleasure, sweaty, exhausted, resting against that broad chest.

You catch your breath after a short while, skin humming with excitement. Absently, your hands paw at his sides for a tiny bit of comfort.

That thought gets buried in a tense heartbeat, and you climb off the bed, pleased to notice the sheer amount of cum and his softening dick means he finished, too.

You’ll leave that as a souvenir.

The plan was to carve a little message on him—nothing that would permanently scar—but you can’t bring yourself to mar such a glorious ass. That would be akin to treason. Seriously, if he had simply walked around you in a bathing suit with that thing, you would have slipped the keycard into his waistband and thanked him for his service to your wet dreams.

A bit of dried cum smeared all over his pelvis and dripping down his balls, his useless pistol still in-hand, will do fine as a statement.

You clean yourself up, snatching your real clothes from the closet where you hung them tidily beside his own, and give a gentle grip to his immobile knee where it hangs off the bed.

“Sweet dreams, bunny boy. Maybe I'll let you win next time.”

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

This work was written for the amazing and inspirational Cum Together Extravaganza hosted by @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420, but a special thanks to @buckymorelikefuckme for the earworm that would not quit. Poppy, you dark enabler you... I fucking love you!

Prompts: "Bet I can make you cum first." || Somnophilia || enemies-to-lovers || Characters A + B cum together at the same time

dividers by @/saradika-graphics (blue art deco) and @/cafekitsune

#CT 2024 raffle entry #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen smut #dark fic #dark!lloyd hansen #or is this soft?#i can't even tell anymore 😣#ct 2024 #engagement challenge

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fyonahmacnally · 2 days

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Eight Years Ago, Cambridge, MA…

Stormy blue meets turbulent green. Palpable tension crackles in the air as things escalate faster than usual. Pent up anger and resentment boil over like a volcanic eruption of past transgressions never spoken. They hurl sharpened words at one another, daggers cutting through the fragile skin of the relationship they’ve forged for four years. It’s been building, both of them know it has, each stewing in the silent hurricane of thoughts swirling inside them. It was an inevitable train wreck set on course six months ago when Lena decided to stay in Cambridge instead moving to National City with Kara as planned.

Four years at MIT together, two as best friends, two as lovers and living together. They talk about everything. At least that’s what Kara thought until that moment six months ago when Lena dropped her bombshell. Now, they’re standing in the middle of their apartment screaming at one another like they’re sworn enemies instead of longtime lovers. Each of them tossing insults and barbs at one another with complete abandon. Sharing spiteful disdain in the way they used to share I love you’s.

Neither of them stop to think about what they are saying or the damage they are causing. It’s heated. It’s cruel. Everything is going down in flames and neither of them seem to care. Kara yells about Lena’s horrendous family and how she’s behaving just like them. Lena screams about Kara’s naivete and obliviousness. They cut one another to the bone with words neither of them ever thought they’d speak to each other. It’s an emotional bloodbath drowning the remnants of their relationship in the dripping, viscous venom spewing from their lips.

Eventually, the room is silent. The only sound is the heaving breath of the two women glaring at one another, tears falling. It’s a moment frozen in time, one that neither of them will ever forget.

It’s Kara who finally storms out. Since she’s finished packing all her things for the move anyway, she reasons that getting an early start on her drive will get her to National City faster. Plus, she desperately needs to get away from the demise of her relationship. Her once homey and warm apartment feels cold and foreign. The woman in front of her is suddenly a stranger. Her heart is decimated, shattered into a million pieces. She thought for sure Lena was it for her. Her other half, her person. Apparently not. Everything they’ve built lies broken and dead at her feet as she grabs her final piece of luggage.

Dragging the bag behind her, she pauses at the door. Hanging her head as tears glide across her skin, she whispers, “I will always love you. I just thought you felt the same.” Taking a deep breath, she straightens her back and opens the door. She keeps her eyes forward and her jaw set. If she looks back now, she’ll change her mind and it’s too late for that.

Lena stares at the closed door, her mouth hanging open, arms wrapped tightly around herself, and tears streaming from her eyes. She has no doubt she just made the biggest mistake of her life, but she’s frozen in place. Everything happened so fast, it’s a blur. She’s utterly confused as to how she has managed to destroy the longest, healthiest relationship she’s ever had. She’s staying at MIT to get her doctorate, but had no intention of breaking things off with Kara. In her mind, they’d make it work. They always said they were stronger together and could tackle anything as long as they had each other. Sure, she probably should have spoken to her girlfriend when she applied to the PhD program, but her anxiety got the best of her and she waited until everything was in place.

Now, here she stands watching the love of her life walk away. She’s paralyzed, stuck in the spot where her life fell apart. Her eyes seem to suddenly refocus and time speeds back up. Unsure of how much time has passed, she is suddenly hit with the reality of what just happened and bolts out the door. Kara. She has to catch Kara. Just as she rushes out the front of the building and onto the sidewalk, she can see the taillights fading from sight. Her whole world just drove away in a moving truck. Without her. Her body acts before her mind does, she runs back up the stairs. Swinging the door to the apartment open, she snatches her phone up to call Kara. Voicemail. She calls again. Same thing.

And so it goes for hours, then days, then weeks. Lena even tries to call Alex, to no avail. It’s the same silence. Eventually, she resigns herself to the fact she fucked up and she has to live with it. When three months turns to six and six into twelve, she finally puts the pictures away. She lost her chance at happiness and love. Now she needs to put all of her focus and energy into school. It’s the only thing that gets her through the rest of her masters and PhD programs.

Present Day, New York City…

Six more years in school and two degrees later, Lena has moved forward in her life. Well, as much as she can. She hasn’t had any real relationship to speak of since she and Kara split up. A few flings and one night stands, but nothing serious. It’s hard when she hasn’t stopped loving the bubbly blonde that stole her heart all those years ago. Deep down, she knows she’ll never love anyone the way she did…does Kara.

Her Kara. Or she used to be.

It’s been two years since she began working for Spheerical Tech & Pharmaceuticals as their head of research and development. It’s grueling and exhausting. Not that it matters because she doesn’t have a life outside of work. She spends half her time in New York in her lab and the other half split between Cambridge and National City with occasional trips to London. She visits each of their lab sites at least once a year, sometimes more. Most of the time she volunteers for the trips. Besides, no one is at home to miss her. Not even a pet. No one is around to call before she goes to bed. It’s pretty sad when she really thinks about it.

When her boss and longtime friend, Jack, first mentioned needing her to manage the National City lab, she was hesitant. She didn’t want to risk running into Kara at all. Sure, it’s a large, populated city and the odds are slim, but Kara doesn’t need her showing up and ruining the life she has now. She knows her ex-girlfriend made a name for herself and became a well-respected investigative and scientific tech journalist. The woman is absolutely one of the best and most accomplished journalists of their generation. In fact, Lena has every article the blonde has ever published. Further, unbeknownst to Kara, Lena was there when she won her first Pulitzer three years ago. She stayed in the back of the crowd and left before anyone knew she was ever there.

Even now, eight years later, Kara is never far from her mind. Of course, she stopped calling Kara years ago, she has no idea if she even has the same number anymore. Lena kept hers, the same number all these years. Kara will probably never use it. She hasn’t yet, but at least it’s there if she ever tries.

She has always genuinely wanted Kara to be happy. No matter what it looks like, that’s what she wants for her. Even after all this time, the one thing Lena held onto, the one thing she does every year, is send an email on the anniversary of their first date. She has no idea if Kara reads them since she has never responded, but she still sends them. Never any words. Always just a simple heart emoji. Nothing else.

It’s why she’s thinking about their fight and the demise of their relationship right now. There’s roughly three months until the anniversary of their first date. Ten years ago, they went on their first date. A long, wistful sigh escapes her lips. They met at the station across from campus in Cambridge and took the train to Boston to spend the day. She remembers when their eyes met across the terminal, there was an eruption of butterflies in her belly. It was as if she could finally breathe. What she wouldn’t give to see those cerulean eyes again.

That’s when she gets an idea. Probably the worst one she’s had since she let Kara walk out the apartment door. It’s probably fruitless. She’s pretty sure Kara has long since forgotten her, especially after the hurt she caused. But, what if, after all this time, Kara still feels the same?

