#i throw things around and allow myself to be messy without falling apart but also

[izaanagi]

“darling, dearest,dicked„

※ Your colleague Suguru invites you over to his house to spend the night because it is raining, you don’t have an umbrella and his house is relatively nearer.

pairing: getou suguru x f!reader

⊘ warnings: mdni! mature content; slightly possessive behaviour; mentions of:fingering; nipple play; unprotected and rough sex; oral sex.

wc: 2.1k

a/n: interactions are welcome and very much appreciated.

It’s raining when you step out of the office; it’s honestly concerning how hard it is pouring down, especially because it’s starting to get chilly at night - and it seems like the world came to a halt. It would be a simple, no matter Tuesday if only your damn Metro card would work, you had an umbrella and your shoes weren’t soaked to the bone. It feels like a plot against you. It’s when you are on the verge to splurge on a taxi fare ride, that you hear a voice, getting nearer and nearer and shouting your name.

You see Getou Suguru stopping his run, hands on his knees, framing kneeled and panting. He clearly run over to you, and before you can ask yourself why, he straightens and his gaze rounds you from bottom to top. His gaze is intense, and his eyes are mesmerizing: you feel your whole body shiver under his stare. His hair is messy, and dark locks of it hang around his man-bun, in the way he styles it when he works. Clearly, he just got out of the office.

“Oh thank God, I thought you didn’t hear me,” he blurts, blushing a bit, and scratching his neck. You smile at him, because he is just adorable. “I did hear you, Getou-San,” you bow a bit, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Getou is absolutely stunning, and every fit that he owns just clings to him smooth skin and his toned body - and you can’t help but just lose your reason, for a split second, when he looks at you like that, as if nothing else matters. He smiles softly at you and then points at the street, on which there are still a few taxis running around. “Were you going to burn half of your monthly income on one of those?” he candidly asks, and while that should not come as surprise, you still feel yourself blushing, conscious of how you must look to his eyes: wet, disheveled and desperate. You shrug. “Better that than staying out here.” He is amused, and both of you are getting soaked - entirely because you both forgot to check the (wrong) forecast.

“Can’t deny that. But instead of spending money you could save towards those cute little earrings you always ogle on a taxi ride, given that you do manage to catch one, why don’t you repair yourself at my apart? It’s behind the corner of the block, and you could just wait the rain out,” he drops like nothing. Your mind gets racing about the implication of such an offer, but then you remember how this is Getou , an outstanding citizen and a man who eats respect and responsibility for breakfast. Maybe his offer it’s not so bad, just a little unusual. “Could I really do that?” you ask gingerly, and see Getou just smiling. “But of course. Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favourite in the office, so it would a pleasure of mine offering a safe and warm place in this weather,” Getou says while looking around, through the thick courtain has formed around you. Warm sounds nice at the moment, especially because he is getting soaked because of you, and that can’t absolutely do. So you nod and Getou takes your wrist to drag you along, as fast as your legs allow it.

When you cross the entrance, and a your fingers go numb from the difference in the temperature between inside and outside, you sigh of relief. Getou’s apartment is clean, neat and warm exactly as he promised. It’s a bit impersonal, but you pay no mind. As soon as you get home, Getou throws every wet cloth on the tile floor, exposing his wet skin and his defined back. He goes inside a room and comes out holding a towel in one hand, and the other over his shoulders. “I figured you might need one,” he says while holding out the fluffy towel. “The bathroom is the second door over there,” he indicates a wooden door at the end of the corridor. You follow the simple instructions, when you notice that if you take off your damp clothes, you’ll be left in your panties and bra, which while comfortable, is not entirely decent to do to a colleague’s house. “Getou-san! I am so sorry to ask this, but could I use the drier to hang my clothes?” you ask sheepish. But nothing comes as an answer. Then you hear a knock on the door, and Getou saying that he is leaving some clothes for you outside. You notice right away how big they look on you. They smell the same way Getou does, money and vanilla detergent.

When you finally step out the bathroom, Getou is sitting on the sofa, with the remote in hand and house wear which should be illegal in several different countries. You swallow a lump in your throat and approach Getou on the couch, when he lands his eyes on you. You feel the air changing and his pupils dilate. His gaze is fixed on your figure swallowed up by his large clothes, and he seems outwardly shaken. He shakes his head and pats the space near himself. “I hope you’re a bit warmer than you were when I found you,” he says, eyes on the screen in front of the couch, carefully avoiding yours. “Oh yeah, thank you so much Getou-San,” you answer right away. You are a bit nervous, and Getou’s hands on his knees are distracting. “You could call me Suguru, you know? After all, we are not in the office anymore,” he glances at you, hesitant but also hopeful. It feels a bit weird, but you nod and say “Thank you Suguru-san, then.” He smiles at you, and you feel a tad more comfortable, enough to set yourself on the sofa and close your eyes.

You must have dozed off, and taken Suguru’s space in the meantime, as you find yourself pressed against his chest, laying on him, while his head is bent to the side, intent to watch the motioned images of a TV program. He looks at you and your eyes go wide, you blush and start squirming around in order to put yourself in a seated position, with little success. Suguru’s hand is still on your waist, and he does not seem intent on letting you go. 

“Suguru-san? I am so sorry for falling asleep on you,” you fumble, but Suguru is staring at you vacantly - and it’s then that you notice something hard pressing on your thigh. Something that definitely isn’t the remote, still in Suguru’s hand, nor both of your phones laying on the table. “You don’t really realise, do you?” He asks. You shake your head. You hear him sigh deeply. “Of the damn effect you have on me.” He moans out. “Your hair sweeping those shoulders, the way you puck your lips, those swaying hips, your nipples peaking out of your shirt,” he blurts out calmly, like a man inside a brewing storm, “they just drive me crazy.” You have no idea of what you are doing. You are in a man’s apartment, a man who is objectively attractive and who you masturbated thinking of, wearing his clothes and currently on top of him. “Suguru-san…” you try. But he shakes his head. “I’m sorry to say, but I won’t be able to control myself if you stay here any longer. It stopped raining a while ago.” He looks pained while saying those words. So you take courage and try to be forward. “Do, mh, do you..want to do something about it?” You ask with the timid tone you can manage. Your head is spinning, and the hard dick pressing on you isn’t helping. You can already feel your panties getting wetter by the second, and your nipples are way past being hard. You wonder how is Suguru not noticing the response of your body. But then his gaze turns fiery, and then cold. “My darling, I won’t be holding out much longer. If you don’t get out of here in the span of few minutes, I..” He takes a deep breath. “I, have little control over myself when it comes to you. I want you - and I want you now even more. So yes, I do want to do something about my hard cock down there, but I am not going to force you, and I don’t want you to feel obliged to do anything just because I become unreasonable when you touch me.” But you are not even listening anymore, so you just take off your shirt, revealing your naked breasts, and feel Suguru’s breath hitch. “I want you too, Suguru-san,” you hear yourself says and the next thing you know is Suguru licking your pink bud, feeling heat pooling in your lower abdomen. He sucks on your left nipple, with you still straddling him. His hands are everywhere, and there is no space between you anymore. A hand ends up twisting you nipple so hard you whimper, so Suguru soothes the pain with his tongue. He pinches and then sucks on your stiff nipples so many times you lose count. You can feel hands and tongue, lapping everything they can. You don’t even notice how his hand ends up in your wet panties, and without teasing just penetrate your cunt. It makes you gasp, and Suguru takes up a rhythm of his fingers going in and then going out, faster until he sucks on your nipple so hard that you cum. But he does not care, and puts a second finger in. Even that, however, is not enough. Your pussy is pulsating, cum flowing out but the presence of Suguru’s hands inside of you do not let your relax enough. You feel the heat already forming, and you can’t help but moan. 

“You are so pretty,” Suguru lets out and breathes right into your ear, making your pussy clench around his fingers. Suguru breath is ragged, and you feel him taking a breath in. 

“My darling,” he sighs putting his head on your shoulder and pressing a feather light kiss on your exposed skin “I am about to cum right here if you do that again,” he says seriously. “Please cum, Suguru-san,” you tell him and inadvertently your hand squeezes lightly his clothed cock, swollen. You put your hand inside of his joggers, just to feel pre cum pooling on his tip, no boxers hiding his bulge. Water pools in your mouth, but you a want, a need to feel him inside you overwhelms you. 

“Please fuck me, Suguru-san,” you tell him. And you don’t have to repeat it twice. 

You feel Suguru taking off his pants, his member springing free, the prettiest shade of red in his full glory. He takes off your pants all the way, and does not care about aligning himself, that he slams into you. His grip on your hips is harsh, bruising, but when he starts pounding into you, his mouth colliding with yours for the first time you lose the sense of time. You just feel his cock slamming into you, one, two, three times, so deep that his balls touch your sensible points every time Suguru goes in. The couch is large enough, but you still feel Suguru on you, fucking into your cunt violently, lips not leaving yours. Your hips start moving as well, welcoming Suguru’s cock as deep as you can, length swallowed up in the red hole of your pussy so good. “You take me so well my dear,” he whispers at you, before moving his mouth to suck on your left nipple. He fastens his pace, and reaches the point inside you at which you can’t do anything else but scream. You usually never scream, and moan rarely but Suguru’s cock inside you and his mouth of your breast is enough to drive you to the edge. Then it’s a question of moments that you feel yourself fall and explode on Suguru’s dick, right before he pulls out to cum on your stomach, with shots ending up to your breasts and chin. You milk him until the end, and feel him shiver a few times, before he gathers the spilt cum and takes it to your lips, which you lap up. 

“Suguru-san, I..”you try to complete a sentence with meaning, but nothing comes out of you. Your pussy feels drilled in, and you are pretty sure your hips are bruised, exactly like your nipples, which have never felt so cared for. You want to do it again. Now.

“Please fuck me again,” you then hear yourself say. Suguru smiles and then lowers himself just a bit. “If you let me eat you out first,” he says, licking the cum and penetrating your hole with his tongue. “You can do whatever you want with me, Suguru-san.”

He heads up, and blows on your hot and wet cunt. 

“With great pleasure.”

#jjk writing #jjk imagines #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujutsu kaisen smut #getou suguru #getou suguru x you #getou smut #getou suguru x reader #getou x reader #getou x you #geto smut #.🩸 #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #getou oneshot

[gohyuck]

pairing: head knight!jeno x monarch!reader (reader has genitals attributed to those considered biologically female but no pronouns are actually used)

genre: fluff, mild angst (they discuss an oncoming battle they must prepare for), smut (it’s mostly smut)

word count: 6.5k

warnings & notes (nonsexual): mentions of war/battle, mentions of injuries retained from past skirmishes, jeno is as tall as you need him to be in order to rest your head against his chest without leaning down, it’s kind of cheesy tbh they are disgustingly head-over-heels in love with each other, also a peryton is a fantasy creature that’s essentially a stag + a bird, also i know y’all must be tired of royalty aus but i swear this is almost pwp (except there’s context so there’s plot) so give it a chance (if you’re legal) i guess

warnings & notes (sexual): oral (giving and receiving for both parties), fingering (reader receives), spit kink (lmao sorry), general messiness honestly, mild knife kink (no blood drawn, he just uses a dagger to tear apart clothing), gratuitous usage of the name ‘lionheart’, jeno has a big dick because i cannot stop myself from doing that to y’all for some reason, some choking

special thanks to @moonlit-jeno​ @domjaehyun​ @waithyuck​ for reading parts of it/all of it beforehand!

the soft hours of twilight have their holds on you, chilling you to your bones even as you pull the heavy fur cape tighter around your body. you should’ve pulled something over your thin nightgown, you suppose, something to act as a middle layer between silk and skin and peryton fur, but it’s too late for that. you’re already out on your private balcony, overlooking a kingdom you’d do anything to see the sun rise on day after day. 

far, far past the outskirts of your humble realm, barely visible to your own eye, an unsettlingly large camp of soldiers is finishing setting up camp for the night. you watch as tiny, tiny orange pinpricks - no doubt the fires they’d set to make food, to alert you of their presence - begin to get snuffed out. finally, they sleep.

if you were any worse of a person, of a ruler, you would send your army after them now, hours before the battle is set. perhaps, if you were any less selfish, you would do so regardless of keeping your status as a good and just monarch. if you were any less selfish, you would shake awake the love of your life and hand him his cape after shedding it from your shoulders. you would tell him to rouse his men and women, to arm them to their teeth, and to fight for what is right using means that are entirely wrong. 

as if privy to your thoughts, your head knight stirs in the too-large bed behind you. you turn just in time to see him sit up and twist his body left, right, left as he stretches to rid himself of sleep. it’s too late - or maybe too early - for either of you to be awake. maybe you should have stayed within his warm embrace rather than gotten out of bed to size up the army of the kingdom of crithage. 

even now, you can’t help but strategize, at least on a basic level. crithagians are unused to the cold of your beautiful - but often frigid - ekoria. they won’t expect your people to fall upon them from the icy cliffs that surround their camp, nor will they be able to see over the oncoming blizzard your royal sky-reader has predicted. she has not been incorrect in many, many years. ekorians have, over the years, grown accustomed to heavy snows, among other weather phenomenon, so your army’s visual acuity is not to be questioned. 

that, and your troops are in the hands of the best warrior ekoria has ever had.

jeno. your jeno. your lionheart. you rein your thoughts in just as he pulls open the balcony door, closing it behind him with a soft click as he steps over the threshold separating in from out and warm from cold. goosebumps rise across his bare flesh the moment his skin meets air, and you don’t hesitate to slide his cape off and thrust it towards him, knowing full well that his arms will provide more than enough heat for you. he fastens it with ease, seeming slightly amused at how you’d been using it as a blanket, and gently grabs ahold of your wrist before pulling you into his chest and wrapping an arm around your waist. with his other hand, he takes a corner of his cape and wraps it around you, leaving you enveloped in both his hot-to-touch skin and the comforting fur. 

“they’re out in the valley, aren’t they?” he finally murmurs, leaning to place his mouth against your ear. jeno’s voice is thick and sleep-ridden, still raspy in a way that settles around you, inside you, within you. you lean back slightly, raising a cold hand to rest against the tattoo of a lion that adorns his left pectoral, mane stretching up to his collarbone and encroaching on his bicep. the lion has a scar on its right cheek. you pull away more, eyes landing on the thin discolored line underneath your lover’s same eye. 

it had been a longsword, meant to slash across your throat. jeno, with the speed of a star falling from grace and enough adrenaline to fuel a hundred men, had leapt across you in order to take it across the face. for crown and for country, bard’s songs later regaled of him. for you, he’d whispered to you that same night as you’d stitched him up, using the threading tactics you’d learned from the castle medic as a child. for you. always for you.

“my love?” jeno prods, and you realize you haven’t given his rhetorical question any acknowledgement. you hum, meeting his eyes with your own, and watch as he allows one corner of his mouth to turn up. 

“they only just put out their fires.” you finally respond, moving to be against his chest again. you rest your head against the intricate ink against jeno’s skin, finally letting out a breath of what one might consider worry. the air that leaves your lungs manifests into wisps out in the cold world that surrounds you. your lionheart pulls you ever closer. 

“you need not stress.” he says simply, and an outsider to your relationship would see no cohesion between your statement and his. still, you know precisely what jeno means, why he’s said what he’s said. you turn, pressing your lips against the lion’s forehead. above you, your own lion brushes his lips against your temple. 

“i have an army, a kingdom, even, to worry about, and yet i only fear tomorrow for whatever outcome befalls one man.” you whisper, and even you are surprised to find tears catching in your throat. you do not cry easily, not when you know firsthand how cruel the world can be. 

you only reign because your parents no longer breathe. 

tomorrow’s battle could easily bleed into next year’s war, and while your kingdom is prepared for such a thing, your heart may not be. your people are not belligerent, and neither are you. crithage had been the one to throw the first stone, had sent word that if you refused to relinquish your throne and bow your head, they would aim the first arrow, draw the first blood. no tears had been shed then, not even when you’d paced around your bedchambers, reading and rereading the note signed with blood red ink until jeno had physically pulled it out of your tight grasp. you hadn’t cried, not even when he’d said that he was willing to die if it meant keeping crithage out of ekoria, out of the kingdom you’d both built from ground up after the war that had taken your parents, out of the home you’d created together. 

“wherever you take us, i will follow. wherever you need me, i will lead.” he’d murmured the words against the lobe of your ear, standing beside and slightly behind your throne as you’d written out your reply to crithage in a room full of your advisors. nobody else had moved a muscle then, not even as you closed the envelope with hot wax and the royal seal. 

you’d sent back a much, much shorter letter than their own in response. 

a time and date for battle. nothing more and nothing less.

that had been so many months ago, so far away that the concept of time dissipates when you attempt to organize it in your harried mind. with a hostile army on your doorstep, everything suddenly feels far more real than it has before. your people have been evacuated, your troops have been trained. your lionheart is unafraid to the world, standing tall and proud at your side as he always has.

a sigh that starts from deep in jeno’s chest brings you back to the present. tomorrow is it, you’re reminded. crithage has seiged almost every other state between themselves and your beloved ekoria. if they get to you, they’ll have your head, raised high on a stake they’ll erect outside of the gates they’ll install to the place you call home. if they get to you, it means they’ll have gotten through jeno.

you can’t live in a world without him. it’s a dangerous attachment for a ruler to have, you’re well aware. if other kingdoms find out that your weakness is a person, one that lives and breathes, you’re not likely to ever see your love again.

it’s little comfort that jeno can’t live in a world without you, either. 

“i worry about not being here, at the castle, to protect you,” he mumbles into your hair. “i know that you are perfectly capable, and that you’ll have your own faction of our knights with you, but i- it feels as if i’m about to open my chest and leave my naked heart unguarded, right there for any arrows to pierce.”

jeno’s confession is simple, beautiful in the way the most ornate of daggers are: that is, you feel as if he’s just dragged a sharp edge down the length of your sternum, taking you apart piece by piece. his words cage you in, force you deeper into your own head in a way you can’t afford, not right now. 

“eloquent,” you hum, unable to resist teasing him even as the moment does not call for it. it’s to save yourself from your heavily beating heart. “it isn’t too late to make you my poet laureate, you know. no need to wield a sword tomorrow then.”

“and who would be your head knight then, hm? the current laureate? you want renjun to lead the charge against the crithagians? to be your lionheart?” your lover draws back to ensure that you can see his eyes, glimmering with mirth. renjun is an able man, and one of your best friends, but he is not the warrior jeno is. 

nobody is the warrior that jeno is. 

“such a foolish thing to say,” you smile up at him, lips folding from joking to earnest within moments. the merriment fades a little from jeno’s eyes at recognizing the change in your expressions. “you’re my only lionheart. always have been and always will be, even when you’re too old and gray and slow to be my head knight.” 

“someone seems confident of that happening.” he says quietly, raising the hand at your waist to come up and rest over your own hand that lies against his chest. you swallow, your own spit feeling too heavy for you to stomach, your throat dry and scratchy. 

“who else can have confidence of a victory rather than a monarch?” you ask, a smile that isn’t quite sad - but isn’t quite self-assured either - resting on your lips. jeno raises your hand to his lips, pressing one, two, three chaste kisses to the back and then repeating the pattern against your palm. he does not let go.

the two of you stand there for a stolen moment. you lay your head back against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heartbeat below the ink and skin and muscle and bone. he is real, and he is here. 

he is real. he is here. 

“the monarch’s lionheart, of course,” he murmurs, finally dropping your hand to reach back and push open the balcony door. “we only have four more strokes of time until i must go, my love. is this truly how you want to spend it?”

it’s evident that jeno no longer wants to mull over the what-ifs, not when he prefers living in the present more than anyone you’ve ever known. unsurprising, you suppose, for someone whose livelihood involves strategizing away his own mortality. you allow him to pull you back into your bedroom, immediately more comfortable when the door closes behind you, keeping you in with the body heat of your lover and the warmth of the crackling fire on the hearth in the corner of your room. jeno sheds the cape, draping it over the nearest chair, before bringing you back to his chest by placing his large hands against your waist.

it takes feeling his fingers against your skin through the thin silk of your slip to remember that jeno has nothing on. he’s always preferred to sleep naked, unlike you. though you hardly have any undergarments on, you at least wear a sheer gown most nights. 

you’d ridden him passionately before bed, tiring both of you out in order to get any semblance of sleep. as your lionheart pulls you flush against him, though, it’s difficult to avoid the way his cock hardens against your hip once more. you want to quip about how jeno’s insatiable, but he trails a hand up, up over your body to swipe a thumb over one of your hardened nipples, and you can’t help the sigh that escapes through your prettily parted lips. 

“will you get on the bed for me, love?” jeno’s voice is smoother now that he’s more awake, though you can’t help but miss the low growl that had come with the earlier rasp. he may be asking you a question, but you know that it’s an order in disguise. wordlessly, you step back, back, back until the wood of your bedframe presses against the soft plushness of the back of your thighs. jeno has not moved, choosing to stay put and appraise you instead. his eyes are hooded now, and as his gaze trails from your neck - he’d marked it up earlier, the kiss-bitten bruises not yet having faded from your skin - down to the curve of your chest, over the expanse of your thighs, he can’t help but reach one hand down to his dick, swiping two fingers over its head to collect his precum on his skin. 

jeno says nothing else, makes no other move. it’s to give you an illusion of control, you suppose. not that you need one. 

“should i rid myself of this, lionheart?” you ask, the words coming out breathier than intended. the nightgown leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and you’re sure he can even see the slick wetness that’s pooling against your inner thighs. jeno adores seeing your body more than anything, but the gown does not inhibit that. 

it’s no surprise, then, when he shakes his head no, instead finally moving to stand at the edge of the bed, slotting himself between your thighs as they naturally move apart to fit him in. his clean hand slides up under your gown, resting just above your cunt, as he raises his other hand to your face. 

“lie back, and open.” jeno states, no air of leniency about him anymore. you oblige, and your love leans over you, his dark gaze centered on your parted lips. 

he lays his two precum-coated fingertips against your tongue, pressing in and then down and revelling when you don’t gag but instead run your tongue over his fingers, cleaning them off for him. you haven’t gagged in a long time, your reflexes getting used to him in the way the rest of you is. when he withdraws his hand, your mouth stays open, and jeno can’t help himself as he leans over you and, after gathering it in his own mouth for a moment, allows his own spit to fall from his own tongue and onto yours. 

your eyes go wide at the action, and you know that he notices it even as he does not acknowledge it. even so, you don’t miss the smirk that crosses his face upon hearing your breath hitch. jeno has you in his palm.

satisfied, he stands, and you close your mouth and swallow a part of him with a part of you. jeno’s no longer looking at your face, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he’s ruching up your nightgown with growing hunger, not when he’s kneeling on the stone ground just to make himself eye-level with your pretty, pretty pussy. 

“i took you hardly any time ago,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin as his mouth nears where you so desperately need him. “and yet here you are, laid open once more, all for me. only for me.”

“always you, jeno, please - ” you can’t get any more words out, the air being pulled out of you as he dives in and circles your clit with his tongue, bringing his two spit-soaked fingers up to press into you with almost no resistance. your reaction is instantaneous, walls clenching like a vice around his fingers as he lays a filthy kiss against your bundle of nerves, hips jumping up only to be kept down by jeno’s other hand, pressing down against the bottom of your stomach. 

“patience.” he pulls off of your clit just to growl the word out against the skin of your inner thigh, and the wet heat of his mouth directly against your flesh has you practically gasping out. when jeno sinks his teeth into your thigh as he’s often wont to do, you let out a full-bodied whine, the kind that starts in the back of your throat and rises up through the inner column of your neck, meant only for your lover’s ears. jeno laves his tongue over the marks he’s just created, as if to wash the pleasurable pain from your body. 

he does not reattach his mouth to your core, choosing instead to fall back and watch, eyes trained, as he scissors you open. with hardly any warning rather than his gaze jumping up to meet your own momentarily, jeno presses his thumb into your clit, using your slick wetness to eliminate any raw friction as he rubs slow circles against your nerve endings. he’s never failed to bring you to the edge with ease, and now is no different. you’d be embarrassed at how easily you fall apart just from his simple simultaneous motions, in and on you, but it’s jeno, and he knows your body maybe even better than he knows his own. 

keening, a loud, gasping wail, falls from your lips only for jeno to rise from his place in between your thighs and swallow your sounds with his open mouth, his clean hand coming up to cage you in against your sheets. the way you raise your arms to loop them around his neck is akin to the way a drowning man would grab on to a lifeline, and once he rises you pull him back into a longer, filthier kiss, where your teeth click against his and his tongue opens up your mouth the same way it feels like his touch opens up your body. 

you feel as if you’re being flayed, as if hellfire is the only thing comparable to the heat against your skin. jeno steps closer, just by the tiniest bit, and you feel his hand - the one shining with your arousal - brush past your hip before he uses it to wet his cock with one, two, three firm strokes. copious amounts of precum arise from the tip before being pulled down against his flesh with expert downstrokes. your mouth waters as you watch.

