#fucking sorry i was hesitant to say anything at first given you spent the past 2 years saying shit like ‘please don’t leave me’ and

[ceaseless-watchers-special-girl]

you guys. you guys you guys. i think i know what i want from the final season of the penumbra podcast. i have spent the past ten minutes pacing around my room. yesterday i read up to chapter 17 of prydon's fic separate but syncopated (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30943430/chapters/76417991) which let's be honest, you've probably read already. it's phenomenal. if you haven't, you should.

so i've been thinking. i just really want to go back to brahma. i want to go back to brahma and take down the guardian angel system.

the thing is, the junoverse is a very character driven storyline, and i love that about it. the second citadel is more event driven i think, and it was more difficult for me to get into that storyline and stick with it (i'm weak i'm sorry). for example, although the first season focuses a lot on juno solving the whole martian artefact doodah, back then the penumbra crew were still finding their feet.

then junoverse season 2 happened, and the entire point of that season was basically "get juno over his trauma" (that's why it was so long oh my god). sure, there was a whole plot with ramses and the theia souls, but i think we can all agree that was secondary to juno's character development.

next, season 3. season 3 is definitely character driven, you literally can't deny it. it focuses on each member of the carte blanche in turn, and it uses the plot, finding the curemother prime, as a secondary tool to further the true point of the season: getting to know the characters.

season 4 i'm a little less certain about because i'm typing this post straight into tumblr fresh out of my brain (if anyone wants to help out with the analysis i'd love that). but i think the point of season 4 is to test and showcase the bonds of the carte blanche with each other, and juno rescuing them all is not only a good story, but also a good way to show off the relationships they built in season 3. his relationship with nureyev is shown through periodic reading of the journal, and juno's copious inner monologues (i say like i'm one to talk when all of these thoughts are swirling around in my own head).

then, season 5. the point of this season mirrors that of season 2, but this time, we need to get nureyev over his trauma. this is way trickier, because we're not inside nureyev's head, we're still in juno's. it's still character driven because the aim is to help nureyev, but the plot is given by juno having to chase him across the galaxy. hence, juno's hesitation when he finally finds nureyev.

well, steel, you've caught him. now what the hell are you going to do with him?

there is no plot to drive the character study anymore. our goal was to help nureyev, and juno (poor juno) has done all he can. the ball falls squarely into nureyev's court now, and juno has no say in the plot of the rest of the story. this is why i have been chewing myself alive since the last episode — we know what's next for the characters emotionally, but we have absolutely zero idea what's happening next plot-wise. it's killing me.

(what was the point of this post again?)

OH WAIT I'VE GOT IT. so. since our whole thing for this season is helping nureyev, and we all want him to go batshit fucking insane, i really want nureyev to go back to brahma, and finish what he started two decades ago. i think it's the perfect circular story arc to keep them occupied while nureyev heals emotionally from the fallout from everything going on with slip.

also, sorry to get real for a second, but i've just been tearing myself apart being morally outraged at the world we live in, and the fact that i'm barely able to do anything about it. maybe one day i could, but until then, it would be nice to see my favourite space gays set an example.

now, i know there's complications with this. nureyev refused to take the guardian angel system down in the first place because of the damage it would cause, and i'm willing to bet he hasn't excised that moral core just yet, no matter how hard he's trying. but i'm sure they can find a way to make it work. they have rita, after all!!

they're definitely hinting at a homecoming arc for juno. i think nureyev needs one too, is all.

#tpp #the penumbra podcast #junoverse #peter nureyev #juno steel #rambling again sorry #dear god penumbra has me in it's grips will it never let go? #essay #i genuinely for real did not intend this one to be an essay i promise #it just happened my brain doesn't shut up

[lordabovehelpme]

For Frank Castle x reader with the prompt

“Can you shut up for once in your life?”

Like the reader is worried about him, or is just excited that he’s back from a mission and he says that to them?

Fluffy ending please!

Like he feels bad for saying it :/

a/n: Hello you lovely anon! Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy! :)

It’s a late night, your legs hurt, your butt hurts even worse from not moving in the past five hours. The once comfy car seat now feels like concrete beneath you.

You are tired and cranky and hungry and scared.

Earlier in the day Frank had burst into the apartment, eyes wild and steps frantic.

“Pack your bags.”

You were at the sink, finishing washing a couple dishes, but the intensity in his tone had frozen your hands, your mind spinning over his words, unsure if your ears had heard him correctly.

“What?”

“Pack a bag now.”

Your heart dropped and you followed him into the bedroom. “Frank, what is going on?”

He was shoving shirts and socks and whatever he could grab from his drawers into a black backpack. “We have to get out of town for a couple days.” Another backpack was thrown to your feet.

“Oh um okay.”

You slid into your closet and started grabbing the necessities. And within twenty minutes the two of you were in his black van heading out of the city.

The fear that once swirled in your stomach now has dispersed into exhaustion.

You spent the first couple hours trying to get out of him what in the world is going on, but he never answered with anything more than that some “bad guys” were involved.

You spent the next hour gazing out the window as the sun started to set, watching the world go by. The sky scraping buildings turning into suburbs turning into forests turning into fields. You also spent a large amount looking at him, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes.

The curve of his jaw and plush of his lips, the expanse of his nose and strong browline. The way his right arm extends and his large hand grips the steering wheel with power and strength. His other arm bending at the elbow, resting on the door and holding his head up.

They shift as time runs longer. Sometimes he’ll trade hands, left one tapping on the wheel to the beat of the music, right hand resting on your thigh.

But then the hours start to become too long and suddenly the road trip is really starting to feel like a road trip. You tried falling asleep against the window, but no matter what configuration you were in, your neck or shoulder yelled out at you in agony.

The sun set long ago and you hesitate to complain, but you’re tired and your normal kindness has left out the window when you left the city limit.

“Frank, I’m tired.”

He doesn’t say anything, just reaches over and turns the music down. Somehow thinking that you’d be able to find sleep resting in the same position you have for the past what feels like a lifetime.

“No, I can’t sleep in this car.”

His eyes don’t leave the road. “Sorry sweetheart but you’ll have to try.” He says flatly.

Your bottom lip pushes out, frustrated that he’s not hearing you.

“I want out. I want to stretch my legs.”

This time he looks over at you, the sparse street lights reflecting off his brown eyes, calculating and turning with emotion.

“No.”

He then turns back to face the road.

You’re taken aback. What the fuck?

“What do you mean no?” You hiss, turning towards him and glaring at the side of his face. “I’m tired and hungry and I want to sleep.”

His nostrils swell as he takes in a deep breath. “We’ll go a few more miles and then we can stop for a quick break.”

“Uh uh, I want to stop now.”

You know you’re being a little hard to deal with, but you have every right to be.

Once again his eyes meet your own, eyebrows furrowed and left hand running over the scruff growing along his jaw. You already know what he’s going to say.

“No, don’t say no. You dragged me out of my house, have given me no explanations as to why, haven’t even fed me, and I’m tired. I. Want. Out. Now. And not for a quick break. I want to stop for the night, sleep somewhere other than this godforsaken seat.”

After a few minutes he speaks up with clenched teeth. “Fine, we’ll stop at a motel.”

Happy with this answer you settle back into your seat. And when you approach a small town you start to get excited. And when a large red neon sign stating “vacancies” comes into your view you can’t help but feel your soul stand up.

“There’s one!”

Frank doesn’t say anything but the van slows down and he pulls into the dark vacant parking lot, only a few other cars within the small area.

He doesn’t say anything when he walks into the motel. You watch from the safety of the van as he quickly converses with the man behind the counter.

And he doesn’t say anything when he gets back into the van and hands the key to you, a 14 painted on the white key chain in black shaky letters.

“One bed or two?”

You meant it to be a joke, a try at lightening the tense air of the car but the night has made your voice flat.

“Can you shut up for once in your life?” He startles you, frustration clear in his voice, patience run thin from the long drive. His eyes are closed, fingers rubbing his temples.

Pain flashes bright hot through your veins, as if he took a knife and stabbed it straight into your heart. You know it smears across your face like paint atop a blank canvas, distinguishable and bold, you can feel it, but you can see it in the way his eyes soften when his gaze lifts to find yours.

But with your own patience gone you easily cover the dismissal with anger, silently brooding with your arms crossed and your whole body turned away from him.

As soon as the car pulls into the designated parking space you are already out of the door, motel key firmly in your hand as you shakily put it in the lock, begging your tears to stay back for a few more minutes.

The lock seems to refuse to open, your hands clammy and no longer useful, and it only makes your heart drop more, your tears come stronger. You want to throw the stupid key, kick the door, break something… anything. Finally the door opens and you thrust yourself into the dark room.

Frank walks in behind you, bag of guns and weapons and who knows what slung over his shoulder, both backpacks filled with clothes held by one hand.

“Wait… I-”

You turn around and glare at him, imagining daggers being stabbed into his chest. “I’m taking a shower.” You hiss before retreating and slamming the bathroom door behind you, letting your fingers fall and lock the door.

Everything crashes down on you. Tears stream down your cheeks uncontrollably and with your back to the door, you slide down until your knees are to your chest and you’re curled in a ball of self security.

After a nice long hot shower where you scrubbed and scrubbed your skin, taking your frustration and pain out on the poor bar soap, you hear the soft rapping of knuckles on the bathroom door.

“Sweetheart, can I come in?”

You hate how he sounds like a kicked puppy.

But as you wrap yourself in a towel and open the door, you don’t look at him, terrified that if you meet his eyes you’ll break down again. You feel better now that you’re clean and your legs have been stretched, but you’d rather not risk another meltdown.

He walks past you knowing best to leave you be for a while and give you space as best as he can in the small motel room.

As you throw on clean underwear you find yourself instinctively reaching for the favorite sleep shirt of yours. The oversized black cotton shirt that was once his now has been claimed as yours. You smile without realizing it, bringing it to your chest and breathing in the faint cologne left on the thread.

You wish it was morning already, when all of this passes as you both realize the unfairness and childish small fight you’re in. But for tonight you’re too tired and too proud to do anything, so you just throw the shirt on and climb under the covers, heart growing fond as you wait for the familiar feeling of him crawling in right beside you.

With heavy eyelids you listen as you hear him brush his teeth, the sink shutting off, and it’s all so domestic. Then he shuffles around the room, doing a last round of safety checks, before finally stripping down into his boxers.

The bed dips below his weight, but you can’t bring yourself to move. He slides in under the covers next to you, warmth flowing off of him and making your bones yearn to confide in his hold.

A calloused fingertip lightly runs along your shoulder, barely touching the skin as if he put any pressure you’d shatter. But with the state of your emotions you’re not confident you won’t.

“Asleep?”

His voice breaks through the silent room, even as he whispers his question, it's still so gruff and firm. While you are awake, you don’t really want to face him. And whether he knows what you’re doing or not, it doesn’t seem to phase him.

The fingertip drifts in undisguisable patterns along your skin, his mind obviously taking control of his focus. Minutes go by of his silence, your heart softening with each second passed.

“You know…” he starts, barely audible, a private conversation, “I didn’t mean it.” His fingertip rubs a little harder, showing the intensity of his words. “I- I just hate dragging you into this. Into this mess that I’ve created. You’re too good to have to deal with this, to deal with me.”

Your body betrays your mind, rolling over to face him.

You don’t say anything… can’t say anything because you don’t have the words to make it better. But as your hand lifts to cup his jaw and your dewy eyes meet his concerned ones you know it portrays the undefinable thoughts and emotions you can’t even begin to try and name.

His eyes close and he rests his forehead against your own, a gesture that is so uniquely his, one that you’ve learned is how he says ‘I love you.’

“I’m sorry sweetheart.”

You slide down his body until your head snuggles against his bare chest, lips pressing a kiss to his sternum. “I know baby, I am too.”

His arms wrap around you, tucking you away from the world, protecting you with such ferocity. Your eyes close, brain soothed by his touch and smell, exhaustion finally catching up to you and instantly making you drift off.

And even while he’ll deny it until the day he dies, he’s glad you made him stop at the motel because there's nothing he loves more than holding you in his arms and drifting off into a deep sleep. Because sometimes you know better than he does. But your ego doesn’t need to know that, so for now he’ll keep it to himself.

#lordys 1k follower celebration #frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle x you #the punisher #marvel's punisher #punisher #the punisher x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal x you #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Can we get sequel to goose’s best friend??? That was fantastic

I'll have you all know I had this saved under the working title "Goose's Mom Has Got It Going On"

Goose's Best Friend, Part 2

Part 1

Summary: After finding out your flirty pen-pal was Carol Danvers, you have to see if you can look past your shared past and make it work.

Pairings: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,897

A date with Carol Danvers was dangerous. There were about a million things that could go horribly wrong, all of which you ran over in your head as you walked to the cafe down the street, the blonde in question at your side. Neither of you had spoken a single word since you’d agreed to a coffee date after she’d shown up at your apartment and admitted that she had been the girl you’d been flirting with over the little notes on Goose’s collar.

When she’d first showed up at your door, you’d refused her.

You hated Carol Danvers, right? She was arrogant, self-centred, and an all-around pain in the ass. She was not a joy to be around and that had never, not once, been debatable. Not until that moment when, for some unknown reason, your heart skipped a beat when that too-familiar grin crossed her lips. You’d managed to ignore the feeling, tightening your grip on the doorknob to ready yourself to shut the passage that was open between you.

“Danvers,” you’d said, suppressing the shake in your voice. “Sorry I wasted your time.”

“Wasted my time? What do you mean?”

“We’ve never gotten along much, have we? Who’s to say that should start now?”

You’d tried to shut the door, then, but she’d put her foot in the way. “Coffee. Tomorrow morning.”

Uncertainty was something you thought you’d never see in the eyes of the army pilot. Yet, there she’d stood, gaze cast just past your head at the golden numbers nailed to your apartment door. It was something that made you momentarily forget just who it was. That show of uncertainty was comforting to you. It showed she’d changed. If she could change her attitude for just a moment then, who was to say she couldn’t change her attitude just a little more? You wanted to meet the Carol who had sent you all those notes.

“Tomorrow morning,” you’d agreed. Then you’d shut the door.

Now, here you were, walking into the small cafe at her side. She held the door open for you, an awkward smile tugging at her lips as she did. Your smile was just as forced, and the quiet thank you just as uncomfortable. Neither of you fit into the atmosphere one bit. It was calm, peaceful, and comfortable inside. You were wringing your hands together because you weren’t sure what to do with them, and your gaze was locked to the ground, unsure if you should be looking at Carol or not.

You finally stepped up to the front of the line, eyes travelling over the board quickly. Carol ordered a black coffee, and then her eyes turned to you. You cleared your throat hard before you ordered yourself a drink. When the barista asked suddenly, if it was together or separate, you and Carol both tensed up impossibly more. Her mouth opened and then shut once as she tried to find words. After forty-five seconds of tense silence, you whipped your wallet out.

“Together. Credit.”

You paid for both drinks and then moved to wait for them to be prepared. The entire time you waited, neither you nor Carol spoke a word. Instead, you bathed in the most uncomfortable silence you’d ever felt before in your entire life. Finally, the drinks arrived. You handed Carol hers, and she led you to a table in the corner. You both sat down, the silence reigning until you finally decided to clear your throat and be the first to speak.

“So, you have a cat.”

“Yeah. He’s a good cat. I got him from a friend,” Carol said, before sipping her drink. “Long story.”

You decided not to prod about that. You didn’t know her well enough to. Instead, you only nodded in response. You took to glancing around the room, something that gave you a reason to look away from Carol whilst not seeming awkward about it. There weren’t many other people in the cafe, and you didn’t stare too long at any one of them, lest they think you were being rude. Eventually, your gaze moved back to the blonde across from you.

“So, I guess this was unexpected,” Carol laughed tightly. “Me, I mean.”

“I was surprised. It was… unexpected,” you repeated.

“You don’t sound overly pleased.”

You had to stop and think about that. You’d been avoiding pondering just how you felt about this. When you’d worked up the confidence to ask your anonymous pen-pal to a coffee date, you’d been quite excited. Once you’d found out just who you’d asked on a date, though, your feelings had changed. You were still open to it, even if you were a little more hesitant. It made you nervous. Carol Danvers had never liked you and you’d never liked her. She’d spent every moment you’d ever spent with her teasing and taunting you and you’d never enjoyed it.

“Surprised,” you repeated. “We’ve never much gotten along.”

Carol shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t ecstatic either, you know.”

That was starting to sound a little more like the Carol you knew. Of course she would say something like that. For a second you had to stop and remind yourself of who you were talking to. You took a deep breath, focused on the warm drink in your hands, and then looked back up at the army pilot. She wasn’t looking at you, the comment she’d made obviously not having meant anything to her. That fact almost made you even angrier.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Carol only let her gaze flicker to you once before turning it back to whatever she was looking at behind you. “I mean it’s you,” she said nonchalantly. She looked back at you. “But I came anyway. After those notes, how couldn’t I?”

“You came anyway,” you repeated with a scoff. “And that was right after you overlooked the fact that it was me, right?”

Your voice had risen just enough that the table next to you was able to hear your conversation. They may have been trying to be discreet about it, but you know the young couple sitting across each other, hands clasped under the table, were listening in. Every once in a while their eyes would wander to your table, their conversation had dropped, and they were leaning a little closer than necessary. You wanted to give them a rude gesture with your hands, but then again, you wanted to give that same gesture to your date.

Carol rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then tell me what you did mean.”

“You’re not exactly my type, you know.”

“And what’s that mean, Danvers? I'm not exciting enough for you? Pardon me for enjoying peace and quiet.” You stood up. “You’re welcome, by the way, for the coffee.”

You stood up and left your half-empty drink on the table, making for the exit. Carol didn’t stop you.

*

You were half tempted to hang up on the woman that was on and on in your ear. You lay back against the arm of the sofa, tucking the cordless phone between your ear and your shoulder. You grabbed the TV remote off the end table beside you and turned the TV on. It was the time of day for your favourite TV show. The sound of the theme song caught the attention of your best friend. She gave a very loud shout of protest, making you scramble for the phone to pull it away from your ear.

“You are not seriously watching TV right now!”

“I am seriously watching TV. Miami Vice is on.”

“You need to go knock on Carol’s door, and-”

You snarled. After the whole incident with the notes on Goose’s collar, you’d been unable to not think about the sweet side of Carol. When you saw her or saw Goose, it’d been all you thought about. But you’d gotten over it. Once more Carol no longer elicited any feelings other than rage. That was how you liked it. There was no want for anything else. In fact, you made sure that Carol no longer took up more than five minutes of your thoughts. You didn’t need to let her rule your life like that.

“I won’t do any such thing. I’d rather date the Wicked Witch of the fucking West.”

“Well, pretty soon that’s going to be your only option left.”

“You should see me right now. I've practically fallen off my seat with laughter,” you said, sarcasm coating your words.

There was a knock at your door before she could answer. You didn’t even tell her as you put the phone down on the coffee table, turned the volume down on the TV, and headed for the front door. You opened it up without checking who it was, and your eyebrows furrowed momentarily when no one was there. When Goose strode into your apartment with confidence, though, you couldn’t help but smile. You shut the door behind him and picked up the phone once more.

“Sorry. I had to get the door,” you muttered, jamming the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you reached for the cat treats.

“Was it Carol?”

“It was not,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It was my new best friend.”

“New best friend?!” She hesitated a moment. “It’s that cat, isn’t it?”

You decided not to dignify that with an answer. You turned to hand Goose one of the treats, only to find that he’d disappeared. You glanced every which way to find him, but the tabby was nowhere in sight. His presence was announced when you heard the shatter from the living room. The red mug that your grandmother had given you for your birthday was in pieces on the floor. You scowled at the cat, but when he glanced up at you with wide eyes, you found you couldn’t stay mad at him. Instead, you grabbed the dustpan and hung up the phone with a quick apology.

As you swept the red pieces of ceramic off the floor, you glance up at Goose. Casually, he licked one of his front paws where he was sat upon the coffee table. You might have looked away, but you noticed the small piece of paper taped around his collar. There was some unidentifiable feeling swirling around in your stomach. You hadn’t talked to Carol since the incident in the cafe. You had half a mind to just leave the paper where it was, but you found, as you dumped the broken mug in the trash and tried to resume watching your show, you couldn’t get your mind off it. Finally, when Goose made to stride past you, you reached out and took it.

For a few long moments, you held it folded in your hands. There was no way there was any sort of apology on the small note. That was not the style of Carol Danvers. Not that you knew, anyway. You turned it over a few more times in your hands before you finally unfolded it, still hesitating before you read it. Goose was watching you as if he were interested to see what your expression might be. You glanced down at the untidy scrawl that belonged to your least-favourite neighbour.

Can we talk?

You wanted to write out a simple no as a reply. She didn’t deserve that, did she? Not when you’d already given her a chance after she’d been nothing but terrible to you for well over a year. You crumpled the note and threw it across the room, watching it fall on the floor beside the TV. With nothing more than a simple grumble, you reached for the TV remote, turning up the volume, sitting back, and putting all of your attention into the show in front of you.

*

The sun streaming through the window of your bedroom was blinding. You’d been too distracted to remember to close the curtains the night before, so it was unobstructed as it was amplified by the glass pane in your window and shone into your eyes. With a hand raised to protect your eyes, you glanced over at the digital clock that was sat on your nightstand. You’d slept in. That fact didn’t surprise you much. You hadn’t slept much.

Only when you let your head fall back against the pillows once more, eyes squeezed shut to protect them from the bright light, did you realize the second presence you could feel in your room. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, a little surprised that it was still present. You reached out with your left arm, using it to feel around the bed to find them. It didn’t take long, the other body being well within your reach. Your hand made contact so that you were both awake.

“You’re still here,” you mumbled, stretching as you turned your head to meet open eyes. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

Of course, Goose didn’t answer.

He’d been your companion the night before when you’d been tossing and turning, unable to get your brain to stop thinking about Carol’s note that was still crumpled into a small ball on the floor in your living room. He’d sat by your side and let you stroke the fur on his head as your mind raced, your own thoughts not letting you get a good night’s sleep. Eventually, he’d even curled up next to you on your bed, a strong sense of comfort coming from the action. You ran a hand over his head.

“Thanks, Buddy.”

He mewed in response.

You decided it was well time to get up, so you rolled off the bed. The first thing you did was jump in the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of the stress from the night before. When you emerged in sweat pants and a t-shirt, Goose was still on the bed. You waved for him to follow you into the kitchen. You started the coffee maker and went to the fridge to grab the creamer. There was none left. You groaned, the noise drowned out by Goose’s loud cry from behind you. He was sitting by the empty bag of treats.

“Yeah, me too,” you grumbled. “Wait here. I’ll go get more.”

So, you grabbed your keys, slid your feet into your shoes, and headed out the front door. You weren’t expected for Carol to be there, hand raised as if she’d been preparing to knock on the door. For a brief moment, she glanced behind you to take a look at Goose on the kitchen counter. Her gaze moved back to you. You were still a little shocked, not having been prepared for the early-morning (or, technically, early-afternoon) encounter outside your door.

“He stayed the night?” She asked.

“Mhm.”

It was a stupid response, and you cursed yourself for it right away. She didn’t seem to think twice of it. Her eyes were searching your face carefully. You didn’t know what she was looking for, but you were forcing yourself from blushing bright red. Judging by the absence of her usual smirk, she didn’t know that. You shut the door behind you, stepping around Carol to remove yourself from the closeness you’d been forced into.

“I was just going to get some coffee creamer. Did you want him back?” You said, shoving the keys into your pocket.

“No,” she said, twisting her fingers together. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh,” was all you said. “Why?”

“I wanted to talk.”

You could’ve slammed your palm into your forehead. Of course that’s why she was looking for you. She’d actually told you that she’d wanted to talk. You shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d sought you out to do just that. You supposed that’s what you got for not giving her a response. You nodded, finally, and leaned against the wall behind you, arms crossed over your chest. It was a posture that made you look closed off, and that was exactly what you wanted.

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day,” she began slowly. “And I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you since I’ve lived here.”

Maybe you’d been mistaken. Maybe she did know how to apologize.

“Thanks,” you said with a nod. “I’m sorry I stormed out.”

“I was just… I was hoping you’d give me another chance. Maybe lunch this time. On me.”

You sighed. “How many chances do you think you deserve, Carol?”

You’d meant to ask the question with anger. It had been intended as something rhetorical. What it came out as, though, was hurt and broken. At some point, it had become a sincere question. With eyes just as sincere, though, Carol took one single step closer.

“I just need one more.”

You hesitated. She’d hurt you. She was dangerous. But she didn’t want much. Just one more chance. You wanted to give it to her. You wanted to let her try and prove herself. That’s what your heart wanted. Your head was powerful, though, and rejected the feelings of your heart. It was screaming something different.

It was only one more chance, but you had to decide if she deserved it.

“Why don’t you start by walking with me to the store?” You offered.

Carol nodded. “I can do that.”

And, just maybe, that was the start of one more chance.

#carol danvers #captain marvel #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel x reader #marvel #mcu #lesbain #wlw

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Learned Helplessness.

Commissioned by the very lovely, very patient @99shadowcat99.

Pairing: Yandere!Hawks/Reader (BNHA).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Mindbreak, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Themes of Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Slight Gaslighting, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and Implied Kidnapping.

Sometimes, Keigo had to wonder if there was ever a point where you hadn’t been afraid of him.

It’d always been there, even if Keigo liked to remember your anxious smiles and stuttered greetings in a kinder light. It made sense, in the moment, the way you kept your eyes on the floor when you first approached him, struggling to introduce yourself as you fumbled with the disposable cup in your hands, caught between the urge to leave an off-shift hero alone and the temptation get your favorite idol’s autograph before he could slip out of the small, back-alley bar you found him in. You’d been nervous, obviously, hesitant to admit you were just as eager as he was when he asked for your number, when he called you for the first time – hell, it took him months just to get you to spend the night in his apartment. You were shy. He liked that about you. You’d always been so timid.

