#but rather than it come from a feeling of ‘i can fix him’ (which - in all honesty - can be true given her experience w/ her family)

[satoblue]

𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘵 — part of loving satoru | 0.5k+

your stomach had been in knots the entire day. because it’s the first time satoru will be staying over at your place instead of you at his.

though you hate to admit it, you spent more time than you’d like fixing up the place (straightening pillows and tucking away laundry) and trying not to panic over whether he’d even like it here considering his rather lavish lifestyle.

and you seriously hated how only he could make you nervous about something like this. you know he’s not like that — and still, the situation made you overthink.

but now, you’ve finally invited him here — or rather, he invited himself over with a casual — “i’m sleeping at yours tonight.” — in finality without even asking for permission first like usual.

the nerves have been chewing at you the whole time he’s been here. what if it feels too small to him? too ordinary?

turns out, you don’t have to worry. the man — no, the absolute doofus you’re dating — could make himself comfortable in any situation.

case in point: you have only been gone a few minutes (longer than necessary), stepping back into your bedroom with a glass of water in hand — only to freeze halfway through the doorway at the sight gracing you.

“...satoru,” you start slowly, narrowing your eyes.

“why are you naked?”

said man is currently sprawled across your bed as bare as the day he was born like it’s a damn photoshoot, one arm propping up his head, the other perched on his hip, grinning boyishly and lazy. the clothes you had lent him earlier to wear to bed are discarded on the floor.

“i don’t need pajamas,” he purrs seductively, eyes half lidded and stretching like a cat, his cock exposed, hard, and leaking rather shamelessly onto your bedding as it rests against his stomach.

“i’ll just… wear you.”

your lips press into a thin line as you choke back a laugh, setting your glass on the nightstand.

“wear me?”

satoru hums, eyes glittering as his voice dips playfully. “you’ll fit just right. warm. tight. keep me comfier than clothes ever could. come here.”

your mouth twitches, unable to fight a smile as you edge closer with a sigh. “you mean wear me out?”

“in what way?” he asks innocently, tilting his head with a bat of his white lashes.

you let out an exaggerated groan, rolling your eyes — but your pulse skips when he pats the space on the mattress beside him invitingly.

“ugh, you’re unbelievable.”

“mm, but you’re going to help me prove my point, won’t you?”

satoru’s hand reaches out, curling his fingers around your wrist before you can turn (or run) away, tugging you down until you’re hovering over him.

you gasp in surprise before you release a breathless laugh. somehow, easily — miraculously — just like that, you forget about any of your worries because of him.

but you don’t forget his cock and the way it pokes at your stomach — a little too excited now that you’re on top of him. it is quite hard to miss.

and with that, satoru’s lips brush yours teasingly — a deep grunt escaping from his throat.

“so… which are you gonna let me wear tonight?”

[runningincircl3s]

ANTIMATTER 2

pairing: boyfriend!noah x reader

warnings: nsfw! 18+ toxic relationship, alcohol, arguing, noah literally on his knees begging and pleading <3 tiny bit of smut, possesive noah? i feel like i'm missing a lot

masterlist ⋆ okay i can't believe i'm making a part 2 for this!! it was only supposed to be a one part story but so many people have sent me so many requests giving me ideas for more parts so here i am delivering :) (also i think i might make this a 5 part series? unless i get more ideas!)

You weren’t even sure what the fight was about this time, or how exactly it started. Maybe it was something you said, maybe it was something he did, or maybe it was nothing at all.

But the two of you have been at each other's necks all day, arguing and shouting, screaming and crying, bringing up mistakes from the past, old lies and broken promises, until he finally had enough and left.

He slammed the door on the way out, calling you a name, saying you were too dramatic, and when you asked where he was going all he gave you was “to get some air.”

Now hours later, you were sitting in bed alone, staring at his name on your phone.

He’d been online recently, but you couldn’t bring yourself to start typing a message. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say, you didn’t want to apologise, you just wanted to make sure he was okay and hadn’t done anything stupid. 

But some of the things he’d said to you this time were even more cruel than the last, stripping you of the last of your self esteem. He didn’t deserve an apology, he didn’t even deserve your worrying... 

So you put your phone down, because he especially didn’t deserve another chance tonight.

But being alone tonight with your thoughts wasn't exactly a good idea. You needed someone to talk to, someone to cry to, someone to tell you everything will be fine- but you had lost all of your friends over the years because of Noah in some way or another. Whether it was because of the way you moved halfway across the country with him so you ended up losing contact, or because you were trying too hard to fix your relationship with him that you had forgotten about them…

So you turned to the one person who always had your back. The person who you trusted even more than your own boyfriend. 

You: Hey, I know it’s late but are you awake?

The reply came faster than you expected.

Jolly: Yeah, can’t sleep.

Jolly: Is everything okay?

You stared at the question, swallowing hard. The truth was complicated, messy and rather embarrassing. But Jolly had always had this way about him, and you two had always been close. He saw through all the lies when you’d tell the rest of the guys you were fine after you and Noah fought, and you often found yourself coming to confide in him, though you both swore to never let Noah find out...

You both knew how jealous he gets.

You: Not really. If he’s not home can I come by? Just to talk?

Jolly: Of course, you’re always welcome here. He hasn’t been home all day. 

You made your way down the stairs and pulled on the first jacket you could reach, which just so happened to be one of Noah’s, and drove through the dark to their place.

You knocked on the door, and a part of you was afraid that Noah would be on the other side when it opened… but he wasn’t. 

Jolly appeared, his hair tied half up half down, the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up, revealing the tattoos on his left arm, and a soft look spread across his face as he saw how tired and red your eyes were. 

“Hey,” he said softly, opening the door the rest of the way. “Come in.”

So you did. You stepped in and shut the door behind you, before following him into the living room.

The room was softly lit from the lamp in the corner, making the place look even more cozy and warm. He gestured toward the sofa, and you sank into it. He then sat down beside you, not too close yet not too far from you.

For a while, you just stared at your hands in your lap. He didn’t push you to speak, he never did. He just gave you space, waiting until you were ready to talk. Then...

“We fought again.”

Jolly nodded slowly, like he was expecting that. 

“Bad?”

You nodded. 

“Aren’t they always?” You said with a hurt laugh. 

He leaned back, resting his arm on the back of the sofa, watching you carefully. 

“What’d he say this time?”

You hesitated, because repeating Noah’s words out loud made them feel real, it made them feel true. But you told him anyway. You told him everything, every awful name you were called, every insult he threw at you just to get a reaction… and you saw Jolly’s eyes darken. 

“What the fuck...” He said under his breath, shaking his head. 

“I don’t even know why I keep letting it get to me. I should be used to it by now. But it still…” Your voice broke as you swallowed down the lump in your throat. “It still hurts.”

Jolly didn’t say anything back right away. Instead he reached over, placing his hand gently over yours. His palm was big and warm, and the touch seemed to calm you a little.

“You don’t deserve that,” he said quietly. “I don’t understand why you let him do this to you over and over again. Nobody should be treated that way. Especially not you… after all you’ve done for him.”

Something inside you broke at his words, the tears finally spilling as you squeezed his hand. He let you, he gave you space to let your emotions out, and you always felt safe to around him.

After a moment you pulled back to wipe at your cheeks, frustrated when more tears fell. 

“God, I don’t even know why I came here. I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to dump all this on you.”

Jolly shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“Don’t apologise. I’ve always told you I’m here if you need to talk, and clearly that’s what you needed.”

You laughed dryly, tilting your head back against the couch. 

“If only my boyfriend could say the same.”

Silence settled between you, and you found yourself staring at the ceiling, trying to think of anything but Noah, but then Jolly spoke up again.

“You know… he talks about you all the time. Even when he’s pissed and he pretends he doesn’t care, I can tell he does. But…” He exhaled, “Caring and treating you right aren’t the same thing. And I don’t think he gets that. I know he hates it when he hurts you-”

You shook your head.  

“No, don’t defend him.”

“I’m not.” He said. “I’m just saying… it’s just complicated for him- for both of you. But that doesn’t excuse the way he makes you feel. He’s your boyfriend, and he hurt your feelings, he should be here apologising to you, not disappearing into the night and expecting things to be fine again when he comes back.”

You nodded your head, he was saying exactly what you thought for years, yet never dared to bring up. It had always been that way, so you never expected anything to change- and that was part of the problem.

You turned your head towards Jolly, studying his face in the lamplight. He looked tired too, but in a different way, gentler, softer, like he’d been awake for too long- as opposed to feeling exhausted from stress and worry like you. 

You wondered how different things would be if you never got with Noah, you were friends for a while before you got into a relationship, so what if you just stayed that way... and what if instead, you ended up with Jolly.

He was the opposite of Noah. He was gentle, he was kind, he was patient. He never raised his voice. He never started pointless arguments. He was everything you wanted Noah to be...

“Why are you always so easy to talk to?” You asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Jolly gave a small shrug. 

“Maybe because I know how to listen.”

You chuckled at that. 

“Wow. The bar is low.”

But when your laughter faded, he was still watching you, and suddenly the air between you felt different... 

You weren’t touching anymore, but he was closer to you now, and you could feel the pull of him, the magnetism that made you want to lean closer just to see if he’d let you. But you quickly shook the thought off… 

“I’m just so tired of hurting.” You said. 

“I know.” Jolly said simply with a little frown. Somehow, those two words were more comforting than anything anyone else had said in months.

You stayed there for a while, and at some point he got up and made tea, setting a mug down on the table for you without asking if you wanted one. The simple act nearly broke you again, because Noah never did things like this anymore.

You didn’t realise how late it really was until Jolly glanced at the clock on the wall. It was now past 2am.

“Shit,” you whispered, setting your empty mug down. “I should probably go.”

Jolly nodded, standing up. 

“I hope you two work things out, if that’s what you want.” 

“I don’t know what I want anymore.” You frowned as he walked you to the door, “I still love him, but I don't want to live like this forever.” 

“You think he wants to?” Jolly asked, “He's always saying how he wishes he could be better for you, how he wants to be the man you deserve… I know it’s difficult but maybe just give him one last chance. And if things don't work out this time then you know what to do. But make sure to let him know it’s the last time you’ll ever take any of his shit.”

You nodded as you slipped your shoes back on slowly, agreeing with him but not wanting to talk about it again- since you had only just stopped crying.

“Text me if you need anything,” Jolly said as you reached for your keys. “It doesn’t matter what time it is. I’m always here for you, okay?”

You nodded, trying not to let the lump in your throat come back. 

“Thank you, Jolly. It means a lot.”

But before he could answer, the sound of the front door unlocking made both of you freeze...

The handle turned, the door creaked...

And then Noah stepped inside.

His hood was still up, his hair falling into his eyes. His eyes shot up just long enough to register you standing in the hallway... with Jolly? For a second he looked surprised, but then that look was replaced with something darker… but then he dropped his gaze and stepped past without a word.

“Noah-” You whispered, feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

But he didn’t stop. He brushed by you so close you caught the smell of his cologne mixed with the smell of cigarettes- which he swore he’d quit again- his shoulder bumping into yours like you weren’t even there.

Jolly didn't say anything. He just watched the back of Noah as he disappeared up the stairs, each footstep heavy, until you both heard the bedroom door slam shut, rattling through the house.

You just stood there, your heart racing as you tried to work out whether you should chase after him or flee before he could come back down- but then Jolly broke the silence. 

“Don’t even bother.” He said, as if he could read your mind. “He’s in a mood, he’s won't listen. You'll only hurt yourself more.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes as your vision blurred with fresh tears.

“Come on.” He said softly, pulling the door open for you. 

The cold night air hit your face the moment you stepped out, and Jolly followed you, walking you to your car. Neither of you said a word, but for once that wasn’t a bad thing.

At your car, you turned to him. You hadn’t realised until now how close he’d been walking beside you. You thought for a moment, wondering how to thank him for listening, how to tell him how much it meant for you to have someone to listen... but you couldn't find the words. Instead, you reached for him and he leaned down, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. His arms were strong and his body was warm, and he smelled so good…

“Thanks again... for letting me come over tonight.” You whispered into his chest.

Jolly pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head before pulling back, so gentle that you weren't even sure whether it had been a kiss or not.

“Not a problem. Just go and get some rest, alright? And let me know if you try to speak to him... just remember everything will be okay.”

You nodded quickly, turning to get in your car before the tears could spill again.

...But what you didn’t see- what you couldn’t see- was the figure standing at the upstairs window, glancing out of the gap in the curtain.

Noah had watched it all, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, his chest heaving with rage as he watched Jolly’s arms around you, your head pressed to his chest.

And then the kiss.

Not your lips, thank fuck, but the way Jolly bent his head to your hair. The tenderness of it made his stomach turn, to see someone else kiss you, to even see you in someone else's arms. No one else was supposed to touch you like that. No one else was supposed to hold you when you cried. No one else was supposed to kiss you- even there, even soft, even innocent- because you were his. You were always his.

He ripped the curtain shut with such aggression that the pole rattled against the wall, then he started pacing his room, sending himself into a spiral.

You went to Jolly. You fucking went to Jolly.

His brain wouldn't stop feeding him pictures... Jolly’s mouth on yours, Jolly’s hands on your skin, Jolly inside you. He couldn't make it stop, no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes closed.

In a fury, he collapsed on the edge of his bed, the anger was so consuming it felt like he couldn’t breathe. He swore, he ran his fingers through his hair, he threw the nearest objects across the room but nothing was easing it.

Because all he could see, every time he blinked, was you and his best friend.

The thought of it made him feel sick, like he was going to vomit, he wanted to put his fist through the wall, he wanted to tear the entire house apart if it meant you wouldn’t look at Jolly like that again...

Because you looked happier with him, in the few seconds that Noah saw. The smile you gave him when you left was genuine, one Noah hadn't seen for years, and he watched the way your eyes fell shut as he hugged you, like you actually felt safe with him.

The fury, the jealousy, the anger and grief wrestled inside him until he didn’t know which one hurt more. By the time the sky started to lighten in morning, Noah hadn’t slept a second. He just sat there in the dark, staring at his bedroom door like if he thought hard enough, he could will you to walk through it.

And still, all he could see was you and Jolly.

...

You weren’t sure how long you slept for last night, if at all, but now the morning light was creeping through the blinds, and you turned over with a groan. Jolly’s words from last night were still playing on your mind, about how you deserved better, but also how maybe you should give Noah one last chance, but make it clear that it was his last.

You still loved Noah. God help you, you still loved him, and if there was even the smallest chance of salvaging whatever you two had, you wanted to take it.

You reached out blindly for your phone, and then found his name. For a long moment you just stared at the past messages, thinking of what you could say. You didn’t want to sound desperate, or like you were crawling back, but you wanted him to come over. You wanted to talk, you wanted to try again. 

Just one last time. 

You: Can you come over? I want to talk.

Not even two seconds later, the three dots appeared, showing he was typing. You wondered what he was doing awake so early, or perhaps he hadn’t slept. Your stomach flipped, bracing for whatever he might say. But then they vanished.

Your brows drew together. Five minutes passed, then ten, then twenty… and there was no reply. 

You assumed maybe he wasn’t in a good mood and would reply later, or he’d-

Knock knock knock knock knock…

The knock was harsh and impatient, so you knew it was him. You scrambled up and out of bed, you weren’t exactly prepared for this, but you swallowed down the nerves. 

This was it. This was the moment where you could tell him you still wanted him, still believed you two could fix it.

You opened the door, and before you could even get a word out, his eyes narrowed.

“You wanna tell me what were you doing last night?”

You froze. 

“…What?”

“Don’t fucking play dumb with me.” He shoved past you into the house. “You were at my place, alone with him.”

The air left your lungs in a rush. 

“Noah, wh-”

“Don’t think I didn’t see the two of you out there, whispering, touching, hugging. You think I’m blind?”

“It’s not=”

“You couldn’t even wait to leave me before running to him, huh? My best fucking friend? Was it good? Was he better than me?” His voice was laced with venom, but underneath it you caught something more dangerous… hurt.

You shook your head, words getting stuck in your throat. 

“Nothing happened!”

“Bullshit!” He barked a laugh that chilled you to the bone. “You think I don’t know how this goes? One drink, one shoulder to cry on, one slip-”

“Stop!” you shouted, hands trembling as they flailed in the air. “Don’t do this to me, Noah! I didn’t sleep with him. I didn’t even drink- he made tea but I- I would never-”

“Oh, but it’s so easy to picture, isn’t it?” He sneered, stepping closer until you could feel the heat of his breath. “You’ve been running to him for months, years even? Telling him the shit you should’ve been telling me. Trusting him with things you can’t trust me with. You think I don’t notice? You think I haven’t seen the way you look at him? Like how you used to look at me?!”

Your heart was pounding against your ribs, fear and fury coursing inside you. But then his words hit you like a freight train, and the fury won.

Because he was standing in your home, accusing you of cheating, when you knew damn well he’d been doing exactly that for years.

“Do you want to talk about cheating?” You hissed, your voice shaking. “Do you really want to stand here and point fingers at me when you’ve had your dick in more groupies than I can count?”

The smirk on his face faltered. Just for a second, but it was enough for you to know you got him.

You stepped closer, pointing a finger at his chest so hard he stumbled back. 

“Don’t you dare act like I’m the one in the wrong here, I never touched Jolly, but you... you’ve been doing this for years, Noah. The hotel rooms you wouldn’t let me come up to, the smell of other girls perfume on your clothes, the rumours I had to hear from other people over the years? Do you know how humiliating that was- is for me? To love you and know you’d rather fuck strangers who don’t even know your last name?”

He barked a laugh, but this time it was weaker, almost nervous. 

“You’re out of your fucking mind. You know I-”

“No! I’m not,” you snapped, tears blurring your vision as you shoved him again, harder. “You are. You’re insane if you think I’ll let you stand here and paint me as the cheater when you’ve been the one betraying me over and over again. But I act like it doesn’t bother me, I always believed it was just because you’d miss me on the road, or that it didn’t mean anything but… now I know I don’t mean anything either. So why the fuck should I bother anymore?”

He swallowed hard, his lips parting again, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak. You pointed to the door, your hand shaking with rage.

“Get out. We’re done.”

He stared at you like you’d lost it. 

“No... no, you don’t mean that.”

“I do. The sight of you makes me sick… get the fuck out of my house, Noah.”

He laughed again, but this time it sounded more nervous.

“You’ll calm down. You’ll call me later. This is just another fight.- yeah, it’s always just another fight.” Though it sounded a lot more like he was trying to convince himself…

You shoved him towards the door with all the strength in you.

“GET OUT!!”

His back hit the wall, and you grabbed the door handle and yanked it open, your eyes filling with angry, hot tears, and he finally stepped through.

“Fine,” he sighed. But then his smirk was back, “I’ll see you later when you’re done throwing your tantrum.”

The door slammed behind him, the sound echoing through the walls, through the whole house. 

You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry and chase after him and tell him you were serious this time, that it's not just another fight... but no, you just stayed standing there in that spot, your hands shaking, chest heaving, tears streaming down your face.

He thought you’d cave. He thought you’d call. He thought you’d let it slide like you always did, and you'd come running back to apologise for getting upset when he was the one in the wrong.

But you wouldn’t. Not this time. Not when he accused you of the one thing you’d never ever do to him, whilst he’d been guilty of it himself and you ignored it every time.

You walked up the stairs, into your bedroom, your vision still blurry with angry tears as you pulled out his suitcase from the closet.

If he thought this was just another "tantrum", he was about to find out how wrong he was.

…

The suitcase ended up being heavier than you expected. Not just physically heavy, because it was stuffed with Noah’s things, but emotionally heavy too. Because every shirt of his you folded, every hoodie you stuffed in there, every half empty bottle of cologne you pulled from the bathroom shelf felt like a stab to the heart. Because this was finally it. After 10 years.

It took hours, since it was now 11pm. Hours of pacing your home- the home he helped you to buy when the band blew up, claiming he wouldn’t have been able to have made it this far without you and he wanted to give you something special. Hours of pulling open drawers, of breaking down in tears every time you thought too hard about what you were really doing.

At one point you even found yourself sat there with one of his tshirts clutched in your hands, it still smelled like him, and it was soft in your hands. Your tears ended up soaking the fabric, and you’d wonder if you were actually strong enough to go through with this. You could always just put everything back, text him and-

But then you’d hear his voice in your head again.

The accusations. The laughter. The way he didn't believe you when you told him you wanted him to go.

You remembered exactly why you were doing this in the first place.

You shoved another hoodie into the suitcase, zipped it shut with your trembling hands, and dragged it to the front door where the duffel bags were already waiting.

For a moment you just stared at the bags... because this was it. This was really it.

Everything from his shirts to his mugs to his deodorants were packed. You couldn’t get rid of everything that reminded him of you, you’d have to burn the building down and move to the other side of the world to do that, but it was a start. 

You took a deep breath before opening your front door, and began loading the bags into your car.

When you got to Noah and Jolly’s place, you paused, your hands still on the wheel, the engine still running. Your heart was racing in your chest, and you didn’t know whether you were making a bad decision or not… you just sat frozen, staring at the front door, your brain telling you to turn around and go home, to shove the bags back in your closet and pretend this was just another one of those fights that could be forgotten about after a couple hours spent tangled in his bed sheets...

But you knew better this time. You knew you had to do this. 

So you got out, lifted the heavy suitcase with shaking arms, and carried it up the front steps. Then you went back for the bags. 

You knocked softly, almost like you hoped it was so quiet that no one would hear, nobody would answer so you could drag the bags back down to the car and-

The door swung open.

Jolly stood there, surprise crossing his face as his gaze dropped from your tear streaked cheeks down to the bags at your feet.

Before he could say anything, you stepped forward, dragging the bags inside and letting them drop with a thud that echoed in the hallway, it was so loud that in the kitchen, Noah’s brows furrowed…

He peeped his head around the corner, and saw you there at the door. 