“my mouth, lionheart, please?” you finally gain the courage to ask what is on your mind, sitting up on your elbows as you begin to slowly find your strength. your love raises an eyebrow, and not without reason: jeno is a big man, making even you - a literal monarch - feel small at times, and this does not end with his personality or his person: you have never been able to take all of him into your mouth. the ache borders on painful, frankly, and jeno himself refuses to harm you in that way. 

“this, now, is about you.” he responds, and your heart cracks as you register that as a ‘no’. still, you speak again. you need him in your mouth, suddenly. it isn’t just a want. something has to anchor you to the here and now, it may as well be the head of his cock, heavy against your tongue.

“what is about me is about you as well,” you respond, and before he can lay his refusal down out flat, you slide onto the floor - warmer than expected - and tuck your heels behind your bare ass. “i need this. please.”

you’re directly in front of him now, face parallel to his strong thighs. jeno strokes up, squeezes tighter just below his frenulum, and you watch, struck, as precum beads at the tip and then splits into two streams, half sliding down his hard dick and the other slowly-but-surely falling to the ground, hardly a quarter of a step from one of your knees.

“give me your hand, then,” your knight murmurs from above you, drawing your gaze from his leaking cock up past the dainty curve of his lip to his hard eyes. “now.”

when you raise your hand up, you only put it up limply, unsure of what he means to do with the limb he’s asked for. your eyes must be swimming with questions, because jeno gives you a hint of a sweet, reassuring smile before allowing his expression to become stoic again… right before he grasps your given hand and straightens it out, gentler than expected from such a great warrior but harsher than he truly ever treats you. 

he’s passionate. this demonstrates it. 

before you can react, your body following your hand up off of your heels, though only slightly, as he yanks up your hand, jeno leans down and licks up your hand, from the bottom of your palm to the top, all while maintaining eye contact with you. he lets go, though you keep your hand raised, your gaze obviously dumbfounded. 

“a dry hand would rub me raw,” he explains, though the smirk that’s tugging at one corner of his mouth shows that he finds your wide-eyed expression at least mildly amusing. “we do not want that, do we?”

it’s amazing how easily he can get you under his thumb when you give out orders that hold his life in the balance on a day-to-day basis. maybe that’s why he finds taking charge in private so easy. maybe it’s his way of evening your dynamic out. even now, as he asks you an innocent question with no hidden meaning or reaction, you find yourself shaking your head along enthusiastically. no, of course you don’t want to rub him raw. of course you and him don’t want that. 

you raise the hand now deemed ‘not dry’ up as jeno watches, finally, finally wrapping your hand around it. your thumb and middle finger do not meet, no matter how tight you squeeze. your lover lets out a fulfilled groan at finally feeling a touch other than his own on his hard cock, and it’s a beautiful sound. you want more of it. you want more of him. 

as if mesmerized, you lean closer, darting out your tongue to lick experimentally at his slit. he holds his breath, a large hand coming to rest lightly against the back of your head and base of your skull, waiting. you take this as a sign to stretch your lips wider, engulfing the entire tip of his cock in your hot mouth. his grip tightens in your hair, and, in return, you clench around nothing. 

as you struggle to take more of jeno in your mouth, you do your best to stroke the rest of his cock with a tight enough grip to make him feel everything, but not tight to the point where you’re hurting him. regardless of how little you can take on your tongue - not your fault, by any means - jeno seems happy, barely able to stop himself from bucking up into the back of your throat. at this point, you’re essentially just warming his cock, so you pull off with a slick pop to look at him with slightly watery eyes. a string of precum and saliva connects your bottom lip and his tip, and when it breaks, you’re acutely aware of the mixture dripping down your chin and onto your nightgown. it’s no matter.

jeno’s thumb runs over your scalp, just above the bottom of your skull. you close your eyes momentarily to take in a deep breath. 

“you can force yourself down my throat, you know,” your voice is raspy when you speak, eyes fluttering open almost drearily. “i’m not too delicate for it.”

there’s something simultaneously raw and pure about the way you speak, and jeno recognizes that your headspace has changed, just a little. your need truly is all-encompassing now. he must tread more delicately than usual.

there’s so much love, so much adoration in your wide-eyed gaze. he only wishes to return it with the same intensity and double the care. 

“i know, love,” jeno responds, finally moving his hand in order to place two fingers under your chin. he tilts your face up, taking note of the way your eyes run over his tattoo before looking at his chin, then his jaw, then his nose, then his forehead, until, finally, you land on his eyes. you’re a tad bit unfocused, full of need, but that’s okay. you’ll always come back to him. he continues speaking. “you’re so strong. always so strong for me. that’s why you deserve to be rewarded, yes?”

“rewarded?” you’re confused, to say the least, though you do not dislike the direction jeno is suddenly moving towards. he only smiles, gentle and kind and good and yours. all yours. 

“on the bed, (name).” he tilts his own head, jutting his chin towards the bed you’d slid off of earlier. you don’t hesitate to follow, pushing yourself up onto your feet and all but scrambling backwards to be seated against the soft mattress. the blankets are all haphazard and the pillows aren’t straight, but that’s the least of your worries right now. jeno gives no other orders, only stepping closer and, without warning, winding his arms underneath your thighs and propelling you backwards, causing you to land, back flat, in the center of your bed. 

it had always felt inescapably large when you’d slept in it alone. now, it feels welcoming. safe. 

“you’re ready for me, yes?” the tone of voice jeno uses is soft, even as his rough palms push apart your thighs. you nod, murmuring a small ‘yes’ once you realize he’s waiting for you to verbalize your thoughts. this is all jeno needs to climb onto the bed and move in between your spread legs, settling back on his calves as his hands smooth over your hip bones and waist. it’s evident that he’s bent on taking his time with you tonight, likely under the illusion that that is what you want. 

it is not what you want. it is most definitely not what you need. 

“i need you within me, lionheart,” one of your hands clutches at the sheets beneath you while you stretch the other towards your lover, imploring. “soon. now. please.”  

“absolutely impatient,” jeno only chuckles in return, drawing an indignant whine forth from the base of your throat. he looks over your barely covered body once more before finally - almost in slowed motions as if to tease you further - rising up onto his knees. his hands stop moving against your skin, finally circling around the soft meat of your upper thighs. swiftly and fluidly, jeno pulls your body towards his, wrapping your legs around his own waist. his wet cock lies heavy against your pelvis, leaving slick precum against the apex of your thighs and the bottom of your stomach. he smirks. “is this what you wanted?” 

the motion of being pulled into your knight had forced the air from your lungs in a surprised yelp, and the feeling of his warm skin - he’s always supplied so much heat, it baffles you to no end - against your own momentarily blanks your mind. jeno repeats his question twice, cocky grin growing with each utterance, before you nod vigorously and sputter out something vaguely affirmative. yes. yes, this is exactly what you wanted, exactly what you want. 

you’ve been growing steadily wetter the longer your foreplay had drawn out, but jeno, ever-caring, still pulls back - his cock sliding against your thigh has you moaning - to slip two thick fingers into you, adding a third when he’s absolutely sure that you can take it. in no time at all, you’re grinding your clit against his rough palm, the friction absolutely heavenly. jeno makes no move to stop you, only gently forcing his fingers in deeper. 

a fourth finger is added just as your abused clit can’t take anymore, and you spasm on his hand as you fall past the point of no return. your second orgasm of the night washes over you, and you can’t help the muted but harried gasps you let out as your hips buck up, driving your head back into the mattress. jeno draws his fingers out slowly, licking your essence off of them with practiced ease. once your body has calmed down, you can only let out a small whimper, still basking in the intensity you’ve just experienced. 

jeno knows your limit, and knows damn well that you haven’t reached it yet. it’s because of this that, even as your walls are still clenching around nothing due to aftershocks that wrack your body, he places the fat head of his cock against your hole and slowly but surely slides in. the hands on your thighs move up to wrap around the sides of your waist, and his grip is bruising as he pushes deeper and deeper. even as he goes at a snail’s pace, you feel as if you’re being pulled apart only to be pieced back together again. you hold your breath.

jeno is halfway in when he realizes you still aren’t quite wet enough. he shifts slightly, carefully moving one of your legs up just a little bit higher, before swiping over your raw clit with a thumb he’s wetted with his own tongue. a moan flies forth from your mouth immediately, and a gush of wetness coats jeno’s cock anew as he circles over your bud with abandon. he’s finally free to surge forward and bury himself within your warm walls without fear of repercussions on your own body… so he does. the breath you’d been holding in is punched out of you, replaced with an honest-to-god wail. tears bud at the corners of your eyes at the stretch, falling as he pulls out almost entirely and slams into you again. 

jeno does everything in his life in order to live up to the name you’ve given him: lionheart. he is just and loyal and thoughtful as an advisor, and analytical and fearsome and ruthless as a warrior. sex is where both sides of him meet. it is where he is not just the kingdom’s bravest knight, or the crown’s right-hand man. it is where he is your lionheart, and yours alone, where your souls intertwine at the place your bodies meet. 

he notices how your hands come up to reach for him, leaning down so you can place one hand against his heart - against his tattoo - and throw the other one over his other shoulder. jeno’s nose is almost touching yours, though your bodies shift continuously as he keeps drawing back and driving his hips into yours with force.

he never ceases to make you feel full. 

your walls grip his cock tightly, amplifying every movement jeno indulges you in. the slide is slick and wet and perfect, but it is not easy. the head of his dick catches on your clenched walls every time he pulls out just to slam back in, forcing you to feel him with everything you have. it’s exactly what you want. 

he slows down his thrusting for a moment as he moves forward slightly, leaning closer still as he places one forearm against your head and raises his other hand to fondle your chest over your sheer clothing. somehow, this is no longer enough for you. jeno’s cock is fully sheathed within you as he swipes a thumb over one of your nipples, and the feeling of his skin pushing the cloth against one of your most sensitive areas has you shuddering in a way that causes you to squeeze even tighter around him. his hips stutter slightly, driving him impossibly deeper into you.

“jeno,” you rasp out, tongue heavy and dry. “my pillow. beneath my pillow.”

his eyes go wide as he processes what you’ve just said, his shallow thrusts slowing down. jeno gulps audibly. 

“your- love, your dagger?”

“need you to touch me.” you respond, holding his gaze and watching it clear up from confused to comprehending you entirely. he pushes himself up from his forearm to his hand, sliding out of you in the same movement. you whine sadly at the loss of contact, but jeno mutters a good-natured ‘be quiet’ almost immediately. 

“you know,” he starts, voice teasing, even as he pulls your dagger - black steel, quillions and hilt encrusted with blue jewels, black tempered glass at the pommel - out from beneath your pillow using the hand that had been fondling you earlier. he moves back down to his prior position, and your breath hitches as he presses the apex of the knife against the collar of your nightgown. “i’m already touching you.”

“more,” you moan out, the end of your word coming out almost breathlessly. one of your hands slides against his tattoo once more, as if feeling the lion will make it roar to life. “touch me more.” 

jeno chuckles, albeit darker than he had been earlier, and digs the dagger into the cloth in front of it without any further ado. you hold your breath willfully this time, not wanting to actually nick yourself on the blade, as he moves down your body, cutting the sheer gown open down its direct center. your lionheart dots his lips against your flesh in a trail in his wake, scraping his teeth against your skin as he sees fit. 

he leaves a quick, but filthy, kiss against your clit for good measure, eyes lighting up as you attempt to close your legs around his head on impulse, only to have them pushed apart even farther than before by his strong hands. once he gets to the hem of the slip, he throws your dagger somewhere on the stone floor - neither of you pay any heed to where it clatters - and rips it apart with his bare hands, hardly able to bear not feeling you around him for much longer. 

before you can do anything or say anything or even think anything at all, your lover surges forward and presses himself back into you with a grunt that sounds almost like a growl. his hands knead at your thighs as he finds his rhythm with ease, pounding into you with practice as if you’re an art medium and he’s a skilled master. he’s everywhere, all around you and inside of you and in the air and in your skin, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“touching - ha - touching you enough now?” he asks, resolve crumbling bit by bit as he fights to keep himself from tumbling over the cliff’s edge before you do. you can’t dignify him with a response, unable to do anything but claw at his back and pin yourself further against his chest as if it’ll make even more room for you in his heart than there already is. he doesn’t need a response, anyways. jeno already knows. 

he knows just how close you are, too. just as close as he is. it’s because of this that jeno moves a hand up to curl around your throat just as he circles your clit with two fingers of the other hand, continuing to fuck into you at the same rate as best he can. with a sharp cry and the arching of your back off the bed, you clench around him for one final time before he comes to a halt, barely holding himself up over you as he releases within you with a shuddering, gasping groan. 

moments pass, stretching into longer than they typically are. jeno takes care as he slides out of you, climbing onto the bed and flopping down next to you right after. the feeling of his release, sticky and wet against your inner thighs, is unpleasant at best, but you can’t bring yourself to clean up just yet. instead, you turn your head to your side, your nose immediately brushing against jeno’s sternum as you realize that he’s turned his entire body towards your own. he lets out an airy laugh at the sensation, pushing half of the sliced cloth off of your body in order to run a wide open palm down your naked side. 

“good?” he speaks first, asking an arbitrary question. ‘good enough to make you forget?’ is what he means, knowing full well that you could never lose thought of what awaits the two of you. the sentiment is what’s important, though, and you let out an agreeable hum as a reply. the sex itself was great, of course. he’s well aware. 

“sleep, lionheart,” you say just as silence attempts to cloak the two of you. “we must be ready soon, as it is.”

jeno gives you no response, and you do not require one from him. instead, he pulls you even closer into his chest as if doing so will protect you from the crithagians across your kingdom. his entire world rests between his arms. you are both tired enough that sleep forces your eyelids closed swifter than expected, and as you fall asleep to your lover’s slowed breathing and muted heartbeat, you can’t help but, just this once, allow your worries to slip off your body as your torn nightgown does. 

just before the rise of the sun, jeno will have to get out of bed and clean you up as best he can before donning his clothing, his armor, and his cape. you’ll put his helmet upon his head, pull his visor down over his face after sharing a kiss that could be your last. it is always like this. jeno will rouse the army, you will dress and arm yourself, and meet with your own private troops. 

as the sun begins to take its place in the morning sky, luckily opposite your gaze, jeno will lead his people into battle, riding his steed far, far from you. you will watch him go, but he will not look back. doing so is unfortunate luck at best. you’ve ingrained this into his mind. 

you do not know whether he will be back or not.

you desperately need him to come back.

all of that will happen in due time, but now, you drift to dreamland, safe in the arms of the man you’ve sworn to be with until the end. he tightens his hold around you, and that is how you spend the night before battle, in total comfort and full of love. no matter what tomorrow brings, at least you have this now. at least you will always have this moment. 

the lionheart and his liege. your lionheart and his love. 

for now, you are at peace in the calm before the storm.

#first #five #tags #dont #work #jeno #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno x reader #nct jeno #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream

[thefanficmonster]

Beyond The Darkness

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Relationship Struggles, Self-doubt, Insecurities, Swearing

Genre: Angst with Fluff Ending, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Y/N finally expresses their worries, reluctance and suspicions regarding their relationship with Corpse who is more than surprised to be hearing such confession, thinking their relationship couldn’t be more perfect. Well, perfect on the surface.

Requested by @cinnamonbun332  Hi darling! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! You asked for some heartbreaking and then heart-healing and I hope I delivered properly. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

I didn’t choose to be insecure, I never wanted to be so anxious and self-conscious. No one can blame that on me for it’s something I’d get rid of within the blink of an eye if it were that easy. I didn’t choose to fall in love with Corpse either, it just happened. I was taken by storm by the feelings he awoke in me. It was terrifying and made me become a whole different person around him. I was torn between wanting him by my side at all times and never wanting to see him again for the purpose of those feelings dying down. That being said, I can’t be blamed for that either.

However, I can be blamed for one thing: accepting his offer for a date. I didn’t have to. I probably shouldn’t have accepted it just as much as he shouldn’t have brought it up. But, alas, I couldn’t help myself. That storm of emotions, that stirring lava within the volcano I was at the time was dying to seep out to the surface so it wouldn’t burn me from the inside out. Him asking me out on a date was practically the vessel for me to finally have a chance at expressing myself and how I feel and that’s something I’ve never been able to do properly or openly. 

But with Corpse it has always been so easy.

Or...it was so easy.

It was easy until I started overthinking everything. Every interaction between us, between him and his friends. Between our two separate worlds.

I now have a hard time seeing us as a union, like we’re living together on the same planet of understanding and companionship. No, we’re more alike two planets in orbits near one another that are close but not close enough. Never destined to touch. Where I once saw light, I now see nothing. Almost as if I flipped the switch to my happiness myself. I wouldn’t be surprised if I did, it wouldn’t be my first time. I have a way of always finding a way to kill my happiness, put an end to my bliss. The key to doing so is what I already mentioned: overthinking, underestimating, undermining, over-worrying. In short: allowing my mind to torture me.

Sadly, it’s also forcing me to torture others.

At the moment, I’m spending day four back into my apartment, having come back with the excuse that I needed to get some piping fixed in the kitchen and needed to watch over the plumbers as they worked. I think Corpse bought that only halfway but if he didn’t believe me, he didn’t show it and I’m grateful for it. Or at least I think I am. Obviously, there was a part of me which screamed ‘See, he doesn’t care!’ at me when all he said in response to my announcement was ‘Oh, ok’. Of course, I didn’t pay that voice much mind then, but it’s starting to creep back in now and I really don’t know what to distract myself with to avoid hearing it. It’s not like I can internally deafen myself to stop it from eating away at me slowly but intently and with a scary determination that even I myself don’t have. Sadly, the pessimistic side of me does.

Truth be told, I wasn’t planning on staying home alone for four days straight, thinking I wouldn’t be able to make it that long without Corpse, thinking my loneliness would kill me. But, now that I am indeed alone, for some reason, I don’t feel really lonely, if at all. It’s refreshing and new, like a new but old perspective. Basically one I’ve missed for quite some time now without knowing that I did. Who knew going back to my empty apartment would be the cure to my messy head. Well, not a direct cure, but I have managed to map out at least a small portion of what’s going on up there, mend some of the damage I’ve done to myself.

Why do you always do that?

There’s that voice again, and some audacity it has! I’m not doing anything to myself! That voice is!

Saying that in court would easily land you in a mental facility, you know.

Fucking touché.

I think the reason why this is happening to me at the moment is because it’s been exactly four days since I last contacted Corpse. Or since he last contacted me. See what I’m going for here? See how toxic my mindset can be? Yeah, even I can hardly believe it sometimes. Like, how can something so dark be part of me - someone who used to be so cheerful and bubbly growing up. My nickname used to be ‘sunflower’ for a reason, but I might as well be a wilted willow now.

And who do you have to blame for that?

Will you fucking shut it!!!

As I’m in the midst of yet another self-argument, I near the doorbell ring, scaring me to the point I almost fall off my desk chair. I only then become aware of the blank MS Word document staring back at me. Throwing myself into work hasn’t been able to help me today. Instead of it distracting me from my struggles, it’s the other way around and I can’t fucking stand it.

Just like I’m beginning not to be able to stand myself. How Corpse and my friends do it, I have no idea. Well, they have it easy I guess, they don’t have to hear all the shit that happens in this beehive on my shoulders.

I lazily saunter over to open the door, not even thinking about looking through the peephole prior to turning the doorknob and swinging it open. That’s a mistake, considering that the mess I am is now face to face with Corpse. Let’s be honest, I’m past the point of stressing over how I look in front of him, we’ve been dating for almost a year now after all. However, this look on me right now is beyond disturbing. One that would leave him questioning if I need help or if I’m doing alright. The answer to both of those questions is no, by the way. Yes, to both.

“Corpse?“ I croak out, fighting my way out of the cloud of confusion surrounding me.

“Y/N?“ He replies, mimicking me though his confusion isn’t as much confusion as it is concern. Gotta say - rightfully so.

I shake my head as if awakening from a fever dream, basically hitting the ground head-first, “Um...yeah, uh, come in!” I finally manage to say, forcing my feet to step aside to allow him inside.

He nods and takes a step beyond the doorstep, cautious as though I’ve rigged the place with traps. I mean, ok, I’m weird, but not that weird. I’m not a complete psycho. At least not yet. Give me a few more months by myself. Or weeks. 

“I haven’t been here in so long...“ he mumbles, sounding almost as if he’s talking to himself. Before I could say anything, he wanders off into the kitchen, “Where are the plumbers?“

“What plumbers?“ I blurt out, unable to contain the widening of my eyes when I realize what I’ve said.

You. Fucking. Idiot!!!

“The ones you came here to monitor...?“ His answer sounds more like a question as well, both of us just staring at each other as we await what idiocy will leave my brain and come out of my mouth next.

The silence lasts for a few seconds before he breaks it by speaking up again, “There are no plumbers, are there?”

“No, not today! I mean- not right now.“ I resist the urge to smack my forehead with the palm of my hand in embarrassment. “They’ll come back...later! They were here up until an hour ago.“

Real smooth, Y/N. This is why you never play Among Us

Corpse looks around, even taking a peek over my shoulder before making a mock-confused expression as he shrugs his shoulders, “Your kitchen looks pretty tidy for being a place of such complex fixes happening.“

I let out a hysterical gust of laughter, squeezing my thumb so hard I might rip it off my hand, “Yeah, you know me, I like my living space tidy.”

He nods slowly, “Yeah, I know you. I know you’re not.“

The air gets caught in my throat when he eyes meet mine when he says that. I feel redness creeping up my neck, spreading across my cheeks and climbing up to my forehead and ears.

Oh you’d so be ejected right now

“Y/N, what’s really going on here? Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? If so, please just tell me. This silent treatment and avoiding is killing me. If I didn’t come here I would’ve gone insane. You would’ve found my walls with writings on them...“ He stops talking abruptly, letting out a soundless sigh as though his soul left his body, his gaze softening with sadness, “That is, of course, if you were even planning to come back. Ever...“

“Of course I was!“ I exclaim, feeling my chest tighten at the hurt I see in his eyes, “I just...I needed time. I still do.“

“Time away from what?“ He asks, desperate to hear the answer no matter how much it could hurt him.

I honestly don’t know what to tell him. I have no idea what I’m running from. I don’t even know if I’m running, hiding, contemplating, I have no idea what I’m doing. Is he the problem? Am I? Are we the problem? Our relationship as a whole?

“I don’t need time from anything, Corpse. I just...I need some time with myself. With my own thoughts. I’m really torn, have been for quite some time now. I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know if I’m doing is the right thing. I don’t know if we are the right thing. I-...“ I buffer for a second, feeling the words start getting more and more tripped up as they climb up my throat. Eventually, they end up getting caught in an invisible net which doesn’t allow them to make it to my mouth, let alone leave it. Now at a loss for words, I let out a sigh of defeat, feeling my eyes welling up with tears, “I don’t know anything, damn it! I’m a mess. Why do you tolerate me? I’m no good to myself let alone to someone else!“

I don’t know where this outburst came from, but I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t relieving. I feel like a popped balloon, letting out what’s been straining me from the inside for a long time now. Lord knows how Corpse took it, I can’t bring myself to look up at him, but all I know is that I finally did something I can officially deem right.

Suddenly, I feel the familiar touch of Corpse’s hands on my shoulders, pulling my chest flush against his, his arms wrapping around me, enveloping me in a tight embrace. His lips plans a kiss a the top of my head before he rests his chin there, holding me tightly.

“Why haven’t you told me any of this?“ He whispers, his voice emotional to the point of almost making me regret saying all that.

Almost...

“I didn’t want to worry you.“ I let out a half-hearted chuckle, “And I didn’t want you finding out what kind of nut-job you’re dating.“

He scoffs, “Even if you were a nut-job, Y/N - which, by the way, you’re not - I wouldn’t mind. I’m a nut-job for you. Utterly and completely crazy for you, babe. I’m always here for you, always there for you to talk to me, tell me all that’s going on in that busy head of yours. All you have to do is talk, and all I’ll do is listen.”