The fear, the genuine fear, started later on. He remembered it, the weeks you spent holing yourself up in the smallest corner you could find, how many times he tried to lure you out and how many times he was met screaming and thrashing and struggling, but you’d always been scared, slow to adjust, reluctant to sit still and listen when he asked you so nicely to try. You wanted to be loved, but you didn’t know how to let your guard down. You wanted him, but…

But, he was making excuses. You were never shy. You’d never really been scared. Even when things went bad, he doubted you were ever really afraid of him.

You were afraid now, though, and if he’d been a better man, he might’ve been able to admit he was the reason why.

Your hands were shaking. Violently, visibly, despite your attempts to keep them folded behind your back, to keep the evidence of your paranoia out of sight and out of mind. It was enough to give you away, though, and if it hadn’t been, your posture would’ve done it, too stiff and too rigid to be comfortable, or your bowed head, or the smile you couldn’t seem to force onto your grim expression as he let himself into the kitchen, stopping to lean in the doorway. Already, it felt like an invasion, despite the fact that he’d taken you to his villa, on his property, far away from anyone or anything you’d interact with willingly. He was home too soon, and this wasn’t his territory, anymore. He wasn’t your caretaker, anymore. He’d lost the right to think of himself as such a benevolent figure.

But, he tried. You had to give him that. Out of the two of you, he was the only one trying to make this work. “No need to be shy,” He started, keeping his tone as neutral as he could. You didn’t react well when he raised his voice, and when he tried to be more gentle, to soften himself into something delicate and unimposing, you never bought the act. He couldn’t blame you. If he didn’t know how sweet you could be, how playful and how loving, he wouldn’t know to be dissatisfied with the frightened thing you currently were. “I don’t bite, (Y/n), you know that. You can calm down.”

He wanted you to correct him. He wanted you to grit your teeth, to cross your arms, to get angry. You only nodded, narrowing your eyes at the tiling. “You… you’re early.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a mumble, but it was still an improvement. Not long ago, you’d refused to talk to him at all, and when he could choke a few words out of you, he’d have to deal with the breakdown that came afterward, the pleads for mercy forced out between hitched sobs. This was better. He could tell himself that this was better, even if it was less, too. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been there to greet you. I would’ve, if I thought you were going to—”

You were rambling, again. Keigo didn’t have a problem with that, not by itself, not when so many memories he had of your absent-minded tangents were still tinted with that sparkling, rose-colored haze, but he didn’t care for this, panicked muttering only made more painful by the way you shifted your weight, managing to hold your tense smile, this time. Did he ask you to do that? Smile when he was around? Play house and pretend you were happy when your captor chose to pay attention to you? It seemed like something he would do, back when he still thought that wearing you down was the solution. Fuck, it seemed like something he would do now, if he didn’t already know how painful it was to watch you try.

“It’s alright,” He cut you off, taking half a step forward. Instantly, reflexively, you flinched back, that slight shudder suddenly more pronounced. It wasn’t just your hands, now, your shoulders were shaking too, your jaw locking into place as you leaned into the sharp edge of the countertop. “Sweetheart,” He tried, moving forward before realizing his mistake and freezing, cursing under his breath. Predictably, none of it did anything to soothe you. “Baby, I just wanted to see you, that’s all. I got off early, and I figured we could—”

A stifled gasp interrupted him, just the hint of a sob. A month ago, he would’ve taken it as a sign of disobedience, another bad habit you had to be trained out of. Now, it was all he could do to stop himself from wishing you would cry, kick and bite and scratch at him until you’re too exhausted to care that he'd be the one comforting you. At least that way, he’d get to touch you. At least that way, you’d be something, other than afraid.

“Please, I just—I haven’t done anything!” Because you’ve been good. Because so much as being near him was a punishment. Because he wanted you to love him and now, he was paying the price for hoping he could ever do something so shamelessly heroic. “I can’t— please, don’t come any closer, I don’t know if I can—”

He wanted to hold you. That was all he could think about. He just wanted to hold you, the actual you. Not whatever shell he’d gotten used to living with. “Stop talking.”

You clenched your eyes shut, then you opened them again. Like a child, trying to blink away the remnants of a nightmare after just waking up. “I’m so—”

“Stop talking.” In his defense, he didn’t yell, he knew how much you hated it. He did yell, he didn’t throw a tantrum, not like you would’ve, not like you were about to by the time he stepped forward, crossing whatever ridiculous boundary you were so convinced he had to respect. You moved to shrink into yourself, but he grabbed you before you could collapse, catching you by the bicep and latching onto your hip, refusing to let you fall and make him seem like the bad guy. You already had your fun. You’d already gotten away with enough. You had to know he would put his foot down eventually, and you didn’t have the right to seem so shocked, when he finally did. “Just stop talking. Shut up. Don’t say a goddamn word until I tell you to, fucking brat.”

Now, now, you were crying, tears welling in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, your entire body trembling like he’d ever given you a reason not to trust him, like he’d ever hurt you a reason to think he had anything but your happiness in-mind. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not about the tears, not about the excuses you were stumbling through, and not about the way you were holding yourself, your arms crossed over your stomach and your nails embedded in your sides, a moment away from drawing blood. He just couldn’t bring himself to care.

You didn’t say anything, but he still shook his head, sighed, made a show of cupping your cheek and idly brushing away your tears. “It’s my fault,” He admitted, letting the disappointment seep into his voice, allowing his tone to dip into something superior. Compared to your whimpering, at least. “I trusted you to get better on your own, and I shouldn’t have. I thought you could pull yourself together, but clearly, I was wrong. You just can’t do anything on your own, can you?”

You looked like you wanted to say something, to argue. You didn’t, but you looked like you wanted to, and that was enough to make his heart skip a beat on its own.

“I’m tired of this.” Just as quickly as he took you up, he let you go, watching in silence as you struggled to stay on your feet. “Go to your room. Yours, not mine. I don’t want to look at you if you’re going to act like I’ve done anything but help you.”

You looked at him, at that, met his gaze for the first time since you decide doing so was a death-wish. It was only for a breath, a fraction of a second, but he still saw it – that spark, that light, that hint of something other than thoughtless, blank fear. It wasn’t positive, the adoration he would’ve liked or the resigned neutrality he would’ve tolerated, but it was something. It was something, and it had been so, so long since you’d given Keigo anything.

He couldn’t make you love him. He’d tried, he failed, and he’d tried again and made thing worse. It was over. He just couldn’t do it.

But, he was beginning to think you didn’t need to love him. Not as much as he loved you. Not at all, really.

Not if he could get you to hate him enough to make up the difference.

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere prompts #yandere imagines #yandere oneshots #yandere scenario #commission #writing commission #yandere commission #boku no hero acadamia imagines #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere bnha #bnha imagines #my hero academia imagines #yandere my hero academia #mha imagines #yandere mha #yandere keigo #takami keigo x reader #yandere hawks #hawks x reader #yandere fantasy #yandere fanfiction #yanderecore #yancore

[sour--disposition]

Lover of Mine

-

jj olatunji x fem!reader

-

a/n: i started listening to 5sos again after like 3 years (thanks amy xx) and lover of mine makes me sob, so here we go

(gif from the lovely @sdmngifs​)

“Hope and I pray - Darling, that you will stay - Butterfly lies - Chase them away”

Of course you knew who JJ was when you’d first met him; despite what your friends thought, you didn’t actually live under a rock. You’d had no choice but to get to know him when two of your closest friends had attracted the attention of Ethan and Harry on a night out and spent the rest of the evening in the club with them.

You watched from the other side of the table as your friends flirted shamelessly. Hair twirling around fingers, teeth gliding over glossed lips… it was shambolic. “Let’s go for a girls night, they said. It will be so fun, they said”, you deadpan.

“Oh so this is a girls night”, JJ exclaimed, bursting out into laughter. “That’s cold, man”, he chuckled. “Come on, drinks on me”, he winked, taking your hand and leading you to the bar to pick up the next round for the table.

You’d spent the night chatting with JJ, occasionally dipping in and out of conversation with his friends and their girlfriends. It wasn’t until you’d turned to tell your friends that the next round was on you that you realised they’d left.

“The girls with Behz and Bog?”, Simon asked you. JJ nodded for you, knowing you didn’t know their names. “They all left about a half hour ago I think”, he told you sympathetically.

“Charming”, you scoffed, starting to gather your things, ready to call it a night. JJ took your hand before you could stand, though, leaning in close to speak to you.

“Fancy a nightcap?”, he asked.

Your immediate reaction was to say no. This famous youtube star come rapper come boxer would probably only want one thing from you, and you weren’t after that. But, how could you judge him, you’d only known him 3 hours. So, against what might have been your better judgement, you found yourself nodding and agreeing.

“Bailey’s?”, he asked once you’d entered his apartment, leading you over to the kitchen. You nodded, following him and watching as he poured out the two drinks. JJ knocked your glasses together gently before taking a sip.

You’d gone home that night with a big smile on your face and a new number nestled into your contacts, under JJ’s name. You still had your reservations about JJ, you’d only known him a few hours, after all. But deep down, you hoped that whatever you had could grow into something beautiful.

-

Being with JJ was daunting. He had a massive, devoted fan base, a successful career not in one, but three different industries… And you were you. The niggling, self-sabotaging voice in your head always reminded you that JJ could do better, that no matter how good of a person he was, he would get bored of you. It took a lot to ignore the thoughts, the feelings that haunted you in the dark nights on your own.

JJ would remind you until he was blue in the face, if he had to, that he wouldn’t stay just to humour you. He’d often joke that he was too busy to waste his time on someone that he didn’t think was worth it in the long run, but by the way he held you in the dark nights that you shared, you knew that there was at least some truth to that.

“I'll never give you away - 'Cause I've already made - Already made that mistake” 

The honeymoon phase with JJ was a whirlwind. Fancy dinner dates sat across from JJ, tight white shirt pulled across his biceps; nights out with his friends, tucked under his arm so he could proudly show you off; dancing around the living room on JJ’s toes at all hours of the night.

And then JJ had music deadlines coming up, music videos to film, Sidemen videos to film… It wasn’t strange to not hear from JJ for days at a time. You tried not to worry, JJ had never given you reason to worry in the past. But there were only so many rain-checks you could take without starting to doubt your relationship. You felt guilty, how could you not. JJ was working, doing his job… You knew all of this when you entered a relationship with him.

Things were starting to look up, though. You were in an Uber on the way to JJ’s, meeting him there for your first evening out together in well over a month. You were dressed reasonably for the occasion, jeans, nice top and some heeled boots. You were excited for a few hours of JJ’s undivided attention, time for you and him to just catch up and be a normal couple again.

You knocked on the door of the apartment, surprised when Simon opened the door to you. “Y/N?”, he asked, confused.

“I’m meeting JJ here before we go out”, you told him. Simon’s face twisted into a look of guilt and remorse. “He isn’t here, is he?”, you asked, eyes dropping to the floor.

“Come wait inside, yeah? He’s probably stuck in traffic”, Simon offered, moving back to let you step into the apartment. You thanked him, following him in, pulling your shoes off before walking over to the sofa. “You good?”, Simon asked, not walking back down to his office until you’d given him a nod.

You sent JJ a text, letting him know that you were probably early, but you were at the apartment. You pulled your feet up onto the sofa, getting yourself comfortable. You let yourself get lost in a cocktail of Youtube, Twitter and TikTok. You didn’t realise how long you’d been sat there until the low battery notification popped up on your phone. Your eyes flicked to the clock on your screen. 10pm. You’d been sitting there for 4 hours.

You rolled your neck before standing up, grimacing at the pops and cracks of your stiff joints. You walk down to Simon’s office, knocking on the door. “I’m off home”, you told him, popping your head around the door. Simon turned to you, seeming shocked that you were still there.

“It’s late. Just stay, I’m not letting you go home through the middle of London on your own”, he told you. You hesitated before nodding, wishing Simon goodnight and taking yourself off to JJ’s room. You grabbed a t-shirt out of one of JJ’s drawers, heading to the bathroom to get changed and take your make-up off.

It wasn’t until you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, fully made up and ready for your date, that you started to cry. You sat on the side of the bath, head hung in your hands, as you let out full bodied sobs. This is what you were worried about, this is what JJ told you wouldn’t happen. Cancelling and rescheduling dates was one thing, but completely ignoring you and standing you up… You were heartbroken. 

You scrubbed your make up off, throwing your hair into a bun on your head and changing into JJ’s shirt. You padded out to the kitchen, on a mission to make yourself a cup of tea. “You want a tea?”, Simon called when he heard you walking over.

“Please”, you said, voice small and watery. He smiled sympathetically at you. You must have made quite the sight, messy hair, tear tracks running down your face and an oversized t-shirt skirting around your thighs. You leant against the wall, staying out of the way as Simon moved around the kitchen. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”, he asked you worriedly as he handed you your mug. 

“I will be. I just need some sleep, I think”, you told him, like your heart wasn’t tearing its way out of your chest as you spoke. You slumped off back to JJ’s room, crawling into bed and wrapping yourself in the duvet. You finished your tea, staring blankly at the wall opposite you, discarding the mug on the side table as soon as you were done.

 A fresh wave of tears started when you reached over to plug your phone in. You stayed at JJ’s that often that he’d bought you a charger so you didn’t have to worry about forgetting it. It seemed like something so trivial to cry over, but you couldn’t help it. That was the JJ you knew, JJ who bought you a phone charger so you had even less of an excuse not to stay over, JJ who bought your favourite brand of tea bags even though he knew you’d drink anything. Not this JJ, JJ who blew you off and stood you up.

 You hadn’t even bothered to shut the blinds, so you fell asleep staring out of the window, watching the lights of London’s skyline flicker and dance along the night sky.

-

You awoke to a sharp hiss and the other side of the bed dipping down. You looked over your shoulder, seeing JJ fumbling around in the dark. He looked over to you, face dropping with guilt. He opened his mouth to say something, but you simply turned over, tucking the duvet tighter under your chin.

 “I’m sorry”, JJ said behind you. “I know it’s not a good excuse, but time got away from me. We were writing and recording and next thing I know the producers started packing up, saying it was too late to do anything else”.

 He sounded genuinely apologetic and part of you wanted to roll over and let him take you into his arms and hold you until you forgave him. But a bigger part of you, an arguably pettier part of you, wanted him to suffer. You’d had to sit with no answer for hours, it was his turn now.

 JJ seemed to understand what your lack of answer meant. He quickly got changed and got ready for bed, sliding in next to you wordlessly. It took effort not to turn and wrap an arm or a leg around him like you usually would. “Night, Y/N”, JJ whispered into the dark of the room before shutting his eyes and willing himself to sleep.

 You awoke the next morning to JJ trying to bring a tray into the bedroom. You couldn’t help but giggle at the look of concentration cemented onto his face, tongue poking over his lip as his eyes stayed trained on the contents of the tray. “Good, you’re up”, he smiled once he’d rested the tray on the bed.

 “What’s this?”, you asked, shuffling yourself so you were sitting upright against the headboard.

 “An apology. I was a cunt last night. You don’t deserve that”, JJ started, perching himself next to you. “I fucked up. I’ve been fucking up. I’m so, so sorry”, he stressed, reaching over to take your hand in his. “I got tunnel vision with work. I shouldn’t have cancelled so much shit. Fuck”, he sighed.

 “Just promise you’ll try and make sure it doesn’t happen again?”, you asked, rubbing your thumb over the veins in JJ’s hand.

 “I promise. And if it does, just tell me. Tell me I’m being a cunt until I listen to you, okay?”, he said, smiling when you laughed and nodded. “Good”, he whispered, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you in and press a kiss to your temple.

“When I take a look at my life - And all of my crimes - You're the only thing that I think I got I right”

 Your arm was looped with Talia’s as you walked into the club where JJ’s release party was being held. Banners decorated in album art were draped around the top of the club, lights of all different colours bouncing off of the pictures of JJ’s face. Talia led you over to the cordoned off VIP area of the club.

 “Restricted access”, the man said, voice low and gruff. 

 “We should be on the list. Talia and Y/N”, Talia told him politely. He checked his list against your IDs before lifting the rope and letting you through. “Drinks. C’mon”, she urged, pulling your arm and dragging you over to the bar.

 Once you’d both got a drink in hand, you walked over to find JJ. “Hello, Mister”, you smiled, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Congratulations”, you whispered. JJ just rolled his eyes lovingly before introducing you to Randolph and S-X. “It’s great to finally meet you both, JJ’s said great things”, you beamed, reaching out to shake both of their hands.

JJ excused himself to go and talk to some official people regarding the party and the album itself, leaving you with a soft press of a kiss to your forehead. “Love you”, he murmured quietly, before walking off into the swarm of people.

 You spoke to Randolph and S-X for a few minutes before excusing yourself to go and find Talia, Freya and the boys. “Y/N!”, Freya called when she saw you. “You look amazing!”, she gushed, reaching out to pull you into a hug. 

“So do you, Frey”, you told her, holding her tight. You’d only just sat down next to her when JJ came up beside you, resting his arm on your shoulder. 

“Are you wanting to sit down?”, you asked him, smiling up at him.

“Just wondered if you want another drink before I do, me and Simon are going for another round”, he told you. You nodded, squeezing his fingers quickly before he left. You jumped straight back into your conversation with Freya, Talia joining soon after, followed by Josh. 

At the bar, as they waited for the drinks to be prepared, Simon caught JJ staring at you. “You did good”, he told JJ, leaning in so the younger man could hear him over the music.

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me”, JJ said simply, turning to Simon. “This is great, YouTube is great… I love it all”, he started, “But I’d give it all up in an instant for her. She’s put up with so much shit for me to get this album out and to keep a consistent video schedule and stuff with the boxing and everything. She doesn’t complain, just tells me when I’m being a cunt and to sort my shit out”.

Simon looked at JJ, convinced he’d never seen his best friend as love as he was in that moment. “I’m happy for you, bro”, Simon told him honestly, slapping his chest supportively before turning around to grab one of the trays of drinks that had been left on the bar.

 -

 Back at the apartment, once your slinky dress was discarded on the bathroom floor and JJ’s Versace jacket had been hung haphazardly on the back of his chair, you waited for JJ to get out of the shower and join you in bed. You flicked through the photos that you’d taken or been sent of the night, landing on your favourite of you and JJ that Talia had sent you once you’d piled into the Uber.

You’d been forcing JJ to cycle through a whole album of poses, making sure you got at least one decent one from the night as you and JJ were renowned for taking the blurriest of pictures. Simon had made a quip about how JJ was whipped and JJ had sniped back. You’d burst out into laughter, head tilted back, as JJ stared at you lovingly. The picture captured it perfectly; JJ’s arm tucked around your waist, your hand hooked over his shoulder, the look in JJ’s eyes that you knew was reserved for only you…

 “Whaddya lookin at?”, JJ asked, jumping onto the bed next to you and yanking you into his arms. You showed him the photo over your shoulder. “It’s cute. Send me it”, he told you. Once JJ had removed himself from your back, you rolled over so you could face him. You watched as he received the picture and immediately went to set it as his lock screen. “What?”, he asked defensively when you fixed him with a soft look.

“It’s just cute”, you told him, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips. JJ’s hands came to your hips, guiding you over to sit on his lap. “I love you”, you whispered, resting your forehead against his. JJ nudged his head forward, dropping another kiss onto the corner of your mouth before looking up and meeting your eyes.

“I love you too, more than you’ll ever know”.

#jj olatunji #ksi #ksi imagine #jj olatunji imagine #ksi oneshot #jj olatunji oneshot #sidemen imagine #sidemen oneshot #sidemen #sidemen imagines #ksi x reader #jj olatunji x reader #uk youtube imagine #uk youtube

[americasmarauders]

What about ....

“i’m not worthy of anybody’s love.” “that’s not true, you’re worthy of mine.” followed by the lover breaking eye-contact… + a love confession

Followed with tentative kisses in the dark

With Jason Todd x reader ❤❤❤❤❤

Lots of love xoxo

did this get completly out of hand? yes, yes it did. It was supposed to be short and sweet, but suddenly I had 12 pages of angst ready to make their way into the world. 

I’m so sorry it took so long, elle, life got in my way, but now you have like, 6k+ words to make up for it. I really hope you like it.

warnings: completly unedited, sorry for the typos :))

words: 6,856

masterlist #

#

Aged 14, sometime in September.

Mason Anderson was the biggest dick she had ever met. He was petty and jealous and he picked on her just because. She just wanted peace, quietly resolving  the homework she had spent an entire week working on. The library was empty, safe for a couple of other students when he barged in and robbed her of her papers. 

He claimed he needed it more than her, he was the one almost flunking out of the class. She demanded her homework back, but he ran towards the boy’s bathroom with her work. It wasn’t the first time that sullen feeling of despair had been planted on her by Mason Anderson, it still didn’t make it any easier. 

She sat in front of the boys bathroom, hugging her knees in an attempt to find comfort. She kept thinking that she could do it again, she had done it once, theoretically it would be faster to do it a second time. Light footsteps echoed through the hall, her eyes found their way to the source of the noise. 

Jason Todd was a tiny kid with a big brain and an even bigger heart. He had helped her with English more times than she cared to admit. Sometimes she would see him walking towards the alley near the Academy, holding an extra package of chips to the little kid that stayed there sometimes. She liked Jason Todd, considering him the only alley she had inside the cold walls of the Gotham Academy. 

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, delicately, sitting beside her. “I thought you were gonna finish Statam’s paper today.”

“Mason Anderson stole it,” her eyes were cast downwards, looking at the seams of the floor with an almost inhuman interest. “He wanted to copy it, and I wouldn’t let him so he decided to flush down the toilet instead.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered to her, sitting next to her on the floor. 

“It’s okay,” she shook her head, stretching her legs in front of her. “I just,” she sighed, trying to find the words, “I spent one week working on that, and I really needed the grade, you know? But he just didn’t care, he just thought of himself.”

Jason looked at her, softly. His eyes held a certain fire behind them, something she could never really describe what it was. It was entrancing, it calmed the pace of her heart.  He didn’t say anything before getting up and marching towards the boys bathroom. 

She didn’t hear anything going on inside, her mind imagining all sorts of scenarios where Jason would emerge from the bathroom beaten and defeated, Mason walking out completely victorious, with a shiny top grade Literature paper in hand. Her blood boiled at the image, more so than it did before. She got up from the ground, determined to help Jason win the fight, even if her papers were already down the plumbing. 

But the door flung open, her friend walking out calmly, clutching her homework delicately. He offered her a smile, and as the door closed behind Jason she could see Mason on the ground gripping his nose in pain. 

“Here,” the papers were completely dry to the touch, her confusion deepening. “He was copyin’ it.”

“I can’t believe you got this back,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “I thought… I thought I'd have to redo it.”

“Nah,” he smiled shyly, “I would’ve helped ya.”

“I can’t really depend on you for everything, Jason,” she replied politely. “It’s not fair.”

“I got your back,” he affirmed, “ya don’t need to worry.”

And it meant the world to her that he did. 

#

#

Aged 16, October 12th. 

Jason Todd and her became friends after the Mason Anderson incident. She didn’t know what Jason had said to him, what had he done, all she knew was that Mason never bothered her again after that. 

It was the night of her 16th birthday. It was late, probably past 3 in the morning when Jason carefully landed on the fire escape that led to her bedroom. He carefully carried a small box, wrapped neatly with a blue bow. He had chosen the gift lovingly, his heart warm with her. Jason hadn’t expected her to be such an integral part of his life, but just as quietly as she arrived, she placed herself in his heart permanently. She was his friend, true friend, she didn’t expect anything other than his company and support, something he was glad to provide. 

His knuckles lightly grazed her window, making the softest noise.  Her shades were partially open, he could see her body lying comfortably on her bed. She moved slightly, her body turning towards the window. Her hands rubbed her eyes delicately, seeing Jason smile awkwardly at her. She got up and dragged her feet towards him, opening her window to him. 

“What’re you doing here?” her voice was slurred, intoxicated with sleep. 

“You know, you should really lock your windows,” he commented, “Gotham’s a dangerous city.”

“Jay,” she warned, “what’re you doing here? It’s…”she searched for her clock, “fuck, 3 in the morning.”

“It’s your birthday,” he responded clearly, as if it was the most obvious reason why he was on her fire escape, on a cold October night only wearing a light jacket.

She blinked at his blunt response, confused on what to say to him. “You’ll see me tomorrow, Jay, I don’t understand why’d you come all this way just to see me.”

“Because it’s you,” he shrugged, stepping into her bedroom silently. “You really thought I wouldn’t see you on your birthday?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, looking down at her feet. A soft breeze came in through the window sending shivers down her spine. Jason closed the window for her and she sent a silent thank you towards his way. “I thought you wouldn’t bother.”

“Well,” he extended the little box to her. Her fingers brushed on his softly, a shock sent on his skin at the touch, “I couldn’t not see you.”

Her hands hugged the box carefully, hesitant on what to do with what was given to her. “Open it,” he urged her. 

She eyed him suspiciously, undoing carefully the blue bow that decorated the gift. Opening the box, a tiny robin pendant next to two tiny stones pendants, an opal and an onyx: her birthstone and his. “Wow,” she breathed out, her heart racing inside her chest. Suddenly, she didn’t feel sleepy anymore. “Jason, this is… You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I had,” he stated, his eyes soft and loving, lingering on her more than they should. “You mean a lot to me, darling.”