You must’ve come to apologise!

Noah stepped into the hallway, his hair a little messy and damp from a shower, his eyes red from crying too… but when he looked at you, his whole face softened.

“I knew you’d come back.” Noah said softly, with a sigh of relief, and a little smiling tugging at his lips.

Your throat felt tight. For a moment, you almost wished that’s why you were here. That you could fall into his arms, let the fight dissolve into nothing, let the cycle start again because at least then you wouldn’t feel this fucking hollow.

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for-” He began… 

But then his gaze dropped.

To the bags. To the suitcase.

The warmth in his eyes disappeared. His smile vanished. His face went blank...

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head. He looked back up at you, his voice broken. “What… what are you doing?”

Your bottom lip quivered, but you forced the words out anyway. 

“Giving you your stuff back."

Noah was silent, he could only stare at you like you had just ripped his heart out with your bare hands. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes glossed with tears. He looked like he wanted to argue, to scream, to laugh it off again… just anything but this.

But he didn’t move.

He just stood there, staring at the bags, then back at you, and for possibly the first time in his life, Noah didn’t have anything to say.

“I told you, we're done.” You said with a long sigh. “I’ll be back after work tomorrow for my things.” 

“You’re not serious,” he said with a huff of laughter. He took a step forward, raising his hands up slightly. “Come on. Don’t do this. We fight, you get pissed, you tell me it’s over… then a few hours later you’re calling me and we make up. That’s what we do... we don't do this.”

You shook your head, tears already slipping down your cheeks. 

“Not this time.”

“No... no, don’t say that. You don’t mean it. You love me! You love me.”

“I do,” you whispered, unable to even look at him. “I love you so much, Noah. That’s the problem. I give you everything, and you just make me feel like I’m nothing. Then you accuse me of things I’ve never done, but you have. This is all on you, Noah. You did this.”

Noah shook his head, but for the first time in years, he didn't try to deny it. He just stood there, his lip caught between his teeth.

“Noah-” Jolly’s voice came quiet from beside you, but Noah shot him a glare.  

“You stay the fuck out of this.”

But when his eyes were back on you, the anger was gone. In its place was something far worse. It was pure raw desperation.

He reached for you then, but you stepped back before he could touch you.

“No, you don't get to touch me anymore.” You said as you wiped your cheeks with a sniffle, “I’m not yours anymore, Noah.”

You turned around, stepping back out onto the porch. The air outside was starting to get cold, so you wrapped your arms around your body as you walked down the steps. Behind you, you heard Noah take a sharp breath, like he was choking on a sob but refusing to let it out. 

You didn’t look back. You couldn't. You did what you had to do.

His bags were left in his hallway. The door was still wide open. Jolly was standing a little awkwardly as he watched Noah watch the one thing in the world he thought he’d never lose walk away from him...

After you left, after he watched your car pull off the driveway, all Noah could so was stare at the bags on the ground.

Then he reached for the nearest duffel and launched it across the hall, but the zipper must’ve been broken, or not fully zipped, as his things all spilled out across the floor.

Jolly had already chose the safe option and backed off, retreating upstairs and leaving Noah alone... maybe he knew there was nothing he could say that would help, or maybe he knew Noah needed this- to be alone, to be left to deal with the mess he made. Maybe it'd make him realise how much of an idiot he's been.

Noah slid down against the wall, his head dropping into his hands as the sobs finally poured out of him. He didn’t hold back, he cried in a way he hadn’t let himself do since he was a kid as every memory of you two hit him at once.

He thought back to when you first met, the both of you were so young- just teenagers at the time. Back when you thought it was the two of you against the world. He thought back to you laughing with your feet in his lap during movie nights, the day you got the keys to your first shared apartment on his 21st birthday, before the fights started and you made the decision to never live together again...

He thought back to when you used to look at him like he was your entire world, even long after he stopped deserving it. Even after he ruined it, when the littles lies began, then they escalated, then the cheating started, then the gaslighting and manipulating, and before you knew it you reached the point of no return.

So now you had gone. Despite all the emotions he was feeling right now, he was glad you finally left. He was glad he could no longer be a burden to you, glad you finally had the courage to do it...

But that didn't mean he was happy about it.  

He stayed there on the floor for what must've been hours. Crying until his throat felt raw, until his eyes and chest both ached from it, until there was nothing left in him but a cold, empty feeling. It didn’t feel like hours had passed though, it was only when the sun started to rise again, he dragged himself upstairs, collapsed down on his bed, and reached into his pocket for his phone, typing a message out with shaky hands, the screen blurred by his tears.

He hit send. Watched the little bar crawl across the top of the screen...

But then a little red message popped up

Noah: Please can we just talk about this. I’m so sorry, I love you so much (!) Message not delivered.

Noah blinked in confusion and hit resend, but the messge popped up again.

That's when it really hit him how serious you were about this, because you had already blocked him.

…

It had been a week now since you left Noah, and he had barely left his room. He barely even moved from the bed, except to drag himself to the bathroom every now and then.

Jolly could hear him some nights, through the paper thin walls of their home. He heard heavy footsteps pacing around, things being thrown against walls, the muffled sound of him crying when he thought no one was awake. But Jolly didn't intervene, he knew Noah well enough to know he wouldn't want anyone to step in, he would just make things worse.

But what Jolly did do, was keep checking in on you. You weren’t doing too well either. You weren’t sleeping, some mornings you'd wake up with your head pounding from dehydration after eventually crying yourself to sleep. Sure, you blocked Noah’s number, but that didn’t mean you’d suddenly stopped caring, you wished it was that simple. It just meant you couldn’t give in and let him back in.

Jolly knew all this, he knew you weren't coping too well and you needed a friend, so tonight he had an idea. He showed up at your door with a soft smile on his face.

“Come on,” he said, “Get in the car. You need to get out for a bit.”

"Where are we going? I'm not dressed, I haven't brushed my hair in-"

"It's okay," he said calmly, "I was just thinking of going for a drive, maybe stopping off at one of Folio's spots and just talk... I guessed you need a friend."

You thought it over… and five minutes later, you were in his passenger seat. 

The drive was quiet, music played quietly from the radio, and the city lights were soon swapped for trees, and before you knew it he had parked up by a wide, dark lake, with the moonlight reflecting off the water. 

The two of you got out, and sat down on a small wooden bench nearby. Jolly had pulled out a bottle of wine, apologising for it being cheap but it was the only one they had at the store. 

Neither of you bothered with glasses. You just passed the bottle back and forth, staring up at the starry night sky. 

“You know what really sucks?” You said, glancing over at Jolly, “I miss him. I know it’s only been a week but… I still love him. Even after everything, after how badly he’s treated me… I still fucking love him.”

Jolly leaned back against the bench, taking a sip from the bottle before passing it back to you.

“Love isn’t something you can just switch off like that,” he said quietly. “Trust me, I know.”

You frowned at that, but he just shrugged like it wasn’t worth digging into.

The wine worked its way through you, easing the ache in your heart. At some point, you started giggling as the two of you talked about old memories- like the time you and him got accidentally locked on the tour bus by Matt, and the time you both pulled a prank on Ruffilo, making him think the airport lost his luggage. And when the laughter died down, you found yourself leaning against him, his shoulder warm against your temple.

“Jolly?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Me and Noah… if we were never a thing… do you ever think about what we could’ve been?”

Jolly’s head tilted at your question, thinking about it as you passed the bottle back.

“Sometimes.”

The word almost made your breath catch. You turned your head towards him, searching his face in the dim moonlight. He was still staring out at the lake, his expression calm, but the look in his eyes was another story…

“Yeah?” You whispered.

He gave you a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Doesn’t matter though, does it? You were always his, he was always yours… I'd never do that to a friend.”

His honesty, the softness of his words, the way he said it like he’d already made peace with it made your heart hurt.

You weren’t thinking straight in the slightest, you weren’t thinking about Noah or the consequences…

"But we're not together anymore." You whispered, slowly, slowly, closing the space between you...

Then you pressed your lips to his, and the world seemed to still for a moment...

At first, he didn’t move, he didn’t react… but then he kissed you back. His lips were warm, soft and gentle, and tasted of wine. He didn’t grab at you or devour you like Noah always did when he was drunk or angry, no. He kissed you like you mattered. Like you were to be cherished.

And somehow, this was the problem, because as your hands curled into his hoodie, as your tongue found his, you realised how different this was. This wasn’t rough and heated like Noah, it was soft and grounding, you felt safe. It made your heart ache, because you didn’t just want to be safe, you wanted to be wanted... and Noah knew just how to do that.

But you knew that wasn't healthy. That wasn't real love... this was real love. This is what you should want.

But it seems Jolly must've realised something was up, because the second your kiss deepened, he pulled back. His hand came up to hold your shoulder, keeping you from leaning in again.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head. His voice cracked, and that hurt worse than the rejection. “We shouldn't have- we can’t…”

You pouted, your eyes shining in the moonlight. 

“Why not?”

“Because you’re drunk,” he said softly. “And because you’re heartbroken. You don’t want me, you just want someone to make you forget him. And I get that, but if I let this happen right now I’d just be taking advantage of you and you’d hate me for it tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I would.” You said, your voice small as you turned your head away.

He sighed, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. 

“You would. And you should. You broke up with him barely a week ago, and the two of you have been together for 10 years, that isn’t just something you can move on from in a week?! You’re hurting, it’s still raw, and you don’t know what you need yet.”

“I just need someone to want me again, I just need to know I'm still worthy of love...” You said with a frown, turning to look at him again.

“I know,” was all Jolly could trust himself to say right now. “Why don’t we get you home? It’s starting to get late.” 

You nodded as you wiped at your cheeks, feeling embarrassed and slightly humiliated, but Jolly didn’t judge. He just stood, offering you his hand.

…

The kiss clearly didn’t bother Jolly, as the two of you would still talk everyday. Maybe he thought you couldn't remember, or it was a mistake- either way, neither of you brought it up. You were still friendly, like the small confessions that night changed nothing. He knew you were just missing Noah, and he wasn’t stupid enough to let his own feelings get in the way. 

But now another week had passed, it’s been the longest time you’ve ever gone without seeing Noah besides when he's on tour, but that was going to change today. The guys were shooting for a promotional video for their new merch drop, and Jolly had asked if you wanted to join them. You knew it was a bad idea really, but a part of you wanted to see Noah, to see how he was holding up, and maybe you'd have the chance to talk...

But when you saw him, he looked awful. Not in the literal sense, since his hair was freshly done and he had makeup on to cover up the dark circles under his eyes. But you knew this man better than he knew himself, and you could see it in his eyes, the lack of life, the forced smile he gave when someone from the crew said something to him.

It hit you like a punch. Though you don’t know why, since he had brought this upon himself. Yet you still wanted to run to him, to shake him, to hold him, to scream at him, to do something, anything… but you stayed put, slipping your hands into your pockets as you stood by the side.

“Hey,” Jolly’s voice snapped you out of it as he appeared by your side. “Everything okay?”

You nodded quickly, lying through your teeth. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

He gave you a look, like he knew better, but he didn’t push. Instead, he guided you toward the row of chairs set up behind the cameras, settling beside you when you sat. 

And that's when Noah saw you. He watched you cross the room with Jolly, it didn’t matter if you weren’t touching him, it didn’t matter if Jolly wasn’t doing anything out of line, it still gave him a sinking feeling in his chest.  

Because for the first time in a very long time, you looked happy. 

When Bryan started to give instructions, telling Noah where to stand, he did exactly that. He modelled the hoodie he had on, tugging the hood up, showing off the sleeves and the design on the back... but his eyes kept darting offstage, looking at you. 

And every time he saw you, Jolly was there too. Sometimes leaning down to say something that made you smile, sometimes just sitting in silence, but whenever Jolly wasn’t needed in the shot, he was always there.

It wasn’t long until everyone took a break for lunch. You followed Jolly towards the catering table, laughing at something he’d said, your hand brushing his as you both reached for the same plate.

...and that was all it took to push him over the edge, because before he could stop himself, before he could even think, he was on his feet and crossing the room.

“Having fun?” His voice was as sharp as a blade when he appeared at your side.

You startled at his sudden appearance, your plate clattering back onto the table.

“Noah-”

“What the fuck is this, seriously?” He gestured between you and Jolly, "You two fucking joined at the hip now? Can’t go five minutes without each other?”

Jolly sighed, shaking his head.

“Let’s not do this here, man.” He said, his eyes drifting over to where the others were sitting, making eye contact with Ruffilo as he took a bite of his banana.

But Noah only laughed harder, the sound laced with hurt.

“Of course not. Not here. God forbid everyone sees what’s really going on. Gotta keep it quiet, right? Keep it pretty, keep it neat...”

“Noah, stop. It’s not what you think-” You tried, but he cut you off with a scoff.

“Oh, isn’t it?” He stepped closer. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like the second I fucked up, you couldn’t wait to spread your legs for him!"

“I would never do that, Noah-”

“Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.” He chuckled bitterly, “You know he’s been waiting for this? For years, he's just been waiting for me to fuck it up so bad that he could swoop in and play the hero. Don’t think I haven’t seen it. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way he looks at you when he thought I wasn't watching, giving you a shoulder to cry on, and now a bed to climb in-”

"Well, if you treated her the way she deserved then maybe she never would've come to me." Jolly said, a dark look in his eyes as he took a step closer to Noah, "You did this to yourself, man. There's only one person to blame this on, it's not y/n, not me, but you."

Noah shook his head, and you saw in the way his eyes glistened in the light that he was either moments away from breaking down or throwing a punch.

“Okay,” he said, swallowing hard. “Yeah, I fucked it all up. I know that. But at least I didn’t run to the next warm body the second it ended. Do you know how this makes you look? Do-”

"Jesus christ! Do you hear yourself right now?" You raised your voice, finally reaching the end of your tether, “You cheated on me, Noah. Over and over again. And now you want to stand here and call me a liar? A whore? You don’t get to do that anymore. I left you because I thought it meant you'd finally stop hurting me, because I've put up with this- with you- for years and pretended I was fine, when I wasn't!! And you never even cared about me enough to realise that, but Jolly did... I never crawled into his bed, but I've cried to him, I've opened up to him, I've spent nights on the phone to him telling him how I want to end things between us, and he's always defended YOU!! Even the morning we broke up... when I asked you to come over, it was because Jolly told me I should give you one last chance, to put the last fight behind us and move on again, but you came in accusing me of sleeping with him?! So yeah... this is all on you, Noah.”

The fight drained out of him all at once. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. But before anyone else could say anything, Ruffilo shouted across with a mouthful of food,

“Uh, maybe you guys should take this shit outside?”

You shot him a look before shaking your head and shoving past Noah, your shoulder hitting him hard enough to make him stumble, and you made straight for the fire exit, your chest heaving, tears burning hot as they rolled down your cheeks.

Noah stood frozen, his eyes locked on the door you disappeared through. And for the first time since the breakup, he wasn’t angry. He was terrified, because now there was definitely no coming back from this.

The concrete steps outside were rough and cold beneath you as you sat, wrapping your arms around yourself, muffling your sobs in the sleeves of your jacket. You hadn't realised Jolly had followed you out, but when he saw you sit down, he hesitated.

"...Do you need some space?"

You nodded your head quickly, voice trembling.

“Yeah. Just… give me a minute. Please.”

Jolly nodded, his hand brushing your shoulder in reassurance before he quietly stepped back inside, leaving you alone.

You closed your eyes and tried focusing on your breathing. In, out... in, out. You tried to calm yourself down... but then the door creaked open again.

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. You’ve spent enough years with Noah to know he was there before he’d even say a word.

The door banged shut behind him, and before you could even look up, his voice cracked through the night air.

“Please... please don’t walk away from me.”

“Noah. Leave.”

“I can’t.” He said, his voice quiet, “I fucking can’t...”

When you finally looked at him, you physically felt your heart shatter. You had never seen him look like this, his face red and blotchy, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts like he’d been running, his eyes drained of all life. Then, before you could even react, he was on his knees in front of you, hands pressed together like he was praying as his eyes met yours.

“Please, baby,” he whispered, his words coming out so fast they tangled. “Please, I’ll do anything, I’ll give up anything, I’ll change everything- I'll quit the band, I’ll stop going out, fuck I’ll even stop breathing if you asked me to, just don’t leave me... please”

You shook your head, holding back tears.

“Noah, it's too late. You don’t get to come crawling back now. You don’t get to cry about it when you’re the reason we’re here-”

“I know!” he cut in, “I know I’m the reason! I know I ruined everything, I know I never deserved you, and trust me, I hate myself more than you ever could... but please, baby I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I don’t even recognise myself without you. Please, I’m begging you... don’t let this be the way it ends. Not like this...”

You flinched when his hands caught your knees, his tears spilling onto your jeans. He clung onto you, his forehead pressed to your lap, his voice muffled against the fabric.

“I love you,” he sobbed. “You’re all I’ve ever fucking wanted, all I’ll ever want, and I was too much of a dick- I was too blind to see it before, but I see it now... fuck, I see it now it's too late, but I can’t lose you, please, please, please-”

As much as you wanted to give in, as much as it hurt you to hear the pain, regret and sadness in his voice, this was nothing compared to how badly he's hurt you. So you forced the words out.

“Are you serious?” You sighed. “After everything you've done, you think you can fall to your knees, tell me I'm the love of your life and expect things to be okay? It doesn't work like that, Noah. I'm not letting you do this to me anymore.”

He shook his head frantically.

“No, no don't say that. Baby I’ll never look at another girl again, I swear, I swear on my fucking life- I’ll be better, I’ll change I fucking promise you. Just... take me back, scream at me, hurt me, do whatever you want, just don’t walk away, don’t leave me here alone... think of all we've been through, do you remember when I asked you to be my girlfriend?”

You couldn't reply.

"I remember," he continued, "I was on stage... we had both just turned 19, but I've been in love with you since the moment I first saw you. You were friends with the drummer from one of my old bands and you came to see one of our shows, I lied about my age to get into the bar that night and so did you, we were what... 15 at the time? We were friends for years, can you believe it took me 4 fucking years to build up the courage to ask you on a date? I remember I was so nervous I couldn't sleep the night before. I was worrying about fucking it up, I was scared you'd only ever see me as a friend... and now you don't even see me as that."

You shut your eyes, a hand coming up to cover your mouth to stop you from sobbing too.

“I can still see you, that night I asked… you were wearing that black dress with the little straps, you were stood at the side of the stage smiling at me, and I swear to god, it felt like the whole fucking room disappeared. It was just you. It’s always been you. And I ruined it. I ruined everything."

Even as he fell apart at your feet, you still had to put on the strong act.

"You did..." You whispered, "You fucked up, Noah. Countless times, and if I take you back I know you'll only do it again."

He shook his head so violently it was like he could physically reject the truth of your words. His tears fell harder, but he wiped at them with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“No... don’t say that. Don’t give up on me like this. I’ll fucking die without you. Just tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this. Tell me how I can make things right, I'll do anything.”

You bit your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. Because god, if you looked at him another second, you knew you’d shatter.

But you couldn’t let yourself give in... so you stood up suddenly, pulling yourself out of his grasp. He scrambled to his feet instantly, reaching for you, his hand catching your wrist.

“No, no, no, no... please, don’t go,” he begged again, breathless, his voice shaking like you'd never heard beofre. “Don’t walk away from me, don’t do this-”

You ripped your wrist free, hot tears spilling down your cheeks as you shook your head.

“I have to go, Noah.”

The words hit him like a bullet, and he staggered back, his back hitting the wall of the building. He sank back against the wall, his face in his hands as his shoulders shook, and you could hear the broken sobs he tried to conceal.

"You've hurt me one too many times," you said as you took a deep breath, turning back towards the door, "Maybe this is what you deserve."

Your hand shook as you reached for the handle, your heart screaming at you to turn around, to take him in your arms, to forgive him.

But instead, you pushed the door open.

…

Weeks passed, and the pain never got any better. You felt like a part of you was just… missing, as if you were missing a limb, or there was a hole in your heart.

But Jolly wasn't letting you go through it alone. He helped fill the void.

You had spent the entire day with him today, he knew you needed to take your mind off Noah, he could tell it was really getting to you today of all days- since it would be your anniversary- so Jolly offered to take you to the beach. It was all going great until you were back in the car, and he had pulled up to your place. 

You sat in the passenger seat, your hand reaching for the door but not quite there yet, when you asked him. 

“Do you want to come in?”

Jolly glanced at you when you asked, his hand still on the wheel. For a moment you thought he’d say no. That he’d spare you both from the inevitable. But then he gave a small nod, his voice low.

“Yeah. If you want me to.”

Inside, your home felt like a stranger’s place. Noah’s absence was felt in every corner, every empty shelf where his anime figures had been, every throw blanket he used to cocoon himself in to make you giggle. You kicked off your shoes and tossed your keys on the side, forcing a smile as you turned back to Jolly.

“Wanna drink? I think I have some beer-” You asked, already reaching for the fridge.

But Jolly shook his head, a small, careful smile tugging at his lips.

“Not tonight.”

You nodded, letting the fridge door shut quietly, but your hand lingered there for a moment, until you turned back to him. He was still standing near the doorway, his broad shoulders relaxed, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. He looked like he belonged anywhere… but not here. 

Not in Noah’s absence.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?... No one belonged here except Noah. No one else could ever fill the empty space he left.

And maybe that’s why you crossed the room anyway, your chest aching, your throat sore. Because you couldn’t stand the emptiness anymore. You couldn’t stand the silence. You couldn't stand the loneliness of it all.

You didn’t give yourself time to think. Your fingers curled into the fabric of Jolly’s hoodie and you pulled him down, your lips crashing against his.

He kissed you back with a slowness that didn’t quite match your urgency. His hands hovered at your sides, hesitating, until you pressed closer, as if to tell him it was okay, almost making it impossible for him not to touch you.