I sniff briefly, “Now you’re making me regret not saying it earlier.”

“Then I’m doing the right thing.“ He mutters, his tone suggesting I take the wheel of the conversation and say all I’ve been keeping within me until now.

“You see, I tend to enjoy certain things a lot. Get attached to people super quickly and easily. And then, after a certain period of time, I find myself rethinking and overthinking everything about that thing or person to the point I’m not even sure I like it - or them - anymore. At least not to the same degree as previously. I slowly start become unsure of everything around me, even my own thoughts and feelings. It’s almost like where I used to see light, there’s now darkness. Worst part is, I’m the one who put that light out for myself. I always do it to myself and then hate myself for it. It’s a vicious cycle that I can’t escape - killing my joy and blaming and despising myself for it.“ I sigh, nuzzling my face into his chest, “I just wish this curse avoided our relationship. You’re too good to me, I love you too much to lose you, Corpse.“

I feel his arms tighten their hold on me even more, pulling me even closer despite it not being possible. “Y/N, you can’t lose me. Not over that, not over anything. We all have our demons, you just gotta remember to hold onto me tighter than those demons are holding onto you. You gotta let me help you when you realize you can’t help yourself.” He gently pulls away from me, his hands now coming up to cup my cheeks as he gazes into my eyes, “You gotta learn to see beyond the darkness you surround yourself with. Beyond the darkness, that’s where I’m waiting for you. I’m always gonna be there. I’m a very patient guy, you know.”

I can’t help but laugh, suddenly feeling the bubbly giggles escaping from my chest, pressed out of me by the massive wave of relief that’s washed over my sore insides. Sore from the holding back and now even more so from letting go. But damn does it feel good.

“Looks like I don’t need a plumber but an electrician to fix this light I keep turning off.“ I say, pushing up on my toes to only barely touch my forehead to his. Luckily, he sees what I’m trying to do, so he leans down. “I need him to make it un-turn-off-able.“

Corpse smiles, humming approvingly, “I can help you with that. Starting with...“ and with that he tilts his head, his lips colliding with mine.

I gotta say: damn have I missed this feeling.

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[mosswillow]

Your room (Dark!Peter Parker x Reader)

Word count 3.3k

!!!!! This is dark! And explicit 18+ only !!!!!

Warnings: Noncon/Dubcon, oral (female receiving), spankings, punishment, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, unprotected sex, smut, vaginal intercourse.

Summery: Your life is bland and boring but not for long. What happens when you catch the eye of a certain super hero?

Your room has always reflected you as a person. In highschool you haphazardly filled the walls with quotes and posters. Your room was messy in the typical way teenagers rooms tend to be, but also like a typical teenager was filled with feeling and hope. In college you filled your space with pictures of you and your friends taken on a polaroid camera. Everywhere you looked had your life staring back at you. Now as an adult the pictures from college are tucked away in a box. Your room is simple and boring. Most people think of you as minimalist but you don’t do it to be trendy, you just have no passion. You’ve spent the years after graduating college working a job you hate in a lab, running the same tests over and over again. You’ve always wanted to be a scientist, working on something new and exciting. You’ve applied everywhere but you rarely even get an interview. Your dreams, unfortunately, will never happen for you. Sometimes you wish for someone to swoop in and take you for your bland life but you know that will never happen. Watching your friends get dream jobs and buy homes while you waste away has crushed your spirit. You’re tired.

---

“Hey Y/N, we’re going out tonight.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, you never come with us.”

“Ok sure.”

Your coworker is right that you never go out anymore and so several hours later you walk into a bar, grabbing a drink and finding your coworkers. The bar is bustling with activity and you lose track of time. You usually curl up in bed with a book on a friday night but you’re glad you came. You used to go out all the time in college and miss being social. Going out is good for your mental health and you decide to make more of a point to spend time with people.

You say goodbye to your still partying co-workers and head home a little past midnight. You start your walk and cut through an alleyway, wanting to get home before you vomit from the alcohol.

“Hey sweetheart. What are you doing all alone out here?”

A large man steps out of the shadows and walks toward you. You ignore him, keeping your eyes focused ahead and pick up the pace.

“Oi, I’m talkin’ to you,” He lunges forward and grabs your arm.

“Let me go.” You try to walk away but he holds onto you still, pushing you against the wall and landing a bruising kiss on your lips. His breath smells rancid and you feel bile rise in your throat. You cry out for help and the man is suddenly pulled away from you. You watch with disbelief as Spider man throws the stranger against the opposing wall.

“She said to go away buddy.”

The man slowly stands up and runs away. Spider Man shoots a web at the running stranger and he falls over, immobilized.

“You ok?” Spider Man turns to you, cocking his head.

“Yes, thank you Spider Man.”

“I’ll come check on you tomorrow”

You watch spider man pick up the stranger like he’s nothing and swing away. You walk the rest of the way home and lie in bed, unable to fall asleep. The next morning there’s a tap on your window and you look out to see Spider Man on your fire escape. You briefly wonder how he knows where you live but quickly brush off the thought and open your window.

“You sure you’re ok?” He steps towards you, looking you over.

“Just a little shaken up.”

He walks to your kitchen, filling a glass of water and handing it to you.

“This is too much, really I’m fine. You already saved me.”

“Drink the water,” He commands.

You sigh and drink it.

“That’s a good girl. Now get back to bed.”

You set the glass down and stare at the stranger you let in your home. Alarm bells start ringing.

“I’d like you to leave.”

“I’ll leave once I know you’re doing as you're told.”

Your heart beats rapidly and you take a step back.

“I appreciate that you saved me and came to make sure that I’m fine but I’m now asking you to please go.”

Spider man crosses his arms.

“I’ll call the cops” you say.

“And say what?”

“That there’s an intruder.”

Spider man sighs and walks to your window, standing at it.

“Get in bed and I’ll go.”

You walk to your bed and get under the covers.

“Good girl. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

As soon as he’s through the window you jump out of bed and lock every door and window, double checking your work. You get back in bed and let out a sigh of relief, finally able to sleep.

You wake up to tapping on your window. Spiderman is back. You make your way to the window but don’t open it.

“Let me in.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with you in here.”

Spider Man shakes his head and leaves without a word.

The next few weeks are filled with anxiety. You see flashes of red in your peripheral vision everywhere you go. Spider man is stalking you. You consider telling police but don’t think they’ll believe you. It sounds crazy, even to you. If it weren't for the bruises from the assault in the alleyway you would think you had imagined the whole thing. You stop leaving your apartment unless necessary and never go out after dark.

You get a voicemail one day.

“HI, this is Rebecca Johnson from Stark Industries. We’re looking for someone to fill a position in one of our labs. You had submitted an application previously and we wanted to reach out and see if you’d like to interview for the position. Please call back at your earliest convenience.

You squeal in delight, doing a celebratory fist pump. Stark industries is a dream job. You immediately hit redial and set up the interview. This would change everything. Just one year working at Stark would open up endless possibilities for you and that’s if you ever want to leave. You could afford a nicer apartment with more security. Maybe you will finally feel safe. You remind yourself that it’s just an interview and you shouldn’t get ahead of yourself.

---

You look up at the tower and take a deep breath. It’s intimidating, going for an interview at Stark tower. It’s been so long since you’ve interviewed anywhere let alone somewhere so big. You tug at your blouse, second guessing your outfit, maybe you should have worn something different. It’s too late to go back home and change. You walk in, mustering up all the courage you can and talk to the woman at the front desk.

“Hi, I’m here for an interview. Y/N Y/L/N”

“Oh yes, they’re expecting you. Here’s a temporary badge. Go to the 80th floor and take a seat.”

You take the badge and follow the instructions. You’re surprised to find yourself in what looks like private quarters. There’s a small couch near the elevator and you sit and wait.

Tony Stark himself appears in front of you and your mouth flies open. You stand quickly and hold your hand out.

“Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tony looks you up and down, clicking his tongue.

“Likewise, follow.”

You half walk, half run behind him, getting in the elevator and taking it down a floor. You arrive at a state of the art lab and workshop and Tony leads you to a desk.

“The whole workshop will be open to you. This is your desk.”

He starts walking again and you keep following him back to the elevator and to another floor.

“Here’s where you’ll live. I’ll leave you with the contract and you can call my assistant if you have any questions.”

He hands you a tablet and walks out.

You look around the room dumbfounded. You thought you were just here for an interview. You guess this means you got the job. You swipe through the contract and your eyes widen at your salary. There are a few things that make you uncomfortable though. You’re required to live on site and there’s a curfew. You have to sign a NDA about anything you see in the tower. You also can’t decide to quit without permission, which you’re not sure is even legal. You call the number to Tony’s assistant.

“This is Rebecca.”

“Hi, this is Y/N. I’m looking through this contract and it says I have to live on site and there’s a curfew?”

“Yes. That is non negotiable. Living on site will give you access to the workshop 24/7. There will be times when you will work through the night. The curfew is for security as the tower is locked down every night.”

You would rather have your own place where you can come and go as you please but you’re willing to live here if you have to and the reason for a curfew makes sense. The tower has top of the line security, which is something that’s really important to you. You don’t usually go out late anyway and if you do decide to be out late you can crash at a friends house or get a hotel room.

“And the avengers? Will I have to work closely with them?”

“You might meet them or see them at some point but most likely not.”

“I know this sounds weird but I don’t want Spider man to know I’m working here.”

“Mums the word.”

“What exactly will the job entail? I see there’s a NDA.”

“You’ll be an assistant in Tony Stark's personal workshop and will work closely with him. He appreciates privacy.”

“I see, and the part where I’m not allowed to quit?”

“He just wants to make sure you’re serious. Tony picks his assistants personally and requires loyalty.”

“Ok, thank you.”

You hang up and sign the screen. When you open the door there's a man standing outside. He’s not a tall man, standing a few inches taller than you. However, he is muscular and something about him commands attention. You feel an immediate pull towards him.

“Oh, hi I’m Peter Parker.” He holds out his hand.

“I’m Y/N”

“I also work with Tony and live right next to you. I’ll be your direct boss.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Parker.”

“Peter is fine. I won’t keep you any longer, I just wanted to introduce myself.”

You immediately get to work rearranging your life. By the end of the weekend you’re completely moved into your new place and on monday you start your first day on the job. It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of, full of state of the art technology and free reign to do whatever you want. You walk into work every day with a smile.

You work alone most of the time, Tony and Peter working awkward, sporadic hours but you enjoy it when you do get to work with them. Tony is funny and brilliant, you learn more from him than from any college class. Peter is smart and sweet. He helps you with your work and makes sure you’re always taken care of, sending you back to your room if you’ve been working too long or making you take breaks to eat. You find yourself starting to develop feelings for Peter and your heart swells when he asks you on a date. Life is good and only getting better.

You meet Peter outside of your door and he takes your hand. The two of you walk to a little italian restaurant and Peter takes your menu, ordering your food for you. It’s very forward for a first date but you like the confidence. After dinner he walks you back to your door and kisses you. You see something in his eyes when he pulls away, possessive and dark. It makes you feel uncomfortable but also excited. Nobody has ever looked at you like that.

Over the next few weeks Peter becomes more and more comfortable around you, becoming more physical. It’s small things, like pushing your hair back when talking or touching you gently as he walks past. He asks you out again, this time wanting to cook you dinner and you decline, suggesting a coffee date instead. You don’t feel comfortable enough with him to be alone in his room. He clenches his jaw when you tell him, obviously upset you won’t come over but agrees.

A few days later you decide to go out with some old friends and crash on one of their couches. When you get home the next day Peter is standing outside your door.

“You missed curfew.”

“I know, I went out with friends and crashed on one of their couches.”

Peter clenches his jaw.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“It shouldn't matter if I want to stay the night somewhere else.”

“Well it does.”

You roll your eyes and unlock your door quickly, locking it behind you. The two of you have only been on one date. His behavior is a red flag and you decide to take things slowly.

The next day you decide to go out for coffee, pulling on a simple tee shirt dress and some flip flops. The elevator won’t let you down.

“Your privileges have been revoked.” Peter says from behind you.

You jump. “Why?”

“You know why.”

He stalks toward you, pushing you up against the elevator.

“I don’t feel comfortable with this Peter. You need to back away from me now.”

Peter takes a step back.

“I’m sorry but right now I don’t want any sort of relationship outside of work.”

“That’s not going to work for me.”

Something in Peter's eyes terrifies you. You need to get out of here. You try the elevator again but it still won’t open.

“I quit.” you yell at the elevator, feeling more danger every second you’re stuck in the hallway with Peter.

“You can’t quit baby.”

“There’s no way it’s legal to force me to keep working even if it’s in the contract.”

“There’s nowhere to go. You’re not getting out of this building and even if you did you’d have to find a lawyer to take your case.”

“You can’t do this, I'll tell Tony.”

“Who do you think suggested this in the first place? Most of the Avengers have gotten their partners this way. I was waiting for the right person and I knew you were them the moment I saw you.”

“Why would Tony help you trap me here? You’re just a lab assistant.”

“Oh no honey, I’m much more than that.”

He steps toward you, caging you in.

“You think it’s a coincidence I saved you in that alleyway?”

“Spider man?”

Peter gives a grin. He leans in and smells your hair.

“No.”

“I’m sorry it’s happening this way, I wanted to break you down slower. You’ll have a really good life, we’ll live together and work together. You’ll have everything you could need or want.”

“I want to leave.”

“You’ll change your mind, you just need a little motivation.”

Peter pulls you to his room and opens the door, pushing you into his apartment. You try to run but he easily catches you, picking you up and throwing you on his bed.

“Why are you doing this? Why me?” you scrabble to the far side of the bed.

“You’re mine.”

Peter's phone rings and he picks it up.

“Hey, yes I did... I know It wasn’t the plan, I had to improvise… Ok, see you in a few weeks.”

He hangs up and gets on top of you. you spit in his face.

“I’m not yours freak. Let me go.”

“You won’t be allowed to act like that moving forward. Now lie still.”

“Get off of me.”

Peter gets off briefly, flipping you over his lap and pulling up your skirt. He lands a smack on your bottom.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do this. You’ve been so bad baby.

“Not letting me in your apartment.”

Smack.

“Telling Rebecca you didn’t want me to you started working here.”

Smack

“Staying out all night.”

Smack.

“Shutting the door in my face.”

Smack.

“I liked you Peter, If you had just acted like a normal person we could have continued a relationship.” You say through tears.

“I don’t want a relationship, I want to own you.”

He lands another blow on your bottom and grabs your underwear, pulling them down and off of you. You try to wiggle away but he’s so strong and easily holds you down with one arm. He moves his hand between your legs and towards your sex, pushing a finger in and out.

“You’re wet for me.” He says smugly.

You close your eyes and turn your head away. You’ve stopped resisting and he lets go.

“There you go.”

He kisses your neck and cheek then grabs your chin moving your face and kissing you gently, pushing his tongue into your mouth. He pulls back and you hear him unbuttons his pants, pulling them down. You open your eyes and move away from him, pushing your back against the headboard. You watch as he holds his erection, slowly moving his hand up and down. He moves towards you and grabs your ankle, pulling you down the bed and positioning himself in between your legs. He holds onto your hips and kisses your inner thigh, moving toward your mound until his mouth is on your clit, kissing and licking. You arch your back and throw your head back, fighting against the rising orgasm. Right before you come he pulls back, smiling up at your dazed face. He rises up and slowly pushes his dick into you until you’re full. You whimper as he brings his hand down to your clit, stimulating it.

“That’s right baby,I know what you like.”

You can’t think about anything else anymore, only the orgasm that threatens to take over.

“Come Baby”

You reach out, grabbing his arms as you come. He grabs your shoulders and thrusts deep, filling you with cum before collapsing next to you, pulling you into the crook of his arm.

“Can I go back to my room now?” you ask.

“You won’t be leaving this room until I can trust you.”

“I won’t say anything. You won. You got what you wanted so just let me go.”

“You still don’t get it Y/N. You’re mine now. I know this is a hard adjustment but everything will be fine as long as you follow what I say.”

“And if I don’t obey you?”

“You’ll be punished.”

“Fuck you.”

Peter sits up next to you, grabbing his pants off the floor and pulling his belt out of the loops.

“I guess your first lesson starts now.”

---

You look around the room you live in. It’s no longer the empty minimalist space it was before you met Peter. Now it’s filled with him. Everywhere you look there are reminders of him. The shower has his body wash and razor. There are pictures of him hanging on the walls. Everything you own has been bought for you by Peter. He dictates what you’re allowed to wear, where you’re allowed to go, who can talk to. It’s all him. Every part of your life revolves around Peter to the point where you don’t know what you would do without him. You wake up to him, go to sleep to him, think about him constantly. You’re even sometimes woken up in the middle of the night to him touching you, wanting you. At some point you stop pretending you don’t want him back. You hate it but it’s true.

Your room has always been a reflection of you as a person.

#dark!peter parker x reader #dark!fic #dark!peter parker #dark peter #dark peter parker #smut

[mustyrosewater]

te amo.

javier peña x reader

request by @hxdxs​ :  hello! i was wondering if you could write smth where javier peña has a nightmare after him and the reader have a fight which results to them sleeping in separate rooms, she wakes up and comforts him no pressure (: 

warnings : fighting, mentions of violence, possibly unhealthy relationship

word count : 3k+ 

you knew what you were walking into when you finally decided to commit to a relationship with javier peña, you knew to expect the disappearing for days at a time without being able to contact with him because he was undercover, you knew that he was walking into a brand new dangerous situation every single day. 