One more time and then she’ll give up. For good.

Present Day, National City…

Kara is having a shit day. She spilled coffee on her favorite shirt, broke her favorite pen, and missed her first deadline in years. Then, Alex canceled sister’s night because of some emergency at the hospital. And fine, she gets it, Alex is a doctor, blah blah blah. Still doesn’t mean she has to be okay with it. Needless to say, she’s ready to go home to curl up with her favorite show and some ice cream. If she could leave right now she’d pack up and be gone in an instant. Unfortunately, she still has three more hours left. She sighs an exasperated sigh and drops her forehead onto her desk.

It’s moments like this when she thinks about Lena. Her ex-girlfriend had a way with brightening the worst of her days. Their nights together, the fun they had, the uninhibited comfort her presence provided. She hasn’t found that comfort in anyone since. The closeness and trust the two of them had was something she’s sure she’ll never have again. She’s tried, she really has. Several times over the years, with men and women alike. No one ever compares to the woman she reluctantly admits she still loves.

There are so many things about their last fight she wishes she could take back. So many things she regrets. It still makes her cringe when she thinks about the spiteful things she said to Lena and the hurt she saw in her favorite green eyes. The biggest regret from that day is walking away without talking things out. She knows neither of them behaved very rationally the last six months of their relationship. It eventually culminated in their massive blow-up followed by their sudden break-up. Unfortunately, it isn’t something she can take back or undo.

Actually, scratch that, her biggest regret from back then is ignoring Lena’s calls and letting Alex talk her into blocking her number. There have been so many times over the years when she wanted to reach out, to hear that smooth, saccharine voice again. It seems there’s a little voice in her head always preventing her from doing it. The nagging little voice repeats things like ‘you deserve better than her’ and ‘she doesn’t care or think about you anymore’. The voice sounds an awful lot like Alex. As much as she loves her sister, her overprotective actions probably cost her any chance at reconciliation. Given how long it’s been, she’s almost certain of it.

She puffs out a frustrated breath. This happens every single time she thinks about Lena. She remembers the chance she could have taken, the window of time in which she might have been able to fix things. Now, there’s no way, it’s too late. Her eyes close briefly before she lifts her head up from her desk. Blue eyes settle on the phone sitting next to her keyboard and her lips twitch upward in a wistful smile.

Pulling the device toward her, she navigates to the one file she keeps locked and protected. It’s an obscure folder with a few pictures of her and Lena. Her finger swipes through the pictures and her eyes tear up before she quickly closes it. She navigates to her contacts where her weepy eyes scan over the place where Lena’s phone number still sits. Seven numbers and her favorite name casually staring up at her. A combination of letters and numbers she could never get rid of.

A shaky hand makes its way to her glasses, pulling them off to wipe away the errant tears that managed to escape. Her mind wanders again. Would the number still work if she tried to call? Probably not. Surely Lena changed her number and moved on, right? She’s intelligent, successful, and a goddess of a woman. The amount of people likely knocking on her door for dates is innumerable. Certainly more options than Kara has.

She leans back in her chair with her head tilted toward the ceiling and runs her hands down her face. Silently chastising herself for letting her mind drift, it doesn’t do any good to think about it. Not anymore. She doesn’t even know where Lena lives or what she’s doing. Last she heard, Lena is an executive with Spheerical. Possibly one of the chief executives? One thing she’s sure of, Lena gets photographed in New York and London several times a year. So, she could live in either place for all Kara knows.

Kara is very aware there’s a branch of the company here in National City as well. It’s a building she passes almost every day. She’s fairly certain she would know if the beautiful genius was living in her city. There’s no way they wouldn’t have at least been in the same places. Given her work in science and technology for CatCo and Lena’s involvement in research and development, Kara would know. RIght? In fact, she’s interviewed a few of the staff scientists at the National City branch. If Lena was working there, she’d know. Wouldn’t she?

Another deep sigh forces itself out of her throat as she shakes her head. It’s a motion made in a futile attempt to remove any thoughts of her lost love from her mind. At this rate, it won’t ever happen. She’s doomed to carry her love for Lena to her grave. It’s been eight years and her heart still skips a beat when she sees a raven-haired woman resembling her ex-girlfriend. Her chest still aches when she looks at pictures or sifts through her memories. Her brain still runs what if scenarios for any possible conversation they might have should they ever meet again.

While she knows it’s unlikely, she can’t help but think about the possibility Lena might still love her too. She’s sure it’s a false hope, but what if? It’s crossed her mind countless times. Honestly, she’s surprised Lena didn’t reach out via email when her calls didn’t go through. It’s one of the reasons she’s so sure her ex has moved on. The Lena she knew would have exhausted all avenues. Maybe she should try to text her old number. If it’s someone else’s number, then at least she’d know.

She really needs to talk to Alex. Her sister is the only one that can talk her out of doing something rash.

Lena glares at the blinking cursor in front of her. She spent the better part of two months convincing Jack she needs to be in National City for the month of October. He was skeptical at first, but she managed to backlog enough work to justify it. Instincts tell her Jack still doesn’t believe her, but she’s here and got her way. That’s what matters at this point.

Now, here she sits inside her office at Spheerical, a few scant blocks from CatCo. The thought makes her stomach do somersaults, knowing how close she currently is to Kara. A long sigh presses between her lips as she continues to stare at her screen. The email in front of her has been written and rewritten so many times she lost count. Her anxiety is at peak levels and she still isn’t sure this is a good idea. But really, what does she have to lose at this point? Her dignity and pride walked out the apartment door with Kara eight years ago.

A shaky breath billows from her mouth as she drops her head into her hands. She’s been working on this email for two weeks. Well, longer if she counts the amount of time she spent drafting it in her head. In truth, it began to form almost three months ago when she was thinking about the blonde goddess living rent free in her mind. Again, it’s probably the worst idea she’s had since that fateful day. The day Lena turned her entire world upside down.

She chuckles and shakes her head, resting her hands back on her desk. “Come on, Lena. It’s no big deal. You’re just asking the woman you haven’t spoken to in eight years to meet you at a park.” Another humorless laugh leaves her throat as she realizes she’s talking to herself. “I’ve resorted to giving myself verbal pep talks now. I mean, I guess that goes along with the insanity of trying to convince my ex-girlfriend to meet with me seemingly out of the blue. On the anniversary of our first date, no less. What have I become?”

Her finger lands on the backspace key as she starts the email again for the umpteenth time. It’s her final hail mary. Her last attempt at connecting with the woman that still owns her heart. Some part of her desperately hopes Kara will show up and they can, at the very least, talk things out and get the closure they never had. Her heart wants Kara to feel the same way she does. She wants a second chance, but she’s a realist. The odds of that are slim to none. Her rational side and the little voice in her head sounding eerily similar to Lillian’s, says her chance has passed and there isn’t anything she can do to change it.

But, there’s a tiny little kernel of hope holding out. That’s what she’s holding onto.

“Alright, Luthor. You have to get your shit together. Tomorrow is the day so it’s now or never.” She reads over the email one final time before scheduling it to send at midnight or 12:01 a.m to be exact. October 16th - the anniversary of their first date. She sighs and hopes for the best. Nothing about this goes beyond her usual one email per year. This one just has words attached to it. A simple request really. She’s not anxious about it at all.

Not. One. Bit.

Her office suddenly feels too small and too quiet. With her thoughts racing at jet speed inside her skull, she bolts from her desk and makes her way down to the labs. Her brain needs a distraction or she’s going to have a panic attack and change her mind. Changing her mind is the last thing she wants. She’s loved Kara for ten years. The woman owns her heart, something that will likely never change.

So, she needs to distract herself for the next two days and hope the blonde shows up tomorrow evening. What could go wrong?

October 16th - the day Kara dreads every year. The anniversary of their first date. One would think after all these years, she wouldn’t remember it or care, but she does. She remembers everything and always has. The first three years were hard. She took off work and shut the world out. After those rough years, it kind of got better. Now, she does the best she can. Sometimes, she leaves early and spends the day with her favorite movie and ice cream. This year is shaping up to be one of those years. She has to take care of a few things this morning, but there is a pint of Ben & Jerry’s calling her name. She’ll be on her couch and stuffing her face with some Moose Tracks by 3:00 p.m.