Then his palms were on your waist, his big hands pulling you closer in a way that made your head spin. You hadn’t felt touch like this in too long. 

You walked back until you were in the living room, and you pulled him down on to the sofa with you, your kiss deepening. Your hands slipped beneath his hoodie, feeling the heat of his skin, the weight of him, and for a moment it helped… just to feel something.

Jolly kissed you like you were fragile, like every little move needed thought and patience. His lips moved slowly against yours, his hand carefully sliding up your side, fingertips feather light as they brushed against your ribs over your clothes.

And it was good. It was too good, good in all the ways Noah never was. Jolly was respectful, he was gentle and considerate. Which was not a bad thing at all…

It just wasn’t what you wanted, this wasn't what you needed…

Your heart clenched as your mind betrayed you, summoning memory after memory of him. Noah never kissed you like this, it was never careful, never restrained. He kissed you like he was starving, like he needed you or he’d die. He held you like you weren’t breakable, like he knew you could take it, like he was the only one who ever saw the fire in you and wasn’t afraid of burning. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, but it was too late. Your lips moved against Jolly’s, but you were thinking about someone else...

When Jolly’s mouth moved from yours to your jaw, your breath caught. His lips softly grazed your neck… and that’s when you froze.

Because this wasn’t Noah.

Noah would have bitten. Noah would have grinned against your skin, making some dirty joke that would’ve left you rolling your eyes and giggling through your moans. Noah would’ve left marks, claimed you in a way that had always made you feel like you were his, completely and utterly his.

But Jolly kissed you like he was afraid of breaking you.

And that terrified you, because you wanted to want this. You wanted to feel normal, to have someone give your all their love, to be soft and careful with you... but something about it made you feel uneasy, and it scared you to think that maybe this meant that you and Noah were just as fucked up as each other.

Your hands grabbed at his hoodie again, but this time you weren’t pulling him closer. You were pushing him back.

“Wait,” you whispered, your voice wrecked. “Jolly, stop.”

He froze instantly, lifting his head to search your face. His eyes softened the moment he saw the tears spilling over.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” you choked, shaking your head. “I thought I could, but I can’t. It’s not you. It’s not…” 

Jolly sat back, his hands falling away from you, though he didn’t say a word.

You curled into yourself, dragging your knees up, pressing your palms over your face as sobs tore through you. You wanted so badly to want Jolly, because he was safe, because he was good, because he cared, he saw you. But your heart didn’t care about safe. It didn’t care about good.

Because all it knew was Noah. All it ever wanted was Noah.

Jolly wasn’t entirely sure how to handle this situation. He watched you for a moment, his own heart breaking at the raw emotion in your cries.

Gently, Jolly shuffled closer to you. Not to kiss you again, or to touch you like before, but to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him. 

And you let him, you collapsed into his side and buried your face into his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” you cried into the fabric of his shirt, voice cracked and broken. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Shh.” His voice was quiet and gentle. His hand rubbed slow circles over your back, trying his best to calm you. “Don’t apologise. You don’t owe me anything.”

The words only made you cry harder, because they were true. Because he wasn’t angry. Because he wasn’t Noah.

“I just-” You pulled back enough to look at him, your cheeks wet, eyes red. “I just wanted to feel wanted again. I know it’s fucked up but I thought maybe-”

“I know.” His gaze softened, and he reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face carefully. “I know why. And I wasn’t going to let it go that far, because that wouldn't be good for you right now.”

You had never felt guilt like this before.

“You don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry, Jolly, you don’t deserve me using you to try and forget him-”

“No,” Jolly agreed quietly. “But you don’t deserve the way he’s treated you either. Is it any surprise you’d look for comfort elsewhere?”

"...Can we just forget this ever happened... I'm so sorry-"

"It's okay," Jolly chuckled, "Don't worry about it."

…

Another week had passed since your realisation on the couch with Jolly.

You spent the whole week confused, you spent most nights crying yourself to sleep in a bed that felt too big and far too cold. You couldn’t stop thinking about Noah- about whether the two of you really could try again, or if this was the end. Because at some point in the week, the anger, betrayal and hurt that caused you to leave him had dulled, and you were just left with that empty feeling that you felt in your home, and in your heart.

So tonight, you found yourself standing outside his door. You almost turned back a hundred times on the drive here, almost talked yourself out of it, but now your feet wouldn’t move. 

You knocked three times, like you always used to.

A couple seconds later, the lock clicked. Then the door creaked as it opened. 

And then there he was.

Noah's hair had grown out longer than you’d seen it in years, his eyes were still tired and dull, but his face was completely blank- there was no look of sadness, joy, pain, anger… there was just nothing.

And when he spoke, his voice was flat. 

“I’ll get Jolly.” 

He started to close the door, but your hand flew out, holding it open. 

“I’m not here for Jolly.” 

He looked a little taken back by that, and you watched confusion cross his face, the way his lips parted and his brows furrowed. 

“Then what are you doing here?” He asked, his tone a little harsh, but underneath it you could tell he wanted to hear you say-

“I’m here for you.”

That came as a surprise, and for a moment he didn’t move. His hand was still on the door, his eyes glistened so slightly, but he looked down before you could see too much.

“You shouldn’t be,” he said finally, “After everything I did to you, everything I’ve ever said… you should just go.”

You swallowed, shaking your head. 

“No, I’m not going anywhere. I still love you,” you whispered, “I wish I didn’t, Noah. God I wish I could just turn off my feelings and walk away and forget all about you like I want to. But I can’t.... I’ve been trying, but you’re still always on my mind, whenever I wake up or go to bed, whenever I’m at work- all I ever think about is you, and knowing we’re both suffering here... it’s killing me.”

He shook his head, still staring down at the floor as he took a long breath.

“I don’t deserve that,” he said, and he couldn’t hide the way his voice trembled. “I don’t deserve you.”

You stepped closer, forcing him to look at you. 

“No, maybe you don’t. But that doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

His eyes finally met yours, and you saw it all- the sleepless nights, the regret, the relief, the jealousy that had been eating him alive whenever he thought about you and Jolly.

His lips parted, but instead of words, a quiet sob slipped out, and you felt your heart physically break in two. 

“Fuck,” he tried to conceal the sob with a laugh. “I thought maybe you leaving me was for the best, maybe you’d finally be happy, you could be loved like you deserved, that you were better off with Jolly, but-” he shook his head, “I don’t even feel like I can breathe when you’re not here.”

You frowned, tears rolling down your own cheeks as you looked at him… and before you could even think enough to talk yourself out of it, you stepped in, letting the door shut behind you. You reached up, your hands framing his face before you pulled him down, letting your lips crash into his. 

It was messy and desperate and wet with both your tears, your noses bumped, your teeth clashed, but this was what you were used to. This was what you loved. This was what you craved. You didn’t like to be kissed softly. Because Noah kissed you like he was drowning, and you were the air keeping him alive. And you didn’t like to be held as though you were made of glass. Because Noah’s hands found your waist, then your back, then your hair… grabbing and touching any part of you like he couldn’t touch enough of you at once. 

When you finally pulled back, both of you gasping and breathless, his forehead pressed against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, his voice shaky as he spoke.

“I’ll change,” he whispered. “I’ll do anything, I’ll do everything, I’ll fix everything, I’ll be better, I swear to god I will, just… please stay.”

You cupped his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears on his cheeks. 

“I don’t need you to be perfect, Noah. I just want you. Even if we’re broken, even if we're messed up, I’d rather spend the rest of my life arguing with you than pretending to love someone else.”

“But we shouldn’t have to argue,” he argued, “I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to be the reason you cry anymore.”

“But you’re also the reason I laugh,” you whispered back, “The reason I wake up in the morning, the reason I still believe in love, even if it’s not always easy… I’m nothing without you either, Noah. And I think for some strange, fucked up reason, we were made for each other… so do you think we can try again?”

“You’re really giving me another chance?”

You nodded slowly, wiping your own tears away. 

“If you’ll take it.”

Noah didn’t even answer that with words. Instead, his mouth crashed back against yours, his hands already grabbing at you like he was terrified you’d disappear if he let go. His kiss was rougher this time, and harder, he wasn’t asking permission, he was taking you back.

You barely had time to gasp before he spun you, pressing your back against the wall with a soft thud, his lips dragging across your jaw, your throat, teeth grazing where cold tears had dried on your skin. His hands were everywhere at once, your waist, your thighs, your ass, and he was pulling, grabbing, clutching like he'd never get the chance again.

Then he stopped for a moment, his forehead pressed to yours, his chest heaving like he’d run a marathon. His pupils were blown wide, his voice dark and deep.

“Not here.”

Before you could ask, his hand caught your wrist, tugging you down the hall with such urgency that you were almost struggling keep up. You barely had time to register where he was leading you until the door shut behind you and you were met with the familiar soundproofed walls of their home studio.

In only moments you were both undressed, both your clothes scattered across the room. Noah had you pinned against the wall as his mouth trailed hot, desperate kisses down your throat. His movements were needy, frantic and rough, like he was trying to make up for every second he’d lost, like he couldn’t get close enough no matter how hard he tried.

When he finally pushed into you, you both let out broken sounds that filled the small studio, yours sharp and needy as you gripped onto his biceps, his low and ragged as his forehead dropped to your shoulder, his teeth scraping your skin as he groaned your name.

Every thrust was hard and deep, his hands gripping your thighs so tight you knew you’d be bruised. But then, suddenly, his hand slid up, fingers wrapping firmly around your jaw. He forced your head back just enough to make you look at him. His eyes were wild, dark and blown wide.

“Say it,” he growled. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Your breath hitched, your nails clawing at his shoulders.

“Noah-”

“Say it!” His grip tightened, his eyes burned into yours, his thrusts rougher now, like he was trying to drive the point home with every movement of his hips.

“I’m yours!” You cried, tears spilling hot down your cheeks as you choked on the words. “Only yours, Noah, always yours!”

That was what he needed to hear, as his lips crashed back onto yours, but his hand stayed on your jaw, making sure you couldn’t look anywhere but at him as he moved inside you.

“Mine,” he hissed against your mouth between sloppy, desperate kisses. “And I'm yours... always gonna be fucking yours."

Because that was the truth, it was always Noah and you, always you and Noah. You knew each other inside out, better than you knew yourselves.

So of course you were stupid to believe he'd actually change this time...

[x-fanaccount1-x]

HII could u do a Malachi x midsize reader where they’re Botha part of the tour shows and obviously on the road he’s been going to the gym a lotttttt and obviously posts his progress which has his fan girls go crazy. Since his new post (the one I think from yesterday or something on his story) reader is just extremely self conscious that he thinks less of her or she tries to like where more oversized stuff to rehearsals because she’s embarrassed and he notices. But like he gets annoyed because he loves touching her everywhere and just reminds her. If not all good!!!💕💕💕💕

More Than Enough • Malachi Barton

Masterlist ❤️

REQUESTED!!

Malachi Barton x Reader

Contents: Insecurity, comfort, love, soft

(a/n: really felt this one icl)

———

Malachi’s been on a gym kick since the tour started. If he’s not rehearsing or performing, he’s lifting, running, or posting some sweaty mirror picture that makes all his fans lose their minds.

Normally, I just roll my eyes at the comments. “Malachi’s looking fineee 🔥” “he doesn’t even need a shirt anymore 👀” “those arms could crush me 😍”. But lately, it’s been harder to laugh it off. Every time I see him shirtless, flexing with abs popping, I can’t help comparing.

And I don’t come out on top.

So, I start wearing bigger hoodies to rehearsals, loose joggers that hide everything. I figure maybe if he doesn’t notice me, I won’t feel so… less.

But Malachi notices everything.

“Babe,” he says one afternoon, catching me as I tug my hoodie sleeves down over my hands. “Why are you dressed like it’s winter when it’s literally boiling in here?”

I shrug, eyes fixed on the floor. “Just comfortable.”

His frown deepens. “Comfortable, or hiding?”

The words sting because he’s right. I don’t answer.

He sighs, steps closer, and hooks a finger under my chin, gently lifting until I have to look at him. “You think just because I’ve been posting gym stuff, I don’t want you?”

I bite my lip, whispering, “I just… see how everyone talks about you. And then there’s me. I’m not-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” His voice is firm, almost frustrated. “You are everything I want. You’re soft where I want to hold you, warm where I want to kiss you. Oversized hoodies? They just keep me from touching what’s mine.”

My face burns. “Mal-”

“No, listen.” He presses my hands against his chest, where his heartbeat races. “I don’t care about the comments, I don’t care about anyone else. I go to the gym because I like it, not because I need you to change. You-” his thumb brushes my cheek, softer now, “you’re perfect to me. Exactly the way you are.”

My chest tightens, tears prickling. “You mean that?”

His lips twitch into the faintest smirk. “Baby, if it were up to me, I’d prefer you didn’t wear anything at all. But that wouldn’t be very appropriate, and I’d rather everyone else didn’t see you like that—because you’re mine.”

Heat rushes up my neck. “Malachi!”

He laughs, pulling me against him, sliding his hands under my hoodie with deliberate slowness. “What? I’m just being honest.”

And before I can protest again, his mouth finds mine, kissing me until the insecurities melt away. The hoodie doesn’t feel like armor anymore. Not when he’s touching me like I’m the most beautiful thing in the world.

[forgaeven]

rei ami (zoey’s singing va) woke up to stan gwi-ma and im like 😭😭😭 zoey girl… GET UP!!!

[spideystevie]

how to: fall in love again

summary: lovergirl at heart, you've decided love isn't anything you're willing to risk pursuing again after your last boyfriend. and then comes clark kent who's a little too perfect at breaking down those walls. and isn't that terrifying?

word count: 10.8k...yeah <3

a/n: the word count getting longer when i edited oh i'm sure. this one was serious to me. like notes app outline, specific through-line playlist, pinterest board inspo serious. hope it's serious for you guys too hehe fem!reader, no spoilers, avoidant attachment tbh, bit angsty but happy ending! happy reading, let me know what you think <3

If there was anyone more cynical about love in Metropolis than you, you’d be delighted to know. 

It’s not like you’re against love by any means. In fact, you really, well, love it. You love your friends and you love seeing them in love. You enjoy romance books and love songs and romantic comedies. You take pleasure in finding the ways in which love is around you each day. 

You’ve just decided that romantically, it’s not for you. Not anymore, at least. 

It’s been three years since you swore off of it and honestly? You’re doing great! So what if sometimes a viscous yearning creeps through your apartment on a Sunday night? That hardly means anything!

Relationships are one thing and you’ve had your fair share. Once in high school, a couple in college. They never ended well, not like how you would’ve wanted rather. Sometimes they faded like a bruise and other times you were left alone and behind in the rearview. 

But none of that mattered to you anymore once you met Ben.

Six years ago, you fell in love. Ben was a dream and a half. The kind of guy you bring home to your parents and revel in the way they gush over him and the both of you together. The kind of guy someone writes songs about with a swooning guitar and lyrics that wax poetic. The kind of guy you marry. At the time, Ben was it for you. 

Then, three years ago, Ben broke your heart. You hadn’t seen it coming. It felt completely out of left field. You believed you were everything each other wanted until he was walking out the door. 

“I’m not..happy anymore. I don’t know how to make you happy.” He had said and you remember a nauseating confusion coursing through your veins. What did that mean? You were happy….weren’t you? And before he walked out the door, “I hope you find someone who does.”

He clearly had. Two months later he was engaged to another woman you’d had in your home at dinner parties and holidays and suddenly it all clicked. You’re only slightly embarrassed to admit how long you cried and the amount of sweets you ate to try and feel better. 

While the wound was still fresh, the ache cutting so deep in your bones, you decided you never wanted to risk feeling like that again. It took you a while before you felt like you were yourself again.

Two years ago, you got a job as a columnist for the Daily Planet. A basic “how-to” column that you’ve come to love, even if you’d rather be writing something more substantial. There, you met Clark Kent. 

He was everything Ben wasn’t from the second you were introduced. The second he’d fixed his striking blue eyes on yours and smiled at you, something inside you jolted. And you’ve been petrified ever since.

Because if there was anyone who could make you consider taking that risk again, it was Clark.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

It’s a busy day at the Daily Planet. Well, it’s always “busy” but it’s especially so today. The printers are working overtime and there’s people fluttering all about, checking edits and typing like there’s no tomorrow. An argument splits open near the coffee counter. 

Deadlines will do that to you.

You’d arrived earlier than usual, earlier than you needed to considering you were basically done with your newest “how-to” for the next print. Still, the only time you can pin Perry White down to talk to him about writing for something other than your column is on his way from the coffee machine and back to his office. 

“But Perry, I think I’ve really got something here! If you’d just look at it-” your footsteps are hurried as you keep pace with Perry. He stops suddenly and you nearly stumble over yourself, words getting cut off.

“Look kid, I appreciate your enthusiasm but right now I need you to stick to your how-to’s,” he fixes you a look and fits his cigar between his lips before resuming his trail to his office. You sigh, but you don’t want to give up that easily.

“But could you at least just-” you start to plead and then you’re cut off again. He holds up a finger this time and heaves a sigh.

“I’ve given you my answer, kid. We’ve got a deadline to meet.” The words form around the cigar in his mouth. You wither, footsteps faltering. 

“Yes, Chief,” you sigh, to which he just shakes his head. Your shoulders sag, the entirety of your body drooping like a wilted rose. When Perry’s out of earshot you toss your head back with a frustrated groan. 

This wasn’t exactly where you thought you’d be by now. Two years seemed like enough time to establish yourself at the Daily Planet. Your little column that’s shoved towards the back of the paper seemed like as good a stepping stone as any towards writing about something more. 

It’s not like you dislike your column, in fact, you really enjoy it. You just feel like you have more to offer after two years if Perry would just give you the chance one of these days.

You’re admittedly, a little visibly pouty on your way to your desk. It feels a little childish, like you might as well cross your arms and stomp your foot with a hmph! You don’t, of course. Though maybe it’d provide some kind of emotional release. That’s why toddlers do it, right?

As you near your desk you notice there’s a new coffee cup waiting for you by your keyboard. The culprit, you notice next, is standing next to your desk with his bag still on his shoulder like he just got in. Which, he probably did.

It’s hard for you to stay grumpy at the sight of Clark. His tie is slightly askew and he’s holding his own cup of coffee, hot where yours is iced. 

He’s far too nice to you, you think, but he’s a wonderful friend. And God knows you were in dire need of a good one after what happened. Sometimes though, when you start to feel a little lonely, you wonder if he’d be a wonderful boyfriend too, but you’re quick to shove that aside. 

It’s better for you to just be friends. Less scary that way. Less of a risk that you end up absolutely demolished again, too.

“Was just dropping this off. Just how you like it,” he says when you’re within earshot, motioning towards the coffee that wasn’t there when you’d gone after Perry this morning. You can see the ring of condensation it leaves against the lacquered top of your desk. You smile at him.

“Thank you. You know you don’t have to.” 

He matches your smile and shrugs. 

“Yeah but I want to,” he says. There’s a faint pink that blushes his cheeks but you think it might just be the lighting. Still, you revel in the fact that he wants to do a nice thing for you. You try to quell it. The familiar fear of getting too close to someone again prickling your skin.

On paper, Clark is the perfect guy to be with after Ben. He’s charming and patient and kind, overwhelmingly so, to everything and everyone he encounters. He never fails to make you smile. Doesn’t hurt that he’s devastatingly handsome, too. 

Truth is, Clark Kent scares you to death.

“How’d it go with Perry this morning?” he asks, breaking you from your thoughts. You deflate, frustrated all over again. A grimace pulls at his face at the look on yours and the huff that escapes you. “That bad?”

“He refused to read it! Appreciates my enthusiasm but wants me to,” you twist your voice into your best impression of your editor-in-chief, “stick to my how-tos.”

You relish in the chuckle your impression pulls out of Clark. He opens his mouth to say something and is cut off.

“Stop flirting and get to work, Kent. We’ve got a deadline,” Perry’s voice seems to boom as he strides past your bullpen on the floor. Clark flounders, cheeks warming into an embarrassed red. You’re all too aware of the amount of eyes on you and you feel yourself start to fold inwards.

The two of you look at each other and Clark flashes you a tight lipped, shy smile. He motions towards his desk across the way and you nod, wordlessly communicating with each other.

“Thanks again for the coffee,” you say before he can walk away. 

“Anytime, really,” he says as he passes. There’s a fleeting press of his hand against your back. Your breath gets stuck in your throat, heat radiating out from where his touch lingered. You steel yourself for a beat before sitting down at your desk. 

The ice in your coffee shifts as you log into your computer. You glance over to Clark though you can only see the back of his head from here. The side of your hand brushes against the cold drops of condensation on your coffee cup. Goosebumps skitter up your arm.

When you finally take the first sip, a pleased hum drifts out of you. It’s just how you like it, like he had said, but it’s also better somehow. Familiar, but different in the best way. 

Just like Clark, you think.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Despite it being sarcasm, you can’t get Perry’s insinuation that Clark was flirting with you out of your head. It’s been weeks and no matter how hard you try, it stays at the back of your mind constantly. And it’s starting to do a number to your nervous system.

Sure, maybe your interactions can be read as flirtatious but Clark’s also your closest friend. It’s just friendly banter and actions to show you care. Hardly anything romantic. 

That’s what you keep telling yourself anyway.

It’s a Wednesday towards the end of summer when you start to notice something different. 

The second the workday ends, you’re logging out with a swiftness. You’re not alone. Nearly everyone at the surrounding desks does the same. 

There’s a shuffle of sound as everyone starts to pack up their things. The corner of your notebook bends as you shove it in your bag and you curse under your breath. You’re inspecting it, trying to bend it back into place but the crease is still there in the corner. Annoying.

“Heading out?” 