but it didn't hurt any fucking less each time.  at first, you'd tried to tell yourself that you shouldn't be upset, once again telling yourself that it was you who chose this life, getting angry and possibly overreacting would just be hypocritical of you, it would have made you weak.  but as it began to happen again, and again  the last straw had been him coming home at three in the morning, after having been away for a week longer than he'd told you the undercover operation was going to last for. you'd spent hours in your shared apartment, anxiously waiting for a the phone call from the dea or an agent knocking on your door only to tell you that he'd been killed.  you'd spent the night sitting on the couch, clutching his shirt tightly just to smell whatever remnants of his cheap cologne that you hated with a passion was left over on them, suddenly missing it now more than ever.  when he'd finally come back, you'd fallen asleep on the couch, still holding the shirt tight to your chest with dried tears still lingering on your cheeks.  to say the least, waking up at three in the morning to the sound of somebody rustling around in the bathroom was enough to prompt you to slowly grab a knife from the kitchen drawer and slowly make your way to the bathroom. as if being on a streak of being an emotional wreck after what you believed to be the death of your boyfriend, now the universe was truly testing you by having somebody decide to rob you.  seeing the streak of white light poking through the crack in the bathroom door, you approached slowly, feeling your heart beating so loudly that it was thundering in your own ears.  finally swinging the door open, it hit the opposite wall with a harsh crash, only to be followed by you bursting in, knife in hand, cursing angrily in spanish.  only to be greeted by a wide eyed javi looking at you as if you'd gone crazy.  as your heart dropped and your eyes widened, you couldn't help letting out a cry of shock as you dropped the knife onto the tile floor with a sharp clang, unable to process the blade narrowly missing your foot.  reaching to grip onto the door frame in order to balance yourself as you felt your legs begin to go numb, javi sprung forward, reaching out and placing his hands under your shoulders for support.  as you finally got a closer look at him, you could see that his hair was messy as all hell, he definitely hadn't shaved for the past day or two and he absolutely stunk, and you once again found yourself wishing he'd actually been using that horrid cologne.   in that moment however, as grateful as you were that he was alive and wasn't in fact lying dead in a ditch in escobars backyard, the relief had faded away as quickly as it had flooded in, only to no sooner be replaced with a fiery surge of anger.  with no hesitation, you shoved him away from you, now able to stand up straight once more; looking up just in time to see his questioning look he posed your way.  "what the fuck javi!"  you hadn't meant for your voice to come out so hoarse, but the hours you'd spent audibly crying into his shirt had done a number on your throat, as well as the fact that you'd only woken up minutes ago.  he opened his mouth to speak, but you only answered by holding up your finger and continuing to speak. "a week. i don't hear from you for a week! i manage to convince myself you've been shot, and then you just waltz in at three am in the fucking morning and make me think you're a robber!" you can't help but laugh in between sentences, but the laugh is still traced with venom, all too reflective of the angry streak of words flooding out of your mouth. "i mean- what if i'd stabbed you?!" you spoke, gesturing to the knife now by your feet. you didn't even want to picture yourself stabbing javi, especially not after he nearly gave you a stroke due to finding out that he was still very much alive.  as you went to continue, it was now javi's turn to interrupt you, shaking his head as he placed his hands on his hips and stared back at you. you hadn't even stopped to think about how much of a crazy person you must have looked like in that moment, face puffy and red from crying, messy hair and pajama pants you'd been wearing for two days straight, all nicely topped off with a singlet shirt and robe he'd gotten you a few months back for your birthday.  "what the fuck was i supposed to do? i told you i was undercover!" his voice sounded so tired, it was painfully obvious to you how drained he was; but in that moment, the high emotional intensity was blurring all reason within you.  as you listened to him yell, you felt the lump in your throat forming; crossing your arms, you tried to keep yourself together.  "you could have sent me some kind of message, somebody to tell me you'd be gone for another week!" the two of you were no longer yelling at one another, this was screaming at one another. in a brief passing moment you thought about what the neighbours must have thought of you two, but you also just couldn't find yourself to care.  "you know i couldn't do that! i've told you several fucking times why i can't do that!" he turned away from you, taking a step back towards the basin. you could see his shoulders rising and falling with his deep breaths, watching as he reached up to run a hand through his messy hair. "fuck!" you jumped as the tense silence between you two was broken by javi cursing loudly and kicking the small plastic garbage can beside the basin, sending it crashing against the wall loudly. that was when your bottom lip began to wobble and your vision became foggy. you could only reach up a shaky hand to cover your mouth as javi panted, hunched over the basin he was now resting his hands on.  "i thought you were dead javi.." in your effort to conceal that you were beginning to cry, you'd kept your voice quiet, yet i hadn't helped in the slightest; the wobble in your tone was too noticeable for anybody to be able to ignore, especially not javi; who turned to look at you, a few expression laced with regret having taken over his face.  you didn't want to look at him for a moment longer, you couldn't even if you did. so you turned around and walked out from the doorway of the bathroom, only now beginning to audibly weep into your hand.  you could head javi walking after you, only prompting you to walk to the spare room quicker. you just needed to be away from javi for awhile, even if you'd spent the past four weeks desperately wishing he was back.  "wait, just please hang on a minu-"  you can't hear the rest of javi's words before you've slammed the door in his face, turning the small lock over as quickly as your shaky hands allow you to. you turn around and put your back to the door, trying to ignore the fact that you can feel javi standing outside the door, you can hear his faint heavy breaths and the way he's softly cursing in spanish under his breath.  its a few more moment before you can hear his footsteps slowly getting softer and you know he's walked in your bedroom when you can hear the door slam shut, making you jump softly again.  thats the moment that you let yourself break down. your face scrunches up as you slide down the door until your sitting on the ground of the spare room, your knees up to your chest as you rest your palms on your forehead, trying your hardest not to make too much sound as you cry, feeling your shoulders shake as you do.  memories of all the friends who'd advised you not to commit to a relationship with javi over wine came flooding in, remembering the uneasy looks on all their faces the first time you'd shown up to a friends wedding together. the times you'd stayed at their houses because you just couldn't handle the way he acted when a case had set him off; the amount of times you'd told them that you stayed because he needed you as much as you needed him; ignoring the way they shook their heads.  it hurts so much when things get like this between you two, you don't often find yourself fighting, but this had so far been the worst of all; never had the two of you screamed at each other so loudly before.  it takes about thirty minutes of you sitting on the ground to realize that you should probably move to the small single bed in the corner of the room. you had moved the small bed into what was essentially javi's office about a year ago, mainly done for the purpose of giving steve a place to sleep when him and javi were working non stop, it was your idea, knowing that it would probably be easier seeing as him and steve always had to start so early.  remembering when they moved the bed in, you'd brought the two of them beers as they spent hours upon hours trying to put the stupid thing together.  a memory that used to make you laugh, only serving to making you cry harder as you sat down on the bed.  you could hear javi angrily pacing in the next room over, as well as the occasional bang of what you could assume was him knocking something over or throwing something.  as you laid down on the bed, you shut your eyes slowly, trying to pretend you couldn't hear him even if there was nothing but a paper thin wall separating the two rooms.  -- you couldn't tell what time it was when you finally woke up. you couldn't even remember when you'd fallen asleep. you looked towards the window to see a dim blue light poking out of the curtains, signalling to you that it must have been early in the morning, meaning you couldn't have been asleep for more than four hours.  at first, you reached out for javi, only for the events that occurred only a few hours ago to come flooding back in. the fighting, the screaming. it only replaced the lump in your throat as you sat up and rubbed your eyes.  as you began to wake up more, you wondered what had prompted you to wake up at such a random hour, especially when you'd been so worn out and tired when you actually went to sleep in the first place.  you were about to ponder the question for awhile longer, until you heart the soft grunts coming from you and javi's room. though muffled, you could clearly hear javi in quiet distress. its a sound that you wish wasn't as familiar to you as it was; the amount of times you'd been woken up by javi making those sounds fresh in your head, just as fresh as needing to calm him down from them. he was clearly having a nightmare.  and suddenly, it was as if all of those arguements, all of those snarky comments from your girlfriends and all the time you'd spent crying over javi had been flung out of the window and banished to the back of your mind; only leaving room for a sudden concern for javi. with no hesitation to be observed, you walked to the door and unlocked it, heading to the bedroom as the sounds of javi in sleepy distress became louder and louder.  carefully placing your hand flat on the wooden door, you hesitated, briefly taking a moment to prepare for javi still being upset, knowing that it could still very much be the case. pushing said concerns to the back of your mind once more, you push the door open slowly, still aware of the way in which its hinges tend to creak purely due to age and the fact that it was admittedly purely made; remembering the amount of times javi mentioned he was going to fix it himself but still never getting around to it. you spot his sleeping figure on the bed, though sleeping would certainly be a loose term for it. he's shaking and twitching every few moments, his eyes shut tightly. you aren't sure what it is he's dreaming about, much less if you even want to know; it was likely it wasn't something you'd be able to handle. you'd never asked for any details past what he told you about his job; occasionally he would mention things once or twice in passing, and you were simply content to leave it at that. the things that you'd seen on the television were enough to scare you into not asking for anything else past the information he was willing to give. yet in the same breath, the fact that only seeing things on tv was enough to make your skin crawl, you couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him to see it all up and close and personal, much less risk his life every day just by walking into the embassy. you knew what to expect when you committed to this relationship, yet you had found it so hard to think about what he was going through. after what felt like ten minutes of staring at the poor man, you walked forward and kneeled beside the bed, not wanting to put weight on the mattress so as to frighten him out of his sleep rather than calmly wake him. reaching up, you placed a hand on his cheek, ignoring the prickly feeling of his stubble due to having not shaved for nearly a week and ran your thumb back and fourth across his prickly skin. "javi... javi, baby.."  as you try to speak softly to snap him out of it, it seems to only make it worse as he jumps away from your touch; only resulting in a slight cringe forming on your face. the idea that you're only making it worse for him feels horrible, not even wanting to think about what he must be experiencing in whatever dream it is he's having. "please baby, wake up, its just a dream... i'm here."  continuing to stroke his cheek, you watch as he lets out a loud gasp and his eyes go flying open and he sits up, looking around frantically as if he was trying to find out where he was.  this is only one of many times you've had to do this, needing to wake him up softly and remind him that he was safe with you. it pained you to see him so shaken by a dream. you had to wonder how much more of this line of work he was going to be able to take. the more time you spent watching columbia slowly chip away at the man you loved, you tried to pretend that every time you watched him walk out of the door for work that you weren't worried it may have been his last. you tried to pretend that you weren't always noticing his dark circles and the way he'd grunt out in pain from the smallest movements.  being in the dea was slowly killing him and neither of you even wanted to admit it.  you know better than to ever try and convince him to quit, you've known him long enough to know how stubborn of a man he is; and that if you tried to tell him about the danger and how worried you were, it was only going to push him away in the end.  the times you'd had to help him into bed when he came home drunk, the times you'd needed to help him dress his stitches or watch him take of his shirt only to be met with a bullet scratch on his shoulder. while being in the dea was slowly killing javi, watching it happen was just as slowly killing you. reaching forward, you cup his cheeks and force him to look you in the eyes; ignoring the way that his hands grip tightly onto your wrists.  you've learnt to ignore things like this, it hurts when he grips your wrists so tightly, but you continue to tell yourself that he doesn't mean it; you know he doesn't mean it.  you chose to love a broken man, and with all broken things, you needed to be prepared for occasionally gaining a few cracks yourself.  the fear in his eyes is crystal clear, the way he looks at you as if he doesn't recognize you; its painful, but as his face shifts to one of a subtle recognition, you watch as he slowly sinks down from his fear and feel his grip on your wrists begin to relax bit by bit. stroking his cheeks, you smile softly and sit across from him on the bed, feeling his pulse thundering rapidly. "i'm right here javi, it's ok, your ok."  your whispers finally seem to be working as he shuts his eyes, making an obvious attempt to slow down his breathing. he leans forward, resting his forehead on your collar as you stroke his back slowly, letting him try to calm down from whatever violent nightmare he was being forced to endure.  you can feel his arms wrap around you as he pulls you closer, practically leaning against you as he breathes in your scent, just another way of being able to ground himself back into reality.  in that one moment, every fight the two of you had ever had, the amount of time you'd spent crying over your worries, everything you've had to endure becomes worth it as you sit there in each others arms.  he finally leans back to look at you, letting one of his hands rest on the back of your head as he brings you in to lay a kiss on your forehead, shutting his eyes and taking another deep breath.  without saying anything, he leans back down to lay on the bed, pulling you with him so that you were laying your head on his chest; his arms remaining tightly wound around you with little to no intention of letting you go. just as you had no intention of leaving.  "im sorry.." you whispered out softly, beginning to draw invisible patterns on his bare chest with your finger tips. "i was just so fucking scared that i lost you.." you confessed, letting you voice crack as your vision became foggy. he didn't reply at first, but you felt his breathing tense. you didn't want to ask what it was that he was dreaming about, but based upon his reaction, you wondered whether or not that was the subject matter of his dream, losing you or losing himself. when he finally spoke, it was deep and croaky, just as his voice always was after it had been sleeping; a voice you'd heard whispering sweet nothings and pillow talk in the mornings; the voice that would softly tell you goodbye followed by a kiss on your forehead whenever javi would leave early in the mornings and you'd stay in bed.  "please don't cry, hermosa. please don't be sorry." by the sound of his voice you could tell that he felt bad, it wasn't hard to tell that the both of you were hurt over the argument; your high emotional intensity mixed with javi being worn out was a deadly mix that was bound to end badly. turning to look up at him, you rested your chin on his chest and sighed.  javi stared back at you, reaching up to fix the hair that had fallen in front of your face; allowing his hand to linger purely so he could cup your cheek. shutting your eyes, you leaned into his touch; now unable to stop a few tears from escaping and rolling down your cheeks only to be quickly wiped up by javi's thumb as if he couldn't bear to watch them fall. "te amo." he whispered, reaching for your hand and bringing the back of it to his lips, laying a soft kiss on the skin.  laying your head back down on his chest and shutting your eyes, you allowed yourself to begin drifting back to sleep, now finding such a task monumentally easier now that you were back in javi's arms. "i love you too."

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena hc #javier pena fic #javier pena fluff #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal narcos #narcos #pedro pascal fic #angst

[anystalker707]

You wish (2/2)

Part 1

Pairing: Frank Iero x [non-binary, afab] Reader Word counting: ~ 4 000 Genre: Smut / Enemies to lovers Summary: After finding out they have feelings for each other, (y/n) lets Frank drive them home to spend the night together.

Requested on Wattpad

The night is agitated, but ends up going by relatively fast. Even with having sorted things out between us, Frank and I don't talk a lot – our interaction is limited by us sharing looks now and then while I work and either smiling at each other or blushing and laughing.

One of Frank's bandmates approaches him at some point, asking him about leaving. When I understand what is going on, I can feel my heart tightening in my chest and even pause the drink I'm preparing, unable to tear my attention away from the two. Frank shakes his head, muttering something I can't understand, but it doesn't seem like he will be standing up due to how he leans forward on the counter. A relieved sigh escapes my lips with it and I end up just falling back to reality when Frank turns to look at me – I'm the one to blush this time, quickly returning to shaking the drink before pouring it in the glass.

"God fucking finally!" Pete's voice echoes through the empty club when the doors are closed and only the staff – and Frank – is left. Frank and I can't help but to laugh.

"I'll be right back," I tell Frank and walk to the back room, grabbing my things. I actually stand there for a moment, thinking about everything that happened, and I can't hold back a chuckle at it, burying my face in my hands as feeling it heating up. Lowering my hands, I see Pete there, staring at me with the widest grin on his face and sending me a look. "Shut up." I narrow my eyes at him, becoming impossibly more flustered.

"I didn't even say anything!" He throws his hands in the air in a defensive manner.

"You were thinking!" I playfully punch his arm when walking by, making him chuckle, and throw my bag over my shoulder. "Bye, Pete!" I walk out of the room and am surprised by Frank standing by the doorway, but just nod towards the exit.

It's cold outside, making me chill despite my jacket shielding me from most of the cold air that embraces us in the moment we step out of the place through the back door. There aren't many people around and it's not a surprise, judging by how late it currently is. Almost fucking three in the morning. Quite relaxing, actually, if you ask me.

I'm about to start making my way down the street when I feel Frank tugging me back by the back of my jacket. "My car," he says and I groan in response despite turning to walk towards the other direction, following him. He breathes a chuckle and looks at me with a small pout, glancing at my lips. I roll my eyes before pecking his lips. It makes him grin pleased and wrap an arm around me to pull me closer and I can't help but to chuckle.

Frank opens the door for me and I playfully glare at him as getting in, thankful that it's warmer in the car. "You're being too nice, Iero!"

"Invested in getting some ass!" he calls on his way over to the other side and I snort a laugh, bringing a hand up to cover my face; I can also hear him laughing as getting in. "Where to, love?" He starts the car and glances at me, pulling up to the road.

"Down the main street, green building right next to a bakery," I tell him, adjusting my bag by my feet. He mutters something in response and I hum, observing him for a moment before I look back, seeing a guitar case across the back seats and it makes me remember of Mikey telling me that Frank plays the guitar, what also gives me a vague memory of him saying he, Frank and Gerard are in a band together with another guy. Cool. I might ask them about it later.

I sigh as leaning back against the seat and observing Frank again; he must sense it because he glances at me, raising an eyebrow. "You do walk for quite a bit, huh?"

"'M used to it." I shrug. It's not like it's a walk longer than fifteen minutes, but once in a while I get a lift or come by car. This is not relevant, nonetheless. My eyes wander around the car for a moment and I can't help but to smirk a bit to myself as having an idea; I reach a hand to touch his thigh.

Frank is about to say something when the touch makes his breath hitch in his throat and tense up. He remains silent as, with the lack of complaints, I let my hand wander further into the inside of his thigh and he tenses up again in the same moment his cheeks turn red and he tries to hold back a sound, but I can still faintly listen to it.

"(Y/n)," he mutters under his breath.

I hold back a chuckle, grinning. "What? Do you like this?" I slip my hand under his shirt and follow along the waistband of his pants. He's grumbling to himself until a groan escapes his lips with my fingers slipping past the waistband of his boxers.

"I'm driving, (y/n)!" He sounds so desperate, almost a whine, that I can't help but finally to let out a chuckle, shaking my head to myself as I pull my hand away, muttering about how funny his reaction was – it earns me a playful glare as the bright red tone continues taking over his cheeks and his pants clearly start to tent up.

Soon enough, the car comes to a stop and he looks at me like if waiting for something, but all I do is to leave the car and start walking towards the building. I can hear the car door throwing shut seconds; Frank shows up by my side seconds later. I fish my keys from inside the bag as I start walking up the stairs. We climb the steps fast, with a shared urgency; Frank has his hands in front of his crotch just in case we run into someone. His expectant gazes are obvious – I can see him looking at me from the corners of my eyes –; however, I act like if nothing was happening with the pure intention of seeing his reaction and the frustration that manifests itself through his tense silence is certainly entertaining.

I'm suddenly thankful for having decided to clean my apartment earlier today. I leave my shoes by the door after closing it behind us, locking it again, and Frank takes the hint to do the same while I put my bag away.

Whatever Frank was going to tell me, the words are lost due to how I press my lips to his without any warning, cupping his face. It takes him a few seconds to kiss back, sharing the same urgency as I do and parts his lips after feeling my tongue gliding along his bottom lip. His hands eventually wrap themselves around my hips, grip slowly becoming tighter around them, until slipping under my shirt and letting his thumbs rub circles into the bare skin. He suddenly pulls me closer to him, closing the space between us, making a sigh escape my lips with it.

"C'mon," I mutter against his lips as starting to walk back towards my room. None of us want to let go, what results in us stumbling down the hall while sharing messy kisses that don't really last for longer than five seconds. We chuckle quietly when we almost trip on our feet, thankfully able to hold onto the wall before losing our balance.

I step back into my bedroom and turn the lights on, watching Frank follow – he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling down on it lightly while watching me discarding my jacket.

"Damn, babe," he says in a low and hoarse voice, taking a step closer. I hum softly against his lips, taking his bottom lip between mine, but we're soon forced to interrupt it to get rid of my shirt and I move to do the same to his, smiling as I place my hands on his shoulders and push him back to sit down on the bed. His eyes follow every movement of mine as Frank pushes himself further down the bed and I climb on top of it, only stopping when I'm straddling his lap.

Frank hums softly and presses a kiss to my stomach before I finally allow myself to sit down, and I lock our lips again, what makes him groan again, giving my thighs a squeeze. His calloused fingertips are rough against my skin while his hands trail up my torso, their warmth making little bumps rise in my skin with them wandering around until fidgeting with the hem of my bra.

I open my eyes lightly after breaking the kiss, meeting his gaze, though still letting our lips linger together as I nod and move to help him with taking it off, throwing it to the floor just like we did with our shirts.

Before Frank can do anything, I place my hands on his chest to slowly push him back against the mattress and take my moment to observe his tattoos, letting my fingers trace some of them but the urgency doesn't let me take too long with it and I'm soon leaning down. I peck his lips and press kisses on my way down to his neck, nibbling and sucking lightly on the skin when I finally stop. His throat vibrates against my cheek with the sounds I snatch from him with it, also letting one of my hands wander around his torso absentmindedly.

"Fuck, (y/n)," he mutters, interrupted by a moan when I let my hand wander too low down his body. I can't help but to chuckle against his skin as moving to a spot by the base of his neck while slipping my hand in his pants, palming him lightly through his boxers.

He lets me do palm him for a moment until he starts becoming impatient at noticing I won't go any further than that, pushing his hips up, another moan escaping his lips with it. "Fuck— Stop teasing," he breathes, bringing a hand to my head to make me pull away so I can see his glare. I chuckle.

Moving away from Frank, I bring myself back up to undo my pants and remove them along with my underwear while Frank, after spending a moment observing me, does the same.

Frank smiles a bit at me as he presses his lips to mine once again, being the one to make me lie back down on the mattress, taking my bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling down on it while he adjusts his position between my legs, hand grazing my thigh lightly. I let out a pleased groan, gasping when I feel one of his hands around my breast, massaging it lightly. "Fuck," I mutter, tangling my fingers with his hair.

His eyes meet mine while he pecks my lips before he starts to give attention to my collarbones, teeth gently pulling on the skin as he balances the pressure just right between the pain and the pleasure and I sigh softly with it, leaning my head back as letting him.

Another curse escapes my lips as I feel Frank trailing down, loving the sensation of his lips against my chest and then trailing down my stomach until a bite on my hip has me moaning and arching my back lightly. He chuckles,  giving my thighs a squeeze, pressing kisses to my skin in his way back up.

"Hey, babe," he mutters against my lips and I hum softly, feeling his hand trailing up my thigh and diving into the inside of it – I tense up as feeling his hand becoming dangerously close to my heat, just to be left in frustration with it trailing down in the last second. "Why don't you show me what that pretty mouth can do, hm?" His nose brushes against mine softly and he pecks my lips, humming questioningly.

A chill runs down my spine at the thought and I'd squeeze my thighs together if I could, nodding. I pull Frank closer with an arm around his neck, pressing my lips to his as using my free arm to push myself up while he does the same, pulling me along with him.

The kiss is messy, with us trying to know where we are going without breaking it, trying to make it up to our needs at the same time.

We only step apart once up to our feet and Frank's dark, lust filled eyes follow me as I drop to my knees and look up at him, wrapping a hand around him and moving it in an agonizingly slow pace, free hand resting on his thigh. "It's so amusing seeing you like this, y'know?" I grin. "Every time we talked, I thought you wanted to jump on my throat or watch me choke and die," I chuckle, watching it as Frank is torn out between the annoyance and the pleasure, a breath caught in his throat.

A shaky exhale escapes Frank's nose as he has his lips pressed together in a thin line. "Why don't you do something better with that pretty mouth of yours, huh?" He raises an eyebrow at me and takes a hold of my jaw, fingers digging into the skin in a manner that I can't help but to open my mouth with a groan. "Like that..." He mutters quietly as guiding himself past my lips.

I raise an eyebrow at Frank, unamused, but he seems more focused on watching himself as he mutters something under his breath and, out of revenge, I hollow my cheeks out of sudden as taking all of him into my mouth, what has a sudden moan escaping his lips, tensing up simultaneously.

"Fuck," Frank says in a high-pitched tone, voice tight, as I can feel his hands on the back of my head, tugging lightly on my hair as pushing his hips forward. His breath hitches, and a moan follows suit whilst I start moving my head, looking up at him and it's honestly fun seeing that punk posture turning into something completely different now. I take a hold of his dick, swirling my tongue around his tip and humming around him, entertained by how he gasps and tenses up with it.

"You—" He is never able to finish his sentence with how I suck on the tip before slowly inching down his length and hollowing my cheeks once again, trying to control my gag reflex once I reach the base.

The mix of precum and drool that had been pooling down in the corners of my lips finally start trailing down my chin when I decide to stop teasing and move my head in a decent rhythm that has moans coming from him steadily. "So..." Frank breathes, interrupted by a moan, pushing his hips forward lightly and trying to build a rhythm with it. "So fucking beautiful, love," he groans, making me pull off before he pushes back into my mouth and I can see the exact moment in which his release starts building because of the fucking expression on his face when he sees the look I sent him.

"Fuck," he gasps, "hold on, hold on," he cries, biting down on his lip although making me pull away. My lips part into a grin as I watch him throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut while he holds onto the base of his dick for a moment, breathing heavily, certain pride swelling in my chest.

I stand up and Frank notices it. "Get on the bed," he tells me as wrapping his hands around my hips and I raise an eyebrow at him.

"No, no, you're not the only one getting all the fun!" I glare and take a step back to sit down on the edge of the bed. "C'mon, I want you on your knees," I say as pointing to the ground, and watch it as his cheeks gain a red tone again, but he does as I said, nonetheless. "What a pretty boy," I tease as cupping his face and making him lean his head up so I can press a kiss to his lips – he hums with it, placing his hands firmly on my thighs, moving closer and pulling them apart.

"And who do you think you are to talk to me like that?" He sticks his bottom lip out, looking at me up and down with a disdain that has me snorting, rolling my eyes.

"All barking, but no biting, huh?" I smirk a bit as running my fingers through his hair. "I only see you complaining."

Frank's eyes narrow at me, but a verbal response never comes as he sits back on his legs and I hum softly with feeling his hot breath over my sensitive parts, biting down on my lip.

In an opposite to the teasing I expected, Frank presses his mouth to my folds forcefully, tongue slipping out and parting them in a way he licks up from my entrance to my clit and makes a shiver run down my spine as I pull onto his hair out of reflex, snatching a groan from him.

"Damn, Frank," I groan as pulling him closer with my grip on his hair.

Crescent marks are left behind as Frank sinks his fingers in my thighs to a point his short nails dig in and he adjusts his grip on them before it happens again and his tongue is just working so well, wandering around before finding its way up to my clit. A breathy moan escapes my lips with it, interrupted by a gasp at the feeling of him sucking on it then he's pulling away, just to dive back in, tongue flicking against the bundle of nerves in a way I can feel the arousal starting to pool down in my lower stomach.

"Hell— Frank, damn," I breathe, not caring about how desperate my voice sounds because it just feels so good. The moans almost escape my lips without me being able to control it and I grip at Frank's hair, tugging on it lightly and pulling him closer at the feeling of the vibrations his groans cause and I'm practically melting under his touch as he voluntarily sinks his face deeper, in a way I need to hold myself back from rocking my hips.

"S-Stop," I stutter as letting go of his hair and tapping his shoulder lightly, feeling myself getting dangerously close to my release. He does pull away and licks his lips as looking up at me and it genuinely doesn't really help. I groan as breathing heavily.

Once I'm able to recompose myself enough, I glance back as moving to the middle of the bed, what seems to be an immediate invitation for Frank to follow me, soon hovering over me and pressing his lips to mine. The taste isn't exactly the best thing, but it's just a detail under all the arousal that makes the room's atmosphere so thick along with all the need and urgency we share.

"Goddamn it," Frank mutters as pulling away. "Fucking— Hold on," he says and pecks my lips a last time before he moves to grab his pants from the ground and comes back with a condom in hand. He kneels down between by legs as he rips the wrapper open with his teeth before sliding the condom on and there we are again, lips pressed against each other in the most urgent kiss so far, with his hands gripping tightly at my hips while I can feel him against the inside of my thigh.

"Hurry up, dumbass," I tell him, biting down on his bottom lip and pulling on it lightly, while throwing my arms around his neck.

"So impatient, fucking hell," he curses under his breath, both of us gazing at each other through half-lidded eyes.

"So slow, fucking hell. Do you need instructions, sweetheart?" I mock and he rolls his eyes, but I'm soon sighing softly with the feeling of him against my entrance. Both of us let out a quiet moan at the feeling of him slipping in, slowly, grip gradually becoming tighter around my hips, and more moans are slipping from my throat as he doesn't even give me a moment to adjust, starting to move his hips.

"Still slow, sweetheart?" Frank asks sarcastically against my lips and I groan, pulling lightly at the hair on the back of his neck, only to snatch throaty moan from him.

"Fuck you," I say and pause because of a moan, "shut up and do your job." I bring him down to press our lips together again while wrapping my legs around his hips, moaning at the change of angle.

Frank does seem to take my words as the next snap of his hips has me gasping as pulling away, throwing my head back and arching my back at his harsher thrusts and how he seems to shift around until finding the angle that has more sounds spilling from my lips. My exposed neck is an immediate call for Frank and I can soon feel his mustache and stubble ticking against the skin at how he starts pressing kisses and nibbling softly on it, what adds up to the pleasure.

Due to the previous play, it's no new that it doesn't take long for us to get close to releasing. My nails dragging up Frank's back probably leave marks that I'll be tracing later, whereas it won't be much different regarding how he gripped on my hips and now one of his hands hold onto my thigh, fingers sinking into the skin, while using his free one to hold himself up.

"Fuck, (y/n)—" Frank breathes, bringing his mouth to next to my ear and hearing all the moans that come from him makes the knot in my lower stomach even tighter. "'M close, love," he groans.

"Me— Me too," I manage to say.

Frank pauses for a moment to adjust his position, probably so he can have more support, but it's completely worth it; he starts moving again, the new position allowing his thrusts to be heavier and faster and also allowing him to slip his hand between us and the feeling of his thumb rubbing furiously against my already abused clit has me tightening around him and moaning his name as coming before I can realize, nails sinking in his back as my mind goes momentarily blank.

"Frank— Frank, fuck," I whine softly as holding tightly onto him and I can feel my thighs quivering around him with it.

A loud, deep groan comes from Frank as his hips start to stutter and his moans turn into nonsense mumbled against my skin, his grip on my thigh becomes tighter, but all it does is to snatch another pleased sigh from me. He is breathing heavily when he pulls away, muttering something as he discards the condom and soon comes back.

"Damn," Frank breathes, resting his head on my chest and pressing a kiss to it, "'sure hope it wasn't a one-night thing, huh," he says in a serious tone and I can't help but to smile.

"Of course not," I tell him with a hum, still breathing heavily. I can feel the tiredness already falling over me. "Only if you aren't an asshole anymore," I tease, what makes him groan playfully; I smile and pull his hair back, pressing a kiss to his nose.

"I know where you live, (y/n), think better about it," he jokes and I can't help but to laugh.