Her eyes glinted underneath the pale moonlight streaming through the half closed curtains of her room. Jason’s breath hitched quietly at the sight of her, disheveled and sleepy and yet the most perfect person to grace his life. She was at a loss for words for a few moments, opening and closing her mouth, not knowing how to react. Her eyes trailed frenetically over the pendants, trying to find meaning in those.

“Why a robin?” the inquiry startled Jason. He wasn’t expecting to explain himself, much less explain why he had given her a robin pendant. She had no clue what he did when the night fell, who Bruce actually was and he intended to keep her in the dark about that aspect of his life. She didn’t need to know anyway, and telling her would only put her in danger. That was what Bruce made her believe. 

“It reminded me of you,” he answered, simply, his eyes fixated on her angelic face. 

It wasn’t untrue. Robins were friendly and protected over, birds that should never be harmed. Jason made sure of that, he had her back, always, and he knew she had his. But mostly, he wanted her to have a piece of him everywhere she went. If something were to happen, he wanted to guarantee he wouldn’t be a footnote in her life. What a magnificent life that would be, he knew.

Her eyes ran on his face, looking for a hint that he wasn’t sincere, that he was just messing with her. The thought was more heartbreaking than she anticipated. She found nothing malicious in his face, in his eyes, and smiled back at him. “Thank you, Jay,” she kissed his cheek delicately, her lips barely brushing his skin. It was enough to send both of them into a frenzy of feelings, a thousand thoughts running through their heads. 

“Here,” he extended his hands, his eyes clear and full of emotion for her, “I’ll put it on for you.”

She handed him the box, turning around so he could clasp the hook of the necklace. Jason was considerably smaller than her - she guessed it was because of the years of malnutrition he endured when he lived on the streets - so she sat on her bed to meet his height. His fingers brushed slightly at the back of her neck, sending goosebumps on her body.

It was when she turned to look at him again that she realized that maybe Jason wasn’t just a friend to her. Maybe the interest she had in Jason, or how her heart raced when she saw him for the first time in the day weren’t because he was her friend. Maybe it was because she had decided to love him with all her soul. 

#

#

Aged 16, April 28th.

It was ironic how sunny it was in Gotham that day. It was like nothing had happened, the world hadn’t gotten the memo that it was supposed to be gloomy and sad outside, to match the pain she felt inside. 

On the deep green grass of Gotham cemetery, stood her and Jason’s family, listening to a priest preach something meaningless to her. Nothing mattered to her anymore, her friend, best friend, was buried deep into the earth, 6 feet under. She would never get to see him again, hear his laugh, take in his smile. She would never have another birthday with him, give him his favorite books, tell him she loved him. Her eyes were fixed on the fresh dirt lain over his shiny coffin, her hand fidgeting on the robin pendant Jason had gifted mer  months before. It wasn’t an open casket, she couldn’t even see him for the last time. 

The call was the most confusing moment she had ever gone through. He didn't even tell her he was going after his mom. He didn’t even get to explain that to her. Jason just burst through her window late at night, saying he was leaving Gotham for a few weeks, anger seeping through his pores and contaminating the room. His knuckles were badly bruised, as her fingertips lightly brushed he hissed. She didn’t question him, it didn’t even go through her head. He had said he wanted to find a part of him, and she nodded, wishing him luck. 

Looking back, she wished she had begged him to stay, to find that part of him in Gotham, with her away from the perils of foreign bombs. Tears sprouted in her eyes as the thought passed through her head. It wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t predict a tragedy would have happened. It had become a mantra to her, and sometimes repeating it to herself didn’t help at all.

Bruce Wayne stood next to her, stoic, his face stony. It almost didn’t look like he had lost a son. But she saw how his jaw tensed, how it was similar to when Jason was upset and didn’t want to tell her about it. She could see how broken he was inside, how angry and desperate. She felt that too. 

The priest stopped talking and the four people standing on that lawn let out a stuck breath of relief. Jason’s brother approached his Father, walking away from her. She stared at the stone, cold like Jason’s body, with the engrave ‘Jason Todd, beloved son and friend’. It didn’t make justice to what Jason actually was, he was much more than just a son and a friend, but it was what they used to describe him. If Jason had decided what his epitaph would be, surely would be a dramatic quote from Shakespeare. 

Her name was called out in a posh british accent and she turned toward the person. What she saw was an older gentleman, holding a black umbrella to protect his baldness from the sun. A thin mustache hung over his upper lip, molded into a sad frown. “I’m Alfred Pennyworth. Master Jason talked a lot about you,” he commented with his left hand behind his back.

“All good things, I hope?” she joked quietly, her eyes trailed to her black shoes, wet grass glued to the sides of it. 

“The best things, I assure,” his voice was firm and calm, his accent oozed her security, something she was eager to cling on. He reached for the inner pocket of his blazer, pulling a crisp white card. She furrowed her eyebrows, accepting the card. On it, it had Alfred’s name, his profession underneath and a phone number. “If you ever find yourself needing anything, I’ll be happy to help.”

She nodded, her thumb lightly brushing the expensive paper on her hand. “Thank you Mister Pennyworth,” her eyes found the old man, the wrinkles around it making his stern stance seem gentler. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to come over for some tea?” he offered. “I’m sure Master Bruce wouldn’t mind having his son’s friend over.”

She wanted to, a force inside her compelled her to accept his offer. But her heart was broken, and she didn’t know if she was ready to enter what used to be Jason’s home so fast after he was buried. At the same time, maybe she didn’t have the nerve to say no to such a kind person. “I--,” she hesitated, “okay, I’ll have some tea.”

#

#

Aged 18, mid-August.

“I don’t know what to do, Alfred,” her hands fiddling with the necklace Jason had given her long ago. “It feels like I’m at a crossroads and every sign points to the direction my heart doesn’t want to go.”

The old butler poured her mint tea - her favorite, as he had learned over the weekly visits she paid him - calmly and firmly as she ranted. “What is holding you back?”

She looked at Alfred, her eyes confused at the question. She hadn’t lingered on the fact of why she didn’t want to accept the scholarship on Metropolis. Her brain told her it was only logical, she would miss her parents, her weekly meeting with Alfred, her hometown. But Alfred was always one step ahead, he had a sixth sense as she had come to learn. “You know,” she replied softly, her eyes lingering on the beautiful teacup in front of her. 

He said her name, getting her attention. “Master Jason isn’t here anymore,” he stated simply, laying cookies on her plate, “you don’t have to stay behind for him.”

“I know,” she picked up the spoon and twirled it between her fingers. “But,” she hesitated, not knowing how to phrase her feelings, “Alfred, I can’t even think of it. I can’t wrap my brain around leaving him.”

“You are not leaving him,” his voice was calm and gentle, softening her panic. “You are moving on.”

She shook her head, her eyes shut close tightly. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she whispered, “I feel like I’m meant to be here, Alfred. I can’t really explain it.”

“Well, if you do decide to stay in Gotham, I hope we can continue our weekly teas,” Alfred said, a tone of hope in his voice. 

She smiled at him, her eyes filled with kindness. “If I do decide to stay, I’d love to keep our weekly teas,” her smile stayed as she uttered the words. “I appreciate our time together, Alfred.”

“I’m honored,” he said to her, bringing the teacup to his lips.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her and she turned around to see who it was. Turning around, her hand bringing the teacup to her lips, she saw a disheveled Bruce Wayne walking towards her. His eyes were barely opened, prominent bags under his eyes cast a shadow on his features. His tie hung untied on his neck, his shirt over his pants, the sleeves folded up to his elbows. It was a stark contrast from the Bruce Wayne she had seen at Jason's funeral, two years back, the one she saw frequently splattered on the news front pages.  

“Oh,” he stopped on his tracks, his hands falling limply to his sides. His jaw tensed and, suddenly, a mask fell on his face, the vulnerability he displayed a few seconds before gone. He wasn’t anymore Bruce, a guy who had just woken up and wanted something from the kitchen of his oversized home, he was the Bruce Wayne, now. The velocity of the transformation haunted her. “I didn’t realize we had visitors.”

She rested the teacup pack on the counter, and got up from the stool. “I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne,” she muttered, extending her hand, introducing herself. “I am, was, Jason’s friend.”

“Yes, yes,” he nodded, “I remember you.”

Alfred looked pointenly at Bruce as pulled a mug from a cabinet. He poured coffee for himself, and leaned against the counter next to Alfred. She stood there next to her stool, paralyzed in his presence. Everytime she was present in Wayne Manor, Bruce was either too busy to ever grace them with his presence, or away on some business trip she never bothered to ask what for. “We have weekly teas, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, his tone laced with something deeper than announcing their weekly traditions. 

Bruce’s jaw tightened somehow and his blue eyes rested on her. Her eyes drifted to her teacup, her tea getting cold. She was itching to grab it and drink it, but she felt uncomfortable even moving a inch from her place, much less feeling the liberty to resume her previous behavior. “Really?” his eyebrows shot up, his head tilting slightly. “Please, seat, pretend I’m not here.”

She hesitated before sitting back down. Her hands hugged her teacup, the warmth of it seeping through her skin. It was hard to pretend he was not there next to her, looking at her with judging eyes. She wondered if he remembered her from the funeral, if he had thought of her when he was thinking of Jason’s legacy, what his son had left behind. Her eyes looked up at Bruce before quickly darting back down to her tea, “Yeah, I don’t really wanna go to Metropolis,” she whispered, resuming her previous conversation with Alfred. The air in the kitchen was tense and awkward, she couldn’t look any of them men in the room in the eyes. 

“I’m certain Gotham U will admit you,” Alfred reassured her, “You’re a brilliant person, they’d be fools to let you go.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” her eyes were focused on the tea, like it was the most important thing in that kitchen. “They usually don’t take this long to send the letters, it’s making me nervous.”

“Gotham U, huh?” Bruce chipped in. “What’s your major?”

She looked expantly at Alfred, trying to see if he knew any of Bruce’s intentions. But she often forgot how impassive Alfred was, how in control of his emotions he was, something she lacked. He didn’t show her anything, she assumed he knew of something, like usually. “Applied physics,” she responded, quietly. 

“Wow,” Bruce breathed out, “impressive.”

She offered him an awkward smile in return. It was hard to find a response to the reaction of others when they became aware of her major. It was highly uncommon, and usually those who followed that path were men. When people discovered what she wanted to do with her life, they almost always reacted like they had found an unicorn.

“Well, when you do graduate, look for me, I can help you get a job,” Bruce politely offered, his tone kind. She looked up at him for the first time, his expression almost fatherly. 

“Thank you Mr. Wayne, that’s very kind of you,” she bored her head, looking down at her tea once again. 

His phone rang, and he picked it up from his pocket. Her eyes trailed over to his expression, his jaw once again tense. “You’re welcome,” he replied, feigning happiness and comfort. “If you’ll excuse me,” he left the kitchen in broad steps, his shoulders tense and determined. 

That was the first time she came to the conclusion that Bruce Wayne was a strange man. 

#

#

Aged 22, end of May.

College was an excruciating experience, but finally she had left it all behind. With her diploma in hands, she finally felt a small semblance of freedom, something she had longed when isinde the four walls of her old dorm in Gotham U. 

She stepped into the ground floor of Wayne towers, her shoes clicking nervously on the floor. She had made sure to dress properly to meet Bruce Wayne, unsure of what he’d think if she showed up dressed like a broke college student, something that she very much was. It was the mentality of fake it till you make it, aim a bit higher and maybe you’ll get there. She desperately wished she’d get there.

One of the receptionists let her in, indicating the floor in which she should go to. Her hands sweat gripping the folder with her recommendations and her resume, she gulped looking at the elevator intently. Her free hand found its way to the tiny robin gently resting on her neck. She wished Jason was there to help her, give her tips on what to say to his Father to make him glad, and what to avoid doing so that he’d hire her. She could imagine him if she closed her eyes, next to her, barely taller than her, smiling at her wishing her good luck. The elevator dinged, bringing her back to reality. Jason wasn’t next to her, and she didn’t have anyone to give her tips on what to say to her potential boss. She was alone, just like she had been for six long years. 

In spite of the hundred floors of the building - quite literally - the elevator ride was fast. When the doors opened, it revealed a small greeting room, with a couple of couches and a tall window illuminating it. She eyed directly in front of her, the double doors with a tiny plaque with the name Bruce Wayne engraved on it. Her eyes lingered on it for a couple of moments, as she walked towards the lonesome couch next to the big window. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the beating heart. She wondered if Bruce was already inside the room, if he remembered what he had offered to her all those years ago, or if he had just been polite and did not plan on following with it at all. 

After that strange meeting with him four years back, she had barely seen him again. A couple of times she had seen a shadow passing through the corridors while she was heading out of the Manor, someone she assumed for the sake of her mental health it was Bruce Wayne and not a ghost. The notion that he was a strange man only intensified, adding the perception that he was hiding something. She knew he was a good actor, but she could see tiny cracks and slips, an ability gained from years of loneliness. It was hard to say what it was that he was keeping a secret from everyone, but there was something there. 

Her name was called and she saw Bruce Wayne standing underneath the frame of the double doors that lead to his office. She got up promptly and walked towards him, her grip on her folder tight. His hand was extended and she shook it professionally, pretending like she wasn’t panicking inside. 

“I have someone I’d like for you to meet,” he stated, guiding her inside his office. The office was probably four times bigger than the small room she had stayed previously, the large windows providing a beautiful view from Gotham. You could almost pretend it was a normal city looking out from that window. “This,”  he motioned to the man sitting on a cozy nook in the back of the room, “is Lucius Fox.”

The man was big and well built, his round glasses standing on the tip of his nose. He smiled at her, crinkles forming beside his eyes. His hand found his glasses, taking them off and putting them in his pocket. “Nice to meet you, Miss. mr. Wayne has talked a lot about you,” he stated, his hand extended for her to take it. 

She looked back at Bruce, confused. After all, he remembered her and he remembered his offer. She turned back to Lucius and shook his hand, a determined expression on her face. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fox.”

“Lucius Fox is the head of our R&D department, and has agreed to take you as his personal apprentice,” Bruce explained. 

Shock overcame her, her eyes wide. She looked between Lucius’ kind smile and Bruce’s stoic stance, unable to believe the opportunity was real. “Really?” she uttered incredulously. 

“I have some personal projects and I’d very much need the help,” Lucius explained, calmly. “Mr. Wayne has talked highly of you, I’m eager to see what you’re capable of doing.”

“I--,” she shook her head, trying to get rid of the hesitation, “thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce responded, a small smile gracing his lips. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

#

#

Aged 24, April 26th.

The humid air of the cave made sweat drip down her face as she tinkered away with a broken gadget she had designed for Bruce’s night time activities, as she had so dearly called it. 

It was a new development, the cave and the capes and the vigilantism. The two years she invested working with Lucius all served a greater purpose to Bruce. She was to be the next Lucius Fox, help provide Batman, or rather Bruce - in her head it was still confusing to assume that the guy who had given her a job was the ‘Dark Knight’ - with gadgets capable of doing everything that his physical capabilities couldn’t. Lucius was old and reaching retirement, and even if he loved his job, he was reaching his limit. She was beyond grateful for his guidance, she had learned so much. But he had left her a fucking weird job. There was no other way to describe it. 

The cave was quiet, Bruce had left sometime before, she could only hear Alfred quietly talking to Bruce through the comms and the drip-drip of water falling from the ceiling and hitting the small lake underneath her. She had settled in a little abandoned nook, her tools all scattered on top of her table. She rested the screw driver she was working with on the table, lifting the magnifying lens. She rubbed her face, tired of looking towards the tiny malfunctioning screen.

Her hands remained on her face, concealing her emotions. The robin pendant always felt especially heavy on the 26th of April. It had been 8 years since she had seen Jason, and as pathetic as it sounded, she never really got over the loss of him. They always felt particularly lost, she couldn’t focus on anything other than him, running circles around any problem presented to her. Looking at the gadget, it felt nearly impossible to find a solution to it, her mind foggy with sadness and grief that she could never really shake off, even with years between her and the day he had died. 

The knowledge that Bruce kept everything as Jason had left, and even made a little homage to his Robin days in a secret corner of the cave, hidden from view, was heavy in her heart. She struggled to keep her eyes trailed to her task and not at the memory of Jason. She took a sharp breath, trying desperately to sew herself together. It was truly pathetic how much it still affected her, how open the wound still was. 

A sharp motor sound echoed through the walls of the cave, disturbing the few bats that hung from the ceiling. A guy built like a fucking brick wall parked his bike on the platform, taking long strides towards where Alfred stood. He adorned a cracked red helmet that glistened in the white lights that illuminated the pathway. His heavy footsteps echoed through, her eyes unable to escape from him. She approached silently, praying that that loose panel near the little stairs that lead to the main computer wouldn’t scratch underneath her weight. 

“Where the fuck is Bruce?” he growled, his hands balled into fists next to him. His leather jacket was worn and old, its sleeves bunched up near his elbow, exposing his veiny forearms. The cracked part of the helmet revealed his blue eyes, sparkling in a familiar way. It tugged her heartstrings, her hand instinctively went to her robin. It couldn’t be, Jason was dead. 

“He’s on patrol, Master Jason,” Alfred said calmly, his eyes trailed to the screens in front of him. Alfred acted like this man’s fits of anger were completely normal. 

Her brain repeated that it wasn’t Jason, it was a mere coincidence that this man’s name was the same as her dead best friend’s. Jason was a tiny and scrawny kid, he wasn’t tall and thick like this man. Jason wasn’t bitter and prone to anger fits, even if he was angry most of the time. He was silent and kind and sweet, this man looked to be the opposite of it. 

“He promised, Alfred, where is he?” he growled, his fist slamming on the table. “He fucking promised.”

“I’m sure he’ll arrive soon, if you’d like to wait,” Alfred motioned to the medical bay, the gurney sitting there on its lonesome. The man huffed, marching to the gurney, otherwise ignoring her presence a few feet away. 

She approached Alfred quietly. “Who was that?” her voice laced with curiosity and fear. 

Alfred looked at her serenely, knowing something she didn’t. He smiled at her, teh crinkles around his eyes appearing generously. “Why don’t you find out?,” he responded to her camly. 

She took it as an order, and made her way towards the small infirmary area. Her footsteps were light and determined, her hand clutching the robbing resting on her chest tightly. Her brain ran over scenarios on how likely it was that this person had almost every physical attribute to her best friend Jason, if he had taken steroids for the past 8 years. It wasn’t likely, but in light of her new knowledge, of how close the supernatural was to her, it was very much possible. 

“Do you want me to take a look?” she asked quietly, shifting the weight from her heels to the tips of her toes. She felt so small in his presence, something she didn’t feel with Bruce, oddly. Maybe it was because Bruce didn’t give off such menacing vibes when he was near her, or maybe it was because her brain was unconsciously comparing this man to her Jason, who had always been smaller than her. “At the helmet, I mean.”

He eyed her surgically, analyzing everything about her. His eyes rested on her pendants, widening slightly in recognition. It took almost everything in her to control her beating heart, to control her brain trying to say that in fact that man before her was her Jason, and it wasn’t her brain playing tricks on her. 

He gently took his helmet off, revealing his crisp black hair cooly laying on his forehead. His eyes focused on the helmet, his arms extended to give it to her gently. Her eyes would leave his face, a face she had longed to see for eight excruciatingly long years. His eyes had remained the same, after all: kind and sweet. His face, however, told a story of hardships and pain, hardened by whatever he had been through all these years. She didn’t know how to feel, if she should feel betrayed he hadn't trusted her enough to say that he was alive, that he was six feet under anymore, or if she should feel elated that Jason was alive and she could finally tell him all the things she wanted to.

Her fingers brushed him slightly, as she picked up the broken helmet from his hands. His hands still felt the same, her heart noticed, picking up a beat. She looked at the crack that exposed half of his face, the electrical parts fizzling dangerously. Her eyes focused on Jason once again, her lips shut painfully. The tears that came to her eyes were inevitable, trembling fingers reaching at her robin pendant, clutching it tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he shook his head gently, “it’s not your fault.”

She could see he wanted to touch her, but something held him back. She wouldn’t find out what until much later.  

#

#

Aged 24, August 16th. 

Jason had promised her he would show up, and he never broke his promises. That was what she repeated to herself, late at night. She had prepared everything for his birthday, bought a present for him and baked a cake. She had said that he was supposed to appear at seven. It was well past midnight, the cake had found its way back to the fridge, the present was back in her closet, and he hadn’t showed up yet. 

A part of her kept telling her to give up, her best friend had stood her up: Jason changed fundamentally, he wasn’t the same boy he was when she met him and it was foolish to hang on to that notion; it was perfectly plausible that he had the habit of breaking promises now.  But she was well aware of that, she saw it in the tiny things how much Jason was transformed, it still didn’t change the fact that she knew he valued loyalty above all else, and that included loyalty to his words. He wouldn’t break his promise to her. 

She changed out of the cute dress she was wearing, feeling foolish and sad that she was about to give up most of the hope that he would show up. Her pyjamas welcomed her comfortably, a safe space to let the heartbreak settle on her. He won’t break his promise, she repeated mentally, he won’t. The mantra did little to soothe the growing dread inside her, the notion that maybe she didn’t know him as well as she did. That he didn’t tell her everything that day, that he didn’t trust her anymore. It hurt more than she anticipated. 

Sleep was almost consuming her when she heard a loud clang outside her bedroom. She shook awake, throwing the covers off her instinctively. Her hand grabbed the baseball bat that rested beside her bed, bringing it up and close to her. With slow steps, she approached the window. Her fear settled when she saw the familiar red helmet staring back at her, begging to let him in. She dropped the bat on the floor, opening the window. 

He got in her room awkwardly, struggling to pass his huge frame through a tiny space. She reached to help him, offering her hands. He took them, butterflies running amok on her tummy. “You’re late,” she commented, trying to mask the hurt in her voice. 

“I know,” he said, taking off his helmet and dropping it on top of her bed. “I’m sorry.”

She hummed looking at him underneath the moonlight seeping through her window. She hadn’t gotten used to how big he became, and how smaller she felt in his presence. She was by no means a small woman, but his entire being could encapsulate her with a simple hug, and not the other way around like it used to be. “Why are you late?” she moved to sit on the bed, the helmet rolling off the bed delicately. 

He looked at her, sitting down next to her gently. “I don’t know,” he answered, rubbing his hands together, his elbows resting on his thighs. 

“Why do I feel like you’re not being honest with me?” her head tilted, looking at his beautiful profile. There was a scar connecting his right temple to the corner of his upper lip, and it made him even more beautiful than he already was. He fascinated her to no end, his brain, his looks, his entire being was what made her keep going, the light on the end of her tunnel. 

His eyes trailed over her face, looking for something she guessed he wouldn’t find. “Why are you always so nice to me?”

“What do you mean, Jason,” she breathed out, confused at the inquiry. “I’m your friend, I’m supposed to be nice to you.”

“No, you’re not,” he shook his head, his hands balled into fists and his eyes closed. “You’re not supposed to be kind to me,” he got up, his back towards her.

“Stop it, Jason, you’re scaring me,” she whispered, her voice shaking a bit. 

“You’re supposed to be angry at me. I abandoned you, left you alone, and when I came back I didn’t tell you, I didn’t look for you,” he continued, trying to manipulate her emotions.

“Why are you saying these things, Jason, they’re not true,” she got up, her voice no longer shaking, determined and focused. 

“Because I don’t deserve it,” he turned to her, his eyes tortured and sad. “I don’t deserve your kindness and friendship. I’m not worthy of it.”

“Jay, I--” she started, but Jason interrupted her. 

“Don’t, please. I’m not worthy of anyone’s love,” his voice was heavy with emotion. She discovered that Jason was often ruled by two main emotions: sadness and anger. In that moment, she could only see those in him and a part of her broke.

“That’s not true, you’re worthy of mine,” her voice was so honest and raw, it caught Jason by surprise. She didn’t know what he expected out of her at that moment, maybe to give in to his spiral of bad thoughts and self flagellation, but she refused to let him believe those awful things. “Jason, you really don't know?”

He remained in silence, his eyes wide and shocked, focused on the ground. His jaw was tense and his hands balled into fists tightly. She took a hesitant step towards him, reaching for his hands. They relaxed under her touch and she threaded her fingers through his. It wasn’t hard to notice how perfectly they fit with each other, like to halves of a whole. “I’ve loved you ever since I was 14 and you marched into the boys bathroom to get my lit homework back from Mason Anderson,” she whispered, her eyes focused on his face, while his were focused on their hands together. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, I’m so sorry it took me so long to say it, Jay. But I can’t let you believe all those horrible things you said. Not when I love you more than anything in this world.”

He stayed silent for a couple of moments, her heart beating erratically inside her chest, fearing she had screwed up their friendship for good. In a way, it was worst to know he was out there and didn't want to speak to her because she dared to tell him about her love for him. “Please say something,” she begged him quietly. 

His eyes finally found hers, his hands breaking the link they formed. He rested his hands on her cheeks gently, and she dared say, lovingly. Her heart started beating excitedly, the fear slowly dissipating as his gaze got more intense. 

His lips brushed against hers, her eyes fluttering closed at the contact. He kissed her gently, a love delicate and fragile, just acknowledged between them both. His grip on her was firm, his thumb grazing delicately on her cheekbones. Her hands thread through his soft hair, still slightly humid from the sweat caused by the helmet. The air was charged with want, tentative kiss toeing the line between what it was and something more. 

She wished to stay like that forever. She prayed to  whatever was out there in the Universe, to allow her that happiness. To stay kissing her love tentatively in the dark for as long as she could, as long as he’d let her. 