The sound of Clark’s voice behind you makes you jump in surprise, your bag falling from your hands and to the ground. You’re pressing your hand to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. He at least has the decency to look apologetic when you turn to face him.

Clark has a bad habit of sneaking up on you. You’re not sure how someone so…big can be so quiet. Or how he only seems to be able to sneak up on you, considering his occasional clumsiness tends to alert his presence. Too busy always trying to not occupy so much space that he almost seems to occupy even more. 

“Sorry! Sorry.” He’s dropped to the ground to retrieve your bag and bent notebook for you. His lips press together in a sympathetic grimace as he hands them over. Your hand falls from your chest to take them. 

“Jesus, you’re like a stealth agent or something, Clark. I’ll never understand it.” You shove the notebook into your bag and sling it over your shoulder. He shakes his head and is reaching to grab your water bottle for you before you even get a chance to turn around and get it yourself.

He holds it out to you and you smile your thanks. There’s a shock of something almost magnetic when your fingers brush his in the exchange. You try not to flinch away too noticeably. 

“Do you have plans? Like, now?” he asks, almost a little nervous. It makes you nervous and you hesitate in your movements. The corners of your eyes crease as you narrow them quizzically at him. “Sorry, that was..really forward.”

“No…why?” You start to walk away, full trust that he’ll follow you. He does. You slide your water bottle into your bag as you walk, Clark keeping pace. “Do you?”

“Oh! No, no I–Well…maybe?” he stumbles over his words and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His shoulders straighten just a tad. “There’s this new ice cream place that just opened downtown and I saw it and thought of you and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to check it out?”

You nearly trip over yourself, a pit dropping from your throat to your stomach. He thought of you. Is he asking you on a date? He thought of you. A mirage of emotions rushes through you and over your face. Clark starts to panic at your silence.

“Totally friendly!” You let out a soft breath. He thought of you. “Obviously! We don’t have to, unless you want to. And it doesn’t have to be tonight, sorry I didn’t–”

Clark’s a panic rambler you’ve come to notice. It’s rather endearing if you’re honest. The two of you pause outside the elevator. You nudge him with your shoulder which jostles you more than it does him.

“Tonight’s great, Clark,” you say, cutting off his rambling. He looks at you and breathes something like a sigh of relief at the sight of your smile. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. He lets you in first, mumbling under his breath.

“Great. Great, okay.”

Clark leads you around downtown Metropolis, his hand hovering just above the small of your back as a guide when needed. You fall into step and easy conversation the whole way, Clark making you laugh without even trying to be funny. 

You mention the argument that you heard break out by the coffee this morning and he tells you it was Jimmy and Lois arguing–Jimmy annoyed that Lois has used up all the sugar. He mentions his Ma is planning to come visit him in the coming weeks and you swear you can feel your chest start to expand at the evident admiration for her in his voice. 

“Here it is!” he announces a few minutes later as you turn a corner. 

The first thing you notice is the red, yellow, and blue striped awning with scalloped edges. A sign above reads Super Scoops in bright letters and a bold font. The obvious hero homage makes you snort but the small line out the door leads you to believe it must be good.

“How’d you find this place?” you ask, relishing in the shade the awning gives while you wait in line.

“Just happened upon it on the way into work today,” he shrugs. He hopes you don’t realize his route to work from his apartment never crosses this section of downtown. If you do, he’s none the wiser. 

“And the whole,” you wave a hand around, “Superman of it all isn’t at all why you wanted to try it?”

You’re teasing. Poking a jest at his superhero work connection. Clark scoffs a little though there’s no malice behind it, and briefly wonders if maybe you’ve figured him out. (You haven’t.)

“No!” his voice pitches up an inch. “I know you like ice cream and you just did that how-to bit about summer and I just thought you might like it s’all.”

There he goes again. Thinking of you and sending your heart ablaze. You need to get a grip. 

The line moves quickly for which you’re thankful. When you get to the counter, you opt for a swirl of soft serve on a cone and Clark gets his in a cup. The price seems a little outrageous for what you’re getting and you accredit it to the theming. 

You pull out your wallet and Clark gives you a piercing look, bumping your hand away though not unkindly. You go to protest but relent and put your wallet back in your bag when he swipes his card. He shoves his wallet back into the pocket of his slacks, stepping off to the side with you.

“I could’ve paid for that, you know,” you say, eyes locked onto the employee dispensing the swirl of chocolate and vanilla onto a cone. The uniforms here are rather silly. Blue t-shirts with little red capes attached, the parlor’s logo on the back. 

“I know. I didn’t want you to,” he states simply, like he’s telling you the sky is blue. You probably should’ve expected it. Small town, farm boy chivalry and such. 

Clark collects your ice creams from the teenager behind the counter who looks a little miserable. You accredit that to the uniform. He passes your cone off to you as he leads you out the door. 

A comforting silence hangs around you as you linger in a little grassy patch next door. There’s kids running around and a dog chases them off leash. A hum of delight escapes you at your first taste of the soft serve. It’s exceptionally good.

Golden rays of the fading sun cast a radiant haze around the outline of your body. Ice cream is starting to melt around the rim of your cone. The surface tension breaks and a rivulet slips over your knuckles. You let out a soft gasp, more an exhale than anything and quickly lick it off. 

Clark’s looking at you. Endearment glimmers in his irises, the sunlight reflecting off of it. You’re trying desperately to ignore the sticky feeling on your knuckles. You need to wash your hands. Or steal a generous glob of hand sanitizer even.

You catch his eye and feel pinned by his stare. You blink at him. 

“What?” you ask. A thorn of self-consciousness pokes at you for a brief moment. Clark shakes his head.

You’ve got a smear of vanilla soft serve across your left cheek from when you tilted your hand to lick the ice cream off your knuckles. Your eyes are doe like. Backlit by the setting sun, the fleeting rays highlight the frizz in your hair, creating a halo around your head. 

Clark thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“You’ve got a little..” he gestures towards his own face. You bristle with a light embarrassment. Before you can reach up to wipe away the ice cream from your face, Clark beats you to it.

He’s somehow procured a napkin and softly wipes the ice cream you smeared across your cheek away. You don’t remember seeing him grab them on your way out of the parlor. 

Time seems to slow. The seconds drag by like the pouring of a thick stream of honey. The moment feels incredibly intimate for what it is. Your breath stills in your lungs. 

“There we go,” he says. He turns and tosses the napkin into the trashcan. The spell breaks. Your fingertips reach up to graze against the spot he cleaned. You drop them before he can turn back around to catch you.

“Thank you,” your voice feels a little shaky. Clark smiles at you with a soft shake of his head, a silent don’t worry about it, and takes a bite of his ice cream.

“This is really good,” he says, swallowing it down. He looks so..boyish in this moment and it does something funny to your heart. Combined with him wiping your face clean, you’re a little afraid you could go into spontaneous cardiac arrest.

You’re staring at him, something sweet and awe-like in your eyes. Something in Clark brightens at your attention. His cheeks twinge pink and he smiles softly. 

“Careful,” he points at your cone that’s starting to melt down to your fingers again. You blink away, embarrassed at your staring and hurriedly lick up the melted cream. What is going on with you?

Clark seems to have figured out a way to weasel himself inside and poke at your tender bits, making things in your chest twitch and move in a way they hadn’t in years. You weren’t sure when he had been able to step in so close to do so.

It feels all too familiar, yet different, just like that coffee he’d brought you a few weeks back. Your heart stutters, the beat spelling out an uh-oh.  

You think you might be falling in love with him.

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Things steadily progress with Clark after your ice cream not-date.

You’ve crossed into hug territory. Simple side ones when you see him in the office in the mornings. Longer, more proper ones when you go your separate ways after a hang out. Each one starts to untie the rope that’d been knotted around your heart three years ago. 

The risk grows more and more each day and now it feels even more ominous. Because now Clark’s more than just a potential romantic partner, he’s also one of your closest friends. And the thought of losing him in two ways instead of one scares you infinitely more.

You don’t mean to work so late on a Friday but it happens anyway and when you log out and pack up your things, the moon has risen completely in the sky. Clark has stayed late today too but you wonder if he was just waiting for you to finish so he can walk you home. 

You’ve never asked and he’s never outright offered except for the very first time. Now it’s just become something unspoken. A given in your friendship. You appreciate it all the same.

He lingers outside your apartment with you tonight and you can tell something’s bothering him. Like he’s holding himself back, restraining from something. You go to ask if he’s okay or what’s wrong but you never get the chance. 

Because Clark asks if you want to get dinner with him tomorrow night.

“Like a date. A nice, proper one with dinner and dessert.”

And despite the fear that shivers down your spine and the choking anxiety like a lump in your throat, you agree. 

“Yes. Yeah, that sounds…nice.” 

You hope your smile looks real and not as scared as you feel. He seems to buy it. He’s beaming with glee, trying to hide the intensity of it and failing. Quite adorably, you might add.

“Okay. I’ll pick you up at 7.” He states. No sense of a question, just a simple statement. Warmth rushes through you. 

“Okay.” The word is pushed out with a breath. Clark smiles at you. 

“It’s a date!” 

His enthusiasm is comforting and you squeak out a confirming uh huh! which is all you can seem to muster. Words are failing you. He reaches out to squeeze your hand briefly instead of hugging you goodbye tonight. 

You’re grateful for the change, certain he would’ve been able to feel your racing heart when your chest pressed against him. You watch him walk a few strides down the hall before you go inside. 

You’re already nervous when you wake up on Saturday morning. You spend a lot of the day panicking, over both the mundane and existential. Should you wear a dress? What if this goes horribly sideways and the two of you never speak again?

The usual.

In the end, you decide on your nicest dress, or rather, the nicest date night dress you own. You feel good. So long as you don’t think too seriously about it all. 

You’re trying to practice some age-old breathing exercise in the mirror to calm your nerves. Trying not to overthink too much about your shoes or your hair or how this is your first date in three years. You’re interrupted by a knock on your door.

A quick glance at the clock on your way to the door shows it’s seven on the dot. You’re a little surprised at Clark’s punctuality. Not because you didn’t think he wouldn’t be but because you’ve never experienced it before. A punctual date, that is.

You pause at the door for a beat. Then, you shake out your hands and swing it open.

Clark stands at your doorstep with a bouquet of fresh cut flowers. Peonies and delphiniums, chamomile sprinkled amongst blushing roses in a brown paper wrapping tied with string. He must’ve stopped by the florist for these, you think. It might be the prettiest arrangement anyone’s ever shown you, let alone given you.

Clark is staring at you, jaw a little slack. You feel yourself start to fluster under his gaze, shrinking slowly. 

“Wow. You look..” his voice trails off, eyes dropping to what you’re wearing and back up to lock with yours. “You look great.”

Your smile is a little shy, bright around the edges. The heat beneath your skin makes you feel like you could burst into flames.

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself,” you say. He’s wearing clothes similar to what he wears to work, a charcoal pair of slacks and the usual white button down but he’s not wearing a tie and the sleeves are pushed up his forearms. It’s really doing something to you. 

A blush rises on his cheeks and it’s his turn to offer you a shy smile. He clears his throat.

“These are for you,” he says, holding the flowers out for you to take. The paper crinkles as you take them from him. Your fingers brushing sends a pleasant zing! down your back. You can’t resist pressing your nose against the blossoms. 

“They’re beautiful,” you say on an inhale. Clark could say the same about you ten times over. “Come in. I’ll put them in a vase and then we can go?”

You back up to let Clark inside and he closes the door behind him. He stands in the tiny entryway. It’s not very big, your apartment; it looks even smaller with him standing in it.

“You can come in further, you know?” your laugh carries through the air like a breeze. He lingers in the entry of your shoebox kitchen now. The bouquet lays gently on the little kitchen table tucked away in a nook off the kitchen.

You’re grateful for the boost of height the kitten heels you decided on give you, albeit small, as you reach up to grab your favorite vase. Clark’s eyes trail after you as you flit around the kitchen. Watching as you bring the vase to the kitchen sink to fill it with water and take it over to the table.  

You untie the string and paper around the bouquet and place the flowers in the water with the utmost of care. It’s a perfect fit. You fluff it a little bit, arranging it so each blossom has space to shine. Then, you slide it to the center of your little homely kitchen table. 

It’s picturesque. And so are you, standing with your hands clasped, admiring it. Clark wishes he had a camera. You turn and look at him, taken aback a bit at the sweet look in his eyes.

“Ready?” you ask. Clark blinks like he’s been shaken out of a stupor. 

“Right. Yes! Let’s go.”

He follows close behind you as you grab your bag off the hook by the door and lock up. It’s your turn to follow him as soon as you leave your building. Ever the gentleman, he walks on the outside of the sidewalk and offers you his arm to hold.

Butterflies that have laid dormant inside you start to revive and flutter around your stomach. It’s a beautiful night in Metropolis, the sky clear and the air fresh. You think you’d be satisfied if you never made it to dinner and just walked around all night instead. Your feet might not thank you though. 

He takes you to a nice restaurant a few blocks over. A place as nice as this was always reserved for anniversary dates in the past, never for a first. This specific one Clark leads you into, you’d never been to. The reservations always too hard to come by.

You’re a little awestruck when you walk in. Your eyes dance around, taking it all in as you get seated. Beautiful artwork decorating the walls. The tables covered in pristine white linens. The lights are low and there’s music playing softly in the background. Clark pulls your chair out for you and pushes it in. 

“This place is so nice,” you say, as you sit. “How’d you even manage a reservation with so short notice?”

Clark looks a little sheepish, his shoulders hunching upwards towards his ears. 

“Oh I, uh- This is going to sound presumptuous and I apologize. I got one a while ago. It’s just taken me so long to work myself up to asking you out.” He says it like a confession. Something in you preens at the idea of Clark liking you so much, he’d plan so far ahead for a first date with you. 

Your nerves start to ease as the night progresses and maybe the bottle of red wine you share helps a bit too. It’s easy with Clark. As if you’ve always been doing this. It sends a thrill through you. 

Slowly but surely, your defenses start to come down. The hesitancy and fear that normally holds you back starts to fade. Clark starts to see you really shine with each new thing he learns and each new laugh that escapes you.

Just like he said when he asked you out, you get dessert after dinner. A rich slice of the most decadent chocolate cake you’ve ever had in your life. Your eyes close when you take the first bite, a delighted hum escaping you louder than you’d like. 

“Oh my god,” you open your eyes and the amused admiration in Clark’s eyes is clear as the moon in the sky. You get a little shy, your skin prickling under his gaze. “This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

You gesture for him to try it. Clark’s reaction almost mimics yours.

“Golly,” is all he says and you laugh a little at his choice of word, both of you going in for another bite. The cake is gone almost embarrassingly fast but you’re both too stuffed to care. The waiter drops off the check as you take your final sip of wine, draining the glass. 

He reaches for it without hesitation, doesn’t flinch at the total, just slides his card into the fold and sets it on the edge where it’s quickly retrieved. You fold your arms and rest them on the table, your hands holding on limply to the space above your elbows. 

The edges of you feel fuzzy. Your head is tilted a little towards your shoulder, a serene smile on your face. To Clark, you look radiant even in the dim lighting. When the waiter brings back his card, you watch as he signs and puts his card back in his wallet. 

He offers you his hand to help you out of your seat and neither of you let go as you walk out of the restaurant. In fact, you make the move to intertwine his fingers with yours and swing them a little between you. He pulls you into his side and you giggle, your shoulder bumping his bicep. 

You feel giddy head to toe. Maybe it’s the lingering effects of the wine. Maybe it’s Clark’s fingers slotted between yours. Or the way he’s been looking at you all night.

All you know is you feel more happy than scared and it’s been so long since you’ve felt this way that you’ve forgotten how good it feels. And maybe it’s your lapse in memory or maybe it’s Clark but it feels even better this time around.

You’re laughing at something Clark says–he’s been making you do that a lot tonight–when there’s a call of your name. The laughter gets stuck in your throat and dies out quick, your steps faltering on the sidewalk. Clark’s eyes are swimming with concern when he looks at your face. 

“Is that you?” Ben’s voice is just like you remember it. You turn towards it and your hand falls out of Clark’s grip when you catch sight of him. Because standing next to him is Jane. Beautiful, alluring Jane who drank your wine at your hosted parties and probably slept in your bed when you weren’t around. 

You think you might be sick. 

“Oh my god, how are you?” Ben gives you a hug, like you’re still friendly and things ended amicably. Like the last time you saw him he didn’t put your heart through a paper shredder. Your limbs feel wooden as you half-heartedly reciprocate. Ben steps back and wraps his arm around Jane’s waist. “You remember Jane?”

She lifts her left hand in a wave and the streetlight overhead catches on the ring on her finger, making it glint. At least she looks a little awkward at the whole situation. You nod, a pounding starting to form behind your brow. 

“Yeah, I..I remember,” you reply. You take a deep breath, force yourself to smile and sound way more friendly than you feel. “Good to see you.”

The puzzle pieces start to click into place in Clark’s head. He’s not completely aware of your dating history but he’s easily figures out that’s what this is. And that you’re completely beside yourself. He’s quick to wrap an arm around your waist, steady and strong. You relax a bit without even realizing. 

Ben catches the motion and his eyebrows raise a hair. He has to look up at Clark, not by a lot but enough that you notice it if you’re paying close attention. And you are. Then Ben looks at you, silently waiting for an introduction.

“Oh. Ben,” his name tastes like venom on your tongue. “This is-”

“Clark Kent.” He finishes for you, taking a step forward and extending his hand. You think you can see Ben wince from Clark’s grip but it’s gone as soon as it arrives. (And if Clark put more of a grip into the handshake than normal, well that’s nobody’s business but his own.)

There’s a beat of silence that passes. The four of you stand on the sidewalk, almost mirror images of each other. The same wave of nausea passes over you, the pressure in your head getting worse.

“Well, it’s good to see you. I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy,” Ben says, voice genuine. Something in you bristles at that, taking it more as one final nail in the coffin jab at you. Clark feels you stiffen in his hold. You’re not sure what to even say, lips parting but nothing coming out. 

It doesn’t seem to matter. Ben nods at you and Jane gives you a tight smile as they pass. You blink at their retreating figures. You’ve long since gotten over the love you held for him but you didn’t expect the pain of it all to still linger. 

You don’t want to let this one twisted encounter ruin the great night you’ve had with Clark but you can feel your reservations start to creep back in. It’s like Clark can see you start to slowly build those walls back up after he’d worked to pull them apart all night.

“Hey, you okay?” 

You focus on the good. The softness of his voice. The care in his eyes. The steadfast grip of his arm around your waist. You inhale and on your exhale, flash him a shaky smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, that was just…” A plethora of words dance around your head. Weird. Unexpected. Awful. Horrifying. “Strange.”

Clark nods and glances over his shoulder in the direction they walked off in. He looks back at you, your eyes locked where his just were. He clears his throat softly and your gaze finds his.

“Sorry but, I couldn’t stand that guy.” A sudden laugh, loud and genuine bursts out of you. A sentence so unlike Clark and yet, you can tell he means it. His eyes crinkle at the corners at the glow that’s started to come back to your face. He almost hadn’t noticed how dim you’d become in that guy’s presence. 

“Yeah,” you say, as your laughter dies down. Your smile softens. “Me too.”

Clark walks you home, conversation still full but maybe not as lively as it had been pre-Ben and Jane. You hate how they seem to haunt you like this. But you revel in how easy it was–and is–for Clark to make you laugh again. 

He expects the night to end at your doorstep but you invite him inside for a little while longer. You’re a little surprised, mostly delighted when he agrees. 

“Make yourself at home,” you say, kicking off your shoes and walking into your kitchen. Clark toes his shoes off and neatly arranges them next to yours. “Do you want anything to drink?”

Clark glances over and can see you grabbing two glasses down from a cupboard near your tiny stove. You set them on the counter and at his silence, look up to where he’s standing.

“Oh! Water’s fine.”

He takes interest in your photos hanging on the walls and the knick-knacks on your shelves. He particularly likes a corkboard you’ve got hung up with a bunch of mementos pinned: movie ticket stubs, fortunes from fortune cookies, postcards, one of your first how-to pieces from the Planet, a photobooth strip of you. 

You bring your drinks in, and set them on the coffee table, water for him and another glass of wine for you. You sit, knees pulled up on the couch and your feet tucked beneath you, your body facing Clark. You like how he looks sitting in your space. Like he fits right in. 

You talk for hours about anything and everything that seems to come to mind. You share the abridged version of Ben and Jane and your chest goes warm at how quick Clark notices your need for a subject change. He switches gears smoothly. You laugh so hard your stomach hurts.

The hours tick by without either of you paying much attention. Your drinks sit empty on the table and when the conversation lulls, you take them into the sink. Clark checks his watch when you leave the room. 

“Oh gosh, it’s late,” he says. You come out of the kitchen to an apology. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up. I hadn’t realized it was so late.”

“Clark, it’s okay,” you shake your head with a smile. His mouth is twisted into an apologetic frown. 

“Still. I should let you get to bed.” Only then do you realize how tired you feel.

You walk him to your front door and watch him put his shoes back on. When he straightens up, you take a step closer to him.

“I had a really good time tonight.” You say softly. Your eyes shine in the dim lamplight. 

“Me too.” Clark smiles. He swallows and shifts on his feet. “Would you..wanna do this again?”

“I’d like that.” You nod, smiling widely up at him. He nods.

Clark leans down to hug you goodnight, his arms wrapping tight around your waist. Yours reach up and over his shoulders. Your body sinks into his and you think you could stay right there forever. After a beat, he pulls back but you don’t let go right away.

With your arms around his neck and his around your waist, it leaves hardly any space between you both. Suddenly, the air feels similar to the moment before lightning strikes nearby in a storm. Your gazes both fall from eyes to lips and back. 

Clark’s tongue darts out to wet his lips and you track the motion with your eyes. You swallow, lips parting only just. He starts to lean in and your eyelids start to flutter shut. Your hands are trembling from both anticipation and uncertainty. Not about him, but about the unknown. You send a quick plea outwards that he doesn’t notice. 