"Fuck you and shut up, 'm tired," I tap his shoulder lightly. A groan comes from him, but he does relax against me with a sigh, pressing his face to my neck.

#frank iero #smut #x reader #reader insert #fanfic #fan fiction #frank iero imagine #mcr #mcr imagine #mcr x reader #mcr smut #emo #emocore #mikey way #gerard way #ray toro #imagine #my post

[hxwks-gf]

Helloo i hope you're doing good! I was wondering if you'd be able to write a little something where Bakugou kind of helps y/n through a slump? Like they get stuck in their own thoughts a lot and it kind of throws them off their game a bit? (They start forgetting things, kind of sluggish, always staring off into space, quiet all of the sudden, they throw themselves into their work and end up getting really irritable bc they can't focus, etc etc.) It's cool if you don't feel like writing it! I'll understand :)

a/n: this came straight from the heart (and also i self indulged with the artist bit) because i know exactly what it’s like to get caught in a slump and absolutely lose yourself in your work and becoming irritated with everything so here’s some soft bakugo taking care of you ~

Bakugo quietly set his spare key down on the counter and shed his coat before entering the living room. He paused near the couch and watched the back of your head as it was bowed over your latest piece of art. His crimson eyes sidled over and scanned the mess of your apartment: laundry on the floor, dishes in the sink, paint brushes and canvases scattered around you like a strange summoning circle.

You still hadn’t realized he had walked in, and he shook his head in disappointment. “Hey,” he called over to you, crossing his arms and frowning. “How long have you been working at that?”

His disappointment only furthered when you didn’t even turn your head to look at him. You fervently painted over the canvas in front of you, shoulders hunched and one leg dangling off of the stool.

“Hello?” he said, moving to stand behind you. “Are you just going to ignore me?”

“I’m not ignoring you,” you finally answered, still not looking at him.

“Why didn’t you answer me?”

“Katsuki, I’m really trying to focus here,” you snapped, dunking your brush into the water and drying it with a towel. “You know how important this is to me.”

“You know what else is important?” Bakugo said as he picked at the t-shirt you wore, dirty with various patches of dried paint. “Basic hygiene. When was the last time you had a shower?”

You shrugged away from his fingers and scowled over your shoulder at him. “Why do you care all of the sudden?”

The muscle in his jaw twitched as he returned the scowl. “Because you haven’t been answering my calls or my texts, dumbass. I know how you get when you fall into a slump: you overwork yourself to the point where you’re barely functional.”

You looked away. “That’s not true.”

Bakugo glanced around the messy apartment. “Isn’t it?”

“I haven’t been able to finish this piece in weeks,” you said quietly, staring down at the canvas. “I figured if I just forced myself to keep working, I’d be able to. I haven’t been inspired lately and it’s making me question my skills.”

He squatted beside you and placed a hand on your knee. “I’m going to be honest with you, because no one else will, alright?”

“Alright.”

“The painting is gonna come out looking like shit if you keep forcing it,” he said, tilting his head. “You’re a damn good artist, (y/n). Stop doubting that.”

Your eyes flickered between him and your work, before you finally sighed through your nose and nodded. “I know.”

“So stop overworking yourself and take a fucking break,” he said, getting to his feet and holding out his hand. “You stink.”

“You’re an asshole,” you muttered, but you allowed him to guide you to your bathroom where he sat you on the edge of the tub and began running the water. Once he was satisfied with the temperature, he dumped an obscene amount of lavender bath salts and pointed to it.

“Take the bath, dumbass. I’ll clean up the kitchen and make you something to eat.”

You reached over and caught his hand as he passed you on his way out. Bakugo stopped and turned to face you again, but you kept your eyes on the tiled floor and simply squeezed his fingers.

He squeezed them back.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, still not looking up at him.

“You’re welcome.”

After he left you alone to sink beneath the heated water and watch the clouds of steam billow throughout the bathroom, you wondered what you had done to deserve a friend that cared about you like Katsuki Bakugo. Perhaps you’d never know.

Perhaps you would simply enjoy him, because the world always seemed so colorless without him.

#i will forever and always be obsessed with soft bakugo #thank u for this sweet request anon #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #bakugo fluff #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugo fanfic #bakugo imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you

[stitchedupwrist]

i love writing, but i admit that i sometimes purposefully avoid doing so; especially when i know the weight of it will be eating me for some time.

but this one-this dear one, i just got to write this one out of me. i hope it helps you find comfort, let you know more about me or make you feel less lonely, i don’t know.

i cannot recall when i started recognising this pattern, but i have this wiring in my head that makes me think that in order for me to have something good, i have to do good. it sounds so simple putting it out like that, but trust me, it’s much heavier than that. i am aware of how this little one has been always there, snuggling inside the shelves of things that i safely lock in the back of my head, sitting among the many things that are not allowed out, but i would like to have you a quick skim through it.

as you may see there, in times when i get a little too happy in the moment, it is by order that something will fall apart the next minute, day, or week even, it will come. and when nice things find my way, they do so only and only because i fed a stray cat the other day. i did well on a test, yes and that’s because i helped an old man cross the road last week. when i get the worst professor to grade my papers , that was the consequence of ignoring my mum’s call the night before- the list goes on.

quickly look at how my life is wired in chains of doing good and bad, and how at the end of the messy spiral lies the outcome of whatever it is that i have and had done. the good ones are tied together strongly, with the bad ones all connected tightly as well. and i’m not too sure if you can make out that this is draining me off, or how it’s eating me, swallowing me slowly and gracefully yet so painfully.

but you know what? please do note for me how i simply want to be kind to animals i see on the road, because i like their funny faces and the silly dances they do when i play with them, not because i want good grades in return. i want to help the grandpa for i genuinely want him to get home safely and have a warm tea, and not because i want to get a generous professor to grade me. i also want to stick up for myself and retaliate a classmate for disrespecting me, without the feeling of something off coming my way for doing so. i just want to do things with that being the end of it. no reward, no punishment both of them which i can vision, waiting eagerly on line for their turn.

i don’t know exactly how much you can see there but i recently found out how this has inevitably prevented me from living in the moment. after many trials of overthinking, i started liking someone. but i felt as if every moment i spent with them was on a borrowed time and that in any minute, my phone will ring and they will tell me of the departure of a loved one. all because i like someone and showed too many smiles for the day. i am not allowed to be laugh too much else i will have a stomachache later and will be told that i have a deadly condition.

and i know all of this is never true, that it’s just all in my head. but why do i still believe in this chain reaction so strongly? maybe it is because i see the boomerang loom back to me swiftly and precisely-even when i do use up all of my strength to throw it far; it always finds its way back to me.

(or maybe it’s the consequence of being rewarded and punished according to every little thing i did as a child, but i will not let you enter that part because nobody is allowed there.)

i do know how people die because it’s their time, because they are sick, because it happens and not because i fell in love.i am well aware of how i did well in my exams because i spent thousands of hours sitting in front of my books and not because i helped a stranger carry her load.

but why is it so easy to tell myself that it stems from me? that everything is me and my doing-all the rights and the wrongs. how do i stop thinking that the world revolves around me and my little actions? does it not have so many better things to do rather than rewarding and punishing my irrelevant being every single day?

dear, whoever it is that is flipping through the worn out pages of my thoughts right now, please help me out of this. can you see how my little head is full of so many torn pages and loose screws ? i would believe you if you tell me of how dark it is there. because even if i cannot see it for myself, i can feel it; every inch of me knows how there is so little light over there.

but i know of a candle, the one i lit up brightly when i was but a small child. i have forgotten where i last kept it myself. will you be kind enough to help me find it and maybe can see if it’s still burning well?

And as you close the overfilled shelf and leave my train of thoughts,( i offer you the most pleasant seat near the window; ) please look dearly at my head, hold her and let her know that it can rest too. suggest her a quiet, long nap maybe.

and do let her know how the shelf is way due it’s emptying season as the head herself is only too small to contain this much of thoughts, and that she is starting to hurt me a little more than what i can only bear. please hug her for me and make sure she sleeps peacefully before you hop off.

#prose #writings #poem #essay #explorepage #exploremore #scribbles #mental health #mentally tired #mental heath support #mentally unstable #writeblogging #paragraph writing #writer #blog post #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writerscorner #writeblr #90s #80s nostalgia #films #film photography #film stills #film #35mm color film #best of 70s 80s 90s #vintage 90s #80s music #80s fashion

[clockworkgraystairs]

38 for jurdan pls? 😇🖤💫

HELLO MY LOVE!

I’m so sorry this took so long *sobs* 

I swear I try to make this ones short but it. just. doesn’t. happen.

BUT IT’S FINALLY HERE!!  I hope you enjoy it

38.  I HAVE BEEN IN LOVE WITH YOU, DUMBASS 

Jurdan - College AU 1 

Jude’s phone buzzed. Again. The thing had been doing that for the whole damn morning.

So she’d been ignoring it. 

Well, not exactly. 

More like, she hadn’t been able to answer. Everytime it ringed Jude felt like it was drilling her head. 

So here she was, lying in bed for the second day in a row with fever and terrible headaches. Missing class again. 

She was not used to miss any classes. In fact, she was feeling really upset about it. Jude was one of the best in her course, barely competing with other two people. As a future journalist, she needed to be one of the best since it was a very demanding career.  Besides, she’ll have mid-term exams soon, and missing not one but two full lectures made her terribly anxious. Not to mention her very scholarship being in danger if she dared to drop her grades. Only by some miracle she’d been accepted in Insmire College, so she refused to let the opportunity slip away from her hands that easy.

But it turns out to be, her body had some other plans. And Jude didn’t know if she ate some spoiled food or what the hell was going on because two nights ago she’d woken up practically running to the toilet to throw up the contents of her stomach.

She didn’t even had the strength to go to the doctor nor any roommate who could take her there, so she figured she’d wait until it was out of her system and rest in the meantime. 

Or die, if it was her destiny. 

Maybe she wasn’t meant to finish her career. Maybe all of those years of effort and nights without sleeping were for nothing. Maybe-

A loud knock on her door woke her up from her thoughts. 

Jude furrowed at the sound. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Probably just some street vendor, they were common in that zone.  If she didn’t answer he would simply leave.

So she closed her eyes again and buried her face back in the pillow

But no. Whoever was out there kept banging at the door, louder this time. If they didn’t shut up they’d be so sorry as soon as she regained her balance. 

Just ignore them, she sighed.

“Duarte, are you there?! Open up!” A loud bang again. 

Jude’s eyes snapped back open and groaned. Oh no. No no no no. Not him.

“I can see the lamp light on, I know you’re in there, c’mon!” He knocked again.

Jude stood and stumbled to the door opening it furiously. The light outside blinded her for a moment, making her headache worse, but then there he was. Grinning like an idiot as always, with that annoying and perfect smile of his. 

God she hated him. Most of the time at least. 

Ever since that day, back in sophomore year, when she’d thought he was flirting with her but at the end he’d only stole her ideas for a final project. He was another one of the top three in her class, clever and cunning as the devil itself. All of the teachers were always praising him even when they’d just asked for the hour. It was ridiculous. 

With the door wide open, Jude suddenly remembered she was wearing a really old and ragged dress she used for sleeping.

He whistled “Not your day huh? What happened, your alarm ran away?”

She glared at him. Now, in senior grade, Jude had been paired with him for a research project that to her misfortune, he was completely agreeable to do. And it would have been much easier if he’d kept his usual arrogant and smug attitude. 

Instead, Cardan was being the perfect gentleman. 

Whenever she asked for a meeting for the project, he attended. He was punctual, sometimes even more than her. Some other days he arrived with two coffees, or muffins, or whatever thing he found on his way, to share with her. 

He focused on their chores, working hard when needed and relaxing and telling fun riddles when not. More than once Jude caught herself laughing as if they were best friends. Then remembered they weren’t, and went back to work silently. 

Cardan was not her friend. He was her competition, a strong one if she was being honest to herself. He seemed to acknowledge that too sometimes. When they ran to each other in the hallways he barely noticed she was there, some other days he just winked at her and turn away. 

When they were in class though, their battles for dominance were fierce and Jude hated to see him smirk everytime that happened. He could not be her friend.

And yet, he was now outside her shitty apartment clearly puzzled by the look of her. The gown, her messy hair, she was even bare feet. It was humiliating. 

“What on earth are you doing here?” She sighed, rubbing her eyes.

His eyes roamed her figure once. He quirked an eyebrow.  “Checking if you’re still alive to begin with. You’ve missed two days of college, I can’t tell if you’ve noticed. That cannot be good for your final grade, especially not with professor Noggle.” 

He was unbelievable. Jude blinked. “You came here… to tell me I’m getting a bad grade?”

“Yeah.” Cardan shrugged. “Well, also to ask why the fuck you didn’t arrive to our meeting this morning, but I guess I have my answer now. As comfy as your bed might be that research is not doing it on its own…”

From one moment to another she felt her balance falter. He kept talking but Jude just only saw his mouth move. A prickling sensation ran up her fingers. Her eyes unfocused and the world around her seemed to start swaying. At some point Cardan ceased his ranting and said her name, it sounded as if he was underwater. Jude tried to answer something but her voice failed while the floor changed below her.

She was about to reach the floor when two strong arms gripped her, slowing her fall. Jude heard him bark a curse as he pulled her up and carried her inside. Somehow he closed the door with his foot and settled her in the couch. His hands cupped her face prompting her to open her eyes. His fingers were cool against her boiling skin.

“Fuck, you’re burning… Jude.” Cardan insisted. “Jude look at me.” 

Her eyes took a while before managing to focus on his, dark as the night sky. How many times she’d lost herself looking at those eyes? 

“Can you hear me?” He continued, gently pulling strands of her away from her face. “I need a cloth, can you tell me where is it? You’re ok, I’m here.” 

A spark of consciousness shone on Jude’s brain and weakly pointed at the kitchen drawers. 

Cardan stood and in the meantime she tried to focus on her breathing. The sensation of fainting started leaving little by little.

Cold touched her forehead out of nowhere and she groaned. Cardan made soothing noises as he caressed the wet cloth over her. 

“What on earth Duarte?” he whispered. 

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled, not sure if her words came out the right way. “I’ve been feeling a little ill…”

“A little ill? You’re burning up in fever!” Oh now he was angry. Great. “How much have you been like this?”

Jude shrugged, closing her eyes again. “A couple of days, I figured out it would leave later but-”

“But nothing, you cannot feel like this and not calling anyone Jude!” Cardan paused and took a deep breath. “This is what we are going to do. As soon as you can, you are going to get your ass into that bathroom there and have a cold shower. I’ll make you some soup.”

“Soup.” She repeated, chuckling under her breath. “So apart from everything you also cook. Damn, that’s why everyone loves you.”

Jude looked back at him and found a cold, decided stare. “If you don’t get that shower in the next 5 minutes I’m going to give it to you myself, understood?”

She gulped, feeling her heart skip a beat. 

Ten minutes later, Jude came out the bathroom and sat back in the couch rubbing her damp hair with a towel. She was feeling better but still a little weak. She’d put on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts that belonged to another pijamas. 

“Here.” Cardan’s voice pulled her gaze up. He placed a bowl in her hands and took a step back. “Eat.” 

Jude’s stomach growled with hunger at the sight of the soup. When was the last time she’d eaten something? She took a spoonful into her mouth and almost moaned in relief. It was absolutely delicious. Damn him.

She glanced up and found him also looking back at her. His eyes hard and his jaw shut tight. 

“Don’t just stay in there, creep. Sit down.” Jude motioned to the place next to her. He obliged. 

Jude ate in silence, and at some point Cardan just started telling her what had happened those days she’d missed. She smirked when he told her how boring was to debate with Noggle alone, since she hadn’t been there.

When she finished, she left the bowl on the little table next to the sofa. Then grabbed her pillow.

“I see you’re feeling better now…” He started. “But either way I’m taking you to a doctor, and that’s not a question.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jude said. She placed her pillow over Cardan’s legs and he stiffened when she laid her head over it. “The least you can do is let this poor woman sleep a little before taking her out to the cruel world.”

“Are you feverish again?” His voice came out a little strained.

“Mm no, I’m just tired.” Her words were more a whisper than anything. “Give me half an hour, I’ll be ready to go after that. Please?”

~

Cardan nodded nervously and leaned his back to the couch, hesitating before lifting a hand and softly caress Jude’s hair between his fingers. 

She sighed happily, already more asleep than awake. “Careful, with all these attentions one would think you actually like me.” 

He snorted. “Don’t make me laugh Duarte.”

She made a noise but didn’t talk again. Cardan peered down and watched her sleep, looking peaceful as she wasn’t usually seen. He allowed himself to smile. 

“Like you…” He repeated. “I’ve been in love with you for months now, you dumbass.”

He sighed and rested his head back, closing his eyes. At least for now, he could let himself daydream about this being a regular day with her. Even if it was only for half an hour. 

**********

Masterlist 

#sometimes all we need is some College AU #and Cardan being soft #Em prompts #jurdan fanfic #jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the folk of the air #tcp #twk #qon #tess writes

[riversofmars]

Okay, so as everyone is going mental about this first preview, here is my contribution! Oneshot inspired by the picture, very dark, psychologically unstable Doctor. At least she has River there to talk to... or does she? Rated M for emotional distress and trigger warning for referenced suicide attempt. Thoroughly cheerful read all in all! Read on AO3 or keep going under the cut :)

How Many Second In Eternity?

The Doctor ran a second horizontal line through eight vertical ones, completing another count of ten on the floor of her prison cell. She had run out of space on the dark walls, so she had turned to the floor. Carefully she returned her piece of chalk to the trouser pocket of her red jumpsuit, she had only been given the one and it had taken a lot of begging, so she had to look after it. It had also become precious to her as it was the only thing she owned. Within minutes of her arrival at the prison they had taken everything from her. Her sonic screwdriver, her psychic paper, everything else she carried in the pockets of her long coat, the clothes themselves of course, along with her dignity.

She sat cross-legged in the floor, tapping a steady rhythm with her index finger. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. She tapped in perfect time with her heartbeat, which was the only thing she could hear apart from her breathing. The walls of the prison were thick, sometimes she thought she was the only one here, and outside the one window was nothing but the emptiness of space.  

“Must we do this again?“ A voice sounded behind the Doctor but she didn’t move, she didn’t even look up. That particular voice had long lost its startling qualities and element of surprise. There was a predictability to it by now.

“Apparently we do.“ The Doctor’s voice was weak and feeble, barely above a whisper.

“Why always me?“ River Song stepped out of the shadows and into the Doctor’s field of vision. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Who else would it be, River? You are always here to me. I can always see you.“ The Doctor spoke the words almost like a mantra without looking up at her. She was just going through the motions, it had become a sort of ritual.

“Why not my parents for a change? Or Donna? You miss Donna! Clara perhaps?“ River suggested looking around the cell, clearly annoyed. It was only them here.

“You know there is only you…“ The Doctor huffed and, looking at the new line she had drawn, she wiped a tear from her face. She was surprised that they still came every now and then. She would have thought she’d run out of tears. They didn’t announce themselves and sometimes she didn’t notice she’d been crying for hours.

“Because you still think my data ghost could actually be here and that would mean you’re not crazy.“ River concluded throwing her hands in the air, thoroughly exasperated. She shook her head and started circling around the blonde woman on the floor.

“Great, so let’s do the dance again but let’s try to save some time.“ River carried on and clapped her hands together.

“You will ask if I’m here and I will drop cryptic hints one way or another and you will avoid them - pretending like you didn’t hear - because really, you don’t want to figure it out.“ She laughed in a bitter sort of way.

“Because if I’m not really here, then I’m a figment of your imagination. That makes you certifiably crazy and that’s not a very nice thing to admit to yourself.“ She paused for a moment, waiting for her words to sink in but she didn’t get a response. So the carried on, even more annoyed: “Or I am some sort of data ghost and I am here. In which case my mind is still trapped in the Library and you never came to save me. Therefore, I’m a constant reminder of your failure.“ She came to a halt in front of her and crouched down leaning in.

“Am I close.“ She questioned, the Doctor didn’t answer and avoided her gaze. One-two-three-four, her fingers tapped one the cold floor. So River straightened up again and carried on wandering around the cell, getting more and more angry for her lack of response. “So we keep pretending like it could be either and you hope you’re not crazy but equally struggle to face your mistakes and regrets. And you’ve had so much time to think about this. About the times where you went wrong and the things that you didn’t do and now might never do. And somehow I’ve come top of that list.“ She laughed. “And that’s a pretty high bar, you have so many regrets, so many mistakes…“

“And I’m paying for them!“ The Doctor snapped, suddenly jumping to her feet, she took some threatening steps towards her and jabbed her finger at her.

“This is new.“ River realised, taken aback for a moment.

“I’m paying for my mistakes, River, when will it be enough?!“ The Doctor buried her face in her hands, letting out a sob. Her legs gave way, clearly not used to carrying her own weight anymore. River remained silent for a moment, just watching her curl over, shaking with sobs, all the while her fingers tapping the same four-time-beat. It had sped up. Just like the Doctor’s heartbeat upon her emotional outburst.

“What’s with the tally?“ River asked softly. It was a question she had never asked before. She looked around the cell, covered in chalk marks. “They’re not days, this is an astroid, there is no day or night, so what’s with the tally?“ River pushed on when the Doctor didn’t answer.

“They’re the people I’ve killed, River.“ The Doctor whispered at last.

“You’ve never killed anyone.“ River was quick to correct her. She had never intentionally harmed anyone.

“Not killed then.“ The Doctor breathed and gave a shrug. “The people who’s deaths I’m responsible for, does that sound better? People I didn’t save.“ She wiped her eyes and looked up at her. Her gaze was distant now, her voice devoid of emotion, as if all emotion had drained out of her along wth her tears. “Every time I remember another, I add them and think about what I should have done to save them.“ She traced an idle finger along the closest set of lines on the floor. “I never realised there were so many. This is what happens when you have time to think… You’re right, I have made so many mistakes, so many regrets…“

“Doctor, this isn’t right.“ River spoke firmly. “You can’t hold yourself responsible for not being able to save someone, you’re not a God, you can’t save everyone.“

“I’m holding myself responsible for not saving you. Every day.“ The Doctor’s voice was bitter, angry and regretful. It wasn’t so much the fact that she had allowed River to sacrifice herself all those years ago. It had been her choice and the Doctor had done what she could. She had saved her consciousness to the Library’s data base and without knowledge of who River was at the time. She didn’t blame herself for that. It was the fact that she had never gone back. After learning who River was, falling in love with her more and more after every encounter in their reverse timelines… even after Darillium when their story had come full circle, why had she never gone back and tried to save her? For fear for failure? For feeling too guilty? She liked to tell herself it was, because she hadn’t figured out how to save her yet. She hadn’t wanted to give her false hope or cause her pain by paying her visits before the day she could save her. None of the possible explanation took away from her self-loathing.

“You did the best you could.“ River spoke softly.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this River, how many more lines will I have to draw?“ The Doctor sobbed, her emotions returning like a tidal wave, sweeping her away. Her distress turning into fear, into blind panic. “My brain just won’t stop!“ She buried her face in her hands, then ran them through her hair, pressing against her temples unable to remain still. “Thousands of years worth of memory… going at a frantic pace… It’s only when you’re here that I can even…“ One-two-three-four.

River crouched down next to her and took her hand, stilling her tapping fingers. For a moment, her touch felt real, comforting and warm and everything else disappeared. The Doctor’s racing thoughts ground to a halt, focusing on her wife’s hand on hers.

“It’s okay, I’m here.“ River reassured her with a smile.

“Of course you are…“ The Doctor said softly, firmly, as if it was the obvious, inevitable conclusion as her emotions ebbed away. She didn’t allow herself to doubt. River sat down next to her and put her arms around her. The Doctor leaned against her and closed her eyes. She could sense her there even if she didn’t feel her. There was no warmth radiating from her body, her didn’t hear her breathing or her heartbeats in the silence or smell the sweet perfume she missed so much. Whether she was a ghost or a part of her subconscious, either way she wasn’t real. Her brain was tricking her into feeling her touch and rationally, she knew that.

How much longer would they have to keep doing this, she wondered. What was a life sentence to an immortal? She had potentially infinite regenerations ahead of her. Whole of life in prison, in other words, eternity. And it wasn’t even like she could put a premature end to it. She had nothing but her piece of chalk…

There had been one time when she had tried - probably too early on - when she had still got cutlery with her meals… it had been messy and she didn’t do a good job of it, it wasn’t even serious enough to make her regenerate but there had been no cutlery since. She hadn’t had the strength of her convictions back then, it had been born out of anger and impulse. She would do a better job of it now but that option was gone. And even if she managed to injury herself seriously enough, she had no means of interrupting the regeneration process. Entertaining the idea, as tempting as it was at times, was pointless.