Most of her day is uneventful. She even manages to get through it without scrolling through her folder of old pictures. Well, more than a few times. It counts. It was less than last year, give her a break. Lena is beautiful, amazing, and a goddess on Earth. No one can blame her for reminiscing on how it felt to hold her and just bask in her presence. The feeling of soft pale skin against her own…

A long, frustrated sigh followed by a growl of irritation crawls from her throat. Now is certainly not the time to be thinking about Lena’s skin against hers. Not to mention all the other very vivid and inconvenient images running rampant in her mind. Kara wearily shakes her head in an futile attempt at erasing the memories flashing across her mind’s eye. This happens every year on this day. She combs through the memories of the two years they spent as lovers, even the two years they were friends beforehand are filled with moments imprinted on her skin.

Another glance at the clock on the wall across the bullpen tells her she still has another hour before she can safely leave without causing any eyebrows to raise. She decides to plunge herself into some research she has to do for an upcoming piece on Spheerical. Fortunately, she gets lost in the details and the next time she looks up, it’s time to head out to lunch and then to her couch.

Just as she’s walking out of the building, her phone vibrates. A big smile stretches across her face when she sees Alex calling. “Hey, Alex!” She hurries across the sidewalk and across the road, dodging people as she goes. “Perfect timing. I’m just heading to Noonan’s to grab lunch. Are you still coming over later for sister’s night?”

“Yes, dork. Don’t we always spend this night together?” Alex huffs, rolling her eyes at her sister. “I’m leaving the hospital now, but I have to go by my apartment first. Do you need me to bring anything?”

Kara hums in thought, pausing outside the entrance to Noonan’s before shaking her head. “Nah. I have ice cream and snacks already. Just bring whatever alcohol you want if you plan to drink. You know I only have the fruity stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you in an hour or so.” Alex says, a smile evident in her voice. “Love you, dork.”

Chuckling, Kara shakes her head and smiles. “Be careful. Love you, too.” She ends the call and steps inside, still laughing at her sister’s antics.

After deciding to eat her lunch on a park bench, she catches the bus home. Happy to finally be away from CatCo and the stresses of work, her mind drifts to Lena again. The last couple of years, her mind has conjured images of what their lives would be like if they were still together. Marriage, a house, and sometimes a baby. It’s not always the same, but they’re always married. Something Kara always thought would happen once they graduated and got settled in National City.

She’s shaken out of her daydreams by the subtle stop of the bus and people around her standing. A sorrowful sigh releases as she stands to exit as well. Her mind seems to enjoy torturing her with things she can’t have, made worse this day every year. As she steps off the bus, she spots her sister standing in front of her building and a smile replaces the frown she’s sure was there.

The two sisters make their way up the stairs and into Kara’s loft. They settle in to watch the movie they always watch on this day, Hocus Pocus. By the time they finish watching the movie and polish off their ice cream, it’s nearing dinner time. Alex orders pizza and potstickers and they snuggle back into the couch to wait, a random show playing in the background.

Alex eyes Kara carefully, brown eyes scanning her sister’s face. She can see the pain and sadness in the normally sparkling sapphire eyes. Instead of pushing the blonde to talk, she watches and waits, knowing Kara will eventually open up to her. It usually takes a few minutes, but she knows her sister will start spilling her feelings.

“I really miss her, Alex.” Kara says, tears welling in her stormy blue eyes. “Some days it feels like everything just happened. It feels so raw and so fresh. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop loving her. My heart won’t let me. No matter how much convincing my mind does, my heart won’t let her go.” Two glittering tears slither between her eyelids and drip onto her shirt.

The redhead sighs, slides her arms around her younger sister, and pulls her close. “I know, kiddo. I wish there was something I could say or do to make it easier for you.” She rests her head on top of Kara’s as they sit in silence for a few minutes. Their bubble bursts when there is a knock on the door. “That’s probably the food, I’ll get it.”

Alex bounds over to the door while Kara leans back on the couch, head resting against the cushion and face pointed to the ceiling. She wipes away the now drying tears, willing the rest to stop their descent down her cheeks. Her body remains still even after Alex drops the food onto the table. When she finally looks down, it’s to check the time on her watch. 6:43 p.m.

“We’d been on our date for about an hour by now. It was one of the best nights of my life, Alex. We walked through the park, the leaves changing all around us, and the sun going down. Each of us had a cup of hot chocolate in one hand while holding hands with the other.” Kara wistfully smiles as she remembers how she felt. “It was almost magical, we talked just like we always did, but it was…more. It was like we connected on a new level, like something clicked into place. Like…coming home.”

She looks up at Alex, tears streaming down her face, bottom lip trembling. “Why does it still hurt so much? I’ve spent the last eight years feeling like part of me is missing. Why won’t it stop?” An anguished look twists Alex’s face as she pulls her baby sister back into her arms. They sit and silently rock, waiting for Kara’s tears to subside.

Lena takes a deep breath as she sits on the park bench just inside the park. She twists the key and keychain in her hand with a smile. It’s the only thing she still has that was Kara’s. It’s a dorky keychain she bought the blonde on their first date. A pewter medallion with her name engraved across the front and the Boston skyline behind it. It’s not worth anything, but it’s one of her most prized possessions. Kara’s apartment key is still attached to it along with a woven bracelet. After the blonde walked out that day, Lena saw it laying on the counter and hasn’t parted with it since. She keeps it in her pocket and has it on her everyday.

Glancing at her watch, she starts to feel a sense of dread bubble in the bottom of her stomach. It’s pushing 7:30 now and she asked Kara to meet her here at 7:00. She told herself she wouldn’t wait longer than an hour. Knowing the reporter for four years and living with her for two, she knows her ex-girlfriend can lose track of time. Lena’s hands continue to fidget with the keychain, running the pad of her fingers across the raised letters. Verdant eyes watch countless couples and kids pass by, but none of them are the figure she so desperately wants to see.

A trembling sigh rushes across her now chapped lips, she can feel the stinging of tears in her eyes so she bites her cheek to stop them from falling. A glance at her phone shows she’s been here for much longer than the self-allotted time frame. Her watch face mocks her with a time of 8:07 p.m. Still no sign of Kara. Lena glances around one more time to make sure she didn’t overlook anything as she checks her phone to make sure she did say 7:00 p.m. in her email. Knots continue to tie themselves together in her stomach.

She decides she can wait just a little longer.

So she does. She sits stoically on the bench, fidgeting with a relic from a relationship that ended almost a decade ago. A relationship that will officially be dead and buried after tonight. Unless a miracle happens and Kara appears in front of her, it’s pretty evident that her hope was for naught. The woman that holds her heart released it long ago. She’s doomed to love someone who doesn’t love her back.

At 8:32 p.m. on October 16th, Kara Danvers broke her heart for the first and last time. She broke her own heart eight years ago, it only seems fitting that it’s irreparably shattered by the woman that will own it for eternity.

Gathering the strength to stand from the bench is a lot harder than she anticipates. Lena ends up having to pause before she can finally stand to walk back to her car. She does manage to keep the tears at bay until she reaches the car and is safely inside. That’s when she releases the sob that has been building in her gut for hours. The sounds and tears coming from her body are louder and heavier than anything she’s experienced in her life. With the trauma she’s been through, that is saying a lot.

When she finally manages to stifle the tears enough to drive back to her hotel, she makes her way back to her room as discreetly and quietly as she can. She refuses to break down completely until she is in the privacy of her own room. By some saving grace, she steps into her room, closes the door, and immediately collapses on the floor. She must have eventually cried herself to sleep because she woke up in the same place two hours later.

Peeling herself off the floor, she stripped off her clothes and fell into bed, makeup and all. The rest of the world would have to wait.

“I can’t answer that, kiddo. It hurts because you still love her and never got closure.” Alex says, watching her sister’s face contort from an invisible pain. “Come on, Kara. At least eat something. Please.”