There’s no telling what lies on the other side of letting Clark kiss you, a faint warning siren echoing in the back of your mind. You decide to ignore it the second his lips brush against yours. You’ll cross that bridge when it comes. 

The siren fades into a silent static hum, your senses flooded with ClarkClarkClark. Of the gentle press of his lips to yours, pliant and willing. Of the press of his body against yours as you eagerly push up to reciprocate. 

You wonder briefly why you hadn’t done this any sooner. There’s such an ease to it that you almost feel like you’re experiencing deja vu. Like there’s another version of you that wasn’t burned, that gets to kiss Clark like this all the time. You’re envious of her immediately.

His hands slide to your hips to pull you even closer to him and that dreaded siren breaks through the static in your brain. You pull back, your hands falling to his shoulders. Clark’s glasses are askew and have fogged up considerably but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Wait,” you say breathlessly. He’s quick to renew the gap of space between your bodies.

“Sorry-”

“No, no, it’s not- you’re okay,” you pause, chest heaving. You try to catch your breath, coming up short. Your arms fall from his shoulders as you take a step back. “I think I need a second.”

The wounded expression on Clark’s face makes you feel considerably worse. He resembles a confused, kicked puppy and you think you might be sick. 

You turn on your heel and make a beeline for the bathroom. Clark catches your shaking hand wiping at your eyes and doesn’t think twice before following after you. To apologize, if anything. Convinced he’s done something wrong enough to make you cry.

The counter of your bathroom is cold against your palms. You take a couple deep breaths in and out. Mentally kicking yourself because why can’t you just be normal about this and cursing Ben (and his bloodline, too) under your breath for causing your aversion to love in the first place. 

You turn the tap on, splashing cold water on your face in hopes that it’ll shock your system back to normal. Back to how it felt mere moments ago when you were kissing Clark. 

A gentle knock on the door makes you jump.

“Honey, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Your heart pinches, a piece of it chipping away at how sad he sounds. You don’t say anything for a beat. “Did I…” a defeated sigh, “sorry, did I do something wrong?”

You turn the water off. 

“Oh, Clark,” you sigh. He hears the lock click and then the door swings open. This time, his heart twists at the expression on your face. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just..”

You let out a sad laugh and then your eyes are pinching shut. You press your face into your hands.

“I’m just a mess.” Your words are muffled against your palms. Clark tsks in disagreement and takes a step towards you. His fingers circle around your wrists and he’s so soft with you, you think you might burst into tears all over again. 

“Hey, hey, no. Look at me,” his voice is equally tender and you let him pull your hands away. The reveal of your eyes shiny with unshed tears chips away at his heart. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing, I’m fine,” you sniffle, rapidly trying to blink away the tears. One slips past anyway and he quickly smooths it away.

“You’re most certainly not fine,” he says, voice still gentle but firm. Your shoulders slump. Clark sighs. “Let’s get you some water. That sound good?”

You nod, looking at the floor. He leads you over to your couch and sits you down before getting you a glass of water from the kitchen. He’s back faster than you expect and you whisper a quiet thank you when he hands you the water. 

He doesn’t sit until you’ve drunk a considerable amount. You cradle the cup in your hands, looking anywhere but at Clark. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally say. You spare a quick glance up at him. “It wasn’t anything you did, I promise. I just…I haven’t done this since..”

“Since Ben?” Clark fills in. You look at him with a small smile that’s equal parts embarrassed and sad. 

“Yeah. I just spooked myself a bit,” you say. Clark nods in understanding. 

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” he says, resting a hand on your knee. Your eyes focus on it. 

“Okay. I just don’t want you to think it’s because of you,” you say, gaze lifting to his eyes. They’re looking at you like you’re made of porcelain. He scoots a little closer to you on the couch and lightly brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His palm settles on your cheek. 

“We can take it slow, yeah?” Clark offers. You perk up, a little surprised. After all this, he still likes you. He still wants to try with you. The realization makes you ache. You nod, anyway.

Slow is perfect.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The air outside has started to go cold, summer finally fading away into a brisk autumn. You’ve five more dates with Clark now under your belt. It’s slowly getting easier, less scary though you can’t deny that your brain continues to do risk assessments over each new romantic gesture.

He brings you a new assortment of flowers each time. The newest, a golden arrangement featuring sunflowers and dahlias, sits in the usual spot on your kitchen table. The sun reflects off the petals through the window. 

Clark’s at your apartment again in a handknit sweater his Ma made him, sat at the table and warming his hands with a cup of cocoa. Speaking of.. 

“My Ma is visiting this weekend,” he says. 

“Yeah?” 

“And she’d…like to meet you.” 

The world seems to still, your body going with it. You blink at him, lips parting and closing. 

“Oh!”

Clark rushes his words out, sensing the rising panic in your chest.

“You don’t have to, I know we’re taking it slow and this is definitely, probably not even remotely close to that. But I’ve talked about you so much she won’t stop asking about you, even before this started. It’s only if you want to.”

Your heart picks up at the image in your head of Clark including you in his updates to his Ma. It makes you burn from the inside, a sweetness pooling in your veins. He talks about you. The pendulum swings back and forth in your head as you consider it. 

“Okay,” you say. Clark raises an eyebrow at you.

“You’re sure?” When you nod, he beams. He gets up from his seat and comes over to press a kiss against the top of your head. His excitement is sweet to witness. “I’ll call and let her know.”

On Sunday, you go over to Clark’s for dinner. 

You shift nervously outside the door to his apartment. Your fingers are stiff from the brisk air outside and from the tight grip you have on the flowers you picked up on the way over. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, willing your body to still.

Then, you lift your fist and knock it against his door. You’re wiping your palm against the front of your pants when he answers the door. His smile is blinding.

“Hi,” he steps aside to let you in. The door closes behind you and he dips his head to kiss your cheek in greeting as you’re toeing off your shoes. “You look nice.”

“Hi,” You smile, nerves still going haywire beneath your skin. “Thanks.”

“Clark? Is she here?” You can hear her voice from the kitchen and you glance at Clark, grip tightening on the small bouquet in your hand. You’re a little nervous that it's not as nice as it could be. Clark presses a hand against the small of your back and you remember to breathe.

He leads you the short distance to the kitchen in lieu of a response. As soon as she sees you, her eyes light up. You smile nervously at her and give a small wave of your hand.

“Ma, this is-” Clark starts to say, but he’s quickly cut off. 

“You must be, y/n!” Her accent is thick as honey and it warms your heart. 

“Hi,” you hope your voice doesn’t sound as nervous as you feel. “These are for you, Mrs. Kent.”

You hold out the flowers to her and she takes them with a soft audible aw. Then she’s pulling you into a hug and saying, “call me Martha.”

It takes you a beat to huge her back. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been hugged like this. Different from how Clark hugs you, different from your own mother’s hugs. This one has a specific air of home to it that’s overwhelming. 

You look at Clark over her shoulder who looks extra smiley.  When she pulls back, she looks at the flowers again. Then she turns to Clark who already has a hand extended to take them and go put them in water. 

“Clark has told me so much about you,” she says. A hand, weathered and gentle from age touches your cheek. “You’re even more beautiful than he described.”

“Ma,” Clark says, from the kitchen sink. You smile, loving that boyish part of him that still gets embarrassed when his mom shares something she probably shouldn’t. Martha tsks and angles herself slightly to look at him, her hand falling away.

“I’m serious, Clark.” She turns to you and lowers her voice a smidge. “He’s always talking about you, it's hard to get him to stop. I knew I had to meet the girl he’s so sweet on from the second he mentioned you.”

You can feel your skin start to flush. Your eyes catch onto Clark who’s arranging the flowers in the vase and setting them on his own kitchen table. 

“You’re the only girl he’s ever been like this over,” she says almost conspiratorially. Your body softens, something distantly familiar coursing through your veins. Clark catches your eye and smiles at you and it leaves you a little dizzy. 

When the food is ready, the two of them fall into a rhythm, bringing dishes to the table. Watching the two of them interact, you can tell where Clark gets it from. His mannerisms and certain words and phrases in his vernacular. 

Clark pulls out both yours and Martha’s chairs when you sit to eat. The food is delicious and you make a note to ask Martha for recipes when the night ends. 

It’s as easy to talk to her as it is Clark. She asks questions about you and your job and your family. And she also asks about you and Clark. How you met and when you started “going steady” as she puts it. You’re particularly fond of the stories she shares about Clark when he was little. Even more fond of the red blush that covers his cheeks at the more embarrassing ones. 

In the back of your mind though you can’t get Martha’s words out of your head. 

You’re the only girl he’s ever been like this over. 

It unnerves you slightly. And at the same time, you wonder how you could even begin to describe how much it means to you to have his Ma treat you so kind and warm. Like you’re already part of the family. Your mind starts to analyze a risk assessment, a voice in the back of your mind poking and prodding and whispering that something this good has to come down. 

Clark reaches for your hand at the table and gives it a quick squeeze, momentarily pulling you out of your spiral. You look at him with a soft smile, ever grateful and surprised that he can read you so well.

At the end of the night, Martha hugs you tight again and you soak it in. 

“It was so good to meet you, dear,” she says, pulling back from the hug. Her hands hold onto your forearms.

“You too,” you smile and she gives your arms a squeeze. She looks at Clark, who’s holding your purse for you in his hand. 

“You make sure she gets home safe, Clark.” 

Clark lips twitch. “I know, Ma. I always do.”

He’s true to his words, walks you safely home and all the way to your door like he always does. You linger outside the door until you’re toeing the line of inviting him in. He kisses you goodnight, soft and sweet, his hand cradling your jaw and yours pressed against his chest. 

It quiets your brain enough for you to get to bed but when you wake up the next morning, it’s racing immediately again. You’re distracted during the work day and no matter how much you try, you can’t get it to stop. A steady downward spiral.

Clark comes home with you after work. You’re unusually quiet on the walk to your apartment and through dinner–leftovers from the night before that Martha insisted you take home with you.

You clear the table of dishes and Clark helps you wash up. When the two of you go to sit on your couch, Clark sits first and holds out a hand. 

“C’mere,” he says, all but pulling you to sit in his lap, though really you might as well be straddling him. For the first time all day, the chatter in your brain starts to dim. “What’s wrong? You’ve been unusually quiet all day.”

You look down at your hands in your lap and shrug. You’re not sure how to phrase it even if you tried. 

“It’s..nothing. It’s silly,” you finally say, still refusing to look at him.

“Hey,” his voice is a soft caress against your skin, gentle like his fingers that tilt your cheek so you look at him. “It’s just me. You can tell me.”

Your gaze roves his face, stars in your eyes. Clark pushes a stray hair behind your ear, his fingertips grazing your cheek like a feather. His eyes haven’t once strayed from yours. 

A shiver runs down your spine and you try not to squirm. It’s still new being seen like this. Like he’s looking right through you, straight into the messy walls of your subconscious. You swallow, your mouth dry and the words hang in a lump in your throat.

“Just..when I met your mom yesterday,” you can feel the sting of tears behind your eyes, feeling a little silly. Clark’s looking at you, so tenderly it squeezes your heart in your chest. “She hugged me. Like really hugged me.”

The corner of his mouth twitches and something shimmers in his eyes as he scans your face. One hand rubs against your arm and his thumb on the other spreads a tear across the apple of your cheek as he wipes it away.

“Honey, that’s a good thing. Yeah?” 

“I-” You close your eyes and take a deep breath, nodding though your shoulders inch up towards your ears. “Yeah. Yes. I dunno, it just…”

Your shoulders drop on an exhale and your eyes flutter open and latch onto his. Clark looks at you with quiet reassurance. His fingertips trail against the skin of your arms featherlight while he waits for you to finish your thought.

“It felt like home,” your voice is so quiet it’s almost a whisper. Clark's eyes seem to soften even more than they already were. The corners of your mouth twitch into a small smile. You look away to wipe at your eyes, damp fingertips coming to rest along the side of his neck.  “Been a while since I’ve had that.”

Your eyes lock back on his. Something familiar is swirling in his eyes, your breath getting stuck in your throat for the briefest of moments. Your heart starts to play a symphony against your ribcage. Clark’s hands have migrated to the small of your back.

“You’re starting to feel like home,” he says. Your fingers against his neck can feel the timbre of his voice. There’s a rush of warmth that covers you from head to toe. It’s dizzying enough to leave you a little nauseous, though there’s a fleeting thought that wonders if it’s because his words feel like a euphemism for the L word. 

Despite the onslaught of emotion you feel, your lips start to curl into a giddy smile just as Clark leans in to kiss you. His lips slot against yours, slow and sure and it’s enough to steal the breath from your lungs. Your smile gets kissed away but the giddiness doesn’t fade.

His hands on your back pull you closer towards him and your thumbs press against his jawline. Your body feels like it’s starting to liquify in his arms as you melt against him. You pull back and Clark steals one more lingering kiss from you. It elicits another soft smile.

You don’t open your eyes right away, breathing in deep through your nose as you press your forehead against his. His thumbs rub circles against your back and his nose nudges yours. You blink your eyes open and lean back enough to look at him fully. 

You run a hand through the mess of curls on his head, eyes as soft as the edges of your smile. Clark’s looking at you like you hung the moon. The simplest of thoughts pops into your head. A flash of fear shocks your body. You push the feeling down and away, locking it up deep in the gooey center of your heart.

But you can’t lock away the thought that races around your brain like a news headline. 

You’re a thousand percent, without a doubt, in love with Clark Kent.

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It’s an almost difficult realization for you in the coming days. The familiar dip in your stomach, a pull on your heart, like passing by an old friend in the grocery store. Things are safe with Clark, you’re safe with Clark. But it doesn’t quell the stutter of fear in the beat of your heart that’s been opening itself back to love.

You can’t help it but you do the best thing you know how. You pull away even though it’s twisting your heart into knots. A part of you hopes that he’ll break things off if you push hard enough. Maybe it’ll hurt less that way.

Because what if you love him too much, too hard that he slips away? In your head, it’s better to withdraw now and first before he ever gets the chance to. Logically, you know it’s unlike Clark but you can’t help it. You’re not feeling very rational right now. Common sense has seemed to fly right out the window.

Clark feels utterly confused. You keep things about the same at work but the second you get home, he can feel you pulling away. You stop answering his calls. You don’t let him kiss you, barely let him hold your hand. 

He goes into fix-it mode, trying to retrace his steps and figure out if maybe he did something but he comes up short. He tries talking to you about it but you shrug it off, insisting everything is fine when he can clearly tell it’s not. 

He decides that maybe you just need a day or two to yourself and he acquiesces, giving you the space that he thinks you need. When he does, you think maybe he’s finally pulling away too and even though it makes you ache, you think it’s for the best.

But when space doesn’t work and you still won’t talk he knows something is really wrong. In his head, he makes a loose plan. He’ll get you to talk to him somehow, if anything to just get some kind of closure if you’ve decided this isn’t something you want to pursue with him anymore. The thought makes him ache but he has to know.

A couple weekends after dinner with his mom, you’re in your apartment staring at the wilted flowers on your kitchen table, wondering if you should maybe get rid of them. But that feels like getting rid of Clark somehow and you can’t bring yourself to do either of those things. 

There’s a knock on your door and your heart knows it’s him before you do. You open the door and there he stands. His nose is pink from the cold and there’s a sadness so heavy in his eyes it stabs at the tender bits of your heart. 

“We need to talk,” he says, and then at the last second, “please.”

You don’t say anything, just step aside to make room for him to come in. You close the door behind him with a click.

“What’s going on?” he asks as soon as you turn around. You fold your arms, hugging them to you like some kind of armor. 

“What do you mean?” you try to play a little dumb and Clark huffs. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him anything close to angry. 

“You know what I mean. It’s what I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me about for weeks.” he sounds the slightest bit exasperated. “You won’t talk to me outside of work anymore. You won’t let me close enough to do much of anything. You’ve stopped returning my calls. It’s like you’ve completely pulled away.”

He sounds hurt more than anything. 

“Did I do something? What happened?” 

You close your eyes and sigh. “No Clark, you didn’t do anything. Nothing…happened.”

“Then why. Why are you pulling away?”

“Maybe we’re just better as friends!” you burst out, arms falling to your sides. “We were moving too fast. Maybe it’s just…easier if we just go back to being friends. Nothing more.”

“Don’t do that,” he says and you blink at him. Your eyebrows furrow. 

“What? I’m not-” you pinch the bridge of your nose. Your words have started leaving you both so fast your sentences almost overlap. “Clark-”

“You’re quitting before things get tough. You can’t do that.”

“What? I’m not..I’m not quitting. God, Clark I-” your voice starts to break. “I’m trying to protect myself. I’m terrified.”

Clark’s shoulders soften. “Terrified?”

“Yes,” you say and now the words won’t stop spilling out of you. “I’m scared to death of…of this. Of you! Of us! Of…of all of it! I’m scared.”

Clark looks like a kicked puppy again.

“Me? Us?” his voice sounds so small and your heart twists. “Why?” 

“Because I..” you’re almost panting. “Because I love you, Clark. I love you and it scares me because I never wanted to fall in love again. I never wanted to risk the pain of losing someone again. I didn’t want to risk the possibility of things ending just like they did with Ben three years ago.

And then I met you and I just knew if anyone would change my mind it would be you. The thought of being loved by you scared me and at the same time I was scared by how much I wanted that. And I tried not to but falling in love with you was the easiest thing for me to do.”

You’re not sure when you started crying or when Clark got close enough to be able to wipe your tears away with his thumbs. He looks pained at the sight of your tears but beneath that is a joy so vibrant it almost glows.

“Hey, hey, hey,” his voice is a soft melody in your ears. “I love you, too.”

It doesn’t sound as scary to you when he says it outloud. You sniffle, unable to fight the smile that spreads across your face. It’s teary and you’ve got a sudden worry that your nose is running. 

“You do? Even still?”

Clark lets out a soft laugh and nods, wiping away fresh tears that have fallen over your cheeks. “Yeah, honey, I do. Even still.”

“It’s an awful lot of work,” you say. Through a wet laugh, “I’m a mess, clearly.”

“No it’s not. Not for me. Not when it’s you.” 

The look in his eyes is so intense and serious, you’ve no choice but to believe him. Your heart soars. You sniffle again, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Your fingers curl themselves into the fabric of the sweatshirt he’s wearing.

“Are you gonna kiss me or not?” you tease and it pulls a smile out of Clark. He presses his lips to yours, so tender and soft, it leaves you melting like that ice cream cone he bought you what seems like a lifetime ago.  

Love this go around feels familiar, but it’s different, better even in all the right ways. It’s like returning from a lifelong journey and sinking into a hug. 

It feels like coming home.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

as usual, tagging some people who might be interested (if not u can ignore) & those who asked hehehe: @stevebabey @brettsgoldstein @almightyellie @katsu28 @sanguineterrain @anonymouse1807 @superemobitch @manicandobsessive @clonesdserveb3tter @lalameors @celestialend @claudiwithachanceof @pessimisticmoon @clarkstwin @cupid4prez

[sirxlla]

Walking Around In Panties While Doing Mundane Things

REQUESTS OPEN

DICK: Oh my lord, his jaw was practically in hell watching you do laundry in just your panties, a lace bralette, and a pair of socks. You looked up from where you were folding his laundry, seeing the look on his face. Confused by his reaction, you'd always done laundry in your panties, why dirty a set of clothes when you could just wash them all?

"What? You don't wash all your clothes in one go?" You ask him to which you get no response, his brain is lagging and desperately needs a thorough reboot. He blinks almost like the way someone in a cartoon might show their shock.

"I- Um- Yeah? Yeah, I do that too." He responds not really having heard what you said and even if he did his brain isn't processing it. Why was this making his brain stop working? Something about you just doing something so normal in your panties was sending his brain into overdrive while simultaneously causing it to shut down.

"See you do it too so it's not so weird." You say nonchalantly as you return to your laundry, pairing socks like normal.

"What's not weird?" Dick asks still trying to process what's going on.

"You said you also do laundry in your underwear so you can wash almost everything." You told him and now he realizes he can't back out of this, he already told you he does the same as you and if he backs out it looks like he wasn't paying attention, or makes you feel as if you're the weird one and he'd rather not do either of those.

"Rrright...ummm...yeah, all the time. It's so much more efficient isn't it?" You start to lean on the table beside him but misjudge the distance and fall due to thinking it was closer than it was.

JASON: "Babygirl, where- Oooooh! Holy shit, all this for me?" Jason says as he comes in, his hands covered in a dark liquid smeared across his hands from working on his motorcycle. Gotham had a blackout and everyone was rushing to get out of the city so you and Jason stayed put. You're doing dishes in your thong and a thin bra, sweat pouring down your back in the dark apartment that's now only lit via candles and a few solar-powered lanterns.

"No, Jason. Don't fuckin start. I'm sweating enough to slide around the house like a goddamn Slip N Slide." The heat was making you cranky, the one reason Jason had gone outside in the first place. You tried to do everything you could to distract yourself from the sweat trickling from the back of your neck down the middle of your back.

"Well let me wash my hands and blow out these candles..." Jason says as he starts to wash his hands before blowing some of the candles out, moving to do the same to the others.

"Ja-" It had taken you what felt like hours to get everything situated and set up all around the house and now he was blowing them out? Anger started to bubble inside you.

"No, get yourself semi-dressed, get your helmet, and get your cute ass out to my bike. We're going on a ride, maybe it'll help cool you off." He says as he pushes you towards the bedroom, you needed to cool off both physically and mentally and he was gonna fix that.

BRUCE: Alfred was on his well-deserved vacation so you stepped in to take over some of Alfred's tasks including making dinner. Bruice promised he'd be home for dinner but you didn't hold out hope. You danced in the kitchen in a pair of panties and a bra as you made dinner and listened to music.