At the time, they hadn’t even bothered to bandage up her wrists, they had just taken the fork away. It had been River that had looked after her. That had been the first time she had appeared to her. And she had told her that she was a idiot to think she could cheat eternity like that.

“How many seconds in eternity, River?“ The Doctor whispered, barely audible.

“You know… there is this mountain of pure diamond…“ River retorted with a sad smile stroking her wife’s hair.

“I know.“ The Doctor sighed. “It takes an hour to climb it and an hour to go around it.“

“And every hundred years a little bird comes and sharpens its beak.“ River hummed.

“And when the entire mountain is chiselled away the first second of eternity will have passed.“ A tear ran down the Doctor’s face again as she felt her age in her bones. The millennia weighing her down. “And the fact that you’re quoting that back to me means you’re in my head and not really here.“ She should just accept that and be done with it.

“Or, I’m stuck in the greatest Library in the universe and where there is plenty of books on the Brothers Grimm.“ River countered.

“Hm.“ The Doctor huffed, taking her point.

“All I’m saying is: You’re one hell of a bird.“ River kissed the top of her wife’s head.

“Ha. That’s funny. Cause I’m a girl now. That’s funny.“ The Doctor laughed despite herself. She couldn’t believe she had actually just dropped a pun in the middle of her emotional breakdown. She kept laughing and it felt good, though her muscles barely remembered how to.

“All I’m saying is, don’t give up.“ River chuckled.

“There it is again!“ The Doctor exclaimed suddenly and stopped laughing. She leaned forward, listening.

“What my love?“ River frowned as her wife pulled away, barely paying attention to her now.

“The knocking…“ The Doctor jumped to her feet and rushed to the other side of the room, pressing herself to the wall to listen. She knelt down and knocked herself, almost as if answering. One-two-three-four.

“Can’t you hear it? There is always four knocks. Almost sounds like…“ She looked around and River was gone. One-two-three-four. The Doctor’s head whipped back around to the wall as she was sure she heard knocking again, more insistent, again and again, like the sound of drums. “It’s always here when you’re not…“ She mumbled and turned round to check again but River wasn’t there anymore. So she tapped her fingers, one-two-three-four.

#Doctor Who #fanfiction #oneshot #dark #river x thirteen #space wives #yowzah #river song #thirteenth doctor #thirteen #river data ghost #femslash #river x the doctor #Alex kingston #jodie whittaker #evolution of the daleks #angst #psychological trauma #mental instability #the sound of drums

[ddixons-angel]

Fated: Season 4

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff)

A/N: And we’re back with another chapter! I am honestly worried how this one will be received by you guys but for another reason completely, you will probably know what I mean haha I won’t hold you guys back any longer, let’s go!

Chapter 5

For the last few days, the ex-residents of Woodbury had been asking Glenn and Daryl to make a run back to Woodbury to get some of the things they left. They’d been telling them about their infirmary that should be stocked with their medical supplies. The kids had even been chiming in, asking them to pick up some of their toys they left behind. After discussing it with Daryl, Glenn decided that they would go back to Woodbury and take a look for anything useful back in the town. The two set out for the run, bringing along Sasha and Tyreese as they had experience outside the prison and they resided in Woodbury for a time so they could guide Glenn and Daryl where to look.

Gloria was on her shift at the fences, taking out walkers with her daggers. Since both Tyreese and Sasha had left on the run with Daryl and Glenn, she was the only one on her shift. Maggie was on watch and Carol was busy watching the kids in the library. Gloria had taken it upon herself to take care of the bodies of the walkers she had killed. As she walks to get the car, Nina meets up with her halfway.

“Hey, you going somewhere?” she asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“Burning the walker bodies.” Gloria tells her as she doesn’t stop walking to the trucks.

Nina follows her, “you’re going alone?” and Gloria hums a yes, “I’ll come with you, we aren’t supposed to leave the prison alone anyway.”

Gloria slows her pace and looks at Nina, “you don’t have to, I can do it myself.”

“I want to help, okay? Please? Plus, I want to make it up to you for making you feel bad the other day.” Nina looks down to the ground.

“Alright, come on, we’re taking the blue truck.” Gloria tells her after pondering for a moment, then starts making her way again to the vehicles with Nina following her. 

Gloria gets into the driver’s seat as Nina climbs into the passenger’s seat. She drives the truck to the gate of the courtyard, driving it through with Karen’s help as she opens and closes the gate. She honks the horn lightly to call Carl to open the main gate for her and he does it quickly, then closes it as soon as the truck is outside. With Nina’s help, Gloria collects the bodies of the walkers outside the fence into the truck and they proceed to drive to the designated area to burn the bodies. 

Putting the truck into park and turning off the engine, Gloria jumps out the truck and starts to move the bodies from the truck into the hole that was pre-dug. Nina follows her actions and does the same. Once the back of the truck is empty of walker bodies, Gloria lights the bodies in the hole on fire. The flames crackle for a while before Gloria douses it, shoveling dirt into the hole to prevent any walkers from being attracted to the light and sound of the fire. 

“Alright, done!” Gloria lets out a breath of relief, then looks to Nina, “come on, let’s go back.”

Nina smiles back but then looks behind Gloria and lets out a scream. She then turns and starts running away into the woods. Expecting a herd of walkers behind her, Gloria spins around with her hands ready to pull out her daggers from her belt, however she sees nothing but forest. Frowning in confusion, she looks in the direction Nina had run.

“Nina!” Gloria calls out as she chases after the other woman, “Nina, there’s nothing there, it’s okay, you can come back.”

She searches for her in the woods until she comes across a cabin where she sees Nina panting, breathless from running. Nina seems to be startled by Gloria coming out of the woods as she fumbles back then lets out a sigh of relief when she sees that it’s only Gloria.

“What was that about?” Gloria asks, frustrated that Nina made her chase her out here for nothing.

“I thought I saw something behind you.” Nina says innocently. 

“Well, there wasn’t anything. Come on, let’s head back to the truck.” Gloria says as she turns around.

“Wait! Shouldn’t we check out this cabin?” Nina calls out to her, making Gloria turn back around.

She glances at Nina then at the cabin. It seemed pretty sturdy, the windows were dirty from the outside grime but were still intact. She takes a few steps closer to the cabin to peek into the windows, her back now to Nina. It seemed clean and secure, but Gloria wasn’t about to rummage a cabin in the middle of the woods with Nina. She was not an experienced fighter and if anything happened, Gloria would have to fight for the both of them.

“We should tell the others abou- ah!” Gloria’s words are cut off when she feels a sharp pain on the back of her head, making her fall to the ground, her vision blurring as she looks up at Nina. 

The last thing Gloria saw before she blacked out was Nina holding a rock and a sick grin on the woman’s face. 

---

Groaning and wincing at the pain throbbing in her head, Gloria opens her eyes and finds herself tied to a chair. She looks around and realizes that she was in the cabin Nina had supposedly stumbled upon. Well, that was bullshit. Gloria tugs at her restraints but stops when she hears footsteps coming from behind her.

“Awake already?” Nina cooes as she walks in front of Gloria. 

Gloria looks at Nina warily, noticing that her clothing and hair were messy, disheveled, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m just getting rid of you,” Nina says with a smirk, “I’m going to kill you and leave absolutely no trace of you.”

“You know you’re never gonna get away with this. The hell are you going to tell the others when you get back and I’m not with you? Maggie saw us leave together and so did Carl.” Gloria argues, Carol was definitely right about her.

To Gloria’s dismay, Nina chuckles, “Oh, of course I know that. I’ll just tell the others that you, being the super selfless person you are, sacrificed yourself to save little ol’ me. We got swarmed by a herd and you caused a distraction, allowing me to run. And they’ll believe it because that definitely sounds like something Glenn’s baby sister would do.”

Gloria mutters a curse under her breath. She had actually come up with something the group might even believe. She remembers the other day when Carol told her about the conversation she had with Glenn and Daryl. Nina must have overheard and come up with this plan. 

“Stop this!” Gloria shouts, “Glenn and Daryl are going to find out about this and so will Rick, none of them are going to let this slide. You really think they’re that stupid to believe your story?”

Her only play now was to scare Nina into thinking her plan wouldn’t work and that they’d see through it. She had to stop Nina from doing whatever it was she planned or else Gloria might not make it out alive. 

“Nuh uh, they’ll be grieving too much when they find your body all torn up,” Nina prances around the cabin, “and that’s when I’ll find Daryl, comfort him in his saddest moment, and then he’ll be mine!”

“You’re willing to become a murderer just for a guy?” Gloria could not believe that she was caught up in some sort of psycho love triangle and she was about to die for it.

“He’s not just any guy. He’s Daryl!” Nina glares at her, her eyes flare up in anger, “I love him and I’ll do anything for him! I’ll prove it!”

That’s when Gloria hears the snarling from outside. She looks at the dirty windows and sees a mass number of walkers just outside the cabin. 

“Listen, you don’t want to do this.” Gloria starts, “there’s an actual herd outside the cabin and you’re going to need me to fight them, you’re not getting back to the prison without me, not with all those walkers out there.”

“You’re right, I do need you...” Nina says but then smirks, “but not to fight, I just need you to distract them so I can get out of here.”

Gloria watches as Nina comes closer to her and pulls both of Gloria’s daggers out of their sheaths. Throwing one to the other side of the cabin, she points the tip of the dagger to Gloria’s face, barely poking at her skin.

“The walkers will be drawn to the scent of your blood, they’ll be distracted by you and your screams when they start tearing you apart right in this very chair.” Nina snickers, moving the blade away from Gloria’s face.

“You’re a fucking psychopath!” Gloria shouts.

Nina laughs then slashes Gloria’s chest with the dagger, making Gloria cry out at the sudden pain. She doesn’t stop there though, Nina proceeds to slash at her upper arms and forearms. 

Gloria seethes at the sting on her now bloody skin, “Daryl will never love you.” 

Nina’s grip on the dagger tightens as she gets angry at her words, she glares at Gloria then steps forward and stabs Gloria in the abdomen, causing her to gasp loudly at the pain. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Daryl.” Nina says as she pulls the dagger out of Gloria, and throws it somewhere in the cabin. 

She steps back and goes to the door, “main course is ready!”

Nina bangs on the front door loudly three times and then opens it to reveal a bloody mess of dead animals littered on the porch with walkers devouring the flesh. Nina runs to the back of the cabin and makes her exit. The walkers’ attention now on Gloria, catching the scent of her freshly spilled blood and flesh. 

“Fuck...” Gloria swears under her breath as the walkers start getting up and making their way towards her.

She tugs at the restraints but they’re too tight. Her feet were also tied to the legs of the chair but found that they were still touching the ground. Gloria carefully lifts her body, attempting to stand up, putting her weight onto her feet while the chair was still attached to her body. She had to keep her balance otherwise she’d be walker food. Noting that the chair was old, she prayed that enough force would easily break it. Gloria steadies herself and then pushes herself off her feet, propelling herself backwards, letting her body and the chair fall back into the wall. The momentum from her push and the weight of her body was enough force to crumble the chair, freeing Gloria. She rolls around on the ground, groaning at the pain in her torso. 

Gloria quickly gets up as she sees the walkers beginning to pile into the room. Out of habit, she reaches down to her belt for her daggers and groans as they’re missing. She scans her surroundings and picks up two now broken chair legs and starts swinging them at the walkers, fighting for her life.

---

Spotting the prison gates, Nina ruffles her hair and tears her own shirt. She makes a face and starts to wail, fake tears streaming down her face now as she runs out of the woods and to the prison where Carl was sitting. 

“Open the gates!” Nina shrieks, waving her arms frantically as she runs towards the prison.

Carl gets up immediately and opens the gate for Nina, worry written all over his face, “hey, what happened? Are you okay?”

Nina drops to the ground and sobs, her hair covering her face. Rick and Hershel were taking care of the crops and piglets when they heard Nina’s cries. Concerned, the two made their way over to where her and Carl were. Carl looks out to the road and the forest, then frowns even more when he realizes Gloria isn’t with her. 

“Hey, where’s Gloria?” Carl asks when Rick gets to them.

“Nina? Nina, hey, are you alright?” Rick asks, kneeling at Nina’s side. 

Nina just continues to sob, making Rick look up at Hershel, “bring her inside, she might calm down once she realizes she’s back home.”

Rick nods and helps Nina stand as he starts to walk her back to the prison, “Carl, come inside.”

“No.” Carl tells his father, “Gloria’s still out there, I have to be here to let her in when she gets back.”

A soft smile creeps on Rick’s face as he nods, “okay.”

Rick and Hershel help Nina into the prison, her sobs have softened but she wasn’t able to stop crying. Her sobs and cries catch the attention of everyone in the main area. Rick helps her sit down at one of the tables. 

“What happened?” Carol asks, coming out from Cell Block C. 

Rick shakes his head and sighs, “I don’t know, she isn’t able to talk and she hasn’t stopped crying.”

Sasha goes up to Nina, sitting down beside her and puts her hand on her shoulder, “Nina, what happened? We only want to help.”

Nina shakes her head and sobs harder. Sasha sighs and gets up as she isn’t able to break her walls she seems to have put up but then she gets an idea. Nina didn’t really like Sasha or anyone in particular but everyone knew she liked Daryl. 

“Daryl,” she calls out to him as he leans against the wall with his arms crossed, “try and get her to talk.” 

He hesitantly looks around as everyone looks at him. Nina had made it painfully obvious she liked Daryl and he knew it too. Hating that everyone’s eyes were now on him, he sighs then makes his way to Nina. Sasha moves out of the way to give them some space. 

“Nina... what happened?” Daryl asks as she sits down beside her. 

In an instant, Nina throws her arms around Daryl and cries. Daryl didn’t really know what to do, he was never comfortable with physical contact, especially with anyone he wasn’t close with. But Nina was crying and he had his arms up, hovering over her body, clearly uncomfortable. 

“Daryl, I was so scared! I went out to burn the walker bodies and got swarmed by a herd! I barely made it out!” she chokes out between sobs. 

“You went out there alone?” Carol frowns as she asks the question.

“No,” Maggie frantically says as she walks out from Cell Block C, “she left with Gloria, I was on watch when they left.” 

“Yeah, I opened the gate for them to drive out the courtyard.” Karen chimes in, crossing her arms.

Glenn jumps up at this and Daryl puts his hands on Nina’s shoulder to push her away from him, “Where’s Gloria?” 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Nina starts to bawl again, “I didn’t want to leave her but she told me to! I didn’t want to! She yelled at me to leave while she caused a distraction for me to come back here!” 

Not believing her story, Carol doesn’t say another word as she rushes out the building, followed quickly by Daryl, Glenn, Maggie and Rick. The five of them run to the front gates as Rick yells to Carl to open the gates for them. They were going to bring Gloria back, they had to.

---

Next Chapter

SO, that just happened! :D I’m gonna get bombarded by angry comments now aren’t I... hehehe I still love you all~~ hope you enjoyed this infuriating chapter, please let me know what you thought! I’m gonna go hide now!! Love you~

I hope everyone stays safe and healthy, please don’t panic, we will get through this!

And as always, I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

Taglist (please let me know if you’d list to be added/removed!):

@twdeadfanfic​ | @fandomfanatic97​ | @crossbowking​ | @watchmeaspire​ | @spidergirla5​ | @kamieshep​ | @letsstarsfalling​ | @molethemollie​ | @alicewinchester99​ | @neilox​ | @womanup22​ | @jodiereedus22​ | @theonlyone-meeeee​ | @theunofficialduke​ | @inlovewdxx​ | @delightfullykrispypeach​ | @mrsfortune1306​ | @wolfkg​ | @funeral-7​

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon Fanfic #Daryl Dixon Fanfiction #Daryl Dixon Imagine #Daryl Dixon X OC #Daryl Dixon X Original Character #Daryl Dixon X Glenn Sister!OC #Daryl Dixon X Glenn Sister!Original Character #Glenn Sister!OC #Glenn Sister!Original Character #Glenn Rhee #TWD #TWD Fanfic #TWD Fanfiction #TWD Imagine #The Walking Dead #The Walking Dead Fanfic #The Walking Dead Fanfiction #The Walking Dead Imagine #Fated: Season 4 #Fated: S4: Chapter 5

[allsassnoclass]

you could bring down my level of concern

Michael is having a bad night.  Ashton picks him up for ice cream

read on ao3

It’s just after one in the morning, and Michael doesn’t trust his ability to keep it together.  He’s felt like his skin has been pressed too tightly the entire day, and that was before he realized that there’s an entire book he was supposed to read for his contemporary literature class, sitting untouched on his dresser.  He’s got so many tabs open on his computer of assignments that he needs to finish, and he keeps forgetting that he has to email the financial aid office or he’s going to get a late fee on his bills but he can’t exactly email them now at one in the morning because they’re going to think he can’t get his life together on top of being an idiot for forgetting for so long.  He’s been restlessly switching between different social media platforms and opening up Netflix only to close it again when nothing seems to fit, steadfastly ignoring the book, the articles he’s supposed to read with it, and all of the other homework for his music classes.

Shit. He didn’t practice today, and his professor is going to be able to tell when he has his lesson tomorrow.

Michael shifts and unlocks his phone again, but nothing has changed in the three seconds he’s been gone.  He stares at his home screen for a moment, a picture of him and Ashton from before they got back to campus this year, smiles wide and tucked close together.

He saw Ashton two days ago, but he hasn’t really seen him for at least two weeks.  With the new university policies, they’re not allowed to hang out in Ashton’s dorm room or Michael’s apartment anymore, nor be outside together without masks.  This wouldn’t be such a big deal if they both were off campus and could sneak around, but Ashton is an RA.  He’ll get immediately fired if they get caught, and if he somehow does manage to get the virus his entire floor will be put into official quarantine.  It’s not just them who are at risk, and Ashton is too much of a bleeding heart to put all of his residents through that.

As such, Michael has eaten lunch outside with Ashton and facetimed him and spent a lot of time cuddled up to Calum to make up for the fact that he’s technically not allowed to touch Ashton (although no one has noticed them holding hands across the table, or a quick hug before they part for classes).

It’s getting chillier.  When snow starts to fall, Ashton is going to need to concede to hanging out in Michael and Calum’s apartment, because they’re both going to go crazy without it.

Michael already feels like he’s going crazy.  He has assignments and his dishes are dirty and he has no money and everything absolutely sucks and he misses his boyfriend, so he pulls out his phone and sends can you pick me up.

After a moment, he adds please.

Ashton could be asleep already, because he’s been trying really hard to seem well-adjusted for his senior year, and the thought makes panic bubble uncomfortably in Michael’s gut.  He can’t get himself to start his tasks, and he can’t stop picking at his cuticles, a bad habit that everyone has been trying to help him break, and he’s been missing Ashton vaguely since they got back on campus but thinks he’s going to cry if he doesn’t get to see him tonight.

What if Ashton doesn’t want to see him?

Ashton wants you around, Michael says to himself, trying to remember everything his therapist has told him for when he feels like this.  Just because outside circumstances are making it difficult doesn’t mean that he suddenly hates you.

His internal voice doesn’t sound very convincing.  With the way everything has been going lately, Michael wouldn’t be surprised if Ashton suddenly dumped him and Calum moved out and Luke and the girls stopped talking to him so he was miserable and alone.  That’s just about the only way things could get even worse, right?

He doesn’t want to jinx it.

His phone buzzes in his hand, and Michael glances down to see Ashton’s name pop up with the message be there in 5.

Everything snaps into focus when Ashton is near.  This strange crawling sensation under his skin might not fully go away, but maybe it’ll lessen, and maybe Michael will be able to think about school without wanting to throw up.

He slips on a hoodie, shoves on some shoes, and barely remembers to grab his wallet and keys before he’s slipping on a mask and out the door, rushing down the stairs to get out of the apartment building.  The night air does nothing to sooth him, feeling dense and muggy through his mask rather than light and crisp like he wants.  Still, he looks up at the sky and tries to let the slight breeze he can feel against his forehead calm him a little, just enough to hold him over until he can get in Ashton’s car and hopefully breathe properly again.

He’s still trying in vain to find a star that hasn’t been drowned out by light pollution or clouds when Ashton’s car arrives, engine squeaking in a familiar way when he pulls up to the curb a bit too fast, as always.  Michael makes his way to the passenger door and gets in.

“Hey, stranger.  Need a ride?” Ashton quips, and Michael crumples.  Ashton looks soft, wearing pajama pants and a large sweatshirt, hair messy and eyes tired but smile intact.  Michael wants to cry, but instead he just feels uncomfortable, like Ashton is a stranger again and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

“Hey,” Ashton says gently, “what’s wrong?”

Michael shrugs.

“Okay,” Ashton says.  “Do you want to take off your mask?”

He does, putting it in the pocket of his hoodie, and Ashton smiles.

“There he is,” he says, bringing a hand up to Michael’s cheek, and Michael leans into it, chasing the feeling of Ashton’s hands on his skin.

He’s missed this.  Ashton seems to understand, shifting so he can thread his fingers through the hair at the back of Michael’s neck, then drawing him forward into a kiss.  Michael’s hands come up to grip Ashton’s sweatshirt at the first brush of lips, pressing into it like he’s been drowning and Ashton is his first breath of fresh hair.  Ashton makes a startled noise in the back of his throat, but responds in kind, opening his mouth when prompted and licking into Michael’s, taking control in the way they both like best.  When they part for air a minute later, they don’t go far, pressing their foreheads together while Michael tries to make his fingers loosen their grip.

“Is there anything I can do?” Ashton asks eventually.

“No,” Michael says.  “I don’t know. You’re doing it, I guess.”

He starts to pull away, and Ashton pecks him quickly on the lips again before he lets him.

“Where do you want to go?” Ashton asks.

“Away from campus,” Michael says.

“Ice cream?”

Michael nods, and Ashton starts the car.

The drive is quiet.  Michael makes no move to turn on the radio or get the aux cord, and Ashton lets it be.  Michael stares out the window, letting the houses and street lights pass by on the familiar route.  There’s a Baskin Robbins attached to a Dunkin with 24-hour drive through, and they’ve made a lot of midnight runs there since they started dating.  Some of Michael’s favorite memories from last year include sitting in the parking lot together, talking and laughing and sharing bites of ice cream when one of them got an unusual flavor.  They managed to fit in two trips during the first weeks of the semester, but haven’t been able to go recently due to the campus lockdown.

About halfway there, Ashton reaches over and takes Michael’s hand, thumb rubbing soothing circles on it.  Michael tries to focus on that, rather than the stretched-out feeling still present under his skin.

They pull up to the drive through and Ashton shifts the car into park.  Despite the place not being busy at all, it has astoundingly slow service this late at night.

“Do you want your usual?” Ashton asks, and Michael nods.  When they do eventually order, Ashton gets one scoop of cherry and one scoop of vanilla, and he gets Michael the chocolatiest thing on the menu.  Ashton pays, and once they get their items he pulls into their usual parking space in the corner and turns the car off.

“So,” Ashton says when they’re a few bites in, “I really think you should tell me what’s wrong.”

Michael takes another bite of his ice cream and considers if he knows who to articulate this.

“I feel… bad,” he starts.  “Just--like my skin is too tight, or something, and I can’t focus on anything but I also can’t not focus on anything.  I’m tired but can’t sleep, the world is basically fucking ending and I’m somehow expected to read an entire book by tomorrow. I have so much I’m supposed to do and can’t make myself do any of it, and it’s not even that I don’t have the time, because nothing is happening!  I hate trying to do music classes online, I can’t fucking see my friends, and I miss--”

He stops.  Ashton waits patiently, letting the silence stretch out until Michael is ready to break it again.

“I miss you.  I know we’re doing our best with what we can right now, but it still sucks.”

Ashton reaches out again, gentle hand landing on his arm.  That makes Michael feel the closest he has to crying all night, but it’s still not quite enough.  He wishes this were the type of upset that could be solved with a long hug and a cathartic cry, but it’s not.  This discomfort is the type that gets into his bones and stays for a while.

Michael wishes the gear shift wasn’t in the way, so he could tuck himself against Ashton and hide there until this entire thing is over.