Jason broke the kiss, his forehead resting on hers. His fingers found their way to the back of her head, cupping it softly. “I love you,” he whispered, his lips almost brushing with hers. She reached for his lips once again, like a magnet finding its match. “I love you so much,” he reassured.

They kissed once again, not intending to break apart any time soon. 

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #jason todd fic #jason todd imagine

[ray-ray-writings]

Tightrope-Dream

This is a self indulgent Dream x gn!reader in the dreamsmp that I was going to post a while ago but got to insecure about it to post. But now that I haven’t posted in a few days and I don’t know when I’ll get to write again, I decided to say f*** it and post it. So I hope you enjoy hahaha. 

Based off of this song. Song lyrics are in bold. 

Masterlist here

Y/N and Dream have been together for what feels like forever. But when Dream says that he cares about nothing anymore, Y/N takes a moment to evaluate the tightrope walk they call their relationship. 

Y/N’s POV

“I don’t give a fuck, okay?” I heard Dream spit from behind an obsidian wall. “I do not give a fuck about Spirit. I don’t give a fuck about anything actually! All I care about is your discs. I care MORE about your discs than you do. That’s the only thing I care about on the server...” His words hit me like a brick. Dream didn’t care about anything. That means he doesn’t care about me… That can’t be true, right? We’ve been together since the beginning… Before the beginning! I was by his side when we made this server. I fought beside him in every single war, no matter how in the wrong I thought he was… When I would tell him what I thought he would simply brush me off. We used to make every decision together but lately it seems that I was just another obstacle in his way. Or maybe just another pawn in his game. 

I came out of my daze to hear the end of Dream’s speech, maybe this part he’ll fix his wording… “Don’t try and threaten me. I don’t care. I have lost all care for anything on the server…” Well there goes that hope. I couldn’t help the sobs that fell from my mouth at his words. He doesn’t care for anything on the server… I’m on the server. George, Sapnap, Punz, Bad, all his friends were on the server. He doesn’t care about us. 

Suddenly it was very quiet, I knew they had heard me. I took this opportunity to step out from behind the wall I was hiding behind. All eyes softened at the sight of me, Dream’s eyes softening the most. “Y/N” he tried, taking a few steps forward but I held out a hand to stop him, “Don’t. You don’t care about anything on this server… Remember?” I hissed, marching away from him, not even turning around when he called my name once more. 

I was at a lost as to where to go. I couldn’t go home. Dream would be there soon enough. I couldn’t go to the community house, too many memories. I knew he would find me at a friend’s house. Besides I needed to be alone. I needed to be somewhere where I could look down and think about everything. Then it hit me and I couldn’t stop the laugh that made it past the tears. “The reverse coaster.” 

When Tommy first built this contraption, everyone, myself included, called him crazy. Who would want to climb all the way up to the top of a track just to go down it again. Now I couldn’t help but be thankful that he had made this. The journey to the top took fifteen minutes, but it was worth it. I could see everything from here. It was beautiful. Walking the thin line while looking at the ground really made me think of a tightrope… A perfect analogy for my relationship with Dream right now. Dream…

Some people long for a life, simple and planned

Tied with a ribbon

Some people won't sail the sea 'cause they're safer on land, to follow what's written

But I'd follow you to the great unknown

Off to a world we call our own

I was with Dream when he began the server. He had gotten tired living under someone else’s rule and wanted a place we could call our own. He convinced me… although it didn’t take much convincing, I would follow him anywhere. So one night we packed up what little we could carry and we left. We left into the unknown, not knowing where we were going. But we knew everything would be alright as long as we had each other.

Hand in my hand and we promised to never let go

We're walking a tightrope 

High in the sky. We can see the whole world down below.

We're walking a tightrope 

Never sure, never know how far we could fall

But it's all an adventure that comes with a breathtaking view

Walking a tightrope, with you

Through everything. I had always been Dream and I. For the longest time, you would never find one without the other. Our hands always seemed to interlocked. I guess it wasn’t until the first L’Manberg war when things started pulling us apart. We would stand on the obsidian walls that Dream and Sapnap had built around L’Manberg, just observing. Dream would constantly be making battle plans in his head and I was just there for moral support, I guess. We spent countless hours just watching the ‘hot dog stand’ waiting for someone to come out and make a move. 

There were some nights where the scene was almost breathtaking. The walls were pretty high up, we could see a lot of the server. Everything was lit up beautifully. Building shined brightly and everything was warm and welcoming. It was perfect. I would try and get Dream to dance with me. The first few times he would agree and we would slow dance around the walls. But as battle drew nearer and nearer, we danced less and less until it stopped all together. 

Mountains and valleys, and all that will come in between. Desert and ocean.

You pulled me in and together we're lost in a dream. Always in motion.

So I risk it all just to be with you

And I risk it all for this life we choose

Dream and I had fights. What couple didn’t? Dream would do something stupid and I would grill him about it but we always made up. We never went to bed angry. I never would let him leave home on adventure without a hug and a kiss goodbye. No matter how far he would travel, I always knew he would come home to me and that we loved each other. Being with Dream was…  well a dream. We loved each other endlessly. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him and I knew the feeling was mutual. 

I would risk everything to be with him. Leaving the safety of one server to begin another? No problem. Fight in a war where he was on the ‘bad side’? Anything for my baby. I would give my life if it meant Dream lived. I used to know the feeling was mutual… 

Hand in my hand and you promised to never let go

We're walking a tightrope

High in the sky. We can see the whole world down below

We're walking a tightrope

Never sure, will you catch me if I should fall?

I never had to worry. I knew that Dream was right there beside me. Always one step ahead. Filling in cracks and gaps in Prime Path so I wouldn’t trip and fall. Checking in on my mental health so I wouldn’t fall into a panic attack or into a depression. I always knew he would catch me, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I could trust him to be there for me. Now I’m not so sure. 

Well, it's all an adventure

That comes with a breathtaking view

Walking a tightrope

With you

Loving Dream. Being with Dream. Giving everything to Dream was and always has been an adventure. Many times it took me to new heights. Let me see things I had never seen before, leaving me breathless. I was balancing on a tightrope and he was right behind me, making sure I was okay, that I was safe. He would make sure I knew how much he cared for me. How much he loved me. 

These thoughts just swirled in my head. I sat down, my legs dangling over the cobblestone as I stared at the ground. What do I do from here? Dream says he doesn’t care about me anymore. For as long as I could remember, my whole life had revolved around Dream. Doing whatever he needed, being who he needed me to be. Given, he did the same thing for me. Where do I go from here? 

“Y/N!” A voice shouted from below, breaking me from my concentration. My eyes scanned the ground to find that familiar green hoodie. “What are you doing up there?” I rolled my eyes in annoyance, “Why do you care?” I shouted back. There was a moment of silence before he responded, “Come down! I want to talk,” Dream called. I watched as he placed a water bucket and motioned for me to jump down. I hesitated for a moment… Did I trust him? There’s only one way to find out. 

I took a deep breath before allowing myself to fall from the top of the reverse coaster. I couldn’t help but let out a giggle as the water cradled me securing me a safe landing. I quickly realized why I had jumped down in the first place and stood up to face Dream, looking down at the ground. “I’m here… What do you want?” I questioned harshly. “I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to apologize and explain myself,” He answered, trying to get me to look at him. I refused and remained silent, motioning for him to go on. 

“I didn’t mean what I said. Of course I didn’t. I care about you so much Y/N. Tommy just gets me so worked up sometimes and I just speak without thinking. I love you and care for you. You know that!” Dream exclaimed, reaching out to try and grab my hands. I quickly pulled them away and snapped my eyes to his, “Do I?” I barked, causing Dream to flinch at my tone. “Do I know that you love me? That you care for me? Do I? Because lately it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it,” I snapped, all my feelings radiating off of me. “We used to do everything together. Make every decision together. We would walk the tightrope together, but lately it just feels like you’ve let me hung out to dry.” 

Dream gaped at me, “I didn’t know you felt this way,” He murmured, moving toward me once more. And once again, I moved and scoffed, “That’s because you’ve been too caught up in your big scheme Dream. You’ve been using me as another pawn.” Dream began to protest but I held up a finger to cut him off, “Don’t even try to deny it. You come to me and ask me for something and once I do it, you toss me aside, only coming back when you need something. And I’m sick of it, Dream.” 

Dream was silent as he thought about everything. “You’re right,” He spoke after a few moments of silence. “You are absolutely right. I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve been horrible to everyone… I’m so sorry.” Tears began to leak from Dream’s face as he spoke. “Please, give me another chance. I promise, I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I’ll be the man that you want, the one you need. Please.” He begged, reaching out to grab my hands. This time I let him grab a hold of them and hang on.

 “It’s going to take some time. The damage you’ve done it too great to fix with a simple apology. You’re going to have to work hard to prove to me that you’ve changed,” I explained, looking deep into Dream’s beautiful green eyes. He nodded quickly, “I will. As long as it takes.” Dream leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. “I love you so much Y/N” He murmured into my ear. “I love you too Dream. Always have, always will.”

Hope you enjoyed. If so be sure to leave a like, maybe even a reply or a reblog. Like I said I’m pretty insecure about this piece so I would love to know what you think. 

#mcyt #mcyt imagine #ray-ray-writings #mcyt x reader #mcyt one shot #dream smp #dreamsmp #dream #dream one shot #dream x reader #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken x reader #dream imagine #self indulgent #tightrope

[sopxhiea]

Rules

Alfie Solomons X Friends with Benefits!Reader

Summary: She’s known as a dancer in a high end club but he’s known her for not so long. She decides the rules, he goes along with them but sometimes, he’s the one making the rules.

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

It’s late. 

Late enough to hear the dogs howling in the groggy streets of London as the black sky decorated the horizon. The room was quiet, only the sound of breathing filling the hollow walls of the apartment. The silence wasn’t unusual and it was more than welcomed. The owner wasn’t home, a familiar body was standing in the spacious entrance.

You weren’t home yet.

Feeling the soft material of the lacy undergarment residing around your upper thighs, you looked around to see who was still in the club. It was close to the weekend which meant that it was getting busier than usual. Men were mostly drunk or intoxicated by the movements of the ladies around. There was no one to entertain in the club anymore so you moved towards the interior rooms to get ready to leave.

The space was decorated with mirrors, make up clutter right in front of them as some of the girls packed the last of their garments to leave. The sun would approach soon, sunlight beaming through the groggy city but you hoped to make it home before then. Slowly gathering your stuff and stuffing them all in your bag, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

The club wasn’t the usual, much like you.

It was a place for rich lads, some aristocracy and the kind of men that had to be served in private rooms because of how high they were up in the pyramid scheme. Most of the work you did was talking, some dancing here and there and you were done. Nothing ever got physical since it wasn’t a brothel, but a place for fine entertainment.

The make-up was off, your natural skin color glowing under the countless bulbs that decorated the mirror. The club was mostly empty now, car sounds no longer audible. It was dead silent outside, the hour when the city would be asleep and you’d walk home on your own. It was a treat to say the least.

The cold weather attacked your skin a bit too quickly as you made your way down the street. Your flat wasn’t too far from the club, just perfect distance for a night walk. It was dangerous in the streets, especially for a lady like yourself but you had a gun hidden in your bag and a long needle that held your bun together and you knew your way around both of those tools.

The night seemed quiet as you walked, no sounds of chatter but a few drunken lads from a couple blocks away. You hugged your coat a little tighter and realized that you were less tired than usual.

-----

The inside of the house was quiet, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looked through the corridor. Your dresses were on the floor, a couple mugs here and there sitting on the piles of books. He saw a nightgown and your knickers on the floor and decided that you had gone to the club a little later than usual. As far as he was concerned, everything was normal.

The sound of keys jiggling outside the door made him turn towards the entrance and before he knew it, you pushed the door open with a gun in your hand that was pointed at him. Your breathing was even and the gun in your hand didn’t shake in the slightest.

He greeted you with a smile.

You lowered the gun down in a swift motion when you realized who it was. He was wearing his usual smile, broad as he walked towards you with dense eyes. He was wearing the usual attire but his prayer shawl was missing and you realized it was past saturday.

There he was, the handsome stranger.

He wasn’t so much of a stranger really, not since he’d made you chant his name until the sun was down and you had to go to work. He knew the way your body responded, what you liked in the bedroom and just how to kiss you to make you beg. 

He didn’t know anything about your family, where you’d spent your childhood or the way you’d silently pray each time you saw a shadow. Alfie didn’t know what meals you cooked, how you liked your tea or anything past your occupation and name and where you lived. 

He didn’t need to. 

And he wasn’t allowed to.

“What the fuck happened to sayin’ ‘ello, pet?” he said with an amused face that you didn’t mirror. You were still a bit tired from work and he never came over afterhours.

Those were the rules.

He was allowed to come anytime before your work and never after you’d just arrived home. He would usually call before and let you know. He wasn’t allowed to buy you things or take you out, even though he’d stayed over a couple times before. You knew limited information and about him and he the same, and he wasn’t allowed to break any of the rules.

“Sorry. I’m just a little..” you spoke with a soft tone and he could hear the tiredness seeping from your limbs as he took a look at you.

You looked tired but beautiful nevertheless.

Your figure was a bit slumped, the kind of tiredness that came from working too hard and not because he was the one tiring you out. You weren’t wearing any make-up or fancy clothes, it was his favorite version of you. He didn’t like all the make-up you had to wear for the club or the fancy lingerie but he had no say in any of the things you did. You had made that painfully clear for him.

“Ya’ alright?” he asked while walking towards you, voice a little concerned at your state but you were a bit too tired to care.

And you wanted to hug him, really badly.

Alfie was very rough around the edges, far too rude at first sight for any lady but it would take a split second to realize that he wasn’t rude at all, that was just the way he was. He brushed shoulders with gangsters, people of the underworld who had to do dirty things to get food on their table. He had blood in his hands and for a man of his kind, he was a gentle one.

You immediately leaned a bit closer when his hand came into contact with your shoulder.

“Fine.” you nodded, little bits of your hair framing your face and Alfie leaned in even closer, standing right in front of you with his hand on your hip.

“Do you want anythi-” you started speaking in a softer voice than normal and Alfie felt himself melt a little but his eyes didn’t leave yours.

“Nah,’m fine, pet.” he said, in a low whisper. He was very gentle at that moment, almost like in a daze.

He had met you in a very unusual way.

You had crashed into him, face on his chest one day when you were out buying groceries. The flowers in your hand were crushed when you bumped into him and he had no time to apologize before you’d started screaming at him for being so careless. He’d listened you shout while thinking about how lovely you were and then asked you out for tea that very same day.

You had said yes and then somehow ended up on his bed. You’d left without saying goodbye but then bumped into him a couple weeks later. He had talked charmingly the whole time and then it happened again, again and then once more before you established some rules so that he didn’t think this was more than a stress relief situation.

“What are you-” you started talking again with his face closer to yours but he interrupted you soon, speaking softly against your irritated face.

“I had a fuckin’ job, right, jus’ around the fuckin’ corner so I figured..” he spoke but trailed off with a smile and you finished it for him.

“So you figured you’d have a quick fuck-” your smile was less evident as you looked at him while speaking.

“A visit, lass. A fuckin’ visit is what ‘m here for, innit.” he said, interrupting you once more and he saw your blood boil which only aroused him.

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” your voice was stern as you looked up at the man. He was twice your size yet you did all the ordering around.

He didn’t mind.

He had been with his share of women, mostly in brothels but he’d usually leave out that part. He loved women, that was a given but he had never grown fond of one before. You had seem like the polar opposite of him when you’d first met and all that did was to draw him even further. He didn’t like the warmth that spread through his chest when he saw you, it made him feel young and defenseless again.

“Sorry, pet.” he said, face even closer to yours now. You knew what he was here for but it didn’t fit the rules, you had no problem sending him home.

“You came here for what?” you spoke against his lips, not kissing him just yet but simply teasing. He was a sucker for that.

He smiled when your fingers caressed his cheek and your lips almost touched his. He wasn’t here for a fuck this time, he had simply dropped off. He had business around the corner with a butcher’s shop that was causing him some trouble and realized that you’d be home soon.

He also wanted to ask you a question but that would come later.

“To see ya’.” he said, simple as that while your lips ghosted over his. Your eyes were locked into his and he didn’t seem to be lying from the way his face relaxed.

“Hm.” you said, humming before you leaned closer to plan your lips on his.

The kiss was slow, not the usual teeth against teeth you had with him. His hands were on your waist while yours resided on his chest and cheek. He was savoring the moment since this was rare with you, very rare. You wanted some relief on most days and that’s when you’d see him, not when you wanted a hug or a small chat.

But you weren’t complaining in the slightest.

You broke the kiss, a bit hesitant at first while staring at his lips. He was searching for your eyes when you parted but you wouldn’t look with the fear of him catching something in there. You slowly walked away from him, taking your long coat off and throwing it on the sofa. The house was a mess but that was the usual. All you and Alfie did was fuck anyway so the only place he would be concerned with was the bed.

You sat down on the chair in the corner of the room and looked at him, standing near the entrance with his broad form. He was here for something, you could tell but he wasn’t so keen on giving it to you. It wasn’t like you were dying to know but Alfie was not someone who’d usually ask for anything, let alone anything from you.

All he would ask was a fuck and that was the arrangement.

“You’re gonna talk?” you said, watching as he made his way to the corner you were sitting on and sat on the sofa next to you.

He didn’t speak for a while. His hand tugged at his beard while he looked at you, lost in thought. He wasn’t really looking at you but through you, which was unusual considering he was one of the first people to ever see you for who you were. You didn’t like to think about it, he was good in bed and that’s all you were concerned with.

“Ya’ hear what’s goin’ on in these fuckin’ streets?” he asked, head motioning outside for a split second before he directed all his attention to you again.

Your eyebrows furrowed and you spoke, not a care in the world as he looked at you. “Seeing as I arrive home at this hour, no.” you said, eyes searching for his for a second before finding them.

He seemed uneasy.

“There is a fuckin’ war, yeah, a dangerous one, lass and it ain’t gonna look pretty for ya’ when they realize ya’ fuckin’ know me.” he said, measuring each and every word.

You didn’t know why he cared.

In your eyes, you were just a woman he fucked. There were no strings, no seeing each other romantically or any kind of involvement. You weren’t his, not by any means and he wasn’t yours. You’d speak to him if you saw him outside but there was no other involvement other than being with each other for stress relief. For all you knew, he was still making regular visits to the brothel.

But he wasn’t.

He had stopped right after he had first met you. He still had his needs but you were more than capable of taking care of him if he were to knock on your door. He knew the rules, was very well aware of the lines you’d drawn for him but he’d still protect you. Not because you were his fuckbuddy but because he genuinely cared about your wellbeing, even if that wasn’t allowed.

You smiled at him at first, almost felt like he was mocking you. Why did he care? You tilted your head to the side and spoke with an amused voice as he looked at you with concern in his eyes, not something you were used to seeing. He still listened as you spoke. “Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

He shook his head with an amused chuckle. You really had no idea. The Italians didn’t know of you yet but if they followed Alfie enough times, they could easily make out the equation. He looked at your still form for a moment and spoke, saying what he’d been wanting to say since he arrived and you saw the weight being lifted off his shoulders.

“I can fuckin’ protect ya’, pet, if ya’ come live near me, that is.” he said, word by word and he saw your face change.

It was absurd.

“No.” you said, not even taking a minute to think about it as you looked at him. Before he said anything else, you spoke up again with a shaking head. You were still seated, less angry than he’d expect you to be. “I can’t move away from work and I don’t even know how to find another apartment at this time.” you spoke, voicing all your concerns.

He was a gangster and knew the ropes better than you so you opted on trusting him. If it turned out to be a mistake, you would blame it all on him but you didn’t want to get killed because you’d been fucking some bloke. Except that he wasn’t some bloke and he had his own gang.

“I got that figured ou’, I did, yeah.” he spoke to you while leaning back on the sofa. You looked at him with a curious expression. He was amused at it for a second before speaking up again, hand tugging at his beard. “I got ya’ a fuckin’ place of yer own, near where I fuckin’ live, pet...” he said and watched your eyes burn.

Who did he think he was?

The rules were clear and your blood was boiling because this man was breaking every one of them. He wouldn’t care if you were dead, you had thought but the more he spoke, the more you changed your mind. He had already taken care of everything without even asking you and he heard you scoff while his words still filled your ear.

“I’ll have one of the lads to fuckin’ drive you..” he said, done with what he was saying and you snapped back immediately.

“You’ll have someone drive me in the evening and pick me up at 4 in the morning from a gentlemen’s club?” you spoke, eyes stern as they bore into his.

He just nodded.

You scoffed once more and got up, hand on your hip as you paced through the room. He just watched. He could see the questions forming as you looked at him every now and then as you paced. There was a look of panic in your eyes as you walked through the corridors and realized that he was probably right at having you move, you could easily be killed. Even if you weren’t seeing him, it was common for someone to be killed just because they were living in a dangerous area.

“Will they kill me?” you said, and spoke once more before he could answer. “If I don’t move, I mean..... Will I die?” you said, eyes wide with confusion and panic.

So he spoke up almost immediately, not liking your frantic eyes as he was used to seeing your calm features after a good fuck. “I won’t have that fuckin’ happen-”

“But If I refuse to move?” you said, waiting for him to properly answer the question with hand on your hip. He knew you were measuring all the possibilities.

“I ain’t gonna lie to ya’, pet, ‘s very possible, it ‘s.” he said while looking at you. He was still sitting in front of you.

He watched you nod.

This didn’t change anything in your eyes. It wouldn’t mean that you were dependent on him or that he would have any power over you. You’d just be protected and the chances of you getting killed because of him would decrease. You measured it all in your mind and realized that it was probably for the best.

“Fine.”

------

His movements were fast, feral almost as his skin came into contact with yours every other second. The bed creaked, not too loud while your panting filled the room. Hands holding onto him by the shoulders, you let out a shaky exhale when he adjusted the angle. His hair was messy as it fell on his forehead, moving each time he thrusted into you.

“Fuck.” you whispered against his lips when he started moving faster, hand on his back and neck while his remained on your waist.

He groaned against your neck with each movement, holding your legs up on his knees in the process. A thin layer of sweat was apparent on your skin even though it was freezing outside. You watched him lift his head, facial expression covered in bliss while the morning light hit his face.

It had been a week since you’d moved into the apartment and 4 of those days had been spent with you and him testing the new bed. You had gotten a new one for yourself and he’d joked about how you’d have to break into it so that it was comfortable and you had given him one look and there you were, four days later with your legs wrapped around him.

Your back arched off the bed the faster he became and he was soon becoming erratic, gasping for air and you felt your body slowly tense and give in. Your hands dug into his back as he moved, reaching his climax soon after. He stayed like that for a while while you regained your breath, feeling your body grow tired with each passing hour. You swallowed as he slid out of you and collapsed next to you on the bed.

The rules were still in place.

You stared at the ceiling while he stared at you while laying on his stomach next to you. Your hair was messy, the tie no longer holding it together and tangles here and there. He watched your heaving chest, breath a little lost as you locked your lips. 

And then you turned to him.

His eyes had already been on you but you hadn’t realized. He was staring, not gawking but looking with some sort of softness in his gaze. You didn’t smile as you inspected him and the way he was looking at you. You didn’t do the same to him, feeling yourself grow a bit too uneasy at the feeling of being watched.

And if you looked for too long, you were afraid you’d get lost.

Slowly lifting your body off of the mattress and sitting next to him, you came to realize that most of your lower body had gotten sore in between days of tidying and arranging the new flat and Alfie not wasting a second to get you alone so that he could spend the rest of the day tiring you out even further. 

He watched your hair fall across your back when you got up, messy from the events that had just taken place. You were not wearing anything so you grabbed your cardigan and wrapped it around your body when you got up. The whole time, he just watched as you moved around your new space.

It already felt like home.

He’d spent most of the days either helping you out or making sure that the lads didn’t damage any of the furniture or simply making you pant on the bed. It had been wonderful if he was honest, he wasn’t as angry and there was no feeling of uneasiness in his chest. He still saw dangerous man from day to day but knowing that you’d be home before you left for work, telling the lads how to put the sofa made him feel look forward to the time he’d get to see you.

He didn’t think much of it, or so he convinced himself that he didn’t.

“Alfie.” you said, you had been speaking to him but he was in his head so he hadn’t heard.

“Huh, what, luv?” he said, lifting himself off of the mattress and sitting on the soft material instead.

“You want tea?” you said, licking your lips while standing next to the door’s frame with nothing but a cardigan on. 

“Hm.” he said, nodding as he got up to put his pants on. He didn’t dress himself any further even though it was cold outside, he felt warm after laying on the bed with you.

He walked towards the kitchen to see you waiting for the water to boil. You looked at him when he appeared on the door and you gave him a gentle smile which he returned with a warmer heart. He walked next to you while you poured the water in the tea cups and his hand met your hip, squeezing gently.

This was not something you usually did.

In the last week, the lines had become blurred. It was hard to tell what he was to you. He had found you an apartment and had even picked you up in the morning when you were done. You had joked around with him during the ride and he’d even made jokes to make you smile, he had succeeded, too.

You shuddered a little when his lips met the space between your ear. He knew your body like the back of his hand, no matter how much you’d want to deny it. You kept your eyes on the water that was pouring out to the cups but his lips had your attention.

“Alfie, I’m gonna burn myself.” you said, in a breathy voice and he stopped with a smile. You didn’t even see his lips soften but you knew he was smiling.

After putting the tray on the table that resided in the middle of the living room, you sat on the soft chair you had brought from your previous place. He sat on the sofa on the opposite corner while waiting for the tea to cool down. He wanted to say something, it was hanging at the back of his mouth but he couldn’t get the words to come out.

And you so took it upon yourself to make him.