You were wearing one of his shirts when he left this morning but it got wet while making dinner and the texture was too much so you stripped out of it and threw it into the laundry room nearly making it into the basket but it lay there on the floor.

Bruce moved up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. He was home way earlier than you expected and he smelled so good, his cologne filling your senses making you feel so at ease, relaxing into his arms. He reaches over and changes the music to something a lot slower, turning you around, placing a hand in yours, the other on your hip, pulling you close.

"Dancing all by your lonesome? I should be ashamed of myself for allowing you to dance all alone, Darling." He speaks into your ear as he sways back and forth. "And in such lovely attire might I add, and you made dinner. Heaven must've lost an angel when you walked into my life." He slowly kisses your forehead as he moves you both back and forth gently.

TIM: If he knew you were playing video games in your panties he would've come home a LONG time ago. He's tired, he's been up for two days, just pounding Redbulls, you told him he shouldn't drink so many so many times but he doesn't listen to you just stopped bringing it up.

Now his heart is hammering and his eyes are popping out of his head like a cartoon, you look so beautiful, so content and so comfortable but he needs to take a shower and report back to Bruce and it just all feels so endless.

Tim decides a few minutes won't hurt, that was until now when his face is planted firmly between your boobs and suddenly he has no will to get up.

"Tim, Baby. You need a shower." You tell him as you run your fingers through his hair.

"Yeah, for sure, I'll get up in a minute." Putting his face back between your boobs, you don't even know how he's breathing like that but he sure is. You run your fingers through his hair causing him to groan, and a few minutes turn into quiet snoring. He's asleep, exhausted, the sound and vibration of his snores cushioned by your breasts. Welp, he wasn't getting up anytime soon and neither are you.

DAMIAN: The last thing Damian would've expected was to walk into the house to you mopping the floors in your sports bra and panties but he was never gonna complain about seeing you like this.

"Oh! Hey...So I was doing laundry and Titus thought it would be a grand idea to flip his water bowl and well I was doing laundry as I said so I slipped and dropped all my clean clothes onto the dirty floor that he decided to cover in mud so..."

"Dear Lord, that dog has the perfect timing doesn't he?" He kneels down and checks your knee noticing how deep the bruise has already gotten. "Geeze, come on let's get your knee fixed up, it looks pretty nasty." Damian picks you up and sets you on the kitchen countertop, your face turning red. He grabs some frozen peas from the freezer, gently pressing the cold bag onto the dark bruise. He steps between your thighs, holding the peas to your knee.

"Did I tell you that you look gorgeous today?" He gently touches the bottom of your chin with his pointer finger, his green eyes looking extra beautiful in this light. "I don't know how you do it, panties, regular day clothes or you could wear a trashbag and I'd still think you were the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes on...I'm sorry about Titus, Beloved." He slowly brings his lips to your forehead and kisses it gently as he ices your leg, staying like that until the peas get warm.

-> Masterlists

-> Send me requests/prompts if you'd like

[birdsdosing]

a little short ‘n sweet drabble while i finish up my next post ⋆˙⟡

david!clark kent x fem reader

word count: 1k

The office is rather quiet for a Monday, but you take it in stride, your kitten heel tapping the floor quietly as you sit. Throughout the silence, you make out some new footsteps, traveling in your direction.

“Oh, Jimmy, my love! You came to see me, what a miracle!”

The man in question grins at your jab, pinching the sleeve of his polo. “I can’t mingle,” he explains, “I forgot my lunch.”

You tilt your head, swiveling your chair. “And that’s my problem because… “

“Because! You’re the food columnist, you always have extra stuff!”

He’s right, and it’s not ridiculous to ask. He’s just gotten unlucky, but you tease anyway. “What am I, your lunch lady?”

“No, of course not. My lunch lady wasn’t as pretty as you are.”

You click your tongue. “Ah.”

“So? What’s the newest recipe?”

You huff in amusement, and swivel back to face your computer. “Unbelievable.”

“I’m starving. I don’t have time to go out, I have to get my photos from last week in by one. C’mon, what’s your latest?”

“The latest..” You roll your eyes, then fix them on your screen. “antipasto on homemade focaccia bread, and arugula salad with peaches.”

“Oh, that sounds great!”

You turn back around, shaking your head. “Not so fast, Oliver Twist. It’s for Clark.”

Jimmy scoffs. “Of course it’s for Clark.”

“What is?”

You perk up in your seat. Clark has snuck up on you both, an iced coffee for you sweating all over his hand. He says hello to Jimmy, then leans in to kiss your cheek in greeting. “Hey. What’s for me?”

“Hi,” You reach your arm out behind you, pulling his face down to yours so you can kiss his in return. “your lunch, baby. Jimmy forgot his.”

Clark has to pretend that his super human hearing hasn’t allowed him to overhear the entire conversation. It’s become rather hard for him, lying to you. “Ah,” he nods, setting the plastic cup on the coaster on your desk.

You reach for a pack of tissues beside your computer and use a few of them to dry Clark’s palms. He preens at the attention to detail, but suddenly feels silly for it. You’re his girlfriend, and sometimes he still feels like the new kid with a childish crush.

“And, I’d give it to him, because I just love him so much,” you’re saying to him, but eyeing Jimmy as he looks utterly disgusted with you and Clark’s affections. “But then you’d go hungry, and I don’t know which is worse.”

“Me, obviously!” Jimmy huffs. “This is gross, and you’re playing favorites.”

You grin. “Oh, am I?”

You definitely are. But your “favorite” is now standing behind your chair, rubbing your shoulders gently. So really, who can blame you?

“Give him my lunch, honey,” Clark says, hands running down your arms. “We don’t have anything to turn in today, we can go get something.”

You had no doubt that he’d say that. Clark is a sharer, but more than that, a giver. You squeeze his hand, which is resting on your elbow. “Such a good man,” you coo.

“Better than you,” Jimmy mutters under his breath. “You’ll let me starve for lover boy.”

“Well here, my other lover boy,” You sigh, standing up and rounding your desk. In your canvas bag, there’s a glass square dish full of greens, drizzled in balsamic vinegar and garnished with fresh fruit and cheese. Wrapped carefully in parchment paper is half of a hefty sandwich. A meal fit for a growing boy. You hope Clark is done growing, for your sake.

“I hope you enjoy it,” you tsk, handing it over. “I made it with love. For my boyfriend. Who I love. Very much.”

“You love me, too, don’t lie,” He declares rather indignantly, taking the meal from your hands.

You tsk. “I do, but you hate me, baby, how do you figure that? You only come to me to be fed.”

Any person with an outside perspective might see this as flirting, and maybe it is, but it’s nothing but friendly. Clark knows how you are, and he’d never bring himself to, let alone want to, stop you from being you. You and Jimmy have been best friends long before Clark came into the picture, so who is he to shut that down?

If anything, Clark rather enjoys it. You, Jimmy and Lois were his first real friends when he came to Metropolis, and seeing the way city people interact is always amusing to him, silly as it may sound. Like the sitcoms he used to watch as a kid in Smallville.

Jimmy walks away with your boyfriend’s lunch in hand. You’re glad that he’s fed, at least, and now you get to go out to lunch with Clark, which is a nice win.

“How are you?” Clark asks, pulling a chair and sitting beside you. He won’t get in trouble for hanging out with you a few minutes, he’s ahead of schedule. “I haven’t seen you all weekend. I think that’s a record for us.”

You stare at the leg of the chair he’s set next to you. You want him closer. If you were strong like him, you could probably grab that leg and pull him along with it one handed. Alas, he’s a two-hundred-something pound man, and you’d look silly trying. “I’m great.”

Clark either picks up on it or feels the same way, because he pulls your rolling chair by the seat, sending you gliding into his space. His hand goes in between you and his chair, stopping you from colliding and hitting your hip.

“Besides the not seeing you all weekend. That part wasn’t so great.” You muse, brushing an adorable stray curl from his face.

Clark is a darling, a sweet gift to the world, and most of all, to you. There’s no other way to put it. “What about you, big guy? Did you miss me?”

“Only every second,” he huffs, suddenly sheepish. His face and neck warm every time you use that tone with him, precisely the reason you do it all the time. “I think we’ve been attached at the hip since this July. Not that i’d mind if we were.”

You wrinkle your nose playfully. “I would mind. I don’t think I’d like it. You run too hot.”

“Mean. I’d love to be attached to you,” He says, kissing your cheek. “I already am. I should get back to my desk before Perry puts me back on probation. I’ll come get you by, say, noon?”

“Noon,” you nod, and Clark is about to leave, when you let out a quiet “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” He asks, tilting his head at you worriedly. You’re sporting a look that’s rather embarrassed, and biting your lip.

“I forgot to take out the note I left in your lunch.” You mumble, mortified, and slap a hand over your face. It was rather sappy, if you recall correctly, and you definitely do. Maybe you’d missed him a bit too much when you wrote it this morning.

Later, you’ll probably get an earful from your coworkers, a few kissy sounds and some retching, no doubt, but you’re perfectly fine with a little teasing so long as it’s about your favorite topic as of late; Clark Kent.

[deathbxnny]

Arcane characters when someone flirts with you. | Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika x Gn!Reader

I am the brain rot. The brain rot is me.✨️

Content: pre season 2 Viktor/Jayce!, Jealousy, pitfighter Vi, established romantic relationships, angst, threats of violence/death threats, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He always struggled with self-esteem issues, mainly due to his sickness and disability that made it difficult for him to do much. A part of him forever will believe that you could easily do better than him, yet that doesn't stop him from getting terribly jealous anytime someone gets too friendly with you. Especially when they can see him standing next to you clearly being your partner as well.

But despite his insecurities, he doesn't allow anyone to harass you either on his watch. He lets you defend yourself for the most part until he has enough and lets his more sassy side handle the flirtatious person for you. He may not be able to do anything in a physical way, something he very much would rather avoid. But his tongue is sharp, and it takes little to make them quickly scurry away with a nervous apology for the disturbance.

He'll never admit to being jealous, however, and denies any teasing accusations you send his way. But he'll secretly ask for reassurance as he starts feeling embarrassed over his insecurities rather quickly after. A couple of hugs and kisses from your side will fix that right up, though.

》JAYCE

He has a reputation to keep up. And so, technically, he should always handle things professionally no matter what. People are watching him after all, and his public image can not be tarnished under any circumstance... or so he says. Things change in his mind when they are about you. In general, people know who you are and who you belong to since he rarely shuts up about it.

But every now and then, someone who is somehow unfamiliar with this concept will come up to you and attempt to woo you right in front of his very eyes. Now, Jayce tries to let you handle yourself, but doesn't hesitate to step in either if the person doesn't get the hint. His rather intimidating frame and position as a councilor help him out Immensely with this. He chases them away with a tight smile and a kiss to your head, as he casually asks how he can oh so graciously help them.

Once they leave, he'll pretend not to hear you, of you teasingly asking him if he was jealous. Him? Jealous? Hah! Impossible... okay, maybe a little. But don't tell anyone that.

》VI

As a pitfighter, Vi doesn't hesitate to get violent with anyone who comes close to the only good thing she has left in her life, which happens to be you. She's extremely protective and makes sure everyone gets the hint regarding who you belong to. But alas, there are always the couple strays that refuse to comprehend that fact and therefore attempt to "steal" you away from her. Something that never ends well for anyone.

Her temper is shorter than it used to be, and that becomes quite clear when she's quick to loom over the person that was pestering you. She knows that you can handle yourself just fine, too. But that doesn't stop her from grabbing their shoulder and asking them if she can help them out instead. Or maybe they want to talk it out in the pit? All the same to her, but the message is clear. She'll win if it comes to you every time, and that's enough to make the person scurry away in terror.

You'll definitely have to calm her down and reassure that you had everything handled. She's just looking out for you, though, and doesn't want you to get hurt, too, like everyone else in her life. The last thing she wants is to mess up again, so her overprotective tendencies will probably never lessen. Not that you kind anyways.

》CAITLYN

Your role as her partner is crystal clear to absolutely everyone in Piltover, especially after she takes over the troops as their new ruler. She's much more cutthroat and cold than she used to be before her mothers death, which made her extremely overprotective of you and your safety. She may even be suffocating at times with her security measures, but she finds it absolutely necessary. This also means, however, that those who try becoming a bit too friendly with you are always at risk of facing her wrath.

She doesn't hold back with her dismay and is quick to stand before you with a dark, stern glare directed at whoever was flirting with you beforehand. Caitlyn doesn't care if you can take care of yourself or not either. She'll take full advantage of her new position and power too, not hesitating to give the person that was pestering you a professionally worded threat that leaves them as pale as a ghost.

Admittedly, it's hard to tell if she's jealous or just worried in her own way. Before her mother's death, it may very well just be her being a bit jealous... but with her current position, she may also just be afraid to lose you too deep down. And she couldn't handle that.

》JINX

After Silco's death, Jinx's temper is milder than before due to her deteriorating mental health (if there was anything left of it to begin with). She's a lot calmer when handling situations and seeming more calculated than before, but that certainly doesn't quell the extreme abandonment issues in her at any rate. If anything, they've become much worse than before. This means that she'll cling to you and snap at anyone who nears you. No one is allowed to steal your attention away from her. No one can take you away from her. She just won't allow it when you're all she has left.

And so, she won't hesitate to use her gun on anyone who is pestering you. A death threat or two usually gets the point across anyway. Jinx will also let you handle yourself first, however though, knowing you can easily do that. But if things do get out of hand, she will step right to scare them away at best. She'd never kill anyone infront of you after all. She doesn't want to scare you away.

You'll have to reassure her of your loyalty a lot afterward, however, as her insecurities and issues can make her spiral fairly easily. Giving her a lot of attention and love makes everything go away, though, luckily.

》SEVIKA

She's very secure in your relationship and trusts you perfectly fine, which is why she rarely ever gets jealous. Why should she, anyway, when you'll always come back to her at the end of the day? Besides, people in the lanes know who you are and who you belong to, and most importantly, what will happen to their faces once she bashes them in if they ever harass you too much.

With that said, though, she typically lets you do your own thing and chase the person away yourself first before bothering to step in. If things get out of hand, then she'll suddenly be right behind you and tower over whoever it is that's not getting the hint. Blowing smoke right into their faces, she'll ask them if they have a problem, and if yes, then they should take it up with her outside. Although everyone knows she's the only one back afterwards. This usually does the trick.

Don't expect her to ever say that she is jealous, though, and hopes you know better, too. She knows you're loyal, as she certainly is for life and therefore doesn't worry about a thing regarding the strength of your relationship.

No one is better than her anyway.

[sugxto]

flip the switch - eddie/volt/reader

⋆syn: It's Volt's birthday, and he has a special request for his present.

⋆wc: 4.2k

⋆cw: m/m/afab threesome, bottom volt and top eddie, fingering fucking, rimming, cunninglinus, erotic electrostimulation

⋆notes: reader insert uses g/n pronouns and is not described with feminine attributes. AFAB genitalia, terms used include hole, folds, entrance, cunt and clit. e/v masterlist.

this does include dialogue and references from the final day of their route, so if you haven't finished them, i'd avoid for spoilers. there is also a few sentence description of what Volt's realization outfit looks like - they're not being realized, I just want to use the outfit, which you can see here in high res.

⋆snippet:

Before you can blink, Volt's above you, hands on either side of you, and you shudder at his white hot eyes when he says, in a voice smooth as silk, “I would rather love to fuck you, my live wire.”

Okay, that wasn’t too wei--

“While our Eddie fucks me.”

Oh, fuck.

flip the switch

“I didn’t realize it was actually this big of a deal.”

Eddie cranes his head at your voice, only being able to catch a glimpse of you from his precarious angle atop the ladder. “Ah, hey live wire,” he says as he turns back to his task. “Gimme a minute to finish this, yeah?”

He’s hanging a banner across the top shelf of the bar, decorated with bright, hand-painted lightning bolts and stars across the dark fabric. In a darling, cursive font, it reads, “Happy Birthday Volt!”

You look around the empty bar, see the stage adorned with balloons, the tables strewn with party hats and glitter. The Breaker Box, on any given night, is vibrant, lively, electric, but not often is it bright, with an anticipation in the air for celebration. You like it, you think, it’s different, in a way that makes you feel like a kid again.

You hear Eddie sigh, and you turn to see him lean back, survey his work. He studies the banner for a moment before calling over his shoulder, “Hey babe?”

“Yes?”

“Is it straight?”

“As an arrow, Eddie.”

He huffs as he descends the ladder. “Works for me then.”

You meet him behind the bar after he puts the ladder away, and he gives you a kiss on your cheek before he starts to fix himself a drink. “Want anything?” You nod, accept the cocktail he creates, and you lean against the bar with him. He must notice how your eyes keep flitting to the balloons, to the banner, to the white cake box that sits at the end of the bar, because he takes a long sip of his drink before saying, “It, uh, yeah, is a pretty big deal.”

You look over at him, surprised by the shyness in his voice that you haven’t heard notes of in months. “A big deal, because it’s Volt?” you ask, watching his face, see his brows furrow. “I know he’s a diva, he’s our diva, but surely he doesn’t ask for something like this every year.” You pause when Eddie doesn’t answer, only takes another sip. You ask, a bit incredulously, “Does he?”

Eddie sighs, tilts his head back, his grey eyes staring holes into the bottles behind the bar. “It’s not a big deal for us.” His fingers spin the tumbler in his hand, the liquid sloshing around the glass. “It’s… a pretty big deal to the rest of the house. Holly,” he nods at the banner, “Mitchell,” at the white box, “Stefan. Winnie. Mayor Celia.” He shrugs his shoulders, shuffles his weight on his feet. “It means a lot to them, I guess, having someone in the house that was actually… born.”

You blink, the connotation his words registering, aware of the silence that’s growing between you and Eddie, but he seems to pay it no mind, taking small sips of his drinks. Your brows furrow, and you turn your body to face his, steady yourself with one hand on the bar, before you finally ask, “Volt’s… the only one with a birthday.”

It comes out a bit more like a statement than a question, but Eddie nods all the same. “Yeah. Birthday, ‘sparked into existence’ day, whatever you wanna call it.” He puts a hand out in front of him. “There was a time before Volt.” He makes a sweeping arch with the hand. “And then, Volt was here.” Finally, he turns his gaze to yours, his lightning brows arched on his forehead. “That’s as close as we can get, I guess.”

“But what about -”

“Days they joined the house? Dates of manufacturing lots?” Eddie cocks his head, and you can’t quite read the look in his grey eyes, though it almost seems amused. “That doesn’t apply to all of us.”

Us?

Your lips fall open, words stuck on your tongue, and now you’re really, really studying Eddie’s face. “Eddie,” you finally manage, and his brows raise even more, expectantly. “How old are you?”

He chuckles, softly, and raises the glasses to his lips as he asks, “How old’s the house?”

“I… don’t know.”

He nods, the smallest of smirks on the corners of his lips. “Then, I don’t know. Like I said, it’s not so simple for all of us. You wanna ask River how old she is? She’s fucking water, live wire.”

Huh, you think. Guess that was true. 

He finishes his drink, sets it on the bar, and crosses his arms as he turns to face you. “Like I said. He and I would be more than happy to treat it like any other day. Well, maybe me more than him. But the others like…” he pauses, and you can see the wires connect in his mind as he finds the right phrase, “they like the idea that, we could create something. Create life.”

You nod. “But,” you ask, quietly, “can they?”

Eddie inhales deeply, his chest rising before letting it out, heavy through his nose. His own voice is quiet now too. “I don’t know that either.”

You’ve never asked about where Volt really came from, outside of the cursory explanation Eddie had given the night of the reset. That Eddie had split himself, made Volt out of necessity, their very essence comprised of something that powered both of them. “Sparked into existence,” was how they always phrased it, and they never offered more than that.

“But you did.”

Eddie’s quiet at that, but he nods. “Yeah. I did.”

“How?”

Eddie groans, and he rolls his eyes, exaggerates it, before running a hand through the coils of his hair. “I knew one day you’d ask me that. And live wire, I’ll tell you what I tell everyone else.” He points a finger at you, a sparkle in his eye. “That I. Don’t. Know.”

You blink, immediately confused, feeling the gears in your brain try to process. “What?”

“I don’t know how I did it.” He throws his hands up in surrender before dropping them to the bar, leaning against the cold, curved wood. A small veil of something falls over his face, almost always, stoic face, making him look more… contemplative. Yeah, that’s the right word, you decide. “I just… remember the pain. How frayed I was, a fucking dead man walking. And I thought, if I could just,” he gestures with his hands, like tearing a paper, “rip it out of me, split myself off from what was holding me back from doing my literal fucking job…” his hands turn to fists, and he studies them for a moment before dropping them. “I remember wanting, needing that with every electron inside me. And then, there was just this flash of white light. And I woke up,” he nods his head towards the back room, “to a white eyes staring at me.”

You’re quiet, a bit unsure what to say, and waiting to see if he speaks again. You reach out to touch his arm, wanting to be near him, and he settles into your touch, grey eyes finding yours, and a soft smile on his lips.

“Sorry it’s a bit anticlimactic,” he says with a small laugh. “But I’m not harboring any secrets on how household objects can procreate under my sleeves.”

You smile too, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You hear, in the back of your mind, something else they’d said that night - “we’re not one thing, but we’re not two things, either.”

You turn the memory over in your mind, working out how to phrase your next question. You swallow, purse your lips, then say, “Eddie, I don’t want you to be freaked out by what I’m gonna ask.”

He cocks a brow, and a corner of his mouth twitches up, and you see a flash of his canines. “Alright.”

You steel yourself for whatever answer he gives. “What is Volt, to you?”

Eddie licks his lips and studies your face. You see him catch your implication, and he takes a deep breath. “I can tell you what he’s not. He’s not my brother, and he’s not my kid, if that’s what’s suddenly worrying you. Though your timing is a little late in asking that.”