“Going to school right now fucking sucks, and I’m proud of you for handling it as well as you have been,” Ashton says.  It’s a nice thing to say, but it’s useless right now.  Michael knows that going to school right now sucks, and Ashton is always proud of him for doing the bare minimum.  He hums anyway, because Ashton’s trying to help.

“Let’s eat our ice cream and make a plan for the rest of tonight and tomorrow,” Ashton says.  “We’ll figure out the homework stuff, at least, and get to spend time together properly.”

“Can we sit on the hood?” he asks, and thankfully Ashton nods.  The night air is crisper without his mask, or maybe it’s because they’re a bit further from the heart of the city.  Either way, Michael presses close, not willing to forfeit time spent touching Ashton.

Luke is the clingiest out of all of them, but Michael hadn’t realized just how much he enjoyed touch until the virus hit and it was taken away from him.  He was craving Ashton’s long before he wasn’t allowed to have it, and if he didn’t know that Ashton needs the money being an RA provides he would have begged him to quit and move in with him and Calum.

They talk about easy things as they eat, like the shift to Michael’s favorite type of weather that had happened recently and Ashton’s floor programs that he’s planning.  Michael tells him about how Calum almost burnt the apartment down and they just barely avoided having the alarms go off, and Ashton gives an anecdote about residents trying to smuggle two of the campus lawn chairs into their rooms while he was on security.

“They’re just so stupid sometimes,” he says.  “It really is not hard to get away with stuff like that if you put your mind to it, but they obviously didn’t.”  He turns the story into an entire bit, complete with a funny imitation of their bad excuses when he caught them, and it makes Michael laugh.  Some of the weird feeling dissipates.

Ashton gets out his notes app when they finish eating, and Michael leans his head on his shoulder to watch him type up the plan.

Michael will do his music theory homework tonight, but he’s going to stop once it hits three in the morning to go to bed regardless of how much is or is not done.  Ashton will type up a detailed summary of the book he was supposed to read, since apparently it was his favorite when he took the class last semester as part of his major requirement, and have it emailed to Michael by the time his alarm goes off at 8 the next morning.  Hopefully that will be enough for Michael to do the forum posts he’s supposed to, and he should still have time to do his ear training before class.  They can meet up for lunch, then Michael can go to his other two classes, take a break until dinner, spend a bit of time in the practice room, and do his homework for the next day in the evening.

Calum has a study group then, and Michael likes working in the living room while he zooms the others.  It’s easier to stay focused when Calum is, as well, and they’ve gotten into a routine of playing two rounds of Fifa, Smash, or MarioKart during well-timed breaks.

Marked out like this, the tasks look less overwhelming.

“Can you write that I need to email the student fees office during lunch?” he asks.  Ashton nods and adds it to the list.  “And dishes after dinner.”

It’s not too bad when it’s notated like this, and if he doesn’t get his theory homework done tonight he won’t completely fail the class as long as he does all of the other work, although he knows that letting himself slip with one assignment always makes it easier to neglect them in the future, to near-disastrous results.  His lesson might be less-than-stellar tomorrow, but at least Dr. O is nice about it.  He’ll be disappointed, and Michael might cry because he hates falling short of his expectations, but he won’t be mean.

“Doable?” Ashton asks.  Michael nods.  Ashton takes a screenshot of the note and texts it to Michael, then grabs his hand as they sit in silence for a few more minutes.

“We should get back,” Michael says eventually.

“We can stay a bit longer,” Ashton says.  He tightens his grip on Michael’s hand, and maybe

Ashton has been missing him just as much.  Michael presses a kiss to his shoulder.

“I have to do my theory homework, and you’re ready for bed,” he says.

“Wait,” Ashton says as he starts to shift away.  Michael pauses, and Ashton’s hands shift to his waist, leaning in for a deep kiss.  He melts into it, toes curling at the single-minded focus Ashton dedicates to it.  They shift for a better angle, Ashton leaning against the windshield and Michael following him down, and it takes all of Michael’s self-control to pull away before things become too heated.

“I don’t want to give the Baskin Robbins employee a free show,” he says.  Ashton’s fingers dip under his hoodie and shirt, chilly from either the ice cream or the fall air.  Michael shivers at the light brush at the small of his back, and Ashton gives him a lopsided smile.

“It’d be the most interesting thing they’ll see tonight,” he says.

“It’ll also get the police called on us for public indecency,” Michael says.  “Can’t believe I’m having to be the responsible one about this, Mr. I-Am-A-Mature-Resident-Advisor-Who-Will-Do-No-Wrong.”

“You make me feel adventurous,” Ashton says.  Michael hums and kisses him again, and Ashton doesn’t try to escalate it.

“Okay,” Ashton says.  “Let’s go back.”

They get in the car, and Michael pulls up a gentle playlist for the ride back.  Ashton hums along to the first song, and something else in Michael’s gut dissipates.  He still feels a bit weird, but he thinks it’s manageable now.  He has a plan, and he has Ashton, and if previous experience is any indicator he should feel okay by the time he wakes up tomorrow morning.

Michael watches Ashton tap out an easy beat on the steering wheel with his thumbs, and takes another deep breath.

Things are kind of fucked now, but it won’t be like this forever.  He’ll be okay.

#my writing #mashton #5sos fanfic #this is genuinely just. so much projection #so much #also though as I was writing this I fell in love with the universe so #maybe college mashton will be what I work on when nothing else works

[fics-not-tragedies]

Early mornings

©

This fic is based on this request I got and hopefully that’s what anon wanted! Also I couldn’t help myself with throwing this onto the April-Santino-fics pile, so I’m posting it now 😏

SUMMARY: You wake up from a naughty dream that Santino decides to turn into reality. Words:  2556; Warnings: smut, some gentle morning love;

Readers tag list:

@spookier-than-u; @oreofenyloetyloamina; @derangedcupcake; @geostarr; @catsmieow; @wickedlangdon; @bodhi-black; @bugalouie; @onebatch--twobatch; @fandom-lover-4; @mikaneonox; @drunkonyellow; @spadesandaces2342; @harrisongslimited; @hhighkey; @lunilate; @i-cant-remember-my-old-login; @sgt-morgan; @coloursunlimited; @childrenofthegun; @weminiaturestrawberry; @silverlambcaptain; @scarletmoon83; @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day; @krazycags01; @charlottebonnie; @moonlit-raven-haven​; @girl-at-the-verge; @boopdedoop​; @jardani-jovonovich-bitch​; @ladyreapermc​; @wifeofdarklordsworld​; @mysticfluffyness​; @zombiepandajfish​; @kollover24​; @greenmanalishi​; @persephonehemingway​; @lovelycarose​;

You couldn’t quite tell the time when you found yourself slipping back into reality, but there was barely a sound nearby. A creaking here, a muffled conversation here, but most of all, it was your heartbeat that drew your attention to it more than anything else, and it took a moment for you to realize how heavy your breathing was, and that your forehead was slick with sweat, as well as your neck.

Shifting and untangling your legs from Santino’s under the warm cover of the blanket, you realized why. A dull throbbing sensation between your legs and you exhaled shakily, your mind still hazy with sleep, but slowly allowing you to go back a few minutes, seconds even, to the sensuous dream you’d been having, lying in bed just like you were now, but with Santino on top of you, his hair falling into his eyes, his soft moans, his eyes wide, loving, full of lust as he stared down into yours while he was driving himself deep inside you, over and over again and drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

That sinking feeling was slowly ceasing now, your orgasm slipping away and you licked your lips, turning to lie down on your side, a smile tugging the corners of your lips upwards as your eyes fell on his face, half buried in the pillow, half visible, his features soft and peaceful, and he was absolutely gorgeous, slightly sweaty from how close he’d been holding you and you pulled the blanket down slightly, your eyes wandering down his bare chest, his breathing quiet, his arm still draped across your body.

You blinked several times, your lids feeling heavy with sleep and you couldn’t help your thoughts from wandering back to your wet dream, the idea of it irresistible to you now and you turned your head to the nightstand to check the time, realizing now that it was so quiet around the hotel because it was still early, too early for anybody to be up.

It was your last day, you’d have to check out in a few hours and then you’d be on the plane back home, back to work, back to stressing about everything, away from that idyllic paradise, that gentle bubble you’d gotten comfortable in over the past few days, only you and Santino, and nothing to worry about.

You were sure that the events of last night had prompted your dream, Santino having teased you all throughout dinner, until he’d finally given in and taken you upstairs without insisting on the dessert he’d been looking forward to, but it’d been worth it, you couldn’t remember him ever taking you as good as he had the second you’d gotten into the hotel room, pressed up against the wall, then bent over the small table, too lazy to move.

And now you were sore, but that didn’t mean you didn’t want more, aching for him to fill you up again, to hold your body in his hands, to show you just how badly he wanted you, and then, you suddenly felt a shift beside you, a soft whisper of your name.

You turned your head back to face Santino, shifting his head to look at you, mumbling something incoherent before clearing his throat, but his voice didn’t get much louder, “Are you alright, bella?” He whispered, his voice merely a hint.

You shuffled closer to him again, his arm tightening around you to pull you in and he angled his head to the side, reaching out lazily to pull your face closer to his on the pillow before pressing a sleepy kiss to your lips, soft and gentle, his lips briefly brushing against yours.

You moaned quietly, instantly desperate for more, the simple taste too promising to stop and you ran your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly on it, keeping him as he was and deepening the kiss, giggling as his lips parted and he breathed shakily against your lips, drawing back for air.

“Bella…” he whispered, blinking continuously, his tired eyes searching for yours, then his lips curled into a smile, “Mmm, you are absolutely insatiable, my love…”

You pressed your lips together, sighing guiltily. There was no hiding anything from him, he knew you inside and out, and there was nothing you could get past him, “Mmm, I had a dream” you confessed, your voice smaller than you’d expected, raspy and thick with sleep.

A little giggle bubbled from his lips, husky but the softness in his eyes as he watched you lovingly took away from any sort of teasing, “C’mere, bella…” he whispered, his own voice still sleepy and he wrapped both his arms around you, shifting onto his back and pulling you on top of him, your chest pressed against his, the warmth of his skin against yours, the way he held you, the softness in his eyes making your heart swell with happiness. He smelled so uniquely like himself, clean and familiar and so damn intoxicating.

You hadn’t bothered with anything but a pair of panties, sighing quietly from the feeling of your hard nipples brushing against his bare chest, feeling his heart pounding, now faster than usual.

“Oh, bella, you’re…” he mumbled, lifting his thigh slightly, brushing up between your legs spread on either side of it, “Soaked through your panties, love…”

You whined softly, rolling your hips needily, hardly in control of your lust-fueled movements, a whimper escaping your lips when he pushed his thigh up to meet the grinding of your hips. “I-I…”

“Oh, bella…” he muttered, biting his bottom lip and swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple straining against the sensitive skin of his slender neck and you laid your cheek against his shoulder, attaching your lips to the side of his throat, sucking lightly, a soft moan falling from his lips, “Oh, cazzo, bella…”

You’d started grinding shamelessly against his thigh now, the sound of his moans only making the fire in your stomach grow further, the ache between your legs growing more prominent. You needed something, and his thigh rubbing up against your clit, even if it was just the slightest bit of friction was the next best thing.

Santino could barely comprehend what was happening, having been dragged up from a dream of his own right into yours, your warmth, your scent, your lust clouding his mind, the way your breasts were pressed flat against his chest, the way he could feel your wetness against his thigh, he was gone, and you could feel that he wasn’t unaffected as well.

You reached down to cup the bulge in his boxers, starting to palm him slowly to the fabric, biting down gently on his neck when another moan fell from his lips, louder this time and you started grinding your hips harder against him, the stimulation not nearly enough to satisfy you, but you were needy and desperate for some sort of friction.

“Oh, bella…” he whined, his own hips lifting off the mattress to meet your touch and you reached quickly inside his boxers, your cheek still resting against his warm skin, pressing little kisses to his neck now as you wrapped your fingers around his now hardening length, sighing at the feeling.

The thought of him filling you again, thick and throbbing and you contemplated for a moment if you should just get on your knees and take him into your mouth instead, suck and take him until his fingers were pulling at your hair and he would release into your mouth but you were desperate, too far gone to let go of the thought of his cock filling you up and stretching your empty walls, desperate for something to satisfy that desire.

One of his hands ran slowly down your side, flat into your panties at the back and squeezing your ass before nudging your legs apart with his knuckles, his rough fingertips brushing up against your folds, making you shudder.

“Santino…” you whined softly, pushing your hips back into his touch, “Mmm…”

He chuckled sleepily. “Oh, cazzo, bella, so wet for me…” he gathered more wetness onto his fingers before pressing them to your clit, trapped between his leg and your eager grinding and you moaned louder.

“S-Santino!” You cried when he pressed his thumb against your clit, nudging into the spot, over and over and over, making you writhe desperately, a string of whimpers and cries of his name falling from your lips and you attached them to his neck again to silence yourself, making him groan again.

“Bella, I need you…” he choked out, swallowing hard, his hand leaving you desperate again as he pulled it out but before you could protest, before you could beg for him, his large hands gripped your hips and you smirked, straddling him, giving his cock a few more tugs and you pushed yourself up with your other hand steady on his shoulder, licking your lips.

He looked irresistible, his hair messy, hanging into his eyes as he looked up at you needily, his cheeks flushed, his forehead sweaty, “Need to be inside you…” he whispered, his blue eyes wide, begging you.

You sat up and pushed your panties to the side, too impatient to get up and take them off, instead gripping his cock and slowly lifting your hips to let him sink inside of you, the way he filled you up, so tight and delicious, your walls stretching around him, it brought tears to your eyes.

“O-Oh…” you whined, biting your lip, your eyes falling shut and you threw your head back.

Santino let out a strangled moan, his hips instantly lifting off the bed again to sink deeper inside you, his hands sprawled out over your hips to force you down on him further, his face scrunched up with pleasure, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, darling … what a fucking picture…”

He never swore little, rarely stuck to simple words and as much as you loved his eloquence, his intelligence, reducing him to mess of profanities and soft groans, repetitions and sleepy mumbles, it was even more satisfying. He attempted to lift your hips and you complied, opening your eyes and sinking right back down on him, his cock once again filling you up all the way, your walls clenching around him and continuing to draw moans from his chapped lips and you started to bounce up and down on his cock, watching him closely, always a sucker for the hungry look in his eyes when he watched your tits bounce, his cock disappearing inside of you, your hair falling over your shoulders, your face blissful and desperate as you writhed in his lap.

He groaned loudly, snapping his hips up once again and you gasped, would have fallen forward had he not wrapped his arms around you and he pulled you flush against his chest again, cupping the back of your head, his other hand sprawled out across your back.

“O-Oh, Santi…” you moaned, cut off by his hips snapping up over and over, his cock hitting just the right spot, making you gasp every time your hips collided and you attempted to keep up, rolling your hips on him, grinding eagerly, without any rhythm, just desperate for more friction, more of his cock.

“You’ve got me so close, bella, I’m gonna…”

“M-Me too” you cried out, surprised you’d even lasted a second after his cock had filled you, so worked up after that dream, “F-Fuck, Santino…”

Your movements were sloppy, his and your own, just grinding away on each other, not awake enough to focus on anything but feeling each other, reaching that point of release together that you both desperately craved, warm and safe in your bubble where nothing else mattered.

Santino shifted to move his hand down between your legs, effortlessly finding your clit and starting to rub it in rhythm with the way he was driving inside you, tight and and warm and drawing you closer and closer to orgasm and you lifted your head, propping yourself up enough to bring your face up to his, watching him for a moment and he broke out into giggles before you could even press your lips to his, the soft cackle bubbling from his lips contagious and you couldn’t help yourself, resting your forehead against his, your eyes falling shut as he drove inside you again.

“Mmmm, no, bella…” he sighed, giggling breathily, his chest rising and falling fast, his heart pounding in his chest, “Baciarmi.”

Your heart melted, you were so close, could tell that he was too but he took a moment to let his hand wander slowly up your back until he cupped the side of your face, kissing you deeply, loving and passionate, the feeling consuming you whole.

He bit down gently on your bottom lip, delivered another deep thrust and flicked your clit and with that sending you spiraling, your lips fell open, breaking the kiss and moaning into his mouth obscenely, your eyes once again squeezed shut as the waves of pleasure washed over you, your walls squeezing tightly around him, the burning sensation so good, so intense and you fell limp against him, holding onto him tightly.  

Santino whimpered, your orgasm triggering his own and you felt his hot release inside you, the movements of his hips slowing, his breath hot and heavy, his grip on you tightening, praises of your name falling continuously from his lips and he held you close, his arms wound tightly around you, not showing the slightest intention of ever letting you go, guiding your head to his shoulder.

You both panted out your orgasms, little aftershocks shooting up your bodies with the slightest move of each of your hips, your skin sticking to his but you didn’t ever want to move, felt so sheltered and secure in his arms, so loved and appreciated.

“Santino…” you whispered, pausing in order to be able to catch your breath, pressing a little kiss to the side of his neck.

You instantly had his intention and he angled his head to look at you, a soft, loving smile spreading across his face. “Yes, love?” He asked shakily, nudging your nose playfully with his, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the giggle that followed.

“I love you so much.”

His smile grew wider, impossibly bright and the sparkle in his eyes made your heart flutter. You had so much love for him, so much adoration, snuggling closer to him, aching for the physical intimacy to match. There was no way possible to be closer to him and it almost hurt.

You were stuck together, tangled up and as connected as you could be, and you knew there was no way you’d feel more comfortable, more joyful, more content than right in this moment, his fingers moving to brush through your hair soothingly, his scent and his warmth having taken over you completely.

“Bella…” he rasped, his voice soft despite the deep of it, his blue eyes focused on you and the look was only too familiar, it never failed to make you feel like you were the only girl in the world, like you could do anything, “Bella, you know…” he hummed, licking his lips, “You know, I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

#Early mornings #santino d'antonio #santino d'antonio fanfiction #santino d'antonio fanfic #santino d'antonio fic #santino d'antonio oneshot #santino d'antonio imagine #riccardo scamarcio #riccardo scamarcio fanfiction #riccardo scamarcio fanfic #riccardo scamarcio fic #riccardo scamarcio imagine #riccardo scamarcio oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #imagine #oneshot #santino d'antonio x reader #santino d'antonio x you #santino d'antonio/reader #santino d'antonio/you #santino x reader #santino x you #santino/reader #santino/you #kr:oneshot

[marvelsangels]

"I Love You Please Don't Go"

(prompt from @hellsdemonictrinity)

Pairing: Peter Parker/Reader

Warning: Angst

Summary: You knew, you've known for awhile, but you let him, cause you love him you really do, and you're crazy enough to let your heart break more than it already is.

"Heyy babyy how was your dayy" Jumping on his bed where he sat holding his phone.

"It was uh, it was good i have tons of homework to do tho so i should start on it early" He replied half assed without even looking up at you.

He was doing it again, pushing you away, giving you excuses. You knew he wasn't seeing her, MJ was not an asshole, she would never see peter while peter was with you. She just wasn't like that. So no she wasn't the problem. Peter was.

Peter liked her, maybe even more? who knows? He started giving her heart eyes 4 months ago. 4 months of him still saying he loves you. 4 months like he hasn't been looking at another woman like how he would look at you. 4 months of him lying to your face when you knew the truth.

No you weren't "assuming" anything. You found out. How? Well Peter has a habit or writing down how he feels on a piece of paper and then quickly throwing it away. As if to confirm he was actually feeling it, and not just thinking about it.

You didn't mean to read it it was private and you respected that. But he left it un crampled on the floor when he was in a hurry, and asked you to help clean his room.

i like MJ, maybe even more.

He didn't even write down how you would feel in all of this. How broken hearted you'd be if you found out. He wasn't even scared.

He didn't care. Not anymore.

"Sooo can we hang out first? I haven't seen you in a while you've been really busy" Fighting to keep a smile you could almost feel the tears starting to spill.

Pushing his shoulders. "C'mon peteee"

"No I'm busy maybe tomorrow?" Still not looking up at you from his phone.

At this point you were crying while still holding a smile on your face. "Aww thats too bad then, uhm I'll leave you to it yeah?" Quickly wiping away your tears with your sleeves you got up and headed for the door.

"I'll see you, love you."

"I love you too Peter."

Closing his door and quickly making a beeline for the exit, you didn't want Aunt May to see you like this. You were stronger than that. Right?

Pressing the button on the elevator and waiting for it to come up, you couldn't help but think what you did wrong, was it you? It had to be. Peter wasn't like that no. He would never fall out of love just like that right? Maybe he got sick of you just waiting around for him and being all clingy. But he told you he loved that.

Not even noticing the elevator doors are already open until you heard your name, looking up you saw Ned.

"Oh hey Ned"

"Hey are you okay Y/n? why are you crying?" Reaching out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You didn't even notice you were crying so lost in your thoughts. You quickly wipe it away with your sleeves and give him the biggest smile you could muster.

"I just remembered this one movie scene. Ya know from Marley and me? ahaha! almost killed me." The tears still keep falling, it's getting harder and harder to lie.

"Y/n-"

"I have to go home Ned. I'll see you in class"

You saw it in his eyes. The guilt. Ned knew. And he was also lying to you.

Making it back home you went straight to your room, not wanting anybody looking at you like you're some kind charity who needs all the pity she could get. No you wont allow it.

Taking deep breaths, you saw a note taped to your vanity.

Hey hunny your dad and i went out to buy some dinner so he has something else to do other than playing with his robot thingys. Be back by 7 Love you, make sure to freshen up.

Smiling to yourself, at least you had your parents knowing they would always have your back.

Stepping out of the shower in fresh sweatpants and tank top you decided to head for the kitchen to make yourself some coffee and sitting on the island was another note.

Check if Morgan is still asleep.

Making your coffee quicker than you intended to you slowly opened her door to check if was still sleeping but instead of that you saw her playing with her ipad. Closing the door again and opening it dramatically this time. "Peanut you awakeee" slipping beside her on the bed and resting on your side. "Guess im gonna have to swallow all these jelly beans by myself."

"Noooooo" She giggled throwing her arms up your neck and resting on top of you. "Wheres it"

"Inside the chiller sweet pots, but im not giving you any until after dinner." Rubbing up her sides and pushing her hair beside her ear. "You know Y/N/N loves you right?"

"Oofcus i doo" Burying her face in your neck. "You mkay? Haven't seen spider in awhile" God how does a 6 year old know these kinds of things.

"Yeah im okay sweet pea, and he's been busy. Now come come lets go in the kitchen Mom and Dad are about to come home with dinner." Picking her up with you she couldn't help the giggles that escaped her tiny mouth. "Y/N/N!! dont drop meee"

Sitting around with your family felt normal, that is until your dad started asking questions.

"So how are you and Peter doing? Haven't seen the kid without a suit on. College that hard?"

Staying still and thinking of a smart reply, you came up with nothing knowing if you lied he would know instantly.

"College is hard daddy."

After dinner you quietly slipped out of your seat and made your way to your room. Staring out in the sky you thought of all the things you could've done that made peter fall out of love with you. You came up with nothing. Or were you that insensitive that you didn't know if you were hurting him? You're slowly falling apart. The confusion, the anger, the shame, the jealousy you felt it all and yet all you did was smile and say over and over that you were okay.

You weren't.

It was valentines day today.

Standing inside his messy room while he was seated on his desk writing something down on a piece of paper and beside it was a gift bag.

Deciding to take a peek and tease him to lighten up the mood and see what he got you, but once you did what you saw only broke your heart even more. He was writing it for MJ. The gift was for MJ.

You couldn't help the sob that escaped your lips. The sound made him turn his head.

"I didn't see you come in.."

"Why Peter?" you didn't even have the strength to raise your voice or be mad you were completely and utterly broken.

"Not now Y/n."

"What do you mean not now. Its time you tell me the truth Peter."

"Fine. I dont want you anymore its its- just its not working out between us okay? I work for your dad. And-"

"How dare you make this about my dad. How dare you say its not working out between us only after 3years. How dare you fall in love with someone else while you come back home to my arms and whisper to me i love you. How dare you Peter." Sobbing softly, He cant even look at you in the eyes. "At least look at me when i tell you all of this."

He had no guilt in his eyes. Not even a little. Even when he stood up from his chair, grabbed his letter and gift and turned for the door.

"Peter.. I love you, please don't go."

Sighs. "I have homework to do, lead yourself out Y/n." Closing the door as he left.

Clutching your chest and your other hand stopping your sobs you fell down on the floor and felt your heart explode into tiny little pieces.

"Im so sorry."

Fin.

Thanks for reading!