“How the hell am I supposed to eat right now, Alex? How?!” Kara screeches, her voice rough from tears and emotion. “I shouldn’t have blocked her number. I should have just called her, Alex. Why didn’t she email me or write me a letter? Something!”

Another gut-wrenching sob rips from her chest, her body heaving with each one as it wracks from her lungs. Alex’s gut twists with guilt as she wrestles with the words sitting like ash on her tongue. Watching her sister writhe in the pain of heartache that she might have contributed to is eating her alive. When her baby sister’s distraught blue eyes land on hers, the decision is made. She has to confess.

“Umm, K-Kara. D-Do you have your laptop close by?” Alex asks, looking around the living room, but not seeing the device. “Can you tell me where it is?” Her eyes settle on the heartbroken blonde and take in the stretched out arm pointing across the room to the dining table. She gently squeezes her sister’s shoulder and makes her way over to grab it. Taking a brief moment to steel herself for what she’s about to do, she takes a deep breath and turns to face the truth.

Kara tracks her sister’s movement, a little confused by her actions, and curious to know why she’s behaving like a scared dog. She sniffles, wiping her nose with the tissue her sister hands her. “What’s going on? Why are you acting so strange, Alex?” Her eyes scan the laptop now sitting on the couch between them. “Why are you opening my laptop? What’s going on?”

An audible gulp can be heard coming from the redhead’s throat. Brown eyes bounce between teary cerulean. “Eight years ago, when you called me crying hysterically about what happened, I got you to block Lena’s number. I knew she wouldn’t give up trying to contact you so…” Another hard swallow and a shaky inhale are the only two sounds Alex can hear at that moment. Everything else is drowned by the sudden ringing in her ears.

“What, Alex? So, what?” Kara says, a wave of nausea and anxiety builds in the pit of her stomach. “Alex. Please finish what you were saying.” Blue eyes filled with turmoil scan the redhead’s face, searching for something, a clue. There’s nothing, but fear and guilt resting on her usually stoic sister’s face. The look does nothing to ease the feeling gathering in Kara’s gut.

Alex opens the browser and pulls up Kara’s email. She clicks around a few times and Kara watches as her face falls. Her sister’s face goes white and tears gather in her eyes. A panicked and grief-stricken look settles on her sister’s face before she opens and closes her mouth a few times. Another deep breath. She sits the device in Kara’s lap before clearing her throat and dropping her hands into her own. “I knew Lena wouldn’t give up trying to contact you and I was so pissed at how much she hurt you, Kara. While you were driving to National City, I, umm…” A shaky breath, another hard swallow. “I blocked Lena’s email address so you wouldn’t get anything she sent to you.” The last part of her sentence is so quiet Kara almost doesn’t hear it.

Almost.

When Alex finally looks up, she can see her sister clicking through emails with tears streaming down her face. “Alex…” It’s a broken whisper, barely audible. As blue eyes finally look up, there is an anger unlike anything the redhead has seen before. “Get out. I want you out of my apartment right now. Do not talk to me right now, Alex. Just get the fuck out of my apartment. Now.”

It’s not loud. It’s not harsh. It’s broken and it rips Alex’s heart in two. She silently stands, gathers her jacket and keys before briefly pausing at the door. “I’m really sorry, Kara. I love you and I’m really, really sorry.”

There’s nothing but silence before the door softly closes. Once Kara is alone, she sifts through the emails. All of the things she missed over the last eight years. Lena tried. She tried to reach out, to fix things and Kara didn’t know. There were at least ten emails from the first few months after the breakup. A few more scattered across the first year and then one per year with a simple heart on the anniversary of their first date. Lena probably thinks…

Then, she sees the last email received. Dated today, sent early that morning.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: October 16, 2023, 12:01 a.m.

Subject: One Last Time

Hi Kara,

I remember everything. Your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes sparkle when you get excited. Every October 16th after you left Cambridge, I went to our park and retraced our steps. It was never the same without you. Of course it wasn’t, but it always made me feel closer to you.

You made me so happy, Darling. Being with you felt like being home, like I was finally whole and where I was meant to be. Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. Even now, I feel like part of me is missing. You took part of me with you that day, Kara. I haven’t been the same since.

I know it’s been eight years and I know it’s a shot in the dark, but I have to try one last time to reach you. I’m in National City. If you want to and are available, I’d like to see you again. Meet me inside Centennial Park at 7:00 p.m. tonight. There’s a bench about one hundred feet from the gate to the left next to the footpath. I’ll be there until 8:00 p.m.

If you don’t show, I’ll understand. Just know I remember everything and I’ll always remember you.

All my love,

Lena

Kara’s eyes go wide. She scrambles up from her couch, looking down at her watch and almost dropping her laptop. Shoving the laptop onto the coffee table, she steps into her shoes, snatches her keys and jacket, and bolts down the stairs. She doesn’t have a car and the park is at least a thirty minute walk, but the bus would be just as long. Without another option, she starts running.

It was nearly 8:17 p.m. when she left her apartment so the odds of Lena still being there were slim, but she had to try. Her legs moved before her brain caught up, she ran as fast as she could. She’s in pretty good shape, she runs almost every morning and does a lot of walking around the city, but tonight it feels like she’s running through sludge. Kara rounds the corner into the park at 8:43. While she managed to make the run in twenty-six minutes, she can already tell she’s too late.

The bench is vacant and Kara’s heart falls. She plops herself onto the metal and huffs in frustration. As her hand settles on the bench beside her, she feels something under her palm. Her fingers wrap around it and she brings it closer. It’s some sort of woven bracelet. Upon closer inspection, she immediately recognizes it. It’s one of the silly bracelets she made for her and Lena when they first became friends. They each had one. Lena wore hers, but Kara kept hers on the keychain Lena bought her on their first date alongside her apartment key. She pulls out her phone to shine a light on it. Sure enough, it’s the one she kept on her keychain. Right there in the middle of the bracelet are their initials.

Lena really had been here and Kara missed her chance. She sat there for a while. She’s not sure how long, but eventually she walks back toward her apartment. Without a care for the time of night or for how long it would take, she dejectedly makes her way home. Another chance stolen, her second chance lost.

Lena didn’t go into the office the following day. She couldn’t bring herself to face anyone. Her eyes were certainly swollen and her mind was in no condition to function properly. She sighs and rolls over in bed, her hand automatically reaching for the keychain she plays with every morning. As her hand settles on it, she pauses, something is missing.

Her body bolts upright, feet swinging to the side of the bed and hitting the floor with a thud. She snatches the prized item up and stares at it in disbelief. The bracelet that has been on the keychain for close to a decade is missing. It has to be at the park, she thinks. It must have fallen off when she was toying with it on the bench last night. She blows out a harsh breath. “Of course.” She mumbles to herself. “That would fit with the rest of my evening. Why not top it off with losing the bracelet?”

With that, she heads to the shower to remove yesterday’s makeup and grime. Maybe it will make her feel a little more human. Maybe it won’t. Either way, she has to get up and get cleaned up.

Across the city, Kara is suffering a similar fate. She wakes up feeling hungover. Emotionally, physically, and mentally, she is exhausted. After a phone call to her boss, she plans to work from home for the day. She’s not sure how much work she’ll get done, but at least she doesn’t have to face any people. At the very least, she can finish up the research for her upcoming interview with one of the lead scientists at Spheerical. The interview isn’t until Friday, so she still has plenty of time.

The thought stops her in her tracks. She knows Lena is in National City, so the chance of her seeing the beautiful genius is higher than it’s ever been. While she wants to see the woman, she also doesn’t know if she’s truly prepared for it. With this in mind, she pulls up the email from her boss to double-check the name of the scientist she’s scheduled to interview. It’s the same woman she interviewed previously, Felicity Smoak. The knowledge puts her at ease and she gets back to her research and preparation.

Both women spend the rest of the week trudging through the remainder of their daily grind with the enthusiasm of a doorknob. Neither of them have recovered from their experience on Monday and neither are really in the headspace to figure out how to move on from it. Lena is still in an immense amount of pain knowing the last spark of hope she had is well and truly doused. Kara is so angry with her sister and herself that she can’t think of anything else. It hasn’t yet occurred to her that she knows Lena’s email address is active and she could respond to the email and explain her absence.