You fight how your eyes want to roll. “But he’s something.”

His eyes soften, and he worries his bottom lip with his teeth before saying, in perhaps the smallest voice you’ve ever heard from him, “I think… I think he’s my soul.” He must notice how wide your eyes get, how high your brows shoot, because he adds, quickly, “Most, or part, of it, at least. I don’t,” he runs a hand through hair again, tugging slightly at the frayed ends, “I don’t know. But, what I feel, what we feel, it’s… deep. Cut from the same thing. So, that’s my best guess.”

The look in Eddie’s eyes makes your heart swell - it threatens to rip itself out of your chest and throw itself at his feet. It’s a look of pure, electric, love, and you, not for the first time, cannot believe that you are lucky enough to be loved by him. By both of them. Because maybe you knew, deep down, that that would be Eddie’s answer, that there was no other explanation for how they literally completed each other. 

And what a privilege, what a wonder, that they thought you completed them.

You bring your hands up to his chest, press yourself against him, needing him, his touch, and he brings his hands to your face without a word, the two of you fitting together with ease. His thumbs run over your cheeks, hot under his touch, and he asks in a teasing voice, “Did that answer your question?”

“Yes,” you admit, your voice full of more emotion than you were expecting. “I love you. I love you both, Eddie.”

He hums as he smiles. “Yeah? Well, we love you too. And I didn’t even have to make you in a blind fury to ease my suffering.”

You try to smack his chest, but he’s too quick, and his lips are on yours before you can retort. He’s warm, always so warm, and you wonder if he’ll truly make you melt one day.

“Kissing our partner before me, live wire? On my own birthday?”

You break away at Volt’s voice, echoing in the unusually empty club, and your breath catches at the sight of him. His usual vest and wired coat have been traded for a stunning black suit, adorned with golden lightning bolts across the shoulders, and his usual copper cuffs replaced with a few gold bangles. He looks lush, expensive, gorgeous, and so fucking hot.

He chuckles at the look on your face, your slack jaw, as he steps to meet you and Eddie. “See something you like, darling?”

“Hell yes,” you say, at the same time that Eddie says, “Fuck you.”

Volt’s grin is devilish, charming, electrifying. “Later, Eddie dear. We have to entertain before I can open my presents.” As he says it, his white eyes rake over your body, taking in every inch of the glam ensemble you’d thrown on for the party, and he licks his lips. “And I think I’ll take my time unwrapping them.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie grumbles, though his eyes sparkle, and he pecks your forehead. “Now I gotta get changed, everyone’ll be here soon.”

He takes a step to leave, but Volt shoots him a teasing look as he blocks him with a hand. “Ah ah, as I said, the birthday boy is lacking in kisses.”

“The ones I give your dick this morning not count?” 

You can’t contain your laugh as, shocked, Volt lets him pass, Eddie not even giving him a glance back. But you stop, immediately, when he turns his attention back to you, and the look on his face is both terrifying and exciting as fuck.

“Fine,” he purrs. “I’ll just have to get my fill from you, then.”

When Eddie comes back downstairs, he has to tear him off you, has to repeat over and over to Volt that no, just because it was his birthday, he still could not eat you out on the bar.

You’ve never seen the Breaker Box as full as it is for Volt’s party. Nearly everyone is here, packed together around the tables, sitting on the edge of the stage, primed with champagne and a charge of excitement you’ve not seen them buzz with before. Volt greets them all with ease, like he was made to mingle - you wonder, actually, if he was. You help Eddie behind the bar, knowing this sort of thing isn’t his forte, though he doesn’t look as fatigued as you expected, even as he serves cocktail after cocktail, as Mitchell grills him on the origin of their citrus, or as Barry talks a mile a minute. 

Mayor Celia makes a small toast, tells a story about how everyone remembers the shock (she gets laughter at that) of Volt’s arrival, and how he truly brings a warmth, an ease, to the house. You and Eddie are with him as she speaks, and after the Cheers!, he kisses you, then Eddie, to whoops and hollers, before pulling both of you onto the dance floor.

It’s late when the crowd finally thins out, and you’re playing some incomprehensible drinking game with Parker and Rainey when Eddie announces last call. Volt’s with him behind the bar, chatting with him while he has yet another slice of cake, and your heart swells again when you glance over at them, in awe of how easy and how right everything is. Volt, ever observant, must feel you looking, and he throws a wink over at you that makes you blush.

When finally, finally, the club is empty again, the three of you are sat at the bar, your bare feet thrown over Volt’s lap, your head resting on Eddie’s shoulder. Connected. Together.

“Volt,” you say, your voice tired, and he hums as he looks up at you. “Did you have fun?”

He smiles, runs a hand over your leg. “Always, little spark. But,” his touch creeps higher up your calf, “don’t I still have my presents to open?”

You’re all up the stairs in a flash, a trail of your clothes on the steps, all of you a mess of hands, lips, teeth, pulling and petting and just wanting to feel each other, and it’s only because you know them so well that you can feel the difference of their skin on yours - Eddie’s, that hums like a current, and Volt’s, that buzzes with power. You melt under their hands, and suddenly, you’re on the bed, watching them kiss, watching them pull each other’s coats off without even parting. 

When Volt’s lips move to Eddie’s neck, Eddie’s steel eyes find yours, and he keeps your gaze as he wraps a hand in Volt’s hair and says into his ear, “Hey birthday boy, you gonna tell ‘em what you want?”

You hear Volt’s chuckle, muffled against Eddie’s skin, before he stands back up and turns to you, his hand hanging off Eddie’s neck. “Mm, I suppose I should.”

Before you can blink, he’s above you, hands on either side of you, and you shudder at his white hot eyes when he says, in a voice smooth as silk, “I would rather love to fuck you, my live wire.”

Okay, that wasn’t too wei--

“While our Eddie fucks me.”

Oh, fuck. 

“Oh, fuuuck,” you moan, your cunt clenching at the thought, the anticipation, and you press your legs together as tight as you can. Volt’s resulting chuckle only makes it worse. 

“Do you think we can do that for me, my darling?” He coos, dipping his head to your ear, the ends of his hair shocking your skin where it tickles your neck. “For my birthday, hm?”

You moan again at this voice, his lips, his fucking everything, a shiver enveloping your body pinned beneath him, and it takes every ounce of your resolve to nod, to moan a, “yes, yes, please.”

Volt’s tongue licks your ear, and you throw your hands up to claw at his chest as your back arches off the bed. “Very good, little spark. How about,” another lick, another plea from your lips, “I finish what we started at the bar? While Eddie gets me ready for him?”

You nod, but then quickly whimper a yes, knowing you’d get a shock to your skin if you didn’t, and he leans up, finds your waist with his hands, and pushes you up the bed. You curse when he spreads your legs, settles on his stomach, and his eyes glimmer at the sight of you, wet and aching for touch.

You see him bite his lip, and there’s a shock to your clit as his fingers find your folds, and you hear him mutter, in a quiet voice, “Happy birthday to me,” and then you scream, because he feasts.

Your back shoots off the bed, your fingers claw at their sheets, and your ankles lock around Volt’s neck as his tongue works you, expertly, knowingly, and the warmth, the current he creates within you travels to every inch of your body. When you feel his fingers press inside you, your eyes open, needing to see him, but it’s then you notice Eddie’s dark hair at the end of the bed, settled between Volt’s legs, having a feast for himself.

You think it might be the fastest you’ve ever cum, screaming their names, and you hear both of them hum as the legs shake, lightning flashing behind your eyes.

But Volt doesn’t let up, doesn’t slow his fingers, and you feel his breath against your throbbing clit as he pulls away, says, “let’s have another, my darling, as a present, hm?” and your throat is raw as he goes right back to giving you long, slow licks, before his tongue practically starts vibrating around you.

You hear him groan after a minute, and through heavy lids, you watch Eddie lift himself up, run his hands over Volt’s ass, before you watch his fingers slide inside, and Volt’s resulting moan sends shockwaves through your belly. 

Eddie’s titanium eyes pin yours down, and his free hand finds the small of Volt’s back, pressing him down when he starts to arch. You know he can see the tears that are pooling at the edge of your eyes, the uncontrollable shake of your leg, and he fucking smiles - you think you hate him, hate both of them, as you feel Volt’s teeth scrape against you.

“They’re close, Volt,” Eddie hums, his grin showing his teeth. “You gonna make them gush for us, birthday boy?”

Volt’s tongue finds a truly brutal pace, his fingers slipping in and out of you with quick, slick sounds, and he does just that. The lightning flashes again, stealing your breath, and your body goes slack as your orgasm rips through every electrified cell in your body.

When you blink, a moment later, Volt is above you again, peppering small kisses to your collarbones, your shoulder. He feels you stir, and white eyes dart to yours. “You, our spark, are the most delectable birthday treat.” A kiss to your cheek. “Now, tell me. How would you like me fuck you? Like this? Or on your stomach?”

Both are equally appealing, you think, but the thought of him plowing your ass into the mattress does reignite the sparks that the orgasms threatened to drain, so you tell him, with a hoarse voice, “stomach, please.”

You’re flipped by four hands in a flash, and your hips are being lifted, just enough for Volt’s hot, aching cock to find the right angle to your entrance, and he slips inside with ease, coating himself with your own climax as he fills you in one sweet thrust. You both gasp at the feeling, the shock of his skin against you. He steadies himself when his hands grasp your waist, and his lips kiss your shoulder blade when he moans.

You feel, a moment later, his arms quiver, and a curse hisses through his teeth, and you know that Eddie must be fulfilling his end of the deal. Volt rocks his hips into you, groans Eddie’s name, and fuck, maybe the stomach was the wrong call, because you wish you could see.

Somewhere, deep in your mind, a little voice tells you that you can, and you remember the mirror on the armoire across the room, and flip your head.

Thank the fucking stars, it’s the perfect angle.

Eddie has one hand on Volt’s waist, and the other encircles his neck, his face hungry, powerful, savoring every little sound the two of you make, and he thrusts inside of Volt, sending Volt deeper inside of you.

One day, these men would be the death of you.

You watch, transfixed, as Eddie finds his pace, languid strokes combined with harsh thrusts, each in turn making Volt’s cock throb inside you, trying as much as he can to set his own pace, but Eddie’s hold on him not allowing for such freedom.

As Eddie moves faster, Volt loses his grip on your waist, his hands falling to the mattress beside your skin, his muscles trembling with the effort to keep himself up, to keep rocking inside you. The room is filled with moans, curses, and the sounds of skin on skin, brutal, relentless, and you wish it could be this way always.

“F-fuck, Eddie, yes, more,” Volt’s usual collected voice is anything but, he’s burning, greedy, and barely hanging on to his composure, and a silent scream leaves your lips when Eddie complies, your body being thrust further and further into the mattress, and you feel drool spill from your lips on the sheets.

Shocks light up your back, and now Volt speaks to you, nearly pleading, “Give me one more, live wire, give you j-just one, fuck, more.”

And it is his birthday, after all.

It’s Eddie’s tell-tale groans that make the spring inside you start to tighten, but it’s Volt’s whimpers, his pleas, and you feel him pump erratically inside you, that bring you to the peak once again, your walls clamping like a vice around Volt as tears from your mix mix with the puddle of drool beneath your cheek. 

Like a tripped circuit, Volt is next - he nearly collapses above your back as he fills you, one of his hands finding your arm and holding on for dear life, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find a hand-shaped burn in the morning (maybe, in fact, you’d welcome it). His whole body shudders as Eddie groans his name, how good he is, what a sweet birthday boy, until finally, he stills too, coming with Volt’s name on his lips.

When, finally, you’re free from the pile of bodies you all created, one of them (you’re not quite cognizant to register which) pulls you to their bathroom, and again, in the shower, you’re between their bodies, each of you helping to rinse off each other between quiet, slow kisses.

Clean in the bed, a new blanket over you, Volt holds you nearly atop his chest, Eddie on his side as he leans over the both of you, and your heart sings at their touches.

But, there’s one thing on your mind.

“It’s not fair,” you say in a small voice, sleep desperately wanting to overtake you.

Volt stills his hand on your back. “What’s not, darling?”

“Eddie’s the only one of us without a birthday.”

They glance at each other, as if it were the first time they realized it - maybe it is, in their world, Volt is the exception - before steel and white eyes find yours, and Eddie says simply, “Then pick a day.”

You raise your head, flick your eyes between them. “Really?”

“Why not,” he says, and you see the hints of a smirk he’s trying to hide. “If tonight was any indication, they certainly have their benefits.”

You smile, knowing without a doubt that you are the luckiest person in this house. “Okay. Um. Do you have a favorite month?”

Eddie chuckles, love and amusement both swimming in his eyes. “Not at all.”

“Well you’re a big help.” You turn to Volt, that same mixture in his eyes. “Volt, pick a month.”

“November.”

“Why November?’ Eddie asks.

“It’s got a V in it, of course.” He winks, and grey eyes roll.

“Alright, November… third,” you decide. “Cuz there’s three of us.”

Both pairs of eyes soften, their faces beaming. 

“Then that’s my birthday,” Eddie hums, his voice laced with devotion, adoration, pride.

Volt cups his cheek and strokes his stubble with his thumb. “I can’t wait, then.” He smiles softly, looks at you both. “Because I thoroughly enjoyed mine, my darlings.”

He kisses you both, and you settle in together, exhausted, but now, you dream of November thirds to come as well.

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: How will your future spouse pursue you ⋆˙⟡

✧˚. How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

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⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE I

Cards Pulled: king of swords, knight of cups reversed, king of pentacles, the sun, the tower, 2 of swords

Right off the bat, you’re gonna think this person is cold. PERIOD. I’m sorry, but King of Swords as the first card, this ain’t some gushy softie sliding into your DMs with heart emojis and “wyd baby.” Nah, theyre giving emotionally disciplined, calculating, and “I only let three people see the real me and you’re not on the list… yet. YET” they might come across lowkey intimidating at first, like, the kind of person who’s quiet in group settings but throws out that one sarcastic comment that’s so sharp it makes everyone laugh and feel personally attacked. 😭💀

BUT TRUST ME, they’re watching you. Like… a hawk. They’re the type who is taking mental notes on your coffee order, your laugh patterns, the way you furrow your brows when you’re deep in thought, stuff even you don’t know you do. But honesty love….. they’re into you from day one, but they plays it off like he’s unbothered. Classic King of Swords move. Strategic af. Theyre lowkey fighting himself. Like, internally they got this soft, romantic, borderline poetic thing brewing, he fantasizes about running into you by “accident,” planning the most aesthetic dates, imagining you in his hoodie😭but he’s actively repressing it. Because vulnerability? He’d rather eat glass, thanks. He doesn’t want to be obvious. He’s convinced if he lets on how deep he’s feeling this, he’ll lose the upper hand or get hurt. So what does he do instead? Weird passive-aggressive things. Acts uninterested one minute, then gives you eyes across the room like he’s trying to telepathically undress your soul the next. Sir. Pick a lane. He doesn’t chase, he builds. He slowly starts showing up for you in the most tangible, grounded ways. Need help with something? He’s already on it. Mentioned your favorite snack in passing? It just “randomly” appears next time. The way this man provides?? You’ll be SHOOK. He’s not flashy about it either. He’s like, “I got you” and means it. That’s when you start going: “Wait… are they… serious?” Because once this person is IN, he is IN. Like, no games, no pullbacks. Suddenly it’s "have you eaten?" and "text me when you get home" and "do you want me to fix that thing?." Husband mode activated. 

BUT THEN. Omg. THE TOWER. 😭 Baby this is where it goes OFF. Something will shift drastically. And honestly, You might be the one who triggers it, ofc we are talking about you here so. Like maybe you call him out for his hot-and-cold vibe, or you walk away ‘cause you’re done playing Guess Who: Feelings Edition. Whatever it is, it SHATTERS his cool-boy facade. The Tower is giving “omg I fumbled” realness. He suddenly realizes how much he could lose and spirals. Might even go quiet for a second, lick his wounds, have a whole emotional breakdown. But then… boom. THE SUN. This is where the magic happens. The pursuit becomes warm, honest, and loud. He stops hiding. He owns it. Like, “Yeah, I like you. Actually, I love you. Actually, I wanna grow old with you and argue about what brand of detergent we’re using.” You’ll feel seen, adored, and finally safe in this connection. It’s that post-breakdown glow-up. He starts expressing himself clearly, no longer scared to let you in.

But now. Girl. YOU are gonna be the one hesitating now 😭. That Tower moment hits you, too. You start overthinking: “Can I trust this sudden 180? Was he always this into me and just hiding it? Do I want someone who couldn’t be vulnerable from the start?” Like, your brain starts weighing everythings. And that’s valid! It’s hard to unsee someone’s walls once you’ve bumped into them. So how do you perceive him throughout this journey? At first, cold and confusing af. Then… weirdly magnetic. Then dependable and lowkey daddy-coded. Then chaotic and heartbreak-y. Then sunshine and deeply, deeply sincere. You’ll feel like you’re watching him peel back layer after layer, and each one gets softer, realer, and more him.

His hints would be subtle but intentional. He remembers small things. He lingers a bit longer in conversations than necessary. He suddenly shows interest in the things you love, even if they weren’t his vibe before. He gives you those “you’re the only person in this room I care about” eyes. He’ll NEVER say it first… until he breaks. And when he does? You’re done. Stick a fork in you. Soul snatched. Game over.

I am seeing like he might dream about you before things really pop off. He might tell you later like ,“I had this weird dream we were married lol” and laugh it off, but internall,y he’s BLUSHINGGG because the dream felt real. Also… idk why I’m seeing like… rain or some stormy weather being important??? Maybe the Tower moment literally happens during a stormy day and you both cry under the rain like a movie scene? (i mean…..idc… if i am getting me personal main character moment. It’s all part of the process, i guess💁🏻‍♀️).

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⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE II

Cards Pulled: the tower, king of wands, 5 of pentacles, queen of cups, 8 of pentacles, 10 of pentacles

PILE 2, Okay but… why does this feel like a well written kdrama with 16 episodes??? I mean i could literally make a movie out of this pile 😭 my reaction to the cards were literally: oh, OH, ahh , TF, Oh. My. GOD.😭 

The drama. The rawness. The "I didn’t see this coming, but now I literally can’t look away" energy is off the charts. And I’m already obsessed. So let’s talk about how this chaotic yet painfully magnetic future spouse of yours is about to come stomping into your world like they own the place, with all their trauma and broken broken parts and this weirdly hot charisma that shouldn’t be attractive but is. And somehow?? You fall for it. But like… respectfully 😭.

this person doesn’t approach you like your average person in love would do. No flowers and shy glances. Nope. It’s giving, "I just burnt my life down and now I’m rebuilding from scratch and oh look, you’re here too," vibes. Like you know when someone walks into a room and they don’t say much but their energy is SCREAMING "I’ve been through the trauma you couldn't even imagine"? That’s them. Tower card energy straight up. Something’s just collapsed in their life, could be a major breakup, a career flop, family drama, or literally an existential crisis. Honestly? Feels like all three, let’s not lie 💀. But instead of moping around, this person grabs that chaos and turns it into… ambition. Swagger. Power. This is someone who knows how to lead. They pursue you like they’re chasing their next purpose. With intention. With clarity. And this lowkey intimidating confidence that says “I know what I want, and it’s you.” But let’s not pretend it’s smooth sailing here. Bc 5 of Pentacles? Babe. This person has been abandoned, emotionally iced out, or felt major rejection in the past. Like it’s giving "I’ve loved and I’ve lost and now I trust NO ONE but my dog”. And because of that, Their way of pursuing you is… messy. Not in a manipulative way, but in that "I’m trying to be a lover while still patching up my own wounds" type of mess. So expect mixed signals. Hot and cold. Deep talks followed by withdrawal. And you’re gonna be like, “Sir?? Do you like me or do you need therapy??” honestly: it’s both 😭.

Queen of Cups as the next card is where things get interesting. You. Literally you. You're intuitive AF, emotionally intelligent, and probably catch onto their emotional damage in the first week and are like “Yup. You’re hurt. But I see the softie under all that wreckage.” And here's where it gets wild: they know you see it. That’s what makes them pursue harder. You’re the first person who doesn’t just want them for their outer confidence and King of Wands hotness, you want to know their soul. Their weird inner child. Their guilt. Their hidden sadness. And that?? That shakes them. In a good way. You start noticing little things. Like how they’ll work on themselves just to be better for you. They start showing up. Maybe it’s slow, but you’ll see them trying, healing their abandonment issues, learning to communicate, showing effort in tangible ways. Like planning little dates, asking how your day was (and ACTUALLY listening….woah rare, ngl), sharing parts of their past without you asking. They might even pick up new skills or hobbies because you like them. A little "if she likes books, I read books now" moment?? 😭😭 Despite how mature and scarred and big-boss they may appear, at their core, they’re a newbie when it comes to actual healthy love. Like yeah, they’ve loved before. But not YOU kind of love. Not “you see me even when I’m not performing” kind of love. And that humbles the hell out of them. They're awkward about it. Like, "I wanna give you the world but I also don’t know how to wrap a gift box correctly." 😭 It’s so endearing, you can’t help but melt. They pursue you like someone relearning love from scratch, and you become their soft place to land. They’ll stumble. They’ll overthink. But babe, they’ll try. And that’s what makes them fall harder. Because this ain’t about seduction. It’s about growth. They're not gonna outright confess their feels in the beginning. It’s gonna be hidden in acts of service. Like fixing your broken lamp. Or sending you a meme with a weird caption like, "reminds me of u" Or casually saying “I don’t talk to many people like I do with you,” and then acting like it wasn’t a full-on emotional proposal. Their love language is subtle till it’s not, okay?? But your intuitive self picks up on every damn sign, and you’ll know before they even open their mouth. That’s the connection here, psychic soulmate level. You’ll feel their love way before it’s said.