“If you wanna say something, just say it.” you said, almost a whisper but he had heard since the rooms were silent. You wore an annoyed expression that he often saw but it only amused him further.

He wanted to ask you if you’d work today and he already knew the answer.

He didn’t like it, the sticky feeling in his stomach each time you would go to work. He had no say in what you did, either for work or on the daily and he knew that but it only stirred him further. There was the fear of you getting hurt but he knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.

And then, there was the other issue that wouldn’t leave his mind.

Other men got to see you in fancy lingerie, things that didn’t cover you up all the way and it made him mad. He didn’t quite know why, just that he was annoyed with the whole thing. He wouldn’t say it but you’d see the relief on his face when you’d be back from work or when he’d come to pick you up. He had been fucking you a little more carefully lately, ever since you’d moved in closer to him. He was almost tender, painfully soft with you when you’d let him show you a good time. It wasn’t the animalistic, rough Alfie you were used to but there was complaint, only curiosity.

He didn’t speak, just hand tugging at his beard and you knew he’d wait until the day was over and you’d be back from work to see him still in the same position. “You’ve been in me, Alfie, I won’t get mad.” you spoke, almost sensing the reason for his hesitation and his eyes locked into yours when you were done speaking. 

He figured he’d trust your word.

“Yer goin’ to work?” he asked and saw your features change.

You knew why he was asking but that didn’t change anything.

You had a vague idea as to why he had been more gentle with you lately, why he kissed you deeper than usual and why he insisted on giving you hickeys even though you’d told him not to on numerous occasions. He was more touchy, almost always around with the excuse of ‘making sure you were settled in’. You were just a girl but you weren’t stupid.

And this wasn’t something you could allow.

Men got jealous, they got protective and thought they had some sort of power over you the moment you’d become ‘ their girl’. You hated that anyway, being someone’s girl and knowing how dangerous Alfie’s line of business could be, you didn’t see sense in pursuing the possibility of anything happening with the man. You shook your head and he watched you lick your lips before you spoke.

“Yes, I am.” you said nonchalantly, as if you were trying to tell him that no matter how much he’d ask, you still wouldn’t want it. “You don’t need to pick me up.” you said, expressionless as he looked at your standing yet somehow small form. You hugged the cardigan tighter as he spoke, he watched you put some things into space. Things he’d knocked out of its place when he had been feverishly kissing you.

“I fuckin’ will, though.” he said, eyes stern as he looked at your face. You were a little taken aback but no evident sign of surprise.

“You don’t have to.” you said again, agitated with his need to make sure you were alright when all you needed him for was a quick fuck.

It didn’t work like this, not with you so you wouldn’t entertain the chance of being with him.

“I want to, lass, yeah, so I fuckin’ will.” he said one last time before getting up to walk towards you.

He would be jealous, you told yourself. He wouldn’t like the fact that other people were able to see you in such little clothing, you thought and he certainly wouldn’t appreciate the little dances you would give. Sure, he was a good fuck but he was also a cruel gangster and the balance seemed almost even.

Almost.

You walked away the moment his breath his your face and made your way to the bedroom to tidy up. There were clothes on the floor and books everywhere, you grabbed one and put it on the shelf and he was right behind you when you turned back.

“Alfie, move.” you said, not able to penetrate through his large form as he blocked your way.

“Tell me.” he said, finger under your chin as he lifted your face so you were looking at him.

“Tell you what?”

“Why?” his voice was a whisper as he looked at your small form, chin still between his fingers as his eyes bored into yours.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the question as he looked at your face, Why what? you thought. The question had so many ways of ending and yet, only one question popped into your mind.

Why were you still going to work? Why, when he was the one keeping your bed warm?

You didn’t answer, you didn’t know if there was an answer. It would not work, he would be a jealous man, jealous of the other ones that got to see you in work and it would get unbearable like it always would with any relationship you had. You didn’t say anything and walked away, he just watched.

He left soon after that, not a word or a forehead kiss like he’d usually give you. He wasn’t hurt or broken by anything, he was just waiting for you to make up your mind. The words had stirred something in you, he had seen that when you had looked at him. He just needed an answer now.

Laying on the bed as you watched the street lights dance on the ceiling, you realized you had the answer.

But it would put you in a lot of danger.

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

A/n: Hi!! This was something that had been in drafts for a while now so i wanted to post it at last. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know if you’d like another chapter!!

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons scenario #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons series #alfie solomons fluff #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x shelby!reader #peaky blinders #alfie solomons peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders scene #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fiction #tom hardy x reader

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount. 

AO3 mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg​ (just shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

                                                                                                     sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki imagines #bnha fanfiction #college au #bee.writes

[catxsnow]

ONE KISS W.W.

Request: hi! i was wondering if i could request for wally where he and batsis are fwb (they've caught feelings for each other but haven't confessed yet) and then one of the batboys saw and they want an explanation so reader or wally just blurts out that they've been dating in secret the whole time and after they leave they just confess that they actually have feelings for each other the entire time? hope this make sense thank you!

Warning: mentions of the sex, swearing, the usual business 

A/N: Nothing to say tonight boys, I’m just tired. enjoy x 

Word Count: 2.5k 

It wasn't supposed to end up like this.

Wally wasn't supposed to become a common occurrence and he certainly wasn't supposed to find himself in your bed every other morning. It was a stupid mistake the first time, one that repeated itself again and again until it became your normal. He was good in bed, you could give him that.

It started after a bad mission. Pent up frustration, trying to take it out on everything and everyone. You just happened to be in the same vicinity to use each other as a punching bag. Hurtful words and blame was thrown, but ultimately, it was Wally's kiss that released the most emotion.

Wally's kiss that led to shed clothes and hungry touches. Wally's kiss that led you to his bedroom where hours upon hours were spent trying to fuck out every feeling you had. Wally's kiss that led to many more nights just like that one. He had changed everything with that one kiss.

You kept this new relationship secret. No one on the team knew - not even your closest friends, not even your brothers. Your brothers - as much as they liked Wally - would kill him for using you the way he did. That truly was what you had with him, use of each others bodies and nothing else.

Chasing highs and running from lows. It was easier to keep with using each other than admit to yourself that maybe you wanted more than this. Maybe you wanted to be Wally for everything.

Friends with benefits were never supposed to catch feelings, yet you should have known that this was what would happen. It never remained just friends, and with Wally especially? It was impossible not to look at him as if he was the only person in the world that mattered. Truth is, he was.

Wally lied on his back, arms tucked behind his bed. His bare chest was exposed to the cold air but a layer of sweat still clung to him. A smile rested on his face at the memory of only a few moments ago. Hair a mess, clothes scattered in every corner of your room.

"What's that look for?" You teased. Wally's gaze tore towards you as you walked out of the bathroom. One of his shirts that had been left there hung off your body. So effortlessly, you looked so beautiful. He out stretched his arms as you walked past, grabbing your ass to keep you from going any farther.

In one motion, he pulled you back onto his lap, connecting your lips for yet another time that night. He gripped your hips, just over the bruises that he had left on you earlier. He was eager against your lips, craving even more than you had already given. Not that you minded, time with him was time well spent.

Wally didn't hesitate to flip you. His arms rested on either side of you, hips pressing against your in the most delicious way. Lips molding to yours, mastered after all these months together. Wally knew your body better that you knew it yourself. He made sure to know everything that made you squeal.

"Again?" the tease in your voice was still evident as Wally drove his hand up your shirt - his shirt. His touch was rough against you, different than how he ever was when you were around others. he couldn't even bring himself to speak, only nodding against your lips. The utter need he had for you was too overpowering.

His week had been terrible. One bad thing after another and the moment that he got some free time he was in your bed. Wally so feverishly fucked you into your bed, washing away the frustration that he had gained through the week and melting at the sounds of your screams for him. 

Your hands trailed down his chest, farther and farther until reaching where he so desperately needed you. Wally had still been bare from your previous round - but just as ready as he was the first time. he pushed himself deeper to your touch, needing more than feather light grazes.

"Hey, (Y/N) did you ever find that - Oh my god!"

Dick often times showed up to your apartment. Often enough that he had gotten a key, learning that knocking was not necessary, and that you were always there by yourself. It was always nice when he stopped by - whatever the reason for. You were always thankful that at least one of your brothers liked to stop and see how you were doing.

He never expected to come into your room to see his best friend naked and on top of you. Wally couldn't tell who looked more horrified, you or your brother. The blanket on your bed was pulled up to cover both of you while Dick still tried to process what was going on. You and Wally? There was no way.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dick suddenly got angry. His fists clenched at his side and he gave the deadliest look to Wally. He always wanted what was best for you - someone who loved you endlessly, not someone who wanted to use you just for your body. Now, you had gone behind is back to do the exact opposite of his hopes with none other than Wally.

You couldn't bring yourself to even explain yourself. Your face flared with warmth from the embarrassment you felt. Wally, you were sure was the exact same, but you couldn't dare to look at him. A string of words that didn't make any sense fumbled past your lips, seemingly only making your brother even more frustrated.

The more he thought about it the more he realized that this wasn't just a one time thing. This had been going on for a long time. Not so hidden marks covering your skin, glances at each other that didn't seem to mean anything at the time, touches that were more than friendly. Dick hadn't noticed any of the signs.

"Dick, I-"

"You've been using my sister!" He yelled. Dick had been protective of you your whole life. He was always the one to stand up for you when you couldn't and be there to keep you safe. It was part of being a big brother - something that he got to learn with you and he loved it. He was meant to be a big brother, to be protective. "You fucking -"

"Dick!" You shouted at him. He ignored you, trying to step towards Wally with pure anger in his eyes. In the blink of an eye, Wally had thrown on some jeans and stood on the opposite side of the room. He spun around in his spot and stomped towards the speedster once more. "Dick, stop. You don't understand, Wally-"

"We're dating!" Wally held his arms up in defense. Dick stopped in his tracks, looking between the both of you to see if he was indeed telling the truth. You were quick to cover the shock of his words before Dick looked over to you. His body relaxed, no longer thinking that Wally was using you only for sex.

"For months," you carried on. "It was my idea not to tell anyone." That was true. It was your idea to keep any relationship that you had with Wally on the down low. However dating - that was something that had never come up between the two of you. There were always times that you wanted to, but couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Wally wasn't into you the way you wished him to be. He was the one that started this - whatever the hell this was. It was his idea to keep it as sex only and at first it was so easy to do so. He made you feel good - what else did you need? Late hours of the night together but never seemingly enough time. You wanted more of him, and for the longest time you thought you couldn't have it.

"You're dating..." Dick looked even more confused than ever. It was a relationship that he never expected to see - you were never interested in Wally to his knowledge. Maybe after all these years, he didn't know you as well as he thought he did. "Why... Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me?"

Wally sped over to your side, keeping up with the act that you were truly together. Maybe it wasn't true and maybe one day you would have to tell Dick the truth but for now, it was easier this way. He didn't need to know that you and Wally had been exclusively fucking and nothing past that.

"Because I know you, Rob," Wally looked over at his best friend. He didn't want to loose him - which was the truth. However, hearing the sincerity in his voice, it made you wonder how real his words really were. How deep did he plan to take this little lie with you? You weren't dating, and you didn't have intentions to.

"I-" Dick was truly at a loss of words. He never expected this to happen and he still wasn't sure how he actually felt about it. His closest friend and his sister? It sounded like a disaster waiting to happen and he wanted no part of it. "Just... just let me try to wrap my head around this. I can't believe you both went behind my back."

"Sorry, Dickie," You tried to apologize but it was evident there was no sorrow in your tone. Dick ran a hand down his face and left your room, slamming the door with more force than necessary. He was furious at the both of you, however it would have been far worse had he known the truth. 

As soon as you heard the click of your other door, Wally collapsed onto your bed trying to figure out what he had just done. "What the hell was what?" You nearly snapped. As grateful as you were for his quick thinking, it might have just made everything worse. 

"I have no idea," Wally mumbled through his hands that rested on his face. He took a deep breath before looking up at you. Fear struck him in how you would react to his outburst. "I'm sorry. I panicked and I didn't know what else to say. Look we can tell him the truth - whatever you want."

"What if..." You trailed off. The words were stuck in your throat but now was as good as time as any to finally spit them out. You could feel Wally staring up at you, clinging onto you oncoming words with desperation. It took everything to peel your eyes open and speak. "What if it was true? What if we were dating?"

"You mean," Wally nearly choked at your words. You wanted to date? Him? He never thought that you wanted to. Always assuming that you just used him for pleasure and that was all. How long had you felt this way? As long as he did? "You mean you want us to be real? An actual couple?"

He hadn't meant to use that tone. Wally was more shocked than anything by this and he could tell instantly by your reaction that what he wanted to say hadn't come out properly. Your breathing faltered, tears ready to brim your eyes - what an embarrassment. Of course he didn't want that.

"Sorry, that was stupid, I sh-" Wally never gave you the opportunity to walk away from him - not that you could ever out run him even if you tried. It was a pro and con being friends with a speedster, they could be next to you in a heartbeat. Whether you wanted them to be or not, they were there.

Wally didn't let you get once step towards the door. The moment that you stood up and gave the slightest hint that you wanted out of there, he was blocking your path. He held a desperate look on his face - one that you couldn't read in the slightest. Nonetheless, you couldn't break away from his gaze.

You swore that those next few seconds happened in speedster time. Wally leaned down, pressing his lips against yours so softly that you weren't even sure that it had happened. Just as quick as the feeling was there, it was gone. HIs look turned to worry, as if you were going to chastise his choice.

"Wall..." You didn't notice yourself leaning closer towards him. Pressing your whole body against him like a magnet. Wally kissed you again, this time firmer, filled with confidence. He kissed you like he needed you, just like the first time. It was the truth, he did need you.

Wally's arms wrapped around you as you both tumbled sideways onto your bed. He refused to let go of you or break your kiss. Your touch like fire against his skin and still leaving an icy cold trail. He was filled with every emotion, every touch was beyond anything he had felt before with you.

"It's not stupid," he whispered to you between kisses. You looped your finger into his jeans, pulling him closer and tangling your legs. "Not at all. I want that, with you. I'm tired of doing this - pretending like sleeping with you all the time means nothing to me. It means everything - you mean everything to me."

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes," he rested his forehead against yours. Wally grabbed you hands, placing your palm flat against his heart. You could feel how erratic it was - just the same as when he was running. Now, he wasn't running in any sense. He wasn't running from bad guys, he wasn't running from his problem, and he wasn't running away from his feeling towards you.

"You're not scared of this?" You asked. Dating him was never brought up, but any time he brought up his past relationships it almost seemed like he was scared to get into a new one. Wally pecked your lips once before pulling away to look down at you. 

"Me? Scared," Wally grinned at his sarcasm. Your hand on his chest slid up until it cupped his cheek. He leaned into your touch. His eyes were warm as he met yours. No longer lust within them but an adoration that was always hidden within. 

"I'm not scared of anything as long as I'm right beside you."

#wally west #wally west imagine #wally west one shot #wally west x batsis #wally west x reader #kid flash #kid flash imagine #dick grayson #nightwing #dc imagine #dc one shot #dc #batsis!reader #fluff #wally west fanfic

[bakugosbigtoe]

Wowowow this month has been crazy.

Here’s a piece for the BNHA March collab. This months topic was a Sex Worker AU, and I actually had a lot of fun writing this!! It’s the first thing I’ve actually finished in a long time. So I hope everyone enjoys!!!

Himiko Toga as a sex worker

Content Warnings! Nsfw, hints of dark nsfw, degradation, knife kink, blood kink, death, murder, talk of sex work

—————————————————————————

Word Count: 3,190

It was a cold winter night, as Himiko Toga walked the lonely streets of Musutafu. Her hair was down instead of in her normal messy space buns, and instead of her classic button down shirt and skirt, she wore a long overcoat that covered the black and red lingerie set she had on. She had dabbled in the trade of sex work a few times, but it didn't sit right with her.

Until now.

Now she had a reason to do what she was doing.

And that reason was for you.

By now you and Toga had become good enough friends to know what her side job was, even though Toga had promised to never tell a soul. She was scared to tell you at first, since being a sex worker was frowned upon, but of course. You were supportive, you always were. And Toga loved that about you.

The blonde woman stood outside of the hotel your husband agreed to meet her at. She assumed he made another bullshit excuse as to why he wasn't coming home to you, but she also lied about her whereabouts tonight. Toga pulled her coat tightly against her body, mostly to try and comfort herself, rather than for the fact she was cold. She didn't want to have to be the one to break the news to you about your husband's antics. But.. she also didn't want to see you sad anymore.

She would've done anything for you. Whether it was showing up to your place of work with your favorite breakfast and coffee on mornings you were running late. Or coming over and spending the nights when your husband didn't come home.

And for the past week she had been living at your house and your husband? He was nowhere to be found.

Until the night the two of you hatched this plan. Toga was swiping through Tinder when she stumbled across your husband. So of course she showed you his profile, it broke you. Toga held you while you cried, reassuring you everything would be okay. Once you had calmed down enough to form a sentence you asked her to prove he was cheating on you. You needed proof, because you still didn't believe it.

And when he took the bait all too easily, Toga was furious. How could someone cheat on you like that? You were perfect! She never would have admitted it out loud but she may have had a small crush on you.

That was a lie.

It was more than a crush and Toga knew that. She had been in love with you since the moment she met you. But you were married to a cheater nonetheless.

So Toga told you she would take care of it for you, and that's exactly what she planned to do. By any means necessary.

Around midnight, your husband's car finally pulled into the hotel parking lot. He had made a reservation at your favorite hotel, which Toga thought was just cruel. So instead of waiting outside for him any longer she walked inside. She pulled her bane mask over her face so he wouldn't recognize her by the reflection in the crystal clear glass.

While speaking to the nice woman behind the counter, Toga felt two hands on her waist and a kiss was planted on the top of her head.

“Sorry, I took so long parking the car babe.” The familiar rough voice sent a shiver down Togas spine. She didn't want to be in this situation, but she needed to do it for you.

Toga smiled up at him behind her mask, and spoke softly. “Dont worry about it.”

His smile faltered when he heard Togas voice, but he didn't make any notion suggesting he knew who she was. And for that she was thankful. Once Toga was given the room keys she tried swallowing the lump in her throat, the situation had just become surreal. She turned on her heel and started walking up the staircase to their room on one of the top floors.

Sure enough, your husband had chosen the room you two spent your last ‘staycation’. Toga remembered you flooding her snapchat with the fact there was a balcony, floor to ceiling windows and a large tub that both you and your husband fit in together. Togas stomach flipped as she watched him unlock the door for her, holding it open for her. He was trying to seem like such a gentleman, but that only made Toga more angry.

Once he let the door close behind them, he took his shirt off and hung it on one of the hooks before turning his attention to Toga. He waited until she made eye contact before he pulled off the wedding band he had supposedly been wearing for the past five years. But seeing how easily it came off, Toga was now convinced this hobby wasn't just something that he had recently picked up.

The blonde let her bag slip off her shoulder onto the floor with a clunk as she turned to set up the camera you insisted on making her bring. You needed to see what was happening, so you could move on. Which.. Toga knew that, but she never wanted to see you hurt in any type of way. She also knew that this could probably kill you. It was obvious looking at your husband that you were head over heels for him. And he couldn't even bother to be faithful. That sent a wave of rage through Toga’s body.

Fueling the anger that was already inside of her.

“What are you waiting for?” Your husband asked as he started unbuttoning his shirt, a shirt you had bought him. “I want to see that pretty face underneath that mask.” He stepped towards Toga placing both his hands on her shoulders, and slowly rubbed them before lightly squeezing her upper arms. “If you wanted to keep it on, you should’ve said that when we set this up” He squeezed her arms painfully tight.

Only no matter hard he squeezed, Toga never made a sound. Instead she looked into the camera that had started to record the encounter she and your husband were about to have.

Toga turned around to face him and pulled him towards the bed before taking off her mask, “All you had to do was ask, no need to get rough. That costs extra.” She ran her hand down your husband's chest as he cupped her cheek, running his rough finger over her bottom lip as she spoke.

“Mm, how much extra?” He asked lowly, while running his hand through her long blonde locks.

Toga’s eyes widened at his question but answered confidently. “It depends on what you want to do. We never did discuss limits or what you would like to do with your time here.”

“Well” His hands left Togas body as he slowly circled her. “First off, you will only address me as sir from here on out. Secondly, I will call you.. y/n.” He waited to see Togas reaction as he stated your name.

“Y/n?” Toga choked out. He wanted to call her your name. Your name? “It’s lovely, is she someone close to you?”

“You could say that, I guess.” He brushed Togas hair out of her face and brought her mouth up to kiss him. The kiss was awkward and down right gross.

But because she needed the proof, Toga kissed him back. She unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, while dragging her nails down his chest. His hands went to the tie on her overcoat and undid it swiftly before pulling back to admire her body.

His hands roamed hungerly down her body, roughly grabbing her breasts through the lingerie set. “What are your limits, y/n?”

Your husband's eyes stared into Togas, with nothing but anger and hatred. “I don’t have any, sir.”

“None whatsoever?” He asked as he kissed down Toga’s jaw, before roughly grabbing her throat, cutting off her airway. He let out a soft growl in her ear and chuckled, “Then get on your knees.”

She hesitated for a moment, and he must have seen that. Because instead of letting Toga kneel on her own, he forced her to the ground so now she was eye level with the tent in his pants. He grabbed a handful of her hair and made her look up at him.

He was getting off on her distress. She was sure now, you had no idea this side of him existed. The cruel man who hired sex workers, and called them by your name, and doing the things to them you never would allow him to do you.

The man in front of Toga reached down to his waistband and unbuckled his belt then hissed through a clenched jaw, “What are you waiting for? I'm the one paying you.”

Toga swallowed her own pride for a moment and unbuttoned the man's pants, letting them drop to his knees as he slid his boxers down as well. She was rather surprised by the size of him, and now understood why you were hardly able to walk after one of your date nights. Your husband seemed well aware of how endowed he actually was and watched Toga intently. She sighed softly and gripped the base of his cock. She slowly licked over his tip, ridding it of the pre-cum that seemed to coat the entire head.

A moan was heard from the man as Toga went further down on his cock. Hearing him moan sent a shiver through her body, so she swirled her tongue around him as her hand pumped up and down his shaft. He was already practically hitting the back of her throat and he wasn't even halfway in her mouth. At this point she was grateful she didn't have a gag reflex and forced his cock down her throat.

His hand went into her hair, pulling her further into him. “Fuck, y/n~”

Toga inhaled his musky scent and pulled back for a moment, letting the trail of her saliva string from his cock to her puffy lips. She stroked his cock quickly, earning breathy moans with every pump of her hand. Without warning his hand in her hair pulled her forward until her lips pressed up against his tip again.

“Open your fucking mouth,” He growled as Toga stopped her motions and braced herself against his thighs. Once she did as she was told, the man grabbed her by jaw, pulled her to her feet and then spit into her mouth, “What a fucking slut. Get on the bed.”

At this rate, it would be a miracle if Toga didn't leave the hotel room without bruises on her jaw. She thought back to you, wondering if he ever marked you like that.

Toga pushed that thought to the back of her mind as she climbed onto the bed. As she went to turn back to face him, the man came up behind her and grabbed her hips. Turning Toga onto her back, he- quite literally- ripped the lingerie set off of her, tossing the torn lace to the side.

His hands roughly groped her body as he made his way down to her throbbing cunt. He brushed a finger up and down her slit before slowly inserting his index finger. The man may have been rough with her until now, but it seemed he at least wanted her to have a good time. When the first moan left Togas mouth, she swore under her breath. She hated that his hands on her body felt good, and that he kept calling out your name.

A second finger was inserted as Toga’s body responded to his movements. Right as he gained a consistent pattern, he stopped. She looked down at him, wondering why, and the second she made eye contact with her. He twisted his fingers inside of her, sending a sharp pain through Togas abdomen.

“I didn’t say you could look at me. Did I y/n?”

Toga shook her head and laid back down on the bed, the pain lingered inside of her. “No, sir.”

He clicked his tongue and stood up. Forcing Toga onto her stomach. The man brought her to the edge of the bed and pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance. And with no warning he inserted himself inside of her.

Toga clenched the bedsheets into her hands as she tried to stay quiet as he soon bottomed out inside of her. He moaned with every little move he made, until he gripped her hips tightly and started thrusting. He didn’t start out slow either. He slammed himself inside of her repeatedly, only seeming to use her to do the job. And somehow fill the role that- you- his wife hadnt fulfilled.

The blonde girl moaned into the sheets as he railed into as if he was trying to obliterate her organs. Soon after what only seemed like a few minutes he reached up and grabbed a handful of Togas hair. On top of pulling out of her. He practically picked up the much smaller girl and made her knee in front of him. His fingertips dug into her jaw and his other hand stroked his cock until the hot white, sticky threads of cum was released into Togas open mouth.

The second the first drop hit her tongue she tried not to gag, but it was useless. When he saw her gag as taste of his seed, he let go of her jaw and slapped her. The force was enough to knock her into the bedframe behind her.

The sound of the slap echoed through the now all too quiet room as Toga sat back up. Before she could actually process what happened, the man grabbed her arm once again and jerked her to her feet.

“What the hell was that?” Your husband squeezed Togas arm tightly as she tried pulling away from him. When she looked up at him she saw the anger and the hatred in his eyes as he slowly became more violent.

So now the situation had flipped to where instead of rough kinky sex- it was life it death. He was going to kill her if she wasn’t careful.

Toga managed to get one of her arms free of his grasp and slapped him in the face. She managed to slip her other arm from his grasp in that one split second of shock. Running across her room to the bag she had brought with her, Toga rummaged through it until she found a small letter opener.