-angel 💜

#peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker au #peter parker x reader #tony stark #pepper potts #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #marvel #avengers #peter parker smut

[angelsfalling16]

“Spa” Day

Inspired by this post and a conversation I had with the always lovely @wo2ash who this fic is dedicated to.

Summary: Baz asks Simon to go on a spa day with him, but Simon seems to misunderstand the meaning of it.

A/N: This was only supposed to be a couple hundred words, but I got a little carried away, so now it’s 4k words...

Read it on ao3

***

Baz

Simon and I are studying at my apartment this weekend. My roommates are either out of town or out partying, so we have the place to ourselves. Which means that my books and notes are spread out across the living room floor, and Simon is spread out across the couch pretending to be reading his science textbook.

It would be much more convincing if he’d turn the page every once in a while, but I can see that he’s tired of studying. We actually did spend a good hour or so earlier today quizzing each other for a couple of tests that we have coming up, so I think he’s just all studied-out.

We should take a break soon, walk down to the café down the street and grab some lunch. He is probably starving by now, and I don’t have anything in my fridge that is all that edible. I intended on going shopping today, but I have been busy with Simon all day. I will make a trip to the store tonight after he’s gone back to his own apartment.

I finish taking notes on the chapter I’ve been reading for my psych class before dropping my pencil on my notebook and stretching. A break really would be nice.

I look over at Simon, and he appears to be watching me, but he quickly returns to staring at the book in front of him. This time, he does turn the page, which makes it a little suspicious.

I take a moment to look him over. He’s stretched out on his stomach with his textbook propped against the arm of the couch in front of him. His long, freckled legs hang off the side of the couch.

It’s not necessarily warm outside, but it’s the warmest day we’ve had in a while. I was only mildly surprised when he showed up wearing shorts today.

After three years of knowing him, I’ve realized that he runs warmer than most people, so on the sunnier days, he can almost always be found wearing shorts and a t-shirt, even if it’s barely above 40 degrees out. Simply looking at him makes me cold and want to grab a blanket to throw over him.

Simon and I met when we were roomed together during our freshman year of college. Together in that small dorm room, tensions were always high. We were constantly at each other’s throats, and more than once, it came to fists.

After that year, I decided to move into an apartment with a couple of roommates, away from Simon, but we kept running into each other on campus and in classes.

At first, our interactions consisted mainly of hostile glances and harsh sneers, but after a while, we started trading pleasantries.

I even began to enjoy seeing him, hoping that he would be there every time that I turned a corner or walked into the student union.

It began as simple hellos, but after a while, we stopped to catch up and see how the other was doing. Mostly, I wanted to see if his roommate was as bad as he was, but it turns out he began sharing an apartment with his best friend.

Talking to him like that was so much easier than it was to talk to him in our dorm. It was like the space allowed me to breathe a different air from him, and that allowed my feelings to both grow and to not feel so urgent.

Falling for my annoying, incessantly messy roommate was one of the worst things that I’ve done.

Even though I couldn’t stand being around him, I also couldn’t’ stand the thought of being away from him.

I was grateful when my cousin suggested that we get an apartment together with another friend of ours because I had no excuse not to get out of that dorm room.

I never thought that Simon and I would have to deal with each other after that or that we would somehow become friends, but we weren’t just seeing each other for those brief moments.

It was like the universe was throwing us together, and it was hard to ignore.

We ended up in the same study group one night during sophomore year, and at first, because of the way that I had seen him study (or rather, not study) in our dorm room that first year, I thought that he would be someone who would bring the group down by either not participating or by asking questions that only someone who had not read the material would ask.

Instead, he turned out to be a great addition to the group. Better even than a few of the others who had definitely not done any of the reading and basically expected us all to summarize it for them.

Simon did participate, though, adding useful input, which would have once pained me to admit. He stumbled over his words at times, and rather than cruelly make fun of it like I once would have, I was patient with him and glad that the others were, too.

After that, we started to meet up to study a lot, bouncing ideas off of each other for essay topics and quizzing each other.

Sometimes, we met up with a larger group, but more and more often, we started meeting up alone, to the point that it seems like we meet up every weekend, just the two of us. And on the weekends that we don’t study together, I feel myself aching with the need to see him.

It’s ridiculous. I should be over this stupid crush by now.

Only, it isn’t just a crush. Because I’m completely, hopelessly in love with him. And that isn’t going to change.

I tried hating him. I tried ignoring him. I even tried just being friends with him. But none of it has worked. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get over him.

I am completely enthralled by him.

Simon clears his throat, and I’m pulled out of my thoughts. I realize that I have been staring at him for far too long, and I wonder how long it has been since he noticed.

Tearing my eyes away from him, my face grows warm as I start to gather my scattered study materials.

“Do you want to go for lunch?” I ask, standing up.

“Yes!” Simon practically shouts, jumping to his feet. “It feels like it’s been years since the last time I ate.”

I shake my head at his over exaggeration and fight a smile, knowing full well that he ate a huge breakfast this morning, just like he does every morning.

I grab my jacket from the hook by the door, and Simon and I walk in silence down to the café. Then, I order the largest coffee they have and half a sandwich while I swear Simon orders half the menu.

I’m even more convinced of this when he has haphazardly stacked all of various food items on our usual table which is far too small to hold all of it. (I’m pretty sure a couple of items end up sitting in his lap, but I don’t comment on it.)

I eat my sandwich in small bites while I pretend not to watch him quickly and methodically eat his own food. He offers me a bag of chips, but I politely decline. He simply shrugs before tearing them open and eating them himself.

I smile fondly at him, hoping that he doesn’t notice how lovesick I am, and I pretend not to notice that he keeps staring at me.

This is what is so confusing about him. I catch him watching me all the time, but he never shows any interest in me. At least, not the way that I want him to. But still, there are times when it feels like there is something brewing between us.

We spend a lot of time together, and it is more than just studying. We talk and laugh and genuinely enjoy spending time with each other, and it feels like we could be something more, but it is impossible to tell whether Simon would want something like that.

He and I have never talked about relationship stuff. Probably because we were never close enough for that when we roomed together and because the only person who I have truly been deeply interested in is him.

It’s most likely just wishful thinking to believe that there is something growing between us, but I can’t seem to let it go.

When we return to my apartment, we study for another hour or so before I get the feeling that Simon is going to leave soon.

Seeing that he still seems really stressed, I get an idea.

“Simon,” I say softly to get his attention, and the smile he turns on me has me going weak-kneed, and I’m glad that I’m leaning against the armchair so that I don’t collapse under the weight of it.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve seemed really stressed lately, so I was thinking that maybe we should go on a spa day to help us relax.”

“A what day?” Simon asks, looking adorably confused. His nose wrinkles and eyebrows pull close together as he squints at me.

“A spa day,” I repeat.

“What is the word ‘spa’? It’s like you’re starting to say a word but you’re not finishing it.”

I can’t tell if he’s being serious or if he’s trying to deflect as a way to turn me down without being rude. I’m about to tell him that it’s fine, that he can just forget about it, but he continues on.

“Are you trying to say ‘spaghetti’? Are you asking me to go on a spaghetti day?”

I raise a brow at the way that his eyes light up at the idea of that. I shake my head at him, not in answer to his question but more in disbelief. I want to be annoyed at his complete misunderstanding of what I said, but he’s starting to look excited, and I feel myself giving in before the fight even begins.

“So, you want to go for a spaghetti day?” He asks when I don’t respond.

I was sort of joking about the spa day. I didn’t seriously think that he would agree to it, but I won’t say no to going to dinner with him.

This could be what I’ve been looking for. The chance to see if there is even the slightest possibility of something happening between us.

So, I say yes to the spaghetti day, no matter how ridiculous it sounds.

***

Okay, so maybe taking Simon on a “spa” day was a bit of a mistake.

We decided on a really nice Italian restaurant to go to the day after our little study date where it’s basically a requirement to dress up in your nicest clothes, but I still half-expected Simon to show up in jeans and a t-shirt. Instead, he surprised me by showing up on my doorstep wearing dark grey dress pants and a dress shirt to match with a tie over it that’s a lighter shade of grey. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to just below his elbow, showing off his freckled arms, and he decided to forgo a jacket, but that’s all understandable considering the fact that it’s even warmer outside today than it was yesterday.

I never would have thought that Simon would look so good in grey. But boy, does he look good.

I practically began salivating when I opened the door to him, and it took some work to keep my eyes on his shining blue eyes.

I’m wearing my own dress suit in a lovely dark shade of green, and I slide on the jacket before grabbing my keys and meeting him back at the door. His gaze is appraising, and I try not to squirm under it, trying to ignore the way that his eyes linger in some places, trying not to get my hopes up too soon.

“Ready?” I ask, pulling his eyes back up to mine.

He nods, and we’re on our way.

Keeping both hands on the steering wheel as I drive is a struggle as I fight the urge to reach over to touch Simon. To hold his hand, to feel the warmth of his arm under his shirt, to push the hair out of his eyes.

I know he would not be too appreciative of me doing that, so I keep my hands to myself and my eyes on the road.

When we arrive at the restaurant, we are quickly led to a booth in the back. It’s dark back here, the light above our table bare illuminating the table and our menus as we look them over, but it gives us a sense of privacy.

As I look over the options, I can’t keep myself from glancing at Simon. He looks so nice, and I hate that this feels like a date when it obviously isn’t.

I wonder what we look like to the other customers. Do we look like a young couple on a date, or do we look like two friends who just needed to get out and go somewhere nice?

Can they see how much I long to touch him? Can they see the truth of the situation, or do I have them just as fooled as I have Simon?

“You don’t like tomatoes, right?” Simon asks suddenly.

I look up at him in surprised, a little disbelieving that he would know that.

He smiles and says, “I paid attention to you, you know.”

“I’m very aware of that,” I say, remembering all of those times he watched me, waiting for me to slip up and do something that would get me kicked out of the dorm so that he would no longer have to room with me. (Of course, I never did.) “I just thought you might have been paying attention to other things about me.”

He shrugs and is quiet for a moment before saying, “I was thinking that we could get a few different things and share.”

“Okay. It wouldn’t really be a spaghetti day without options.”

“Exactly. But maybe we could both choose one and then pick another one to share. That way you wouldn’t have to eat anything with tomatoes in it.”

“Sounds good,” I say, surprised again by how thoughtful he is being.

Simon ends up getting spaghetti and meatballs while I get chicken alfredo, and then we get a spinach artichoke pasta to share.

Watching him eat the bread while we wait for the various plates of pasta to arrive is what makes me think that this may have been a mistake.

He makes a big display with every bite of the over-buttered bread he takes, moaning as he chews and letting his eyes fall shut like it’s the best thing that he’s ever tasted.

It is affecting me in a way that is inappropriate for such a public space.

I force myself to focus on the condensation running down the side of my glass of water until our food arrives so that I don’t go absolutely mad with want.

The feeling doesn’t go away when our entrees arrive.

Simon is an atrocious eater, and yet, I still find myself wanting to reach across the table, wrap my hand around his tie, and then kiss him senseless.

Instead of doing that, though, I spin my fork in my hand and look down at my barely touched plate.

It would be brainless to do something like that, and it would end our friendship in less than a few seconds. Still, I sometimes think that it might be worth it.

I twirl some noodles around my fork and take a bite, chewing it thoughtfully before looking back up at him.

He has already finished his plate of spaghetti and moved onto the spinach artichoke.

For a brief moment, I imagine reaching over to that same plate and us ending up eating it Lady and the Tramp style. Surely an “accidental” kiss wouldn’t ruin our friendship…

I shake my head at myself and take another bite from my own plate.

It is a really good Alfredo, and if I were eating it by myself, I would probably have eaten at least half of it by now, but I try to be careful not to look like a pig when I’m eating in front of Simon, not wanting to make a fool of myself.

“You okay?” Simon asks after a moment, thankfully waiting until he has swallowed to speak. “You seem really quiet, pensive.

“I was just thinking.”

“What about?” He asks with an innocent curiosity.

I blush as the thought of our lips meeting over a strand of noodle reenters my mind.

In hindsight, that seems like a pretty gross way to kiss, with food trailed from one person’s mouth to another’s. It almost ruins my appetite, and I decide that I definitely don’t want our first kiss to be like that. If we were to even have one.

Simon is looking at me expectantly, so I decide to be partially honest with my answer and say, “Lady and the Tramp.”

“The movie?”

I nod.

“Cool.”

And just like that, he continues eating, none the wiser to my exact thoughts.

I finish my plate off and eat a few bites from the other plate, allowing Simon to eat as much as he wants.

When the bill arrives, I reach for it to pay seeing as I was the one who invited him out on this “spa” day, but Simon won’t let me, insisting that since he turned it into dinner that he should pay, confirming my suspicions.

He played dumb, intentionally turning this into us going out to dinner together. I just need to figure out why.

As we leave the restaurant and head towards my car, I realize that I don’t want this to end. I want to spend the rest of the night with Simon. Actually, I want to spend the rest of my life with him, but that will never happen, so I have to make the most of right now.

I stop walking and turn to him right before we reach my car.

“I have a question,” I tell him.

He tilts his head to the side and peers at me curiously. “Okay. Ask me.”

“Did you just not want to go on an actual spa day or was there another reason you wanted to go to dinner instead?”

“I just really like spaghetti,” he says simply, like it’s a reasonable answer. And I suppose it is. I just hadn’t considered that option.

“Oh,” I say, my heart sinking in my chest.

Of course. I should have thought of that. Food has always been his top priority.

I nod at him and start to turn away, reaching for my pocket to grab my keys.

“Baz,” he whispers a moment before his hand wraps around my wrist. “Wait.”

I slowly turn back to him to see what he wants, attempting to mask the disappointment I feel at his answer.

“Yes, Simon?” I reply, sounding far too formal.

“I’m sure a spa day would have been fun, b-but I thought this would be better,” he admits.

“Better than what?”

“A better first date.”

“You think this was a date?” I ask, my heart starting to race.

“I-I had hoped it was. I d-don’t know.” He drops my arm and looks at the ground nervously. “I guess I wanted it to be, and when you asked me to go on a spa day, it felt like a good opportunity to turn it into something more.”

My heart stutters at the words ‘something more.’ Maybe I wasn’t imagining this thing between us.

“But you never said anything about this being a date. How was I supposed to know if it was one?”

He tears a hand through his hair and looks back up at me with a sigh. “I don’t know. I wanted to ask you if it was, but I was so worried that you would say it wasn’t that I thought it would be better to just not say anything. At least then, you couldn’t reject me.”

He’s putting into words a lot of the things that I’ve been thinking.

When we spend time together, there is always this feeling stirring between us like something is happening, but I’ve been too afraid that I was wrong about it to say anything.

I smile at him and he frowns.

“Look, I’m sorry for just assuming. We can just forget about this whole thing.”

I shake my head at him. “Simon, Simon,” I say slowly, drawing the sound out. I love the way his name feels in my mouth. “I can’t just forget about this. I want to remember it.”

“Why? So, you can go tell all your friends that I made a fool of myself and thought you would actually like me?”

It hurts that he still thinks I would do something like that, even after we’ve become friends, but I probably deserve that. I’m still pretty closed off around him, so as to protect myself from getting hurt.

“I wouldn’t do that. You’re my friend now.”

“Right. We’re just friends.”

I sigh and close my eyes for a brief moment. That isn’t quite how I meant for that to come out.

“No. I mean, we were friends, but—.”

“But not now that you know how I feel about you?” He says, interrupting me.

“No, that’s not—.”

He shakes his head and turns away from me, but not before I can see the hurt in his eyes.

If he would just listen to me, he would know that I was trying to say that I don’t want us to be just friends. I want so much more than that.

I want tonight to have been a date, and I want so many more just like it.

But now, he’s starting to walk away from me, and I think that he intends to walk home rather than sit in a car with me.

I have to remedy this before it’s too late.

“Simon, wait.” It’s my turn to reach out for him.

I pull lightly on his arm, and he turns to me. He’s reluctant about it, but at least he doesn’t pull away.

I try to find the words to tell him how I feel, but my search comes up empty. How do I describe the way that I have felt about him for so long? How do I tell him that he is my whole world? Or that he’s the sun and my world revolves around him?

I don’t think I can. At least, not yet.

But I can do this: I can pull him close to me and press my lips to his.

I start out hesitant, still giving him the chance to pull away, but he presses back hungrily, tilting his head to the side and parting his lips around mine.

I let him take over the kiss, and he does this wonderful thing with his chin that has fireworks going off behind my eyelids.

I have to pull back far too soon to catch my breath, but I don’t go far, leaning my forehead against his.

“I don’t want to be just friends,” I say finally. “I want something more.”

He grins at me, and it’s almost as blinding as the sun. He’s beautiful.

“Okay,” he says with a nod, then he kisses me.

This time, the kiss quickly deepens, and I tangle one hand in his hair and fist the other around his tie as he gently leads me back until my back is up against my car.

Forget the way his name feels; his tongue feels much better in my mouth.

After a few minutes, Simon starts to pull away, probably because we’re still standing in the middle of a parking lot, but I pull him back to me.

I don’t want him to go. I never want to let him go.

#snowbaz #snowbaz fic #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #carry on #wayward son #rainbow rowell #my writing #spa day

[carefulthatsharassment-sir]

Forever

This was written for @inthemindofanother​ 1K challenge. Congratulations on 1K!! The prompt was best friend who stops wedding. I hope you enjoy it.

Pairing: Elijah x Male Original Character

Word Count: 1568

Warnings: A little alcohol use, some angst and fluff.

Connor frowned as he stumbled through the entrance to the courtyard, his movements drunk, slow and unsteady. He pursed his lips before taking a swig of the bottle of whisky that was more than half gone. Unsurprisingly the Mikaelson compound was deserted, the male siblings had all gone out drinking celebrating Elijah’s last night as a free man, Rebekah and Freya had gone out with the lovely women that Elijah would be marrying in the morning. Hope was spending the night at Hayley and Jacksons new place across the river. So, Connor was all alone, he contemplated going back out and losing himself to his bitter anger and another warm body, but he figured it wouldn’t do him any good in the long run, so getting drunk of his arse was the next best thing. Taking another long swig of the whisky he stumbled up the stairs holding on to the bannister for support he desperately needed, okay so he probably shouldn’t have been drinking as much as he was but he felt as if every single aspect of himself was aching and breaking apart, he could feel his heart shattering every minute as the wedding drew closer. With less than 24 hours until Elijah Mikaelson married the supposed women of his dreams, Connor’s heart was hanging on by literal threads, or well it felt like that to him. Connor sighed before pulling himself up and dragging himself to his bedroom. Opening the slightly creaky door, he turned and switched on his light, slamming the door behind him with his foot. He made his way to the bed, messily placing the bottle of whiskey on his bedside table. Toeing of his shoes and taking his jacket of, he crumpled the Demin and threw it across the room. Connor sat down on the bed and ran his hand through his hair, his thoughts starting to get a little foggy and a little messy the alcohol he had consumed throughout the night finally catching up to him. Thankfully despite growing up with the Michaelson’s, being Elijah’s best friend and older than the man by 3 months and being turned by Esther all those many many years ago Elijah had not asked him to be his best man, instead choosing to ask Niklaus in some hope to make Niklaus feel better. It had worked Connor supposed as Niklaus was very accepting towards Elijah’s wife to be. Connor on the other hand while had been civil and polite made no effort to bond or communicate with the woman. There was only so many times he could watch Elijah fall in love with someone who wasn’t him, Connor had been in love with Elijah since he was a teenager and a thousand years later here, he was still pining over his best friend. It was no secret growing up that Connor wasn’t a lady’s man; he was rather a man’s man. Over the centuries there had been a few men none of them however compared to Elijah. Connor reached over to grab the whiskey with a shaky hand, finishing it before throwing the bottle towards the wall, suddenly not caring that it would most likely smash and he would have a mess to clean in the morning. Connor took of his jeans also throwing them across the room. Deciding he had, had enough of this day he switched of the light and crawled into bed, silently hoping that he would sleep through tomorrow, that no one would wake him up as he was pretty sure pretending to be happy would break his heart. With that as his last thought Connor allowed his drunken slumber to take him.

The first thing Connor was aware of when he woke up was that the compound was still silent, which meant his wish either came true or everyone else was still asleep. Checking his phone, he realised it was far to early for the others to be awake, come to think of it, it was also far too early for himself to be awake. But well to be honest he did have the mess that was currently his room to clean and come to think of it he could really murder a coffee now. Connor got out of bed, sighing when he spotted the mess, he had left last night. Thankfully the bottle hadn’t shattered, god knows how it hadn’t, but Connor was incredibly grateful that it hadn’t. He picked it up and placed it on his dresser. Looking in the mirror he wasn’t surprised to see his short brown hair sticking up and looking a little like a bird’s nest, he also wasn’t surprised to see that his blue eyes were a little bloodshot. That’s what you get when you spend most of the night drinking yourself silly. Since it was highly likely that no one would be up Connor didn’t bother putting any pyjama bottoms on, content with just his boxer shorts and his black t-shirt. He padded towards the kitchen making sure to be quiet, once there he started to make his coffee, sighing slightly he sat at the breakfast bar waiting for the coffee to brew. Suddenly Elijah appeared in front of him. “Good morning Connor” He said.

“Huh? Oh, good morning Lijah” Connor stood up hearing that the coffee was done, he added sugar and sat back down nursing his drink. Connor sighed completely ignoring Elijah, and the way that his heart just sped up around him. Elijah sat down next to him, before breaking the awkward silence.

“I missed you yesterday, where did you go in the end?”

“Oh uh, I uh went to a different bar”

Elijah nodded in understanding. “So, did you end up doing anything interesting?”

“Oh uh, not really, the usual to be honest”

“Why didn’t you come with us yesterday?” Elijah asked

Connor paused, he really did not know how to answer the question, lie and tell him, he met someone or tell him the truth, tell Elijah that his heart couldn’t take much more of this, that he hated that they would never ever be together, that they would only ever just be best friends.

“Connor you know if something is bothering you, you can tell me you know”

Connor sighed “There are somethings better left unsaid Elijah”

“No there’s not Connor, I am your best friend. If there is something bothering, you I deserve to know”

“That’s the thing Lijah, its you. Your bothering me” Connor exploded.

Elijah looked taken back “What, what do you mean it’s me”

Connor sighed. Well he supposed it was now or never. Elijah was due to get married in 5 hours. Although he still had doubts, he wasn’t sure he wanted to do this to his best friend, but he supposed either way he was going to lose Elijah today.

“Connor, come on talk to me”

Connor ran his hand through his hair. “God this is not the conversation I ever wanted in my boxers on the day of your wedding”

Elijah looked confused and was about to speak before Connor held his hand up to stop him.

“Elijah Mikaelson, there is something you need to know about me. You obviously know that I am gay, and you’ve never been anything short of accepting. Throughout all the decades that I have lived through there have been countless lovers and one-night stands but there has only ever been one man who I have been completely, wholly and utterly in love with. God Elijah, it’s you. It’s always been you Lijah. You are the man that I want to spend my forever with. I love you Elijah Mikaelson. I can’t watch you marry Amelia, I just can’t. you break my heart every time. I can’t do this to myself anymore. I’m going to leave for a while and let you enjoy Amelia and your life.”

Connor paused looking at the shock in Elijah’s face. “There I have said it now, you can hate me or punch me whatever.” Connor stood up about to leave when Elijah’s gripped his arm to stop him from leaving.

“Connor, why have you only just told me this” Elijah said his voice sounding broken.

Connor turned to him looking Elijah in the eye. “What does it matter, it won’t change anything”

“Except that it does Con, you need to know that I feel the same way. Connor what I feel for you scares me so much that I fell in love with other people to help myself. Which I know is selfish, but I was scared. Hell, I still am but I do love you, I cannot remember a time where I haven’t loved you in some way. Please don’t leave me, I can’t live without you”

Connors eyes shined with unshed tears “Don’t. Elijah just don’t give me false hope”

“It’s not false hope” Elijah surged forward and kissed Connor pouring everything he felt about him into the kiss, Connor kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“Well it’s about bloody time” Came Rebekah’s voice from the doorway.

Connor smiled his lips pressing against Elijah’s once more.

“I thought so too”

Connor smiled at Rebekah and Elijah. Now all’s Elijah to do was break someone else’s heart and stop his wedding. Connor felt a little guilty, but Amelia was a lovely woman and one day he was sure she would find her forever.

#doms1kchallenge #elijahmikaelsonxomc elijahmikaelson