It seems even after eight years, they still haven’t gotten their heads out of their asses.

After arriving at her office as usual, Lena spends her Friday morning reviewing budgets, new project proposals, and current project status reports. It’s the mundane part of her job as head of R & D that makes her want to pluck her eyeballs out. She’s just about to move on to the next proposal when her phone intercom buzzes to life.

“Miss Luthor…” The smooth voice of her assistant, Jess, echoes through the speaker.

“Yes, Jess. Go ahead.” Lena says, casually closing the proposal and grabbing the next one.

“Sorry to disturb you, Miss Luthor. Your lunch is here. Also, Miss Smoak asked if you can cover a meeting for her this afternoon.” Jess says, the sound of typing evident in the background.

Lena shifts in her chair. Felicity is the R & D manager for the National City branch and typically doesn’t ask her to handle anything unless it’s absolutely necessary. “What type of meeting and what time, Jess? I already have a meeting at 2:00.”

Jess sighs, she knows Lena’s schedule inside out so she is aware of the meeting, but keeps that information to herself. “She said It’s an interview for a science journal or magazine about the upcoming tech and prosthetic release. Miss Smoak had an emergency and won’t be here to cover it.” More sounds of muffled typing sound over the line. “The scheduled interview isn’t until 3:30 so it won’t impact your schedule in any way.”

“Thanks, Jess. Can you bring my lunch in? I’ll just have it at my desk.” She rubs the back of her neck, all of the tension and emotion from the week seems to have settled there. “Let me know when my two o’clock arrives.”

She spends the next two hours reviewing the rest of the documents and doing her best not to think about Kara and the sting of knowing all hope is lost. Her chest has been filled with a dull ache since the moment she realized the woman wasn’t coming. To say she’s used to it would be a lie, but she’s adjusting.

Across town, Kara leans back in her chair and reviews her list of questions, cross-referencing her research notes one last time before she packs everything into her messenger bag to head out. Her walk to Spheerical won’t take long, but she doesn’t want to risk being late so she gives herself plenty of time for any delays. She’s definitely a lot more nervous for this interview than the last one with Miss Smoak. This prosthetic is supposed to be cutting edge and is set to change the game for amputees. In short, it’s an article that could put her on the short list for another award, but her nerves aren’t related to any award. No. Her stomach is twisted into knots at the idea of possibly seeing Lena.

As much as she wants to push the idea from her head, the more she tries, the more green eyes seem to float across her thoughts. She huffs in frustration at herself and sets her jaw in determination to overcome her traitorous mind. By the time she enters the glass doors of Spheerical, she feels like she has more control and is ready to get to work. A widest, most charming smile gets plastered across her face as she approaches the reception desk.

“Hi! I’m here for an interview with Felicity Smoak.” Kara says as she hands over her I.D. and CatCo badge. “It should be under Kara Danvers for CatCo Worldwide Media.”

The young gentleman at the desk returns her smile and takes her information. A few minutes later, she is handed a visitor's pass and moved along to the elevator. Stepping into the elevator seems to increase the gymnastics inside her stomach so she leans back against the cool metal of the wall and takes a few deep breaths. By the time she has opened her eyes again, the doors are opening to drop her on the tenth floor. It’s the same place she met with Felicity the last time and it settles her nerves a bit. It’s familiar scenery and the same smiling receptionist.

“Miss Danvers, it’s good to see you again.” The receptionist smiles, standing to show her into the conference room across the hallway. “Go ahead and have a seat, she’ll be with you shortly. Help yourself to the refreshments.”

Kara grabs a bottle of water, deciding she doesn’t need anything that will make her any more jittery than she already is. She sits down and pulls her things out of her bag, getting everything settled for the interview. Her eyes and mind are so focused on her task that she doesn’t notice the door opening and closing.

The sound of footsteps breaks the reporter out of her focus. When Kara looks up, it is into all too familiar eyes, her favorite shade of green. Their eyes meet across the room, wide and shocked. Both of them momentarily freeze. It’s been 8 years since they last spoke or were remotely close to one another. Almost a decade since they went from the center of each other’s world to mere strangers in a quiet conference room. Hurt green eyes meet surprised blue across the large room. They stare at one another inside a building full of people oblivious to the world-stopping moment happening around them.

Amid the silence, Kara can see Lena’s face has gone ashen and her throat keeps bobbing with harsh swallows. Before they realize what’s happening, both of them are talking at the same time. Kara is out of her chair and speaking before Lena is even halfway to the table. The shocked scientist heads toward the table and does her best to keep her tone professional.

Once Kara realizes Lena is sitting in the chair with a no-nonsense look on her face, she plops herself back into her own and looks up. Azure eyes comb over pale features, finally settling on pain-stricken viridian eyes. They hold the stare for a brief moment before Lena straightens her back. Kara can see when the Luthor mask emerges from the pained features of the woman she loves.

“I apologize, Miss Danvers. Miss Smoak had to leave for a personal matter so she asked me to fill in.” Lena states with a matter of fact tone, no emotion and strictly professional. “I understand you’re here to talk about the new prosthetic line and the tech we’re releasing next month. It seems Miss Smoak allotted an hour and a half. If you have your questions ready, we can get started.”

Kara’s shoulders drop. She feels her eyes stinging with tears and isn’t sure if she can stop them from flowing. Lena is being crystal clear that she’s keeping this professional and has no intention of veering into anything personal. The reporter closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to center herself. She clears her throat, opens her eyes, and gets to work. “Of course, Miss Luthor. I’ll do my best to make this as painless and efficient as possible.”

The interview starts and things are a bit stilted. It isn’t until Kara makes one of her signature terrible puns that they both laugh and things settle into a more natural rhythm. Kara asks her questions and Lena provides the most detailed and honest answers she can without revealing too much. The reporter smiles and sits her head in her hand as she watches the love of her life gesture passionately about one of her newest inventions. It reminds her of all the nights they spent on their couch in their apartment sharing stories about classes and just life in general. She must have missed something the scientist said because she is broken from her thoughts when a hand lands on her forearm.

“”Hey, everything okay?” Lena asks, brow furrowed in concern. “I called your name several times and you didn’t respond.”

Kara nods her head, clearing her throat in embarrassment. “Y-Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. Just got lost in my head for a bit. I’m sorry.” She flashes a half-hearted smile and sits back to flip through her notebook. Scanning to make sure she didn’t skip any questions and counting the remaining ones, she looks back up. “Seems like we only have five more questions left.”

Lena watches her for a few more seconds, biting her lip as if to hold back from saying something. Whatever it is dies on her tongue as she shakes her head and gestures for the reporter to continue. They get through the remaining questions in record time. Kara gives a polite thank you and starts stuffing all of her items back into her bag. Once everything is packed away, she glances around to make sure nothing was missed and stands. Pushing her chair back under the table, she turns to walk away. For the second time in eight years, she’s walking away from the woman she loves. Just as her hand lands on the handle of the door, she stops and turns.

“I showed up.” Kara mumbles quietly as she fidgets with the strap of her bag, eyes fixed on her feet. “I was too late, but I was there. Just wanted you to know.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the bracelet she found sitting on the bench. When she looks up and her eyes find Lena’s, she can see the surprise on her face. A broken smile barely lifts the corners of her mouth as she turns to leave the room. Before she can wrap her hand completely around the handle again, a cold hand settles on her warm skin. She freezes.

“You were there.” It’s quietly whispered. Like a leaf rustling in the breeze, it’s barely audible. Lena isn’t sure she can speak any louder, there’s a lump of emotion in her throat she’s been begging to stay put all week. “I waited and waited. Almost two hours. You never came.”

Kara spins around, her eyes wide with fear. She’s desperate to explain, panicked that things will spiral and she won’t get another chance. “Lena, I promise I would have been there sooner if I had known. Alex, she did this thing…I wasn’t getting your emails. Then she undid the thing…then I got the emails and I kicked her out, but I didn’t see the…”

She takes a breath and starts again. “Once I saw the email, I took off running. Lena, I ran as fast as I could and it should’ve taken thirty minutes, but I did it in twenty-six. And I was still too late.” Her face drops and tears sting her eyes again. This time she doesn’t stop them, she just lets them fall. If this is the last time she gets to be in the same room with Lena, at least it will be honest.