While twisting the small knife in her hand, she looked at the camera that was still filming and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’

Your husband came up from behind Toga and wrapped his hand around her neck, while placing something cold and thin on the girls spine.

“You have spunk.” The man brought his hand around her to place the small pocket knife against the base of her neck. “I don’t like that, y/n. You’re supposed to listen.”

He dragged the blade across her skin slowly before ripping it away. Leaving a small shallow cut in her skin.

Togas eyes widened as she saw the blood dripping down her arm from the cut on her shoulder. He.. really was going to kill her.

She turned around and looked up at him. Keeping the letter opener behind her arm so she had at least one means of self defense. Even if it didn’t seem like much.

“I’m sorry, sir. I won’t do it again~” Her goal right now was to try and sound convincing. Despite the panic in her chest.

He reached up to touch Togas face with the pocket knife, dragging the flat part of the blade down her cheekbones. He flipped the blade so the sharp end was cutting into her soft skin, not quite hard enough to make her bleed.

Chills went up her spine as she subconsciously moved against his touch. She had always had a thing for knives and blood.

“Oh? You like that, y/n? The blade cutting into your skin? Who knew you were such a dirty little slut~” Your husband teased and pressed the knife into the artery on the side of Togas neck. “If you act up one more time, Himiko, then you’ll never see my wife again.”

Togas heart dropped into her stomach, he knew who she was, and he probably had known the whole time. Now she really was in danger.

“Not because I’m going to kill you, no no no. That,” He folded the knife and put it back into his pocket. “That would be too easy.” He tugged on her long blonde hair so she was looking up at him once again. “I’ll kill her instead, but not after telling you what you do for a living.”

A wave of anger ran through Toga's body as she listened to what he would do to you. Before she knew it something inside of her flipped and she pressed the sharp end of the letter opener into his neck.

“You think she doesn’t know?” Toga laughed, and not the cute laugh from before. This one had a sort of manic presence to it. “Y/n was the first person I told, because we have a mutual respect for each other.”

“She respects me for what I do, and I respect her for staying with a dirty cheater like you.” Toga pulled her arm back and jabbed the letter opener into the artery on the side of your husband's neck. His blood was pouring out of the small wound onto the carpet of the hotel room.

Toga reached into his pocket and pulled out the pocket knife before opening it, pressing the tip of the knife into his sternum. “If you haven’t realized I, unlike you, love your wife. So~ I’m going to leave you here, to hopefully bleed out before someone finds you.”

She stood up and grabbed her overcoat, putting it back on before walking back over to your husband's body. He had managed to pull the letter opener out, so now his blood was steadily coating the floor.

The girl grabbed a small glass vial from her bag and filled it with your husband's blood. Taking it to the small box of vials that she kept tucked away into her bag. Another cheater down and another wife to comfort..

Before she went to leave the room, she walked back over to his belongings and took his wedding ring. She could at least return this to you. Regardless of her hatred for your husband she wanted you to be happy.

She pulled the bane mask over her face and pulled her bag over her shoulder as she left the hotel quietly, completely unbothered by the fact she had just killed a man.

She waited on the edge of the sidewalk for a cab, giving them your address once she sat down inside.

She couldn’t wait to see you.

#himiko toga #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha smut #first post #anime #cheating #mha x reader #bnha x reader

[arcadejohn127-9]

Call me the flash because of how fast I’m asking this! XD

Anyways, how do you think the boys would all react to a MC who HATES Valentines Day because their former boyfriend/girlfriend/significant other dumped them on Valentine’s Day?

Damn we got a speedster over here! Someone call the justice League, you're missing a super XD

As someone who just generally dislikes valentine's I feel like this will go very well~ though seeing as alot of my prompts are the boys and them are already in a relationship - I decided to add abit of ✨ oof✨ to this prompt

Lucifer:

Not a big Valentine times day fan either

Ever since the Devildom was introduced to the holiday he wasn't a fan

There was no such thing as love in the air

But then you came into his house; he still finds it stupid and doesn't get the hype but having you around makes me him wonder if he should do something

When he found out you hated valentine's Day he felt relieved

But because it was because of a past lover???

He sees this as a challenge; you really think he's going to just brush this off?

When valentine comes you are greeted to roses, chocolates, wine and a fully prepared meal for you two

"Is this fitting enough for the holiday? I heard people tend to go overboard these days."

"You know I didn't want to celebrate today-"

You frowned, slowly coming to sit with him at his desk which has been turned into a makeshift table with cloth covering it

"And let some mortal spoil such an occasion even with your present partner? Think of this as your first steps of Getting over them."

"I'm mortal, Lucifer, don't say it like it's something insulting."

He jabbed his fork at you, raising a brow

"You're avoiding my point, don't you wish to move on?"

"I- of course....I'm happy with you."

"Then dig in, I made it myself."

You huffed, digging In but soon found yourself wrapped up in how delicious it was

He raised his wine glass to you, silently gesturing for you to do the same

"To a new meaning to valentine's."

You hesitated but repeated his words

Your glasses clinked and that was the first sign of your relationship becoming stronger

Mammon:

Active lover of the holiday and celebrates every year - couples want gifts and he can get money aswell as the fact he's a romantic

So when he found out you hated valentine's; he had to change that even when he found out why - that reason just made him annoyed that you were still hating on the holiday

"yo! Yo! Yo! Guess who just got money~ this guy so that means I'm treating ya!"

"oh? How comes?"

"It's valentine's! And you're the person I'm spending it with!"

"you know I hate it-"

He huffed, puffing out his cheeks

"And I'm going to make you stop hating it, was that ex of yours really so important you don't wanna spend valentine's with me?"

"It's complicated, I just really hate it now, it's attached to bad memories-"

"then let's change that! Make some good memories so you can stop being a grump on the day of love."

He grabbed your hands, giving you puppy eyes

You were utterly helpless to them and let him take you out

He stole a heart balloon and tied it to your wrist, doing your initials on it in Sharpie with a 'x' between them

He did definitely treat you; buying you chocolates, a teddy bear, the two of you matching keychains and many other items

You let yourself be happy as he got excited, dragging you around to every shop either of you looked at, wanting to get more matching stuff

He definitely made your valentine's a positive one

Levithan:

Hated it

His reason was because he was always alone for them, never getting anything and ending up never giving anyone anything because he believes they'll hate it

He felt Insecure that you seemed to still be attached to the breakup of your ex

Fearing that you could be missing them

You both spent valentine's as a couple but mocking and booing at others

At one point you threw Chocolates you didn't like at a overly touchy demon couples from a window

"Do you still think about them....?"

"Who?"

"Your ex, you're not over your breakup with them and we've been spending Valentines being bitter."

"I thought you enjoyed being bitter about it."

"I do but could you answer my questions, please - I know I'm not much and I'm sure they were so much better than me but maybe we could spend a little bit of valentine's together as you know....a celebrating coup-couple."

He was completely blushing, hiding his face behind his arm hoping his rambling didn't completely ruin your feelings towards him

"If you really want to, I don't have any feelings for my ex and it's just that reflection that sticks with me but, I wanna try if it'll make you feel more secure."

You guys ended up watching 'normie' movies, cuddled in his bathtub bed eating what was left your chocolates

You kissed his jaw and he immediately stopped functioning

You smiled, holding him closer

Perhaps valentine's can be a good time

Satan:

Casual valentine's man

Doesn't really care for the holiday and only has spent it with his brothers

He's use to just giving his brothers a small gift and never have a partner to spend it with

But things were different now and sadly, you hated the holiday

He respected your reason why but he felt worried that you were fully over your ex as you still let the holiday be ruined for you

He got you a small gift like he does his brother's

Wanting you to be apart of it but not doing anything big

"happy valentine's, I know you don't celebrate it but I thought you'd like the gift anyway."

"Satan....I didn't get you anything- Let's go out then, I'll treat you."

"I'll consider it a valentine's date."

Whilst he normally had a 'meh' feeling to it, he wanted to spend his first valentine's with you on a date

He just wants the experience and can say he's spend it with you

Even if it was a one time thing

"really Satan?"

"Let's spend this one together and be happy, next year we can go destory things and let out our anger towards the world."

That won you over, you agreed

You took him on a date

You both tried to ignore all the decorations everywhere but that was pretty hard, got lunch together and even walked around to see the new sights

You ended up in the park, staring to the horizon with confetti on your backs and Satan with a party hat

It was forced on him whilst you guys were out but he never got rid of it

"I liked today, maybe after we destory things we can go on another date next year?"

Asmodeus:

He LOVES love!

Nothing brings him more joy than valentine's

Aphrodisiacs are being sold EVERYWHERE

When he found you out hated it he was so upset, he wanted to spend it with you! His usual valentine's crew was nothing compared to you!

And you hated it because of an ex dumping you?!

"Noooooooo! (Y/N) don't let them ruin this for you, please, let's go on a cute picnic or even just stay in room if you don't want to go outside-"

If anyone saw asmo hugging your leg whilst you trudged down the halls, they definitely didn't say anything

"Let me spend today how I want!"

"what? Eat ice cream and get grumpy over someone you're not dating anymore?"

You frowned, knowing he was right

"why not spend it with your gorgeous boyfriend instead? Don't I shine up on your day?"

He had those Puppy eyes again

You finally stopped trying to get away from him, crouching down and cupping his face

"will you let go of my leg if I say yes?"

He nodded

As soon as he stood up you helped him straighten up his clothes, fixing his hair for him

"I'm sorry for dragging you around the house, I know I shouldn't be moping but it just really hurt."

"I know, darling but let's get through this together, we'll do whatever you want."

He was being honest; you were in charge of the whole day

You stayed in his room, having a romantic bath and then ate your feelings

After that you both went out and enjoyed dinner

Life really was happier with him; you decided you'll be doing with him more often

Beezlebub:

Mainly focuses on family valentine's

Has had to play a few sports game on the holiday and every player got a kiss and gift from a cheerleader

He liked the thought and always liked it when he was given food

But he wasn't interested in any of them

Or really the holiday itself, he always wants to share his love for the people around him

Why wait until some holiday to do it?

But when he finds out you hate valentine's and it's because of your ex

He considered fighting your ex

Doesn't want to force you to celebrate with him but wants to be able to do stuff with you

"Wanna go out to eat? They have valentine's day deals."

"i don't really feel like taking any part of it."

"I want to spend today with you and don't like seeing you being upset over the past."

"You just want to eat? No surprise dates or big deal about today?"

"no, just want to hang out with you."

"....okay."

He immediately took your hand, taking you to the restaurant he saw online

On the way we got you a magic rose

Handing it over for you to wear

But other than that he stuck to his word,just having eating out with you and didn't even talk about the holiday

You smiled but apart of you did feel bad you were going to stop something like this from having because of your ex

You felt the rose, looking up at him

"Want to take a couple's picture? They're doing it for couples celebrating today."

"we don't have to, you don't like today."

But you insisted, letting him pick you up for the picture and kissed his cheek

You were able to get the picture in different sizes and he put the small one in his wallet

From then on you planned to keep spending Valentines with beel

Belphegor:

Absolutely disgusted by it

Will always tell anyone how much he hates it

But on the other hand, he watches romcoms and yells at the TV for the chatacters not understanding they love each other every valentine's

He's just trying to keep up his edgelord persona, okay

When he learned you hated valentine's he was happy

Means he didn't have to do anything

But it's because of your ex?? He's now going to be romantic as FUCK

You enter the attic expecting to find a chill place to rest but instead there are rose petals everywhere and belphie laying waiting for you

You expected something like this from asmo but you couldn't deny seeing your boyfriend try to be romantic whilst half asleep was pretty cute

"I have romcoms and violent horror movies, pick your flavour."

"what's with all this? You know my feelings about Valentine's."

"I'm not going to let some pathetic ex ruin this valentine's for us, so I'm romancing you - is it working?"

"I'm picking the horror movie."

You put the dvd in ignoring him

"That doesn't change the mood for me."

You should of known

You cuddled and watched as people got ripped open and blood went flying

Belphie wiggling his eyebrows at you whenever an couple came on

You just shoved his face laughing

You forgot your bitter feelings and looked down at your now asleep boyfriend

"thanks for today, maybe you can try again next year."

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

Thrilled by it all!

It's so heart warming to see love be so celebrated

Demons were always so violent and everything had to be edgy - he was tired of it

Was disappointed you hated it, he already had plans for the both of you

But after finding out the reason - it seems all his scheduling was back and the gifts became more grand

"Trust me, I'll change your mind on Valentines! We're together now and I want to treat you to a date."

"but why? I don't wanna take part-"

"We are going to get through your heartbreak together! I know things can still sting even when you feel over it, so let's just try."

You thought it over, nodding

He just grinned, taking you by the shoulder and led you to the royal carriage

You struggled to sit down when it was filled with gifts and flowers

They all had your name on them and immediately blushed

You should of known he'd go all out

He took you to see the Devildom at night, where all the lights covered the streets like stars

He set up a picnic in the park and you both ended up dancing in the water fountain

"I really enjoyed today, thank you."

He kissed your cheek, telling you not to worry

Barbatos:

Isn't a fan of all the decorating and cleaning up that'll be involved when the day is over

But he gets time off to de-stress and that's always a plus

He was thankful you weren't a fan of Valentines but your ex? He might have to write them out of timelines

Understood you just had a sting from it all and was use to feeling that way

Was surprised when you were one to actually make the first move on Valentines

"I wanted to give you this, I don't want to celebrate but I thought this could be nice?"

It was a pocket watch with a hidden compartment, it had a picture of you and him

Good thing he also got you something; a locket with the same picture you have him

Was it an accident? On purpose? He'll never tell, he just knows it's your favourite picture of you two

"I see, then we won't celebrate it but I'm sure you would still be willing to accompany me in the gardens?"

Takes you on a boat ride across the lake even better as it's sunset and the water looks immaculate

Cooks you both dinner and you just spend the day as if it was any other

"I like spending Valentines with you."

"I would hope so or I would fail as your boyfriend."

"I wanna spend the next one with you properly."

"As you wish, I'll be sure to make it the best one you've ever experienced."

Solomon:

Forgets holidays

Always likes bringing up history facts about any holiday as he's seen them all evolve from one part of history to modern day

Pretends to not know how to celebrate it so people will try to explain it to him and end up not really knowing why they celebrate things

You hate Valentines? Doesn't care but it's because of your ex? That he doesn't get

"So you're still hurting from your past relationship that you don't want to spend valentine's with your boyfriend?"

"when you say it like that it sounds really bad."

"I'm not really up for celebrating so it makes no difference to me but I'm not sure I can accept you still letting them upset."

You sighted, knowing he was going to make up some sort of plan or trick

But instead he just kissed your hand

"let's go to the human world, I heard there's a traveling fairground."

You agreed to go, both of you making it there in seconds and of course everything was heart themed

You couldn't escape the love

It was actually really fun! There were bouncy castles, a Ferris wheel and lots of food stands

You were definitely willing to celebrate again if it was going to be like this

Simeon:

A day of love? It's Charming

Finds it amusing how people can much such a big deal out of it all

Though he thinks you should always be expressive of how much you love the people around you

So you hating it was an opposite to him but he was respectful

Knowing it was because of your ex made him displeased

Whilst very understanding, wanted to atleast improve your opinion on the holiday so you didn't associate it with them anymore

"Let's just do one couples related thing today then we can do whatever you please."

"but why? I should be allowed to dislike what I dislike."

"you're absolutely right but you're letting an ex ruin a whole day for you, don't you want to spend it with me?"

"of course I do! I'm just unsure."

He smiled, grasping your hands

"that's fine, we won't do anything big, just a fun date and then you're free to do as you please."

He was right, you didn't do anything big

Just went to a pottery class and you made all sorts of clay creations together

It was peaceful and there was no Valentines being forced down on you

You giggled when he showed you the clay heart he made

"we should make this our thing, valentine's we do things like this together."

He agreed, happy to make Valentines whatever you wanted it to be

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #gamingclubpresident #aracadejohn217 9 #obey me mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beezlebub #obey me luke #obey me levithan #obey me luficer #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me barbatos #obey me Diavolo #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me x reader #obey me imagine #Valentine's

[bellfort3]

tommy’s love language being flowers pog??

-tommy doesn’t know how to show affection

-like, at all.

-but one of the happiest moments of his childhood is when he met tubbo, and tubbo had found a flower, picked it, and gave it to him

-the roots were still attached to the flower and tommy didn’t know how to react to the gift but tubbo’s smile was so wide that tommy couldn’t do anything other than smile back and accept the flower

-he kinda just. held it in front of him for a moment, staring at it.

-that was a while ago, and tommy still sucks at giving and receiving affection

-about once every two months, tubbo will randomly hand him a flower

-neither of them really acknowledge it

-during exile, tommy didn’t get flowers. he certainly didn’t pick them himself, that was painful. he didn’t realise how much he loved them

-after the whole dream thing, after the whole techno thing, after exile, after the community house confrontation, after /doomsday/, tommy struggled with comforting himself

-he wanted tubbo to give him a flower, and he felt pathetic because of it

-then dream gave him a message, gave him and tubbo a date for their final battle, and decided “fuck it”

-he set about and picked flowers for just about everyone.

-he spent the next few days, in between breaking down and preparations for the war with dream, handing out flower to everyone around

-no words were said when he handed them the flower, just a genuine smile with admittedly sad eyes

-ghostbur gets one first. he’s completely clueless but smiles widely when he receives it. he does ‘oh! I’ve never seen this shade of blue before!’ even when the flower is red

-niki doesn’t know what to do when she receives it. she’s stunned into silence his eyes are more pained than they ever have been, and he had mouthed “i’m sorry” so broken and silently before running off

-tommy delivers on to techno and phil, only hours after he stole potions. techno doesn’t want to admit hes concerned and phil looks so openly confused and worried. tommy doesn’t say anything, just hands them the flowers and leaves. both of them wanted to say something but neither had the words

-he gives one to sam, even if they weren’t too close of friends. he knows sam didn’t really get involved with war, and therefore sam had never really hurt him. he was nice to him. sam smiles and takes it with a smile and thanks him, though he loses the smile when he watches tommy run away silently, especially when he sees the boy start to craft armor

-fundy tries so hard to be grateful, to act like nothings weird about this interaction, but he can’t help but chuckle awkwardly, and question what’s happening. but tommy is already walking away, and fundy stares at the flower in his hands. he had laughed while l’manburg was blown up, and he didn’t regret the destruction. but tommy was acting so weird and he didn’t know what to do, so he just holds the flower for the next few hours, before putting it in the grass next to his house

-jack immediately starts laughing when tommy gives him the flower, but it falters when tommy just walks away. “what’s this for?” he yells but doesnt get a response. he doesn’t find anything significant about the flower but holds on to it before putting it in a chest. he feels unexplainably guilty when he thinks about throwing it out.

-eret sees tommy’s distracted gaze and shaking hands and takes the flower slowly. they make sure to grasp one of tommy’s hands in their own, giving silent support. they know their words won’t impact tommy enough. eret will forever feel guilt for their betrayal of l’manburg, and more importantly, traumatizing the kids of l’manburg. they know tommy is about to face something terrible, but they also don’t know how to help. all they can do is stare at the boy while he runs away, until they can’t see him anymore.

-sapnap is mad when he gets the flower. not at tommy though. tommy is already walking away the moment sapnap has the flower in his hands, so doesn’t get to say anything. this wasn’t how he wanted things to be. him and tommy have always had a rough relationship, but he liked the kid more than he disliked him. the flower feels wrong in his hands, but he doesn’t crush it. he gently puts it in his inventory and tells himself he’ll plant it later, when no one can see.

-quackity’s heart hurts when tommy gives him the flower. he had seen the way tommy lit up when tubbo gave him a flower once; and he knows the boys are about to go into an unbeatable

war. he takes the flower with tears in his eyes and tommy runs off, once again, without words.

-punz didn’t know what to think. he never cared about anything other than personal gain, and had a lot of trouble admitting to feeling sympathy for the boy. he takes the flower with a nod

-bad knew something was off. tommy was never silent and he usually never did anything as soft as give out flowers. but the egg was clouding over his mind, so he could only give a confused smile as he accepted the flower and watched the blonde boy leave

-puffy almost cries when tommy smiles and gifts her the flower. she knows he’s going to go to war soon, everyone knows now. both him and tubbo have been preparing nonstop for the past few days. it breaks her heart, that these kids have gone through so much. she hates the way the flower feels like a goodbye.

-ranboo has always been one for bluntness. he doesn’t immediately take the flower, and instead he asks “what’s this?” tommy is obviously frustrated by the hesitation and continues to hold out the flower. ranboo doesn’t back down. ranboo becomes the only one tommy talks to when giving out by he flowers. “Just take the goddamn flower ranboo.” “But why? You have never given me anything before. Only taken.” Tommy let’s his hand drop, fingers still tightly wrapped around the stem of the rose. “It’s just a fucking flower ranboo. I’m not giving you a full set of netherite. Just take it. I don’t care if you eat it later or cherish it forever.”

He shoves the flower into ranboos hands and walks away with his hands in his pocket. ranboo looks at the flower in his hands, and he takes it home, still weary of it’s meaning and puts it in a pot on his windowsill. he makes sure to write about it in his memory book, something about tommy’s slightly fearful and dejected expression and the silent pain in his voice.

-the last person he gives a flower to us tubbo, and that’s when they have said they’re goodbyes down the prime path. tommy already gifted his flowers, the walk down the path was more for show than anything. at the end of the past, uncaring of the people behind them watching, tommy gives him a flower

-tubbo looks up at him, and they both have tears in their eyes. such a small gesture meant something so big to them. this was the first time tommy had ever reciprocated a flower. tubbo bend down gently and plucked a smaller flower that was growing in the grass at his feet, and gave it to tommy

silently. neither of them said anything, and simultaneously tucked the flowers behind their ears. they knew the flowers would be lost almost immediately on the journey. it didn’t matter. they stayed silent until they got on the boat ride and followed the compass

-the adults watching the interaction felt like the flowers held a lot more of a significant meaning to the tommy, and by extension tubbo, than they first thought. but they had no idea what the meaning was. (it was tommy’s way of affection. the first real gift he was given by someone other than wilbur, was the flower from tubbo. the meaning of significance of the flowers was love.)

-when tommy and tubbo survived the battle, when tommy’s backup plan of paying punz payed off, when sam helped imprison dream, tommy felt lighter. he employed sam to help him make his hotel

-and when sam told him to go and pick a stack of poppy flowers? tommy was so elated. he thought he’d never get to see flowers again. he got more than a stack, and had the biggest grin on his face for the rest of the day

...I’ve gone soft. Thank you con for the sweetest and most pure headcannon yet. I loved reading this so much. Especially the happy ending about flower picking for Sam and the hotel.

I love you con<3

#con #con and their headcannons #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #dreamsmp #sbi #techno #sleepy bois inc #sleepyblr #tubbo #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #mcyt #bellfort answers

[moxfirefly]

I!! Have an request!! If you want, thats up to you! But how about the turtles have a friend (the reader) and no matter what they see hints of or how it seems she just doesnt seem to be in a relationship ever and then leo starts acting "odd" (in love) and one day michelangelo of all people catches leo and the reader in a romantic (or heated) moment! What do you think would happen? How would they handle their older brother in love? 😂 i just thought itd be a funny one-shot

Ok I’ve been wanting to tackle this for a while now and ima do my best for you friend, also I hope this reaches cause I know it’s been tough so I send you lots of love💕

Blue boi all in lovey dovey

Rated Mature (Romance but will a little sprinkle of smut) 18+ Only

Raphael squinted his eyes.

For the past twenty-two minutes he’d been wondering what was wrong with this picture. His breakfast was getting cold and he’d even neglected to smack Mikey’s hand away when he stole a piece of bacon off his place.

Raphael took pride in his observation skills, often he noticed plenty of things in his environment but while Donatello ran commentary on it he usually kept the information to himself. He shared a room with his youngest brother so he knew any odd shift when it came to Mikey. He is very close with Donnie, spending a few sleepless nights by his side while the genius tinkered away at projects, even lending a hand here and there.

Leonardo for all of his hard headed ways and their personality clashes, he felt he knew him well enough too. The leader though, was much more guarded in his emotions which made for some difficult moments to completely gage his older brother.

You on the other hand were an open book, plenty of times he’d spent time with you, getting to know plenty of your ticks and thoughts. Raph considered you a close friend, a confidant he could turn to.

But as you all sat together for a late breakfast. Mikey inhaling his while Donnie’s overworked eyes looked into his coffee cup as if lifes answers laid there, Leo and you were just sitting there, suspiciously.

You were still in your sleep wear, Leo’s groggy movements mechanical as he ate on autopilot. You yawned reaching for a coffee refill and without command or hesitation Leo had pushed the creamer and sugar towards you, going so far to place the exact amount of both in your mug. You had given him a sweet smile, reaching a hand to thumb a crumb away from the corner of his mouth.

Raphael raised a brow ridge, well naturally that could translate to common kindness. You all knew each other, often April had in some form or shape probably done something similar. He poked a few pieces of eggs into his mouth, now he was intrigued.

He picked up a few more instances where his curiosities got the better of him.

For instance one afternoon while you were over he had decided to gather info. Raphael had kitchen duty and you had stuck around to help him out. “What’s up with you?” A common not so invasive question, you shrugged. “Same old, same old” You gathered plates to set the table. Raphael kept his gaze at the task at hand, cutting tomatoes for the sauce he was preparing. “Yeah but have you done anything? Gone out with friends? Maybe found your future husband?” He chuckled even more so when you nudged him with an elbow. “A forget you have a sense humor under all that angst” Raph smiled, the two of you often bickered Iike this.