Green eyes observe with interest, she’s not really sure what Kara’s rambling about, but she has deduced that Alex did something. Blocked her email address, she thinks? Then she unblocked it and Kara got the messages. It’s still not really clear. A humorless laugh pushes through her lips, why doesn’t she just ask?

“Kara, I’m not really sure what you are trying to tell me. Can you slow down for a second and explain?” Lena asks, her hands involuntarily raising to wipe the blonde’s tears. When she realizes what she’s doing, she pulls her hands away and steps back. “Why don’t we sit back down? Sounds like this is going to take a while.”

So they sit. They talk about what happened on Monday and why Kara never responded to any of her messages over the years. It doesn’t fix things. It doesn’t make everything better. They still have a lot to talk about and a million things to sort out, but they’re talking. It’s more than either of them could have anticipated a few days ago. They make plans for dinner the following day and discover they both kept the same numbers just in case the other ever tried to call.

As they stand outside the elevator, getting ready to part ways, Kara lifts the bracelet up again, offering it to Lena. “I can’t believe you still have this. It was always attached to my keychain. It was the one you bought me on our first date, I always kept my apartment key on it.” She grinned down at the brilliant woman as long fingers plucked the bracelet out of her hand. Her eyes trace the movement of her other hand lifting something from her jacket pocket.

Kara’s jaw drops in disbelief. It’s the keychain.

“I’ve kept it with me everyday since you left. I’m not sure why. I think maybe it was my way of staying connected to you. Holding it always takes me back to places we went and things we did.” Lena shrugs, running her fingers across the ridges of the metal. “For a really long time I wished I didn’t, but I remember everything, Kara. Now, I’m glad I do.”

A teary smile spreads across Kara’s face. “How do you feel about starting over?”

Lena lets out a wet laugh. “Mmm, I’m not sure that’s really what I want.” She pauses to hold her hand to her chin, staring at the reporter. “Hear me out. Starting over feels like forgetting everything and starting new. I don’t want that. Our history and our past are what built us. What if we just talk things out and start again?”

“Yeah, I like that.” Kara smiles, tears slowly drying on her cheeks.” Let’s start again.”

“I told you, I remember everything. I want to keep it that way.” Lena smiles and presses a kiss to her cheek. They share one more smile. Kara disappears into one elevator and Lena into the other.

Things aren’t perfect and it’s not going to be easy, but they’re starting again. What more could they ask for?

#supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp fanfic #fanfic #fan fiction writer #mac writes

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soullessjack · 3 days

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🔥 jack

oh my godddd I have so many unpopular opinions where do I even start….HOLY DISCLAIMER BATMAN!

anyways so in no particular order or tier system:

✯ i don’t think jack would wear anything feminine im sorry spn fandom. for lolz he has same-outfit-pattern-everyday autism and for serious it’s like. Really weird how fandoms tend to HC/portray non-binary amabs (and men/transmascs in general) almost exclusively as GNC or fem-presenting…like DGMW that is a real and valid form of self expression but it’s not the Only type of non-binary expression that exists. and honestly…**dare I say that most fandom/queer spaces just need to realize that queer masculinity exists and it doesn’t always have to be a matter of breaking gender norms??

** genuinely do whatever u want idc I can’t stop you i don’t want to stop you yada yada. paint his nails and put him in a skirt all u want but Please recognize patterns yall 😭

✯ more headcanon complaints (see disclaimer above ⇧) but I promise to switch it up soon. anyways every time somebody on this lil website says something along the lines of “Jack can’t handle/doesn’t like [insert violence, scary or adult-oriented thing], he prefers [soft or blatantly childlike things]” I shrivel inward like a dead spider. It’s annoying, it’s completely inaccurate to his canon personality and interests, it’s annoying ˣ2, and whether ppl wanna admit it or not—it stems from infantilization. not necessarily ableism, as infantilization is not exclusive to disabled people, but still just about the same thing.

honestly all I see of majority jack headcanons are ones that set him back to just being a child or otherwise being treated like one. for example, the one about him being able to shapeshift is pretty cool...until it just becomes about him deciding to age regress, yknow, to an age set he canonically chose not to go through, showed no desire to be in, and is more offended than anything to be considered as such. all of his interests have to be some shit like bluey or animal crossing, and he drinks apple juice from a sippy cup instead of beer. BARF.

I’ve lessened on my keyboard warring over babyjack in the past year but I have not lessened in being a hater. and I’ve said this before, but the baby-jack au already breached headcanon containment a long time ago when it’s not only so widespread that ppl take it for canon and it makes having any intelligent conversation about him nearly fucking Impossible, but it also lead to harassment and accusations of being a fucking predator, to anyone who dared find a whole grown man attractive. any potential jack ship, like jackharper? automatic grooming case to them. it’s like the fandom is just so dead set on this idea that jack really truly is a child in every aspect you can think of, and for what? if it’s just a headcanon, something you know is not part of the actual show, then don’t go Travis the Chimp levels of apeshit when you see him being treated like he is canonically 💀

unpopular opinion numero 3 which is slightly connected to 2:

✯ baby-jack and a handful of the domestic au’s are BORING (see disclaimer again ⇧), not just on a surface level to my suiting, but also because I feel like it just ..misses the point of the show?

the ragtag untraditional found family is now as nuclear and traditional as the Atomic Age. Dean and Cas are the most heteronormative “who wears the pants in the relationship” gay couple ever, Sam is demoted to the uncle that gets written out of his own family, Jack is just there to make his gay dads look cute and emphasize that they’re a gay family (while still being very heteronormative), and at least 5 of them could be found in a California gated community. everything that made any of them unique or defined their personalities is just scrubbed off, even for an AU.

so much of the later seasons focus on Sam and Dean realizing that they don’t have to make a hard splitting decision between the lives they want to live; that they can find a balance; be happy and have good things—namely families—without giving up hunting (and vice versa, that they can have hunting without giving up on family or happiness). everybody loves the gay hunters from S10(?12?) and what they represented for Dean, but I almost never see that be put into practice in the fandom.

THEY’RE ALREADY DOMESTIC!!! AND WITH THAT PERFECT BALANCE!!!! Season 13 quite literally gave Team Free Will a surrogate son to raise and established them as a family; highly untraditional, largely dysfunctional, overall not fitting of a family family, and yet they are a family still. Dean wears an apron and cooks and bakes for everyone; he built himself a man cave and established two separate family night events that they all ritually keep up; Sam has a morning jogging routine and visits his girlfriend every so often; Jack was taught how to drive, has normal chores like washing dishes, and gets groceries. And they didn’t just have that while fighting monsters—they had that while fighting a whole fucking archangel. Even if it did go down the gutter by the end, they still had it: domestic familial bliss and violent messy hunting without having to trade one for the other.

✯ I truly genuinely think Jack’s relationship with Dean is the best, most interesting and most misunderstood out of the three, and I also think that the problems with his relationship to Cas and Sam are hugely overlooked by the fandom—granted they are very small, especially if you’re comparing it to Dean, but they’re still there and I think we should bully Cas and Sam about it more. I shan’t elaborate because it’s 5AM and this was an impulsive add-on ❤️

✯ getting normal now…his plaid pattern jacket from the first half of Ouroboros is ugly as SHIT i have never liked it and don’t think I ever will. but I cannot deny it; he got that shit on.

✯ most unpopular opinion of all, I wanna do insane shit to his cervix 🙌

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tonyboneysblog · 1 day

Text

MOTHER HEN

parings: hawks x mother!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none!

notes: y/n is mothering, plus she’s doesn’t have a ring on it.😉

summary: you, the mother of Fumikage Tokoyami, are just a simple nurse! who has caught the eye of a certain pro.

Your son was loved, he knew it.

You loved him with your whole being, you used to have big dreams. Then your only dream was him.

You had him when you were 16, your boyfriend at the time left immediately when he found out. He didn’t wanna love him.

But you, you love your beautiful boy.