Truth be told you had never mentioned a boyfriend or a girlfriend, the subject was never really breached. With the amount of time you spent in the sewers with them it never came up if you had some partner or if you even were dating. Raphael added the tomatoes into a pot, you joined his side ready to help with more cutting of condiments.

Then Leo arrived and he felt the air shift, he peaked a glance at you, a small smile playing on your lips. Leo in turn greeting the two of you before he made his way towards the fridge to retrieve something to drink. “Want something?” He asked from the fridge and honest to God Raph was very sure he wasn’t asking him. You nodded extending a hand for the soda he gave you, he leaned against the fridge and chatted you up as nonchalant as ever.

Nothing in the small chat raised any flags, Raph’s sauce almost burning from how intently he was concentrating of quite literally eavesdropping on you two. You laughed at something he mentioned, that was bizarre because Leo was seriously not even funny but he could be biased on that end.

“Your hair looks pretty that way” Leo spoke, a tad bit shyly. Raph stirred the sauce, brow ridges shooting up, ‘real smooth big bro’ he couldn’t help but think. Then again he had probably at some point told April the same thing, well they all had commented on April being pretty in all manners of ways.

But this felt just the taddest bit different?

He excused himself having to get back to whatever he was doing. Raph squatted to get something from the bottom cupboards, he didn’t miss the blush on your cheeks.

“Yer hair does look nice like that” He tested, you beamed brightly at him. “Thank you, you’re very sweet when you put your heart into it” She teased smacking a hand towel at him.

Inconclusive results.

For now.

This stupid notion continued to bother Raphael, curiosity would kill the turtle in this case. He wanted to know if truly something was amiss there and you both being friends he wondered why you just hadn’t flat out told him what was up. Nevertheless he couldn’t drop the bomb on you, you could be motorfide or maybe deny it to high hell. Asking Leonardo was out of the question, he sure as hell wouldn’t say a thing.

So Raphael kept his gaze glued as you parted ways for the night. You gave a hug and kiss to everybody, quite normal for your loving nature. He got his hug and kiss, so did Donnie, April and Mikey. Once you landed on Leo you did the same.

He could’ve sworn you lingered a little more, going so far as to whisper something to him because Leo gave a little huff of a laughter and smiled. He definitely slid his hand away from your lower back quite slowly.

Maybe, just maybe...

One patrol night he got stuck with Leo while Mikey and Donnie were doing rounds on the truck. They were scouting out a bank that was rumored to be hit soon by a group of robbers. Raph didn’t mention you, in fact he patiently waited for these robbers to possibly show up.

Something vibrated and his gaze landed on Leo who was reaching a hand into his pocket to pull out his phone. His concentrated and serious featured softening with whatever he read on the screen. He typed back something quick, shaking his head from whatever image or words or whatever had been provoked out of him. “Everything good?” Raphael asked, Leo nodded as if back to ‘normal’ and that absolutely was suspicious in his book.

That night didn’t yield any resolution and honestly it’s around this time that Raph regrets this little task that had occupied his time. He had originally decided to leave it as inconclusive, at some point You two dummies had to say or do something. He had been rummaging his room for his hand wraps, more than ready to get his nightly workout in order. When he had come up empty handed he exited towards Leo’s room, he always had them which annoyed the red banded brute.

His first mistake was not knocking or making his incoming presence known. A rookie mistake considering he lived with three young adult brothers.

His second mistake was just barging in like he owned the place. An annoyed “Jesus Leo quick taking my shit” spewing out of him.

If mistakes One and Two had been adverted he wouldn’t be standing here, wide eyed and frozen.

Because he really didn’t need to see his brother stark ass naked on top of his best friend who he basically considered a little sister, equally naked to boot. There was a solid fifteen seconds where Raphael didn’t know if he running out was the best option, mumbling a ‘shit my bad’ was better or if covering his eyes and screaming at his brother that he better be a gentlemen to you cause you’re a great gal.

Leonardo’s hands cupped your exposed breast for modesty sake, the need for the ground to dramatically open up and swallow him whole heavy in his mind. You had squeaked when Raph barged in, hands super glued to Leo’s rear and god why couldn’t you scream and let go and scream some more.

Raphael finally turned around, an embarrassed heat breaking over his body as he groaned in disgust. “Shit fuck, sorry sorry! I didn’t see shit!” Oh but he did and oh did he crave bleach. “Raph get out! This is why you knock!” Leo chucked a pillow at his brothers shell. You had finally let go of Leo’s rear, covering your face in mortification. “Hang a sock or something outside then!! I can’t read minds!” Raph bellowed.

Mistake number 3 happened because Raphael was a drama Queen through and through and the shouting only helped to alert his brothers towards the room.

“Can you two not fight for five whole minu-OH GOD SORRY!” Donatalleo had exited as quickly as he had approached the room. Mikey thankfully barely saw anything since Raph and Donnie yanked him out which Leo was thankful, he knew Mikey would never let this situation go.

A very quiet hour passed by.

Nobody wanting to say anything. Mikey had left for the tunnels to skateboard for a while. Donnie had thrown himself into truck repairs not even wanting to discuss what his eyes had briefly seen.

And Raphael had sat on the couch, every few minutes making a face whenever his brain decided to bring back the nights events. He heard movement from Leo’s room, the small pitter patter that belonged to your feet. Raph kept his gaze down, whatever playing on the tv long forgotten, he saw your feet when they tentatively approached the couch.

“Um Raph” Your tone was hushed.

“Didn’t see anything, matter of fact nothing happened” Raph grabbed the remote, you sat down and sighed. “Listen you weren’t the one with your tits out here” You crossed your arms grumbling, Raph almost chortled but then he remembered Leo and simply made a face.

“Why didn’t you tell me you and him were a thing? We’re friends, I mean you can do better but you know” He smiled when he felt your elbow smack his arm. “He’s really nice don’t be so mean” You sat back on the corner, Raph looked at you, you were wearing an oversized shirt clearly spending the night.

“Sorry for ah, not knocking” Raph spoke softly.

“Sorry for no telling you I had it bad for your brother” You smirked, enjoying Raph’s disgruntled expression.

You scooted close and hugged his massive arm, Raph smiled. “He better be good to ya... and well, don’t break his heart, he’s an ass but he’s my big brother” You nodded against his arm.

You had stayed for a little before returning back to Leo’s room, the leader was reading on his bed but quickly looked up when you came in. “Everything alright?” He asked tentatively. You nodded climbing into bed and in between his legs to lay on him. “We could’ve so gone a better way telling everybody, at least it’s out and we can just be ourselves” You rested against him, Leo’s chin a top your head.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you and smiled. “I’m never living this down but I’m happy we can just be ourselves” He poked your sides earning an earnest squeal from you.

Outside Raphael could hear the quiet giggling and laughter. He was happy for the two of you, it made sense.

Mikey walked in, board in hand and sweaty from skating for hours.

“So Leo loses his V card first, huh brah?”

Raphael groaned.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt leonardo x reader #leo tmnt #leonardo tmnt #tmnt Leonardo x female reader #leonardo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #leo x reader #Leonardo #Leo #tmnt raphael #tmnt Raph #Raphael #Raph #fluff #romance #mild ns*w #ask #requested oneshot #supershiny raven

[ri-ahhh]

hi can you write about spending a valentine’s day with gray pls?

valentine’s day smut w/ gray? + more haha sorry couldn’t put them all in

A/N: I’m sorry this is a day late. It was supposed to be 90% smut but somehow it took on a mind of its own and turned into this monster.

warnings: smut, extremely cheesy, way too long

***

It should be a given understanding that Valentine’s Day is the dumbest, most antiquated, overrated holiday that’s ever existed. That had always been your take on it, even as a little kid — the worry of spelling your classmates’ names correctly on cards imprinted with cheesy Scooby Doo and Spongebob puns; the expectation to dress up nice in the hopes you would get asked to be someone’s Valentine in the hallways of middle school; the potential embarrassment of being the only person in class who didn’t get bought one of those stupid roses from a ‘secret admirer’ in high school.

There’s simply too much pressure surrounding the idea of professing your love or even your mere fondness for anyone and everyone in your life. The fear of rejection if you do, and the judgement if you don’t. It had always made you anxious, whether you had someone to share the day with or not.

But this Valentine’s Day, as a young twenty-something, you were actually (secretly) looking forward to it. Conner was your first adult relationship, with the title of ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ and labels and commitment. He’s cute and smart and charming and yours. So, sue you if you were quietly anticipating wearing that SavageXFenty set beneath a brand new dress while you went to dinner after being greeted at the door with roses and a box of chocolates.

And yet here you are, on February 14th, hood of your sweater drawn over your head as you rummage through your freezer with a clear target in your mind. Your eyes are blurry and swollen, but you find the pint of birthday cake Nada Moo with ease, and you slam the freezer door closed a little harder than you really mean to as soon as it’s in your grasp.

You’ve just popped the lid off when your phone buzzes on the kitchen counter where you’ve plopped down to eat your depression snack in a more acceptable place than your bed or the couch.

You see Grayson’s name accompanied by a goofy, up-close picture of him smiling filling the screen, and hesitate. He’s one of your best friends, and clearly done nothing wrong, but you’re not sure you’re capable of handling anyone of the male species right now after...everything.

At the end of the day, though, it’s Grayson. He knows heartbreak almost better than anyone, and you’ve coached him through it on more than one occasion. Maybe he can spew back some of your own advice if it comes to that.

You swipe the bar at the bottom of the screen, and your ceiling suddenly replaces the image of his silly, handsome face. “Sup?”

“Yo. Am I interrupting anything? Sorry, just remembered what day it is.”

You swallow. “Uh no, you’re not.”

“What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip hard, digging your spoon into the softened ice cream. Was it that obvious just from your voice that you had been upset? Or does he just know you that well?

“Nothing.”

“You sound like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie. Let me see your face.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you concede. “No. I’ve been crying.”

He’s quiet, and you can’t bring yourself to look at his own face in the corner of the screen. You shove the chunk of ice cream past your lips, and after a moment he says with a softer tone, “Crying on Valentine’s Day is never a good sign.”

You’re glad that you’ve gotten so much of your tears out already, because you feel the inevitable prickle behind your eyes that would have been full-blown waterworks a few hours ago. You scoop another bite. “Conner cheated on me — has been, cheating on me. I found out last night.”

Grayson sighs your name, and something about the genuine sympathy in his voice makes you even more emotional. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. What a piece of shit.”

You shrug even though he can’t see, and sniffle past the lump in your throat. “It’s whatever. I’m still in shock more than anything. Hurts like hell, though, still. I let him have it when I saw the texts and he hasn’t tried to call me once. No texts. Nothing.”

He’s silent, but it’s that raging silence you know oh so well from him. It doesn’t happen often, but anyone who knows Grayson Dolan knows that when his volume comes down, he means business. A loud and obnoxious Grayson is a happy one, but a brooding and quiet one means serious business.

“Do you want me to go beat his ass? I’ll do it.”

A smile cracks your scowl before you know it, and you shake your head. “No thanks, Gray. As much as I’d love to see that happen, I like your face the way it is. And not on a mugshot.”

He chuckles a little, and you feel your chest lift some just hearing the familiar depth of it. “Well, do you at least want me to come over later? I totally get if you need to be alone, but I know from experience sometimes what helps the most is having good friends around.”

You’re a little surprised. “You don’t have a date?”

“Nope.”

“No one from the roster hitting you up?”

“I don’t have a roster,” he argues playfully, but you both know that’s a lie, if not at least a stretch of the truth. “And even if I did, you’re more important. Always.”

You sigh and take another bite. His words make your neck tingle and your toes wiggle, but you ignore it; your brain is full of confusion as it is. “That makes one man in my life who thinks so, I guess.”

You finally prop your phone up against the fruit basket sitting in the middle of your bar so he can see you. Grayson takes in your image, which admittedly must look kind of pathetic, and you watch his jaw clench and release in a way that you can’t deny is utterly sexy.

“Is an hour okay? Tell Vanessa to come, too.”

“Benito took her to Tulum for the weekend,” you say, referring to your best friend and her boyfriend. “She did threaten to get on a plane and come home early for me, though.”

Grayson grins crookedly, but his jaw is still tight. “Well, tell her you’re in good hands. See you in an hour?”

You give it one last quick consideration; you already feel this much better just talking to him on the phone. Nothing bad could come from him being in your apartment, and you trust him. “Yeah, that’s fine. But just so you know, I’m already at the stage of eating ice cream at 10:30 AM.”

“Did you forget you’re talking to the emotional ice cream eating champion? No judgement here.”

You finally let out a giggle, your spirits officially lifted. “I’ll see you soon.”

**

True to his word, Grayson arrives at your door about an hour later, his arms laden with milkshakes from Monty’s, a gift bag decorated all over with sparkly hearts, and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

You’re stunned. The only thing you’d managed to do in the time it took him to get here was take a quick shower in attempts to rid your face of some of the puffiness, throw on some shorts this time with a fresh hoodie, and toss the used tissues scattered around your place into the garbage.

Before you can say anything, he holds out the flowers. “They were out of roses. But I know you like pink.”

You reach out for them slowly, eyes wide, your fingers brushing his when you grasp the plastic wrapping. His cheeks are a similar color to the petals, and it makes both your heart and your lips smile.

“Peonies are my favorite,” you say truthfully. “And yes, especially pink ones. Thank you, Gray.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, sounding relieved.

As he crosses the threshold of your door, he leans down to kiss your cheek, and you can’t help but hum quietly and pull him in for a hug. “That gift better not be for me, either,” you mumble into his chest.

Grayson pulls back, his eyes sparkling, but keeps you close with an arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. “Oh, this? No, this is for my other best friend I’m trying to cheer up on Valentine’s Day.”

You slap his arm playfully, and lead him into your kitchen, pulling out a vase from the cabinet beneath your sink for the flowers.

The bag has a few gifts in it: a new Comfy (“I remembered you ruined yours when that ketchup bottle exploded all over you the other day”); a huge bag of watermelon sour patch kids (“I know they’re your favorite. Also ice cream gives you brain freeze after the first pint or so, trust me”); and a heart shaped box of your favorite chocolates (“you can eat them or burn them, I wasn’t sure which you’d appreciate more but either is fine with me.”)

You appreciated all of it, more than he would ever understand. All you can do is fling yourself at him weakly, completely overwhelmed. “Fuck you, you’re gonna make me cry all over again.”

Grayson envelops you in those huge, muscular arms, cooing behind that laugh you love so much. “Is that a really backwards way of saying thank you?”

You grunt in affirmation, and with you still wrapped up in his arms, he starts waddling the two of you back the short distance into your living room.

“Here,” he says, coaxing you down into the blanket nest you had created on the couch. “You chill and find a movie. I’ll make popcorn.”

You do, and he does, and the next few hours are spent lounging about in your apartment. Having him here with you is doing wonders from keeping your mind from going down the paths you’d been spiraling towards ever since you saw the messages between Conner and no less than four other girls on Snapchat. You don’t believe in snooping, but finding the first one had been an accident when he received the snap while you had his phone, and your finger happened to press the icon at just the right moment. 

In your eyes, though, the image of one pair of tits that weren’t your own was enough justification to see what else you could find. 

“I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of relieved,” you told Grayson a while later, Shrek playing on the TV quietly. He’s sitting next to you, far enough apart for there to be couch space between the two of you, but close enough to share the oversized blanket thrown over your laps. “Obviously what he did is so fucking shitty and I’m not justifying it in any way, but I can be honest with myself now and realize I wasn’t in that relationship for the right reasons. There wasn’t anything there emotionally at the end of the day.”

“You still have every right to feel hurt by what he did, though. It’s a huge violation of trust,” Grayson assures, reaching out and squeezing your hand gently.  

You squeeze back and grimace at him. “Yeah.” You let out a little mirthless laugh and shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “It’s so embarrassing, too. And finding out the day before Valentine’s, no less. Like, I just wanted to look cute, have a nice dinner, have some nice sex, and just... I don’t know. Have an actual Valentine’s day for once. No pressure or anxiety or anything.”

Grayson stares at you in that way he does — so intense and almost intimidating if there wasn’t a genuine warmth behind it. You’re suddenly aware of his thumb brushing the back of your hand slowly. He squeezes your fingers again. 

“So, let’s do it, then. You and me.”

You arch a brow at him, smiling at the rosiness in his cheeks when he realizes what he might have implied. “The dinner part, I mean. And the dressing up. Even though I think you look plenty cute right now.”

You roll your eyes, but for the countless time that day, your heart flutters happily. Looking back, you can’t remember the last time Conner had complimented your appearance, let alone after hours of crying and lazing around in sweats, sugar crystals stuck to the corner of your lip. 

“That would be great, except there’s no way we’re getting into any restaurant at this point,” you remind him. “Probably no delivery, either.”

“I’ll cook for you,” he counters, throwing the blanket off his legs and standing up with a groan. He stops to stretch, and the way his arms go over his head makes his shirt ride up at the bottom, exposing a chunk of hard muscles and golden skin. 

You swallow, eyes trailing up the rest of his torso appreciatively. “I don’t have much.”

He’s already rummaging through your pantry, though, and pulls out a half-full box of pasta, a jar of marinara sauce, and a leftover chunk of sourdough bread. “You got salad stuff?”

You nod, and he opens the fridge to find some lettuce, peppers, and other salad fixings before setting them with the pasta ingredients on the counter. “Go get dressed, look as cute or not cute as you want. I’ll take care of this.”

He’s absolutely unreal. “Gray-”

Grayson holds up his hand. “Ah, no, I’m doing this. You deserve it. Also, I’m hungry. It’s a win-win.”

Your stomach growls as well, and that’s all the convincing you need. While he gets busy in the kitchen, you tidy up the living area some before heading to your room. You feel a little silly, making your third outfit change of the day, but you also like the giddiness in the pit of your belly at the thought of Grayson doing all of this for you. You might as well take advantage of having someone like him in your life. Show him some Valentine’s appreciation of your own.

You forgo the slinky red number you had planned to wear to the restaurant with Conner, and opt instead for a rather unsuspecting blouse-jeans combo, which happen to both respectively frame your tits and ass perfectly.

The lacy, bright pink set in the back of your closet might have made it beneath your clothes, though. The prettiness of it made you feel that much better, even if no one else was going to see it.

Maybe.

Padding back into your kitchen after running a flat iron through your hair and throwing on some concealer, mascara, and lip gloss, you find Grayson draining the pasta into a colander in the sink. 

Grayson does a double-take when he sees you standing there admiring the flex of his bicep as he holds the pot. “Hey! You look amazing.”

“If you say so,” you joke, bumping his hip with yours as. You pass him to pull plates and bowls out of the cabinet.

“I do,” he insists quietly.

Arm outstretched mid-reach, you look over at him, locking eyes with his hazel ones. He looks a little surprised by the words that left his mouth, like he meant for them to stay inside his head. There must be some kind of challenge in your gaze, daring him to elaborate.

He busies himself with the pasta again hastily, his voice low. “Conner is a fucking idiot. To do that to you. To let you go. You don’t deserve that. Especially not today.”

Plates in hand, you rest them gently on the counter with your lower lip caught between your teeth, and peer over at this handsome man you’re so proud and lucky to call your best friend. He’s everything you thought Conner was — cute and smart and charming — but so much more — beautiful and good and kind.

And he’s been right here in front of you the whole time.

You reach out and touch his elbow softly. The hairs on his forearm are crisp but soft, and you follow them down to that gleaming watch on his wrist.

“You know,” you start quietly, fingers tracing the links of the band before flipping his hand over to trace the lines of his palm, “you keep talking about what I deserve today. But you deserve all that and more. You deserve someone’s love that matches your own.”

He watches your delicate fingers on his large, calloused palm, then trails his eyes up to yours when he feels their attention on his face. A piece of hair flops into his eyes, and you reach up without thinking or any hesitation to push it away again with a little smile playing on your glossy lips.

You look down and lay your palm flat against his, admiring the difference in size between your hands for a moment before interlocking your fingers with his.

“I love you.”

Your eyes flit up to his in surprise; he beat you to the words.

“In case that wasn’t obvious,” Grayson continues, turning towards you. “And I hope that’s not too much for you to handle, with everything you’ve had hap-”

“I love you too, Gray,” you interrupt, stepping that much closer to him so you’re nearly chest-to-chest with him.

“Yeah?” He sounds almost boyish in his astonishment, and it makes you want to hold him tight and never let go.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “A lot. I’m sorry it took me getting dumped to realize it.”

He shakes his head, his hand resting on your cheek gently. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod once before he’s swiftly ducking down to claim your lips with his. They’re soft and pliable, and you feel their effects from the nerves in your scalp all the way down to your bare toes.

“Grayson,” you breathe, lashes fluttering open as he pulls back just enough to look at you concernedly.

You smile, bigger and brighter than you have all day, and cup his stubbled cheeks with your hands, scratching your nails gently against his jaw. “I just wanted to say your name.”

Grayson grins now, too. He kisses you more insistently now that he’s got the taste of you on his tongue, which he flicks against the underside of your top lip as he breaks the kiss. “Say it again.”

“Make me,” you challenege, voice breathy and excited, eyes closed as you savor his sweet breath against your lips. “In my room.” You feel him tense up a bit, and you open your eyes to meet his questioning gaze, biting back a smile at the inevitable hope also shining there. “I’m sure.”

With that, Grayson hauls you up into his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist with a squeal as he buries his face into your neck. He starts making the way to your bedroom, cooked food left long forgotten in the kitchen behind you.

“Are you wearing my signature scent?” he asks, inhaling your skin deeply.

“Mmhm,” you hum, threading your fingers through the back of his thick hair. It’s so long again, and you give the dark strands a sharp tug that makes him grunt. “Part one of my gift to you. Since you got so many for me today.”

“Part one, huh?” he says, crossing the threshold of your room. “What’s part two?”

“What I’m wearing underneath this,” you whisper in his ear, giggling loudly when he lies you down on the bed with more of a toss than he might have intended. “If you want it, that is.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind at the mere suggestion that he wouldn’t, and you take that as enough encouragement to tug at the bow tying your forest green silk wrap blouse together.

The folds part open and expose your chest, clad in that pink lace demi-cup bra with the cage detailing over the tops of your breasts. Grayson moans and dips down to nuzzle your cleavage, breathing in the scent of your warm skin. His hands trail up your sides, from your hips to your rib cage, until they settle in the dips of your waist. His touch ignites you, makes your back arch and your hips grind up against his thigh between your legs, just from the sensation of his hands on these new parts of your body.

“Grayson,” you sigh, and he smirks up at you with his chin on your tits when he realizes that’s all it took for you to say his name again.

You grab his cheeks and kiss that smugness away, shifting your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist once again, pushing down on the small of his back to get your centers to meet.

Both of you gasp into each other’s mouths when his erection rubs against your pussy, even through all the layers of clothing still on your bodies. You reach down blindly, still attacking his mouth with yours, and feel around for his belt.

His pants come off, followed by yours, and he sits you up enough to push your blouse off your shoulders rather gently considering the intensity of everything. Once the garment is tossed over his shoulder, you’re down to nothing but that pretty lingerie and he in his boxer briefs.

There’s a moment of pause and clarity for the two of you, staring into one another’s eyes as the reality hits of what you’re about to do. What it means to both of you. Grayson stares down at you, and places a hand over your rapidly thumping heart.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly, dragging his hand up your chest, over your throat, until he’s cupping you’re cheek and stroking your lip with his thumb.

You smile in return, then part your lips with your eyes locked on his, encouraging him silently to slip that digit in your mouth.

Grayson’s eyes darken, and he offers you his pointer finger instead, swallowing hard when you suck and swirl your soft, wet tongue around it.

Suddenly, he’s rolling the two of you over, switching positions so he’s on his back and you straddle him. You smile happily, taking your turn to duck down and attach your lips to the pulse point his neck, grinding down on his cock with a slow, steady rhythm.

“You’re so amazing, Gray,” you tell him, nipping at the lobe of his ear before kissing the underside of his chin. “Can’t believe you’re all mine now.”

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” he growls back, cursing when you trail your kisses down the center of his body, giving each one of those moon’s their own special attention before continuing down.

When you get to the waistband of his underwear, you trail your tongue on the edge of the elastic and watch his abs contract with each shaky breath he takes. One little move of your hands, and you’ll finally get to see what he’s really packing.

But before you can even hook your fingers there to pull down, he’s tugging on your hair. “Fuck, fuck, c’mere. Please.”

You pout, but follow his lead, licking back up his muscular torso until he’s able to drag you to him for a deep, wet kiss.

“Sit on my face,” he demands, shuffling down on the pillow to make more room for you.

That takes you off guard. “But—”

“Do it. Please. I fucking have to taste you.”

Your body must be working ahead of your brain, because before you know it, you’re straddling Grayson’s face, his tongue is sweeping through the wetness in your slit, and his dark eyes are peering up at you from between your thighs.

“Oh... oh!” you cry out when his tongue starts flicking against your clit. He goes back to swiping up all your arousal, then suctions his lips around your clit. He’s using one hand to hold the lace of your thong aside, and the other dips first one finger, then two inside of you. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good...”

Grayson moans, the vibrations erupting around your clit and sending you right to the edge already. You reach back and palm his cock, rock hard in his underwear still, and squeeze as he makes you cum all over his mouth.

He gets his fill of your cum as he groans and keeps up the motion of his fingers, the pressure of his lips, the softness of his tongue as your pussy pulses with each contraction of your orgasm. You wait for him to start letting up, but something about the way he’s working you just makes those waves stay steady rather than die down again. Maybe that’s his intention, because when you drop your head down to look at him with your mouth wet and agape, there’s a sparkling mischief in his eyes has he eats you out like his last meal.