Your son sometimes complains on how he wished he had your quirk instead of his father’s. You always told him, “wings aren’t that cool anyways.”

you’d stop flying forever if it meant he was happy.

Then one day, when he was 13, he came to you with a ‘confession’, that’s how he put it.

He told you he wanted to be a hero and go to U.A., you were worried but, they have to leave the nest one day, won’t they?

“I’ll see you later, mother” he says darkly.

“Fumi, you say that as if you’re never coming back….” you laugh softly, “stop being so serious and give you mama a hug.”

He looks down embarrassed slightly, “are you serious…”

“Fumikage, hug your mother.” You give him a faked serious look.

He laughs softly whilst shaking his head, stepping forward into your arms. You hug tighter, tearing up.

“g-go on, you’ll be late.” you say while sniffling.

He smiles, and walks out the door.

your terrified.

You hear story’s about hero’s dying gruesomely all the time, some don’t make it to 20.

your Fumikage is smart though, he’ll blow everyone away some day.

Then a few weeks after, the letter from U.A. came.

Fumikage took it a shut his door, you pace around the kitchen, and slightly consider rearranging your closet….

Until you hear the door open.

“Fumi?” you say slowly and quietly, afraid of the results.

He sighs, “I made it.”

you burst with joy and tackle him to the ground, your wings fluttering softly, you giggled and laughed.

“Aha! Fumi, I knew you would make it sweetie!” You kiss all over his face.

He smiles brightly, and hugs you back.

“Ah, my baby bird! W-we need to celebrate I need to post all about this on instabook!” You say excitedly whiling hopping off of your son, pacing around the apartment.

“M-mama, calm down you have work tonight, remember?” He says calmly.

Ah, yes. Work. truly a terrible thing working 9-5 at a hospital (usually even longer), always kept you away from your sweet boy.

You sigh, “yea, I remember…I’ll make it up to you yami, promise.”

He smiles, “it’s okay mama…I understand.”

He may have looked like his father but, he was nothing like him.

A few hours later Tokoyami is asleep while you get ready for work, they had called you in much earlier than you expected- some hero got it bad in a fight.

You kiss Fumikage temples, then lock up the house, to make your way to work.

Hospital was always hectic, no breaks- unless it was lunch…you barely got to eat anyways.

You walk in, check in, then go on to where the injured hero is.

Apparently it’s some higher ranking one so everyone has to be “on their best behavior”

You walk into the room, red feathers are everywhere- they look quite…dull.

“Ms. Tokoyami! Thank the heavens your here.” Your co-worker, Emi, says.”

“Well I was called in so-“

“So basically all you need to do is just keep a check on his vitals okay?- I’m gonna go take lunch, cya!” Emi runs out the room before you protest, so you just sigh.

You take a seat next to him, grabbing the clip board on the bedside.

Everything looks good- except the name.

It was fake obviously, just said “hawks” so not a lot of information. There’s no emergency contact either.

You yawn, this is probably the calmest it’ll be all day. You ought to enjoy it-

“hi..” says a weak voice.

You jump slightly, “o-oh, hi?”

“are you the uh…nurse?”

“Yep.”

“I am good?”

“erm…I suppose so- your heads kinda busted up thought..and your wings.”

“Best bird quirk you’ve ever seen right?” He said quietly but confident.

“no, I like my sons better.”

“Nah, I’m the pro.” He replies with a cough.

“Actually he just got accepted into U.A….”

“Good for him! what’s his name, maybe I’ll pick him up at my agency sometime?”

you sigh, “you need to rest before you start thinking about the future…”

You looks at your name card “tokoyami?”

“Listen, little detective, you need to rest…people want you o back on the street as quick as possible.”

“Do you even know who I am?”

“No….?”

“I’m number 3, in the hero polls?” He says curiously.

“I uh, don’t keep up with those actually…only Fumikage likes thoses…” you say embarrassed.

The hero named Hawks only hums.

“So..” he starts, “Fumikage Tokoyami is his name?”

“oh please- go to bed already!” you say.

He laughs, then just closes his eyes.

“That sounds like a great idea, don’t get much sleep anyways…” the hero says sleepily.

he reminds you of Fumi, only a small bit though…it’s probably just the avian features.

After hours, you finally get the opportunity to go home at 8:00. You walk into your apartment exhausted, Fumikage is laying on the couch- watching some cult classic he talked to you about, he looks back to see you.

“Hi sweetie…” you say tiredly, you take off your bag and make your way to the bathroom, a shower would be nice, did Fumi eat, was he bored without you, is he worried about starting school?

Fumikage breaks you from your thoughts, “mom, You okay…?”

“‘Jus’fine Fumi….” You squeak out.

He stands up to help you to the couch, it wasn’t your goal but your body is begging for sleep.

“Did’ja have a good day sweets?”

He nods, “what about you mom?”

“mmmh, some pro hero came in, number three…? Forgot his name- he told me he’d pick you up once you join U.A.” you say sluggish.

“Number three…? Y-you mean hawks?”

“Is that him? sure yea..”

Fumikage justs stares at the tv, it’s not that interesting of a movie…you nod off slowly.

Fumikage cuddles up into your warmth, same as he did when he was little.

You hope he never leaves the nest.

Until he left it for U.A.

He left from the front door with many kisses and many “so proud” of you’s.

then the house was quiet.

So you went out obviously!

you needed groceries and you always did find something Fumikage liked.

The street was busier than usual, the louder the better though!

You slither through the crowds making your way to different shops, some with stronger smells than others…at the end of your adventure you had hand fulls of bags!

Your day offs weren’t ever spent “resting”, who needed rest anyways? well your feet were tired- and you did feel sleepy so the best course of action was to go home!

until, some man dressed it a hoodie with jeans far too baggy to be comfortable- snatched your bag and runs off?! You immediately release all of your bags and start chasing after him.

“H-hey get back here!” You yell, slight winded already.

But the man doesn’t stop, he goes faster actually- until, a red feather smacks him right in the face!

You stop in your tracks, well that was easy…and stroll over to the man, snatching your bag up.

“You alright miss?” Says a cheerful voice.

You whip your head around, it’s the guy from the hospital! What was his name again..?

You sigh, “thank you so much young man! I probably couldn’t have caught him with you…”

“Y-young man? You’re probably not that much older than me miss..” he chuckles.

“I’m 32.”

“oh wow…”

“Thank you?”

He blushes, “I-i meant oh wow as in you r-really don’t look it!”

“even after I watched over you at the hospital?” You tease.

“I-i quite appreciate that and- I’ll just stop talking.”

You laughed, clutching at your stomach, “I’m just joking bird boy!- anyway thank you bunches. I have to get home now, gotta fix dinner for my little chick.”

“Ah, see you soon?” He says hopeful.

“Maybe, hopefully not in a criminal context.”

You walk away with a smile and a wave, hawks heart feels warmer than it usually does.

“Mother, im Home”

You can hear Tokoyami call from the front door. You are currently cuddle up in your own bed, exhausted from the days events.

“In here, chick!”

You see your son walk into the room, he looks tired, you open your arms wide but he just sits at the end of the bed.

“How was your first day?”

“rough.”

Your heart aches for him, but you know your little edge lord! he’s being dramatic….hopefully.

“The teacher made us do all these tests and whoever got the least points would be expelled.”

Well, that’s an email for later.

“Hm, were you worried?”

“very, I didn’t know if I would do good enough.”

“But you did, didn’t cha chickadee?”

He smiles and nods, you’d do anything to protect that smile of his. It’s his father’s but that doesn’t matter, Tokoyami made it his.

Fumikage scratches his head, “You have work in the morning, you should rest.”

“Will do, you should too- don’t be up all night watching slashers please?”

He grumbles

“fine.”

He stands up and kiss your temple, “love you, mama.”

“I love you too, yami.”

He smiles again, dark shadow comes out- waiting for his own kiss. You giggle and kiss its forehead, shooing your son away.

You curl further into your bed, your nest, your safe place.

You wonder for a moment if the red winged hero had a nest too.

Wait, what was his name again?

#anime #fanfics #hawks x reader #bnha hawks #takami keigo #mha takami keigo #keigo x you #hawks x y/n #mha #spotify #takami keigo x reader #keigo x y/n #bnha keigo

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crybaby-bkg · 6 months

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“I’m terrified of trying those hitachi wands,” you offhandedly mention one night in a quiet laugh, while laying in bed beside Bakugou. you’re both on your phones, one last scroll before bed, even though he’s actually playing one of those old people games. he looks over, hair pushed back by a clip he stole from you.

“Why would you be scared?” he asks you, completes the last two moves of the game before he closes his phone and sets it on the table beside the bed. he turns all of his attention on you then, rolling over to his side to face you, and you do the same.

“Because those things are damn near weapons with how they render people useless for like, twenty minutes after they cum.” you snicker, thinking back on the video you had seen earlier in the day. the lady damn near ruined her phone with the wetness, and could hardly move for a good minute after.

Bakugou only stares at you, doesn’t say anything for a long while, but he has this look on his face. he’s thinking about something, but doesn’t open his mouth until he’s whispering,

“That’s crazy,” he kisses your forehead and mumbles an I love you before he rolls over and pulls the covers to his head. you only blink in confusion before you chalk it up to him being the shy little prude he’s always been, and lay down yourself.

the conversation goes forgotten as the weeks pass on, something you don’t dwell on much afterwards. but obviously, it hasn’t passed Bakugou’s mind at all.

“I got it in pink.” he tells you one night after he’s wined and dined you. that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him, but what was weird was how jittery he had been the entire time. this was why, surely, when he leads you to the bedroom and opens a neat little box with one of those wands you had completely forgotten about sitting prettily in front of you.

“Katsuki!” you laugh, hands covering your mouth before they cover your eyes in a mix of shame and shyness. “Why do you wanna see me laid out and twitching after using that thing?” you softly punch his shoulder, looking between his reddened cheeks and the wand he holds in front of you like an engagement ring.

“It’ll be hot.” he shrugs, mouth twisting this way and that in uncertainty, before he looks at you from under his lashes. “Wanna try it out?”

“Of course I do.” you answer back just as quickly, stripping from your clothes even quicker. it makes Bakugou laugh, taking his shirt off and his pants too, just to be safe in case you become a slash zone.

he tries it first with him sitting between your legs, just holding the wand there. he looks between your legs and then to your eyes, starting on a low setting and watches how you twist and thrive in the silken sheets. and when you cum, he thinks he can push you a little further.

he ups the vibrations, adds two of his fingers inside of you, crooking them until he finds that soft spot inside of you that makes you absolutely sob. you squirt all over him and he wonders if he should take his boxers off too (he doesn’t though; the thought of finding them tomorrow stained in you makes him damn near burst in his pants).

the next position is in front of your mirror on the closet, with your legs spread over his. Bakugou hooks his chin over your shoulder, holds your twitching thighs open as he keeps turning the vibrations up to the highest settings. you’re squirming and whining and whimpering for mercy, even though you cry even more whenever he stops.

the next time and the next time and the next, he’s got more fingers inside of you, his cock, another one of your favorite toys. he sets you in doggy style, even though he doesn’t fuck you, but keeps the wand between your legs. he likes the way your entire body shakes beneath him, collapsing, trapped between his weight and the strong vibrations that send you into another dimension.

the next day, you can barely feel between your legs, shaky and unstable for the whole day. but Bakugou makes up for it; he always does.

#this got longer than I expected sorry #anyway I need a break from everything ever #for a very very very long time #bc I’m over having to do Life. very draining #sorry to be a downer in the tags LMFAO the vibe switch is crazy #I’m just hungry and these sleep meds r taking me down #bright side is I’m getting donuts tomorrow 😝#bakugou treats! 🍬#—new treat in the streets! 🍫

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icewindandboringhorror · 3 months

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I was just thinking what a cool job this might be.. what if you were just the person who makes little still images of cute animal figurines doing various activities to post on social media...? like.. show up to work and just spend the whole day like "hmm... this table should be placed to the left a little.. let me set this miniature bagel down in this way... this tiny rabbit should be wearing a scarf", setting the backgrounds, the lighting, etc. ... dream job perhaps lol...

#I'm sure it probably doesnt pay much lol #but.. maybe in some ideal world..#with my health and mental conditions and level of functioning there are VERY few Jobs I could actually EVER manage aside from #just being self employed and being able to set my own hours somehow etc... But every once in a while I come across something like this #and it's like... hrmm.... Yes... perhaps if I could align myself in this hyper specific scenario under hyper specific conditions in a #precise and predictable way and everything worked out perfectly and I had all the accomodations I might need.. maybe I could #do THAT thing then .. lol #Not just generally a 'social media manager' or something. I think that would drive me into the throes of madness #but SPECIFICALLY 'person who makes the images for the calico critters social media' and also #the place i have to go to do that is either my home or within walking distance of my home and also i rarely have to interact #with others aside from the posts probably going through some approval process and initial ideas where they tell me what #type of scene to make and also i somehow make $90.000 a year doing this for only 4 days a week with frequent sick breaks #dreamy sigh and so on and so forth and such and so on #ANYWAY........#the idea of meticulously placing little pastries and miniature crayons and stuff around all day until the scene is perfectly crafted.. SO #SO so appealing to me... like designing environments in the sims except it's real and tangible.. And also imagine having access #to the FULL library of miniature items. to me that would be just as good as owning them #Like.. I get to use them and make little scenes with them and hold them and stare at them and everything except also #they're all kept at work so I don't have boxes of clutter filling home.#unlimited access to every little miniature food ever crafted yet none of the downsides (purchase cost and storage)#etc. etc. ANYWAY ...#Chuckling confidently as I add this onto the 'List Of ''Real'' Jobs I Could Do' which is just a notebook sheet of paper with only like 5 #other similarly unlikely hyperspecific scenarios scribbled down

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sluckythewizard · 14 days

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BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

#NO TAGS ON THIS ONE BC WELL. IM SHY. IM TAKING A BIG LEAP JUST BY ALLOWING U TO REBLOG THIS. IF IT BREAKS CONTAINMENT THATS UR FAULT.#i unfortunately suffer from the disease of 'i hate everything i write the day after i write it' BUT IM GETTING TREATED #I WILL NOT BE HAUNTED BY THIS WEAKNESS FOREVER. AND HEY LOOK THIS IS THE FIRST ACTUAL FIC BIT IVE EVER FINISHED..#ITS SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF!! AND BY JOBE I WILL BE PROUD EVEN IF I HATE IT.#i dont always need to be the one who likes my art bc i know Someone out there will always enjoy it.#and to that someone i say: omg thankyou i LOOOOVEE YOUUUUUU!!!!!#JUST DELETED A WHOLE RAMBLE I JUST HAD ABT NERVOUS DISCLAIMERS FOR MY ART BUT I DONT NEED EM!!#GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT. ANYWAY. so emizel and soda huh #THEYRE SO CUTE TOGEEHTERRRR TEEHEHEHEHEEEE they are the homies that kiss eachother goodnight like CMON #but uhh so hey your bestest friend in da world just got turned into a freaky creature thing that eats ppl #ieah yknowthe guy that u care about alot that u had to watch get bled out by another freaky creature thing in an alleyway #yeaaah and you were super hurt and weak and stupid and u couldnt do jack nor shit to help him #what was i talking about again. RIGHT so hes even cooler now bc he cant die n hes super strong n his arms can be knives. sometimes.#but also he can eat people now. and sometimes he cant stop himself from eating people. and thats kinda scary. but in a cool way.#but also in a disturbing way. but also in an interesting way?but also in a freaky way.the feelings ARE MIXED!!!ATLEAST I THINK THEY WOULD B #okay again i havnt listened to the suckening ina bit. so its been a minute since i absorbed their personalities. i could be misreading or #misremembering or misconstruing or mischaracterizing or WHATEVER. i think the confusion carries its intended effect #LOSING MY TRAIN O THOUGHT. anyway i love soda n emizel i hope they get locked in a saw trap together or somethign. for enrichment.#TALOS GRANT ME THE STRENGHT TO POST MY CREATIONS ON LINE!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGHHH!!!!!!!

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