Your hips grind against his face of their own accord, and you delve one hand in his hair while the other supports you on the headboard. You gasp out a quivering, breathless laugh as it all becomes just too much, and you try to lift off his mouth.

Grayson isn’t having it, though. He wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you down, reveling in the moans and whimpers and squeals as he makes you cum again.

“Oh my god — enough, enough, I can’t...” you whine, shoving on his forehead until he releases you and drops his head to the pillow. You could already see it by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, but he’s smirking wide, chest heaving as you slink your way down his body.

You collapse next to him in a daze, and he rolls on top of you smoothly, peppering little kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your nose. When you’re back in your right mind, you nudge blindly at his face so his lips find yours. He tastes like your pussy, and you sigh happily as you lift your heavy arms to wrap around his neck while his scoop beneath you, holding you close.

You continue to indulge in each other for a while, in the kisses you hadn’t been allowed to share until now. There’s something exciting about his familiarity and yet also this strange newness that has you absolutely desperate for him in every way.

“This is crazy,” you say when you pull back for air, studying his face hovering right above yours. You push back that stubborn chunk of hair that keeps falling into his eyes with a soft smile. “How did we end up here?”

Grayson turns his head to press his lips to your palm. “I don’t know. Is it too much? Should we stop?”

You shake your head vehemently, and he grins. “No, please. I think I just have to grasp that you’re really... mine now.”

He chuckles. “How do you think I felt watching you with that loser for five months?”

The mention of Conner makes you feel nothing — nothing other than gratitude for Grayson, that is. You slide your hands down his back, over his ribs, across his abs until your hand cups his dick.

His hips thrust into your touch, and you grin up at him demurely as you finally delve your hand past his waistband until you’ve got his length completely in your grasp.

He’s hot and hard and thick, and you start stroking him just to gauge the reaction in his face. He doesn’t disappoint, his jaw gaping open slightly, his breaths picking up, a flush rising to the apples of his cheeks.

Without warning, he reaches down and grasps your wrist. You pout, but he asks hastily. “Are we gonna have sex?”

You smirk. “Hell yeah.”

Grayson grins and shakes his head. “Alright, then you gotta stop.”

“Already?” you tease, letting him sit back and hook his fingers in the tiny string of your thong at your hips.

He gives you a look as he pulls the scrap of lace down your legs, then stands to push down his own underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, and you wish he’d let you blow him some before you hit the main event, but he says, “I’ve wanted you for too long to take any chances about screwing up the first time.”

You melt a little, reaching for him as he climbs back on the bed. “There should be some condoms in the drawer there. Just to be safe after... you know.”

He nods and dips down to kiss you before leaning over to riffle through the top drawer of your nightstand. He comes back with a purple square, which you take from him.

“Gotta practice an activity safely,” you wink, tearing open the condom and rolling it down his shaft quickly.

“Shut up.” Grayson rolls his eyes, but smiles softly as he settles between your legs just right. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you whisper, gasping as he starts to sink inside you.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers as your walls suck him in and grip him tight.

He goes slow for a couple of minutes, allowing both of you time to adjust to each other. He stretches you out so much better than anyone you’ve ever been with, and you can’t help but clench around him when you see those tattoos and smell his cologne and hear his voice — all things that remind you that this is Grayson fucking you.

He growls the first time you do it, then sits up hastily, pulling his face out of your neck when you do it again. He tucks his knees beneath him, sits on his heels, and hauls your hips into his lap as the speed of his thrusts picks up incrementally. Until he’s fucking you for real, and your tits bounce in your bra with every upstroke.

You shove an arm beneath your pillow, enunciating the curves of your body, and watch his expressions as he fights to hold back. His hair is disheveled, lip caught tight between his teeth and muffling his deep, satisfied sounds that mingle with your open higher-pitched ones. He catches your eye and his hands on your hips grip you so tight for a moment that you’re sure little bruises will be there in the morning — not that you mind.

“Fuck,” he whispers harshly before slowing his hips and shifting down to give you a deep, sloppy kiss. “Turn over.”

You moan into his mouth, then follow his order, rolling onto your front as soon as he pulls out. You expect him to haul your hips up into the air, but he moves your hair off your neck and trails sweet kisses from shoulder to shoulder, his hand sweeping down the subtle curve of your back until he’s gripping your ass.

Grayson’s hand moves down your thigh and pushes it up and out once he’s cupping the back of your knee. The angle encourages you to twist your upper half until you have sight of him once again in all his angled, sweaty, muscular glory.

“Fuck me, baby,” you beg him, already anticipating the fullness inside you again. Needing it.

“Want me to fuck you?” he asks needlessly, pushing into your pussy once again. You moan loudly, either in confirmation or from pure pleasure, it doesn’t matter. The angle is tighter, the tip of his dick hitting a spot so perfectly accurate inside of you that you can’t concentrate on anything other than how good he’s making you feel. “Yeah. So fucking sexy. So beautiful...”

“Gray.. oh fuck yes, right there,” you whimper, catching onto his arm as he leans over you and gives you those hard, steady strokes.

“Open your eyes, baby, lemme see them when you cum,” he growls out.

You open them as much as you can, your vision blurry, but you can still make out those handsome features soaking in the pleasure on your face. Watching and waiting for you to get yours so he can get his.

As soon as you’re clenching like a vice around him, Grayson is letting go into the condom. You can vaguely feel the throb of him as he cums in spurts, the sound of his masculine, drawn-out groans making you shiver and tense up even more on his dick. If it’s possible for anyone to sound as sexy as they look, Grayson achieves that in spades.

He collapses on the bed next to you, and you have just enough strength to roll over until he’s got you gathered in his arms. You nuzzle into his chest and try to process everything. You had been hoping for nice sex today, and instead you got the best sex of your life.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence while you both catch your breath, after he pulls and ties off the condom, you smile into his cooling skin with a satisfied sigh.

“Thank you for making this the best Valentine’s Day of my life. Especially after it was starting to look like the worst.”

“You made this the best day of my life, period,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Gray.”

#the relief i have in finishing this lmao #im sorry its a day late this took way more effort than i thought it would #dolan twins #grayson dolan #smut #blurb #g blurb

[allisondraste]

Cockroaches and Other Things That Just Keep On Living

Fandom: Mass Effect

Ship: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Word Count: 4019

Summary: It's only been two weeks since the Reaper War ended, and the Alliance is already trying to bury Shepard.

[Click Here for A03]

Two weeks.  It had only been two weeks since the war ended, since that devastating flash of red light burst from the Citadel and bounced off every active relay in the galaxy, since the Reapers fell dead in space and the Normandy crash landed on some tropical little human colony world just on the edge of the Terminus Systems.  It had just been two weeks, but the Alliance and the rest of the whole damn galaxy were already willing to declare Shepard dead.  And to add insult to injury, they’d  given Garrus the great honor and privilege of hanging her name up on a memorial wall in some trite ceremony to make the crew feel better.

“There isn’t anyone who could’ve been at the epicenter of that blast and survived,” Hackett had explained, far too matter-of-factly. “It’s time for us to move forward.”

“Shepard isn’t just anyone,” Garrus had replied, and then promptly told the admiral where to shove his plaque. It was not his finest moment.

Now, he sat in the mess hall, alone and staring down at the dextro-amino rations he’d barely touched. The bastardized version of some overly seasoned human dish would have been unappetizing even if he had an appetite. But he didn’t.  Something about the person he loved being declared dead left a sour taste in his mouth.  He’d only even tried to eat because Liara insisted, and he wasn’t in the mood for another well meant lecture about taking care of himself.

No longer willing to bother, he shoved the plate away from him with the back of his hand, and looked up in just enough time to catch Williams walk past him.  She stopped, performed a proper about-face and marched up to his table.

“Hey,” Ash greeted him like she’d never spoken to him before in her life.

“Hey,” Garrus replied and watched as she shifted uncomfortably and darted her eyes around the entire room before meeting his gaze.

She motioned to an empty seat across the table from him. “Can I— I mean, do you want some company? You just look—”

“Like I’m one news vid about the ‘late’ Commander Shepard away from going postal?” He let out a derisive snort. “Yeah.”

Williams smirked and  eased herself down onto the bench without waiting for him to agree to her company. “I was going to say ‘like shit,’ but that works too.”

He answered her dryly. “Gee. Thanks.”

There was a pause in conversation, then Ash tilted her head in that sympathetic way every human who knew him seemed to do since Earth. “Seriously though… how are you holding up?”

I’m not , Garrus thought, but the words didn’t make it to his mouth, just sarcasm.. “Didn’t realize you cared… or is this just one of those human things where you pretend to care for my benefit?”

She leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Do I seem like the kind of person who pretends to do anything for anyone’s benefit, especially yours?”

He laughed. “Fair.”

“Listen, this is off the record but… Hackett had that mouthful coming.” She laughed and shook her head. “I’m just glad it was you that said it and not me because, well, I like my job.”

If anyone had told Garrus that one day, he’d have a heart-to-heart with the human woman who’d spent their entire first mission together shooting daggers at him from across Normandy’s shuttle bay, he’d have said they were crazy.  But there they were, raw from the absence of someone who meant so much to the both of them.

“It’s been two weeks,” he muttered, looking down at his hands. “ Two. They haven’t even found her bod—“ he tried and failed to choke back the lump in his throat,  but continued talking anyway, glancing up at her— “It’s too damn soon, Ash.”

“I know,” came her firm reply as she reached across the table.  She hesitated for a split second, but then let her hand fall on top of his.  Deep brown eyes welled up with tears that she tried to blink away.  She let out a frustrated huff as one rolled down her cheek anyway, then cleared her throat.  “ Damn. Pretend this isn’t happening.” “Pretend what isn’t happening, Williams?”

“Perfect,” she remarked, wiping her face with the heel of her free hand and laughing. “Kind of hard to believe it’s only been three years since we tracked down Saren.  Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“And look at us now, being mostly civil,” he said with a sigh, staring down at Ash’s hand.  Alien as it was, it reminded him of Shepard’s, strong to be as small as it was, with too many fingers.  He recalled the many times those fingers had traced the hard edges of his face, how that hand had fit so comfortably into his (after a few clumsy attempts, of course).  He’d take another missile to the face to hold it again.

“You know, Shepard worked her ass off to convince me it’d be fine having aliens on board an Alliance vessel,” Ash observed playfully, pulling him from his thoughts.

“You? Paranoid over a handful of non-humans? I’m shocked .”

“Nothing personal,” she explained,“Just didn’t feel comfortable sharing a station with a guy whose grandpa probably shot at mine during the War.”

“Hate to break it to you but—” he leaned back in his seat— “My grandfather was just a run of the mill C-Sec officer.  All he would have done was write your grandfather a nasty citation. ‘Being human in Citadel space,’ used to be a finable offense.”

“God,” she said with another laugh, “Back then, I rolled my eyes and told Shepard I’d do whatever she wanted me to do. ‘You tell me to jump, I ask how high.  You tell me to kiss a turian, I’ll ask which cheek.’”

“We don’t really have cheeks,” Garrus corrected, laughing when Ash shot him a pointed look, “But that’s beside the point.  I’m guessing Shepard never followed through with that order.”

“No, she told me, and I quote, ‘Nobody’s going to be kissing any turians on this mission, Ash,’” she said in her best Shepard impression, then muttered, “Fucking liar.”

“Well, to her credit, I don’t think she planned on me being so… irresistable.”

Ash snorted and rolled her eyes. “Okay, ladykiller .”

There was another pause in conversation, and her expression fell.  She looked down to where her hand still lay on his. “Back then, I just assumed you’d jump ship as soon as things got rocky, as soon as we— as Shepard — really needed you, but…” She trailed off, grip tightening around his hand.  “You never let her down, not once.  Not even when I—”

“You didn’t let her down, Ash,” he argued, sensing where she was headed, “She never thought that.”

“Yeah, well I do,” she snapped, words clipped, “I should have seen the signs that Cerberus had her pinned down, but I let my ego get in the way.  I’m surprised she wanted anything to do with me after that.”

“You’re not the only one who has ever screwed up trying to do the right thing,” he reassured her, “Shepard, of all people, understood that.”

“That’s… you’re probably right,” she nodded and looked up at him, “Thanks. And for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Uh, sorry for what?”

“For ever believing you weren’t an important part of the crew,” she stated seriously, then smiled, “And for calling you birdbrain  behind your back.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared in amusement, and he gave her hand a few friendly pats. “No harm done,” he said, then paused for a beat, “Besides, you didn’t hear what I said behind your back.”

One of her eyebrows shot up. “You talked shit about me?”

“So much.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” shouted a familiar voice from across the mess, causing them both to snap their heads toward the sound. “Somebody get this heartwarming moment on camera.”

Ash stiffened, retracting her hand quickly and stuffing it under the table. “Joker.”

“Hey, Joker.” Garrus waved. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he answered, words pointed. “You know, aside from the soul-crushing agony of my girlfriend dying. ”

Garrus had spent enough time around humans to know that the Flight Lieutenant looked rough, even for someone who’d never cared about keeping up appearances.  His eyes were red, the skin underneath dark enough that even the shadow cast from his hat couldn’t disguise the lack of sleep. He made his way unsteadily to the table and sat down next to Williams.

Garrus opened his mouth, preparing to speak, to express sympathy, but Joker cut him off. “And before you start with any of that ‘I understand how you feel’ crap— no you don’t.  Everyone knows you can’t say Shepard’s dead until we’ve ID’d the body.  Maybe not even then. She just keeps living… like a cockroach. ”

“You know you could just say, ‘I’m not doing so hot,” right?” Ash scolded him,  but there was still a softness to her voice. “You don’t have to be an ass about it.”

“Yeah, but see… being an ass is way more my style.”

The table went completely quiet as Joker crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, tension palpable enough it might as well have had mass.  Not one for tolerating awkward silences, Garrus ventured a question. “What the hell is a cockroach?”

Ash smiled, clearly thankful for the change in subject, and began to explain. “They’re these—“

“ Beetles ,” Joker cut her off, “Big, disgusting ones that are supposed to be able to survive extreme conditions other organics can’t.”

“Sounds about right,” Garrus admitted with a shrug.

The pilot flinched and glared at him. “Wait. I called Shepard a disgusting beetle and you’re just okay with that?”

“Are you kidding? Why wouldn’t I be,” he asked sarcastically, “It actually explains why she kept molting. ”

“You’re having fun. Stop it,” Joker whined, scowl deepening, “Stop having fun!”

Garrus laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. “This isn’t exactly my idea of fun. My cockroach is missing.”

Joking though he was, his words were honest, something Joker must have detected.  His expression softened even as he puffed his chest out. He deflated immediately as another familiar voice called out, likely interrupting whatever barrage of barbs he’d prepared to hurl at Garrus. This time, it was Vega who strutted over to the table carrying an entire fifth of some sort of human liquor.  Cortez trailed solemnly behind him, examining the rectangular objects in his hands.

“Yo, don’t tell me the party started without us,” shouted Vega, setting the alcohol down on the table with a loud clank , pointing a thumb back at Cortez, “Esteban here took forever polishing the name plaques.”

Garrus stiffened at the mention of the plaques, knowing full and well there had been one commissioned with Shepard’s name on it despite all his protests. Turned out, the Alliance brass didn’t give a damn about some loud mouth former C-Sec officer or his feelings after all. He just hoped none of the humans were able to read the pain in his expression— a hope that was in vain if the sympathetic glance Cortez gave him was any indication.

“What’s that for?” Ashley pointed to the bottle of amber liquid Vega sat on the table.

“What do you think,” Vega asked, as if his intentions should have been completely clear, “I’m going to pour one out for the commander.”

“All over the Normandy's floor?” She raised her brows at him.

“Nah.” He gave her a dismissive wave. “Just down the sink or somethin’.”

She picked the bottle up and examined the label more closely. “But…this is expensive stuff, James.”

“Don’t care,” came Vega’s indignant response, “It’s for Lola.”

Ashley gave him a solemn nod, seeming to understand whatever peculiar human tradition he was planning to perform. Satisfied, Vega turned his attention to Joker, snagging his cap, flipping it around, and placing it down on his head backwards. Joker cursed and grumbled, calling Vega a bully among other things, but Vega just smiled and walked over to Garrus, giving him a supportive clap on the shoulder.

Slowly, the rest of the crew began to filter in, each with their own expressions of concern.  Traynor and Tali arrived together, deep in conversation if the emphatic hand gestures were any indication.  They both quieted as they arrived at the table, Traynor frowning and bowing her head, whileTali approached and slid comfortably  into the seat next to Garrus.

She looked down at the uneaten food and back up at him, giving him a nudge with her elbow and complaining. “You are wasting all of the good dextro rations.”

“Good? Oh, come on,  we both know it’s garbage.”

“Well… yes, but it’s digestible garbage,” she said, holding a finger up to make her point.  Her voice softened when she continued. “And you’ve hardly eaten anything the past few days.”

He sighed and looked down at the rations. “Yeah.”

Tali observed him for a second, eyes glowing behind her helmet. She then grabbed his plate and slid it toward him. “Eat up, Vakarian. Or else I will have to feed you myself… with a spoon I am pretending is the Normandy.”

Garrus let out a laugh despite himself. “I don’t think that’ll work, Tali.”

“You don’t know that.  You haven’t heard my engine noises.”  She laughed along with him for a few seconds, then grew quiet once again and gave him a gentle pat on the back. “The Alliance is going to feel very silly when Shepard gets back and they have to explain why they hung her name up on the wall and sold her hamster.”

“ If she makes it back this time.”

“She will,” Tali asserted, voice cracking, “She has to.”

It was Javik who entered next, voice booming in a debate with Liara, who had taken it upon herself to explain human customs for memorializing the dead. He shook his head and ignored her entirely, stating that if he wished for a history lesson, he would ask for one.  He then snapped his many-eyed gaze to Garrus.

“You should not be saddened about Shepard’s fate, Garrus.  She died with great honor.”

Liara let out an exasperated sigh, and sat down in one of the empty seats at the next table over, bringing her hand to her face.

“What is it, asari?” Javik snapped, “Honor in death is something turians hold in high regard, is it not? This should be a great comfort to him.”

“Perhaps with time,” Liara explained,”But right now it is… insensitive.”

“It’s nothing my dad hasn’t already told me a dozen times,” Garrus stated flatly, “I appreciate the sentiment.”

Weird that a fifty-thousand year-old Prothean reminded him of his dad.  Then again, Castis Vakarian was as about as traditional as turians came, and they butted heads on almost every subject, including but not limited to: Garrus’ disregard for rules, his decision to leave C-Sec—twice, his “risk- and attention-seeking” behavior, and his “absurd infatuation with a human woman”. Their relationship had always been strained, to say the least. Still, he had always been there when Garrus needed him, and listened when it mattered. He was the first call Garrus made from the medbay after the Reapers were destroyed, when he realized Shepard might not be coming back.

He’d been sympathetic, but not even remotely comforting, not unlike Javik was at present. Garrus just didn’t have it in him to explain to either how little he cared about the honorable nature of her sacrifice, the high esteem the galaxy now held her in, or the way history would remember her. None of that mattered when she wasn’t at his side.  How could he be proud, when all he felt was empty?

Once all parties arrived and settled in, the group spent time talking and sharing memories. The Alliance crew members all told stories about encounters with Admiral Anderson, how he more often felt like a parent than a commanding officer, and how his reputation was so much larger than his ego. Traynor did most of the talking about EDI, their friendship, and how seamlessly she’d fit into the crew, how easy it had been to forget she was an AI. Joker just pulled the bill of his cap down to cover his eyes.  Then, the reminiscence moved to the commander.

Every single person present had a story about Shepard, about how she went above and beyond the call of duty to help them, and to make sure they were taken care of while aboard the Normandy.  Shepard had always taken time to check in with the people who worked for her, even when the galaxy was falling apart and herself along with it.  She was a good leader, arguably the best, and an even better friend.  It was clear that everyone in the room admired her, and that she was missed.

Garrus knew he should say something, tell one of the many stories of the trouble he and Shepard had gotten into together. The others all watched him expectantly as he scrambled for words.

“I—“ he began, but was interrupted by the buzzing of his omni-tool, followed by several bright flashes of light. He cursed and pulled up the interface to silence the damn thing.  An urgent message alert flashed on his screen, and he tapped the icon to open it.

From: Dr. Chloe Michel

Subject: Jane Doe

Dear Garrus,

I hope this email reaches you, and that you are still alive to read it.  I am on the Citadel working with an emergency medical unit out of what is left of  Huerta Memorial. The blast from the Crucible caused some severe structural damage near the epicenter, and we have been searching the area to find and identify survivors and remains.

There is a Jane Doe here, who I believe you might know. Please contact me on a private channel whenever you are able.

Take Care,

Chloe

His heart sank like lead into his gut as he read what could only be a request to come in and identify a corpse.  The space around him was suddenly too full, too loud, and the curious eyes of his companions lingered on him for far longer than comfortable. He tapped the display on his omni-tool once again to close it, glancing around the room from one set of eyes to another.

“It’s nothing,” he lied. The truth would only cause unnecessary alarm he wasn’t equipped to handle at the moment.  He stood abruptly, a jolt of pain coursing through his leg that was still recovering from a fracture, and excused himself. “Just need to make a quick call.”

“Now,” Liara asked, frowning, “But the memorial ceremony was just about to begin.”

“So start without me,” he snapped and made his way to the main battery.  He’d apologize later, when his world wasn’t caving in.

The battery doors shut behind him with a familiar hiss and he sank down into his seat next to the workbench where his favorite rifle lay surrounded by tools and unused thermal clips. It had taken a beating in the battle on Earth, and Garrus had poured over repairing it in the days following its end.  He hadn’t touched it since.  There were no more enemies to fight, and the gun just reminded him of Shepard.

Bringing up his omni-tool once again, Garrus established a link using the information Michel provided him.  He only waited a second or two before a voice on the other end picked up.

“Garrus,” exclaimed the woman, “I am so glad you received my message.”

“About that Jane Doe,” he began, cutting straight to the chase, “I— do you need me to identify the b— her ?”

“No… it is Commander Shepard,” she explained, “I am absolutely certain.”

“ Oh, ” Garrus said with the breath he’d been holding.  He was glad he was already sitting down, as the last shreds of hope he’d been clinging to slipped from his grasp leaving him dizzy and sick.  It was Shepard.  She was dead. There was nothing to be done about it.

He took a minute to collect himself and his thoughts, cleared his throat and told the doctor, “I, uh…I’m not really sure how to— I mean, I guess I should make funeral arrangements. That’d be better than letting the Alliance—“

“Garrus,” Michel interjected firmly, “She’s alive.”

“ What,” he asked, more loudly than he’d intended.  Hoping nobody had overheard outside, he lowered his voice and continued, “I mean, how is she? What’s her condition? Is she going to—”

“I won’t lie to you,” the doctor interrupted again, “Her injuries are serious, and she has been comatose since we found her.  Still, her vitals are strong and stable at present. She is a fighter.”

“She is.”

The line was silent for a beat then Michel spoke up again.  “I had a wonder… Shepard’s body has, ehm… extensive cybernetic modification. More extensive than I have seen. We are not certain how, or if it is even possible to repair all of the damage.”

One name came immediately to mind. “Miranda Lawson.”

“Pardon?”

“You need to contact Miranda Lawson,” Garrus clarified,  “She is an ex-Cerberus operative, the scientist responsible for Shepard’s upgrades. And a friend. She will be able to help. I can send you her contact information.”

“Good, yes. I will contact her immediately,” Michel replied, relief noticeable in her voice. She then sighed and said, “I apologize for sending such a vague email.  I am realizing now that it was likely… anxiety provoking. I simply did not wish for the wrong people to find out about Shepard’s survival.”

Garrus huffed, “Yeah, if the media caught wind of this, it’d be a circus.”

“That is what I feared,” she agreed with a sigh, “Besides, I thought you should be the first to see her. I know she is important to you.”

“Thank you, doc. For everything.”

“It is the very least I can do.  I owe my life to the both of you. Twice over, now it would seem:”

“I’ll get to the Citadel as soon as I can.”

“Talk to you then.”

The call ended with a beep and Garrus shut off his omni-tool display, staring blankly at the wall on the opposite side of the room for several minutes, attempting to recover from the emotional whiplash the last half hour had given him.  He took a deep breath, rose to his feet, and headed back out to the mess hall.

All eyes turned to him as he made his way toward the memorial wall just outside the elevator.  EDI’s and Anderson’s names had already been placed, tears already shed. Now they looked to Garrus, Cortez approaching with the name plaque meant to commemorate Shepard’s death. He took the polished silver plate and examined it, light glinting off its corners as he stepped up to the wall.  For a long moment he traced the letters of a name that had come to mean so much to him, to those crowded in the narrow hallway around him, to the hundreds of thousands who’d cheered from ships in the massive fleet she’d rallied and led to victory, and to the billions of lives she’d saved across the galaxy.  Shepard deserved so much more than a name on a wall.

And now, just maybe, she could have it.

Garrus would have preferred to keep  Shepard’s survival to himself, to snag her from the hospital and elope to some secluded tropical paradise where nobody could ask anything of either of them again, except “Would you like a refill on that incredibly alcoholic beverage?” But he knew he couldn’t do that.  After all, he was not the only one who loved her.

Lowering the plaque, he turned to face the others, all of whom looked at him with a mix of confusion and concern.  He glanced down at Shepard’s name again, mandibles flaring out reflexively as relief and excitement swelled in his chest.

“They found her.  They found Shepard,” he told them, bringing his eyes to meet their gazes as he spoke. “She’s alive.”

#mass effect #mass effect legendary edition #garrus vakarian #shakarian #ashley williams #tali'zorah #fanfic #my writing