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⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE III

Cards Pulled: king of wands, 3 of cups, knight of swords reversed, the devil, 8 of cups, the star

OKAY, PILE 3 is here and… GIRL this pile has such strong, “Dark romance” vibes and also that “enemies to lovers but we’re obsessed with each other” trope energy like NO OTHER 😮‍💨🔥. Your future spouse? It’s that person who shows up outta nowhere and instantly throws your life into disarray because the connection is too much, too fast, too real. They pursue you like they’ve waited lifetimes to find you and now that you’re finally here, they’re not gonna risk losing you, even if it means accidentally traumatizing you with their intensity first 😭.

So let’s start with the vibe of this person, okay? Immediately I’m seeing someone who is dominant AF in presence, the type of person where the second they walk into a room, your attention shifts without your permission. But they’re not all flash and no depth, this person has that charismatic, “traumatized but make it aesthetic” confidence LOL. Think: the guy who’s lowkey too cool for everyone but gets soft for you 🫠. But it’s not just charm. It's calculated. They choose to pursue you. Like, they spotted you from across the damn soul contract timeline and were like, “Yep. That one. Mine.” LMAO.

Here’s where it gets juicy though, this person doesn’t make their pursuit clean or safe. We’ve got the Knight of Swords reversed mixed with The Devil and 3 of Cups… BABY. I’m not gonna lie, their approach is gonna have you shook. This isn't some slow-burn "lemme get to know you" type of chase. Nah, it’s giving intoxicated obsession. Like they’re coming at you way too fast, might say things they haven’t thought through (hello chaotic confessions??), maybe even making moves when you’re like “Wait… tf is happening?!” . And I SWEAR this person gives off the vibe of someone who might try to "just be friends" first… but they absolutely fail at it. Like... you’re not slick, sir. The way they look at you? Not very "friendly." More like "I wanna pin you to the wall in a meaningful way." 😭 it’s like you look into their eyes once aand you are going inot their crib TONIGHT. 

BUT. Their pursuit of you isn’t just lusty and impulsive, it’s coming from a place of deep yearning and soul ache. You’re literally the star they’ve been trying to find after walking away from a bunch of superficial crap. I’m getting that they’ve already been through a lot emotionally, they’ve had to let go of people, addictions (literal or emotional), maybe even success that wasn’t fulfilling. So while their approach is messy and extra (like “sir pls chill”), it’s coming from a place of craving real healing, real light, REAL connection. And guess what? That’s what you are to them. Their fkn North Star. And trust me, they don't even realize it at first, like they’re thinking they’re chasing a thrill, but gets, spiritual awakening outta nowhere. Bestie… you’re gonna think they’re too much. 😂 Straight up. You’ll be like “This person is hot, sure……but wtf is this energy??” It’ll feel like you’re constantly trying to decide between “should I kiss them or block them?” Energy chaotic AF. You’ll clock them trying to play it cool, but their eyes? Screaming "I'm feral for you." It’s also possible they’ll show up when you’re trying to move on from someone/something else, and you’ll be hesitant because you’re finally healing, vibing, living in peace, and here comes this walking temptation in human form, knocking on your aura like “hey 😏.” i mean really this emoji is the perfect example of how i am imagining this person.  There’s definitely a karmic undertone here, like you two have danced this dance before in past lives but it was let uncompleted. So now, they're NOT playing around. And the way The Star closes the reading? OOF. After all the chaos, the push/pull, the temptation, and messy little love games… they want peace with you. You are the peace. The wish. The endgame. But it’s not gonna come pretty.

Okay so their hints are not actually hints. They’ll accidentally drop the biggest signs , forgetting they’re supposed to pretend. They’ll joke about being obsessed with you? Deadass. They’ll mention you in every convo “by accident.” They might post quotes on their stories or make weird comments like “If I ever fall in love, it’ll be someone like you” 🙄, SIR. STOP. WE SEE YOU.  The 3 of Cups energy is also giving “I’ll use mutual friends to get close to you,” like casually showing up at a party where you just happen to be?? Please.And listen, not everything will be smooth sailing. That Devil energy is LOUD. There will be moments where you’ll wonder if you’re drawn to them because it’s fated… or because it’s toxic. But that’s part of the growth arc. They’re not here to ruin your life, they’re here to crack your heart open with messy hands. And once they realize that they can’t control you? That’s when the real magic starts. That’s when they fall so damn hard, they start building a whole new version of themselves just to be worthy of your light.

Liked the reading? get your own personalized super in-depth paid reading here!

Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[yuujispinkhair]

NERD!SUKUNA HEADCANONS - Part 1

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). College AU. 2k words 18+, fluff + smut (Sukuna has some dirty fantasies about Reader. The actual smut will be in Part 2). "Enemies" to friends to fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is shy and struggles with her grades. Sukuna is a genius but bad at feelings ;) Minors don't interact. Divider @/.lacedolliee. Credit for the super sexy fanart of Nerdkuna goes to my sweet friend @winterrbluess. The pic was used with Winn's permission 🖤 You asked if someone could write a little something about your fave sexy nerd, and I couldn't resist ;) I hope you'll enjoy it!

Nerd!Sukuna, who looks like a bad boy but is actually at the top of all his classes and a huge nerd when it comes to his studies and his various interests. Very intelligent, passionate, and hardworking. Sukuna always wants to be the best in everything he does.

Nerd!Sukuna, who could be one of the most popular guys on the whole campus if he wanted to, with his good looks and impressive height and fit body. But he keeps everyone at arm's length, not giving a fuck about popularity and not wanting to get distracted from his academic success.

Nerd!Sukuna, who once beat up a football player who tried to make fun of Sukuna's passion for all things history-related, and ever since that day, no one dared to bother Sukuna again.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is arrogant and condescending and thinks (rightfully so) that no one is fit to hold a candle to him. He is constantly looking down on everyone around him and would rather spend his free time perfecting his skills and studies than doing something useless.

Nerd!Sukuna, who hates group projects and prefers to work alone because everyone else is just holding him up, and Sukuna has to control all of their steps to fix their mistakes.

Nerd!Sukuna, who rolls his eyes in annoyance when he gets paired up with you for an assignment. A shy little thing whose name he never heard before, which means you are definitely not playing in the same academic league as him.

Nerd!Sukuna, who towers over you with his backpack slung casually over his broad shoulders and his tattooed face cold and hard when he informs you that he expects you to work hard and not fuck up his grades, or he will make your life hell.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is fully convinced this will be a disaster when he sees you wring your hands nervously and promise him you will work your ass off for this assignment because you really need a good grade so you can pass.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is a control freak who plans everything ahead and, therefore, doesn't let you have a word on how often you meet or when or where. He doesn't like having people over at his place, but he invites you over anyway because his kitchen table is his favorite place to study.

Nerd!Sukuna, who fixes you with a stern look through his nerdy glasses as he shoves a huge stack of books across the table, informing you he expects you to read all the needed information, which he already marked for you with various color-coded sticky notes. "Because you probably don't even know what we need for this assignment."

Nerd!Sukuna, who is surprised by how thoroughly you work and by the questions you ask him, which let him know you aren't as dumb as he thought.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes how you hang on his lips when he explains stuff to you, clearly impressed by his detailed knowledge. And maybe, just maybe, he intentionally lowers his voice a bit more, just to see you get all nervous when he is talking in such a husky way, almost as if he isn't explaining political intrigues in the Heian era to you but rather telling you what he wants to do to you in his bed.

Nerd!Sukuna, who finds devilish joy in seeing how flustered you get around him and how clearly intimidated you are by his tall and broad body and his tattoos and arrogant attitude.

Nerd!Sukuna, who has to admit (only to himself) that getting paired up with you isn't too bad because at least you give your best, and you are actually kind of cute. The kind of sweet, shy girl who usually doesn't cross paths with him.

Nerd!Sukuna, who catches himself watching you during study time in his kitchen or in the library. He tells himself he is just checking if you really do your work, but his gaze mostly lingers on your glossy lips, which wrap around your pen while you focus on something or on your nose, which looks super cute when you scrunch it up in confusion.

Nerd!Sukuna, who isn't one to brag because he thinks that is something for losers, but he can't help but mention casually some of the academic awards he already won just because he is getting addicted to the buzzing in his veins when he sees the way you gulp hard and get all shy and cute on him, muttering something about how you struggle to even stay in college.

Nerd!Sukuna, who usually loves to be a little sadist and make fun of people who have bad grades, but somehow, he can't bring himself to do that when it comes to you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who instead surprises himself by reaching out and ruffling your hair, telling you that he will help you with your studies.

Nerd!Sukuna, who forms a strange little companionship with you, almost looking forward to your meetings and even preparing an extra plate of snacks for you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who usually isn't someone people would refer to as nice, but who drops his arrogant and mocking attitude at least a little when he is in his kitchen with you and instead jokes around with you and feels his heart throb weirdly when you get his humor, and laugh about his even most sarcastic remarks.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes it when you come out of your shell more and more, joining in on his playful teasing or telling him about your favorite books and shows.

Nerd!Sukuna, who accidentally overhears you telling your classmate that you don't have time to go to the coffeeshop with her because you are already meeting your friend Sukuna after class, which leaves Sukuna standing in the middle of the hallway for a whole thirty seconds, with his mouth hanging open, completely stunned and looking like a brainless idiot as his mind tries to wrap around the fact that you see him as your friend when Sukuna never had a friend before.

Nerd!Sukuna, who makes sure to bake your favorite muffins and prepare your favorite type of tea before you come over that afternoon, wordlessly showing you that he values your companionship, or friendship, as you called it, too.

Nerd!Sukuna, who feels a small smile tug at his usually smirking lips when he sees your big happy smile and hears your sweet "For me? Oh, thank you!" when you see the plate with muffins on your place at his kitchen table. And yes, he refers to it as your place, and the thought makes him feel strangely warm.

Nerd!Sukuna, who playfully teases you for your Hello Kitty pens and glittery pink notebooks, asking if you are in some "Little Princess Kindergarten Club" or something. Only for you to march up to him the next morning before class to press a Hello Kitty text marker set against his chest so he can join the club, too, causing Sukuna to sit in class with a stupid grin on his face for a whole hour.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes how easy things feel with you. How he can put all his hard work into your assignment and also see you working hard on it, but also have this light-hearted, playful banter with you, making him realize how boring and dry his afternoons used to be before you became his assignment partner.

Nerd!Sukuna, who has to admit that you definitely aren't as bad of an assignment partner as he thought you would be. He even allows you to fill out a whole page all by yourself, which is the biggest compliment he can give you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who catches himself playfully flirting with you, smirking smugly when he catches you staring at him when he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "See something you like, princess? Aww, no need to be embarrassed. I know those glasses look sexy on me."

Nerd!Sukuna, who loves to tease you like that and who ducks just in time when you scream in embarrassment and throw a pen at him while looking so fucking cute that Sukuna just teases you even more.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is quite happy with how your assignment is going. Usually, he would do the whole presentation by himself because he trusts no one else to deliver it the way he wants to, but Sukuna knows how shy you are about talking in front of the class, and Sukuna wants to teach you how to lose that fear.

Nerd!Sukuna, who just smirks at you when you complain loudly, "I can't do that! I am so bad at presenting things. I get all nervous and flustered, and then I mess up. Please do it yourself, Sukuna! You are so much better at this!"

Nerd!Sukuna, who tells you, "If you always run away from everything that scares you, you will never make it in life. So, nope. You will do your part. But aren't you such a lucky girl that you have me as your teacher?"

Nerd!Sukuna, who makes you stand in front of his fridge and practice your presentation over and over again while Sukuna sits on the kitchen chair, long muscular legs spread, tattooed arms crossed in front of his broad chest, occasionally pushing his glasses up as he watches you with an amused expression on his tattooed face, providing a brutal but honest opinion and actually helpful advice.

Nerd!Sukuna, who isn't just an overly critical and perfectionist asshole, but also someone who gives praise when he thinks it is deserved. And you, his cute little assignment partner, really deserve it. Sukuna walks over to you, stopping in front of you with a broad grin, "You did really well, princess. I'm proud of you."

Nerd!Sukuna, who wonders why your pupils look so blown out all of a sudden when you tilt your head to look up at him, stuttering in a slightly breathless voice, "Th... thank you. You were a really good teacher."

Nerd!Sukuna, who laughs and pets your hair as he smirks at you, saying something about how he could teach you lots of other things, too. Not sure anymore whether he is still just teasing you or if he really means it in a sexual way.

Nerd!Sukuna, who realizes he has a little big problem when he starts noticing the way your tits get pushed up and almost spill out of your shirt when you press a stack of books against them. Or when he loses his thread because you decided to wear a sexy little skirt, and now Sukuna can't stop thinking about how cute it would look if you were bouncing on his cock while still wearing that little skirt. Or when you suck on your stupid Hello Kitty pen, and Sukuna can't help but imagine how those sweet glossy lips of yours would feel wrapped around his cock instead.

Nerd!Sukuna, who tries to suppress those thoughts though, not wanting to mess this assignment up.

Nerd!Sukuna, who feels like encountering a world boss in a computer game, when you have a breakdown at his kitchen table, the evening before your presentation, crying and sobbing because you are nervous and convinced you will fuck up. And suddenly, Sukuna finds himself comforting you, gently caressing your arms with his large hands while murmuring reassurance to you. "Hey, stop being a brat. I know you can do it. You learned from the best, after all, didn't you, princess? And you got me. Just look at me the whole time, ok? Nothing bad can happen when you just look at me."

Nerd!Sukuna, who is surprised by how protective he feels over you at that moment. You are sitting in front of him looking like a wet cat, with your eyes all red and swollen from crying and snot running out of your nose, but somehow you still look so fucking cute to him, and somehow you make him so much softer and less rational than he usually is.

Nerd!Sukuna, who sighs and growls, "Oh, just come here." sounding annoyed but contradicting it by pulling you into his strong arms and holding you until you feel ok again. Sukuna still complains that you got his shirt wet with your tears, but his words lack the bite.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is genuinely proud of how much you improved when he watches your part of the presentation the next day. He even catches himself smiling a real smile at you when he congratulates you after class.

Nerd!Sukuna, who experiences a strange fluttery feeling in his stomach when you smile back at him and put your small hand on his tattooed biceps, "Thank you, Sukuna. It was really nice working with you."

Nerd!Sukuna, who manages a "same," but then just stands before you, opening his mouth and closing it again, not knowing what else to say because there are too many thoughts racing through his mind, and all of them seem to be too honest. And you do the same, shuffling around shyly, looking at him with wide eyes, parting your lips, but no words come out. And so both of you just lift a hand in an awkward farewell gesture and leave on opposite sides of the hallway.

Nerd!Sukuna, who tries to tell himself he is glad that your assignment is over and he can work in solitude again but then ends up staring longingly at the empty chair at his kitchen table, where you used to sit those last few weeks.

Aww Sukuna, do you miss us? ;)

I AM VERY ATTRACTED TO HIM AAAHHHH please, Kuna, tell me more about history and physics and every other subject that there is!!! You are so sexy!! 😘😘

Winn's fanart of Nerdkuna made me swoon so much and fall in love with him, and I always picture him as being at the top of classes anyway, so I think it was really time to finally write about him living his best nerdy life.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the headcanons! I will post Part 2 in a few days 💗 Will Kuna find a way to get us back onto his kitchen chair?

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!

Here is Part 2

[reverie-starlight]

okay that kuroo piece is still coming but have this small sakusa x MSBY!manager blurb that I just thought up and got so excited about!! I’m marking this down as fem!reader just for this specific little ramble. it can be read separately from the series !!

warnings: none, but probably a bit of a disconnect from what really happens at charity galas lmao

sakusa kiyoomi has a certain reputation for being very stoic and stand-offish in public- always polite but rather blunt in interviews. he’s tall, intimidating and not very personable around those who don’t know him, so it’s not a surprise people perceive him this way. his preference for wearing his mask most of the time only adds to this reputation, and he couldn’t care less. in fact, you would argue that he finds comfort in being perceived as unapproachable by strangers.

but when MSBY fans realize how horrifically down bad their favourite wing spiker is for the team manager, they have a field day with this absolutely drastic personality shift.

it starts with little jokes made by fan accounts about how much nicer he is to you in comparison to his teammates. they latch onto passing comments made by bokuto or atsumu about how when you’re at practice they feel at ease because they’re less likely to get obliterated by his sarcastic remarks.

no one has clued into the fact that you’re together yet, just that there’s some serious chemistry between you two.

it doesn’t go much further than that until the night of some charity event a lot of different teams are attending. of course managers are there, as well as coaches and trainers and JVA employees.

you’re doing the press/carpet walk before entering the event and in between photos and walking between journalists, one of the straps of your heels has come undone.

you frown a little and inspect it before realizing your dress restricts your ability to fix it yourself, so you nudge your boyfriend and stick your foot out to draw his attention to your predicament.

you don’t think twice about how there are no words are spoken. just a simple action and understanding between two lovers.

so people watch on as sakusa kiyoomi drops to his knees right then and there without protest and fixes your shoe. you take the opportunity to adjust the neckline of your dress (a deep, silky forest green to match his tie) and look around while you wait for him to finish.

you don’t realize the uproar this is bound to create, and you definitely don’t think twice about the fact that your boyfriend isn’t wearing a mask to this event.

…which means everyone is able to see the blush on his face and the tiny yet extremely lovesick smile on his lips as he gets up. you grin and pat sakusa on the cheek in thanks before walking to the next reporter, him trailing behind you dutifully.

you check twitter the next morning and your timeline is flooded with videos of that moment, captions gushing about how sweet and happy he looks. some fans go as far as to say he looks like a lost puppy following you around.

he doesn’t regret it one bit, but you have to comfort him when he loses his stand-offish reputation after that because he dreads the idea of more people possibly coming up to him in public.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I literally sprinted here to write this lmao

not edited!!

tagging: @dira333 @emmyrosee

[princessbellecerise]

Court Shenanigans

Summary ✩ Missing their father, your children decide it’s a good idea to interrupt him in the middle of court

Warnings ✩ Mentions of pregnancy

Authors Notes ✩ Everyday I cry cause this man isn’t real but at least I have fanfic

You tried to stop them, you really did.

But being almost nine moons pregnant and having the most swollen feet known to man, it was almost impossible to chase after and keep up with two rowdy tots.

Usually, their nursemaids would have them by now and would be helping to assist you, but Aliza was sick and Joanna was with her family. Both of them would have scolded you for trying to run when you couldn’t even see your feet, but your kids were a mischievous bunch and you had a sinking feeling on where they were headed.

Aemma, the eldest of the two twins, had been complaining all day about not being able to see her father, as Jace had missed out on breakfast and lunch with her in order to hear a few extra petitions.

It seemed as if the Kingdom was more unruly than usual, and Lords had come from all over the realm to plead their cases.

Wanting to be a good King and make sure that he could adhere to all of his subjects, Jace had opted to spend a little extra time on the throne and a less with his family.

This of course didn’t sit well with Aemma, and as her shadow Jaelin followed right on along with her.

Try as you might have, you weren’t fast enough to catch up to them and your protests for them to stop didn’t do much good, either.

Before you could even blink, your twins were flying past the Kingsguard and bursting into the throne room, with little Aemma’s excited shouting making you want to crawl into a hole right there and then.

“Kepa!”

In no time your baby girl ran across the room, interrupting some poor Lord under a pink banner. You thought that he might’ve been from White Harbor, or maybe he was from Maidenpool.

Whatever it was, you didn’t pay much attention as suddenly, all chatter stopped, and you were the center of attention as you wobbled towards Jacaerys and fixed Aemma with a stern glare.

“Aemma! Come back here!” You shouted after her sternly, and thankfully Jaelin was too afraid of your ‘motherly voice’ to get any closer.

He stopped just short of the Iron Throne, choosing to remain by Ser Darklyn’s side rather than follow his sister up the steps. With horror, you realized that Aemma was headed straight to Jacaerys, exclaiming happily as she threw herself in her father’s open arms.

“Kepa!”

She bounced excitedly as Jace pulled her on his lap, looking amused while you struggled to catch your breath.

Running at your size was no joke, and you ached to sit down somewhere and rest. You couldn’t do that though while your two year old twins were causing mayhem.

It was unbefitting of a Queen, you knew that, but desperation had you hiking up your dress, climbing the the steps, and holding your arms out expectantly while Jace chuckled.

“Aemma. It’s time to say goodbye to Kepa and go back to our chambers. Now,” You told her, but that only resulted in the toddler shaking her head and burying herself even deeper into Jacaerys’ arms.

“No! I want to stay with Kepa!” Her defiant little voice shouted, and you winced as a few murmurs echoed through the court.

You were painfully aware that everybody was staring at the scene, which made it even more embarrassing when you reached out again and failed to grab Aemma.

After about the third attempt to pull her away with no avail, your husband seemed to finally take pity on you and sighed.

“It’s alright my love. She can stay,” Jacaerys said, and upon hearing this Aemma beamed. “It’ll be her seat one day after all. Let her gain some experience; even if it is during the middle of a petition.”

You gave him an apologetic look, and you made a mental note to apologize to Lord…well, whoever you were currently interrupting. You had to admit, the sight of Aemma babbling broken phrases to Jace while she tried to grab his crown was adorable.

You sighed reluctantly.

“Alright,” You said, willing to leave Aemma where she was. At the very least you could persuade Jaelin to follow you and take him away, but as you turned to go back down the stairs you suddenly paused.

Had there always been that many, you wondered?

You hadn’t really paid attention that much, but now that your feet were practically screaming at you to sit down, the idea of going down so many steps didn’t seem so appealing.

Of course, you could’ve just asked one of the Kingsguard to help you down, but you didn’t want to be a bother—as silly as it sounded. You also didn’t want to risk your knees giving out and falling, either.

You were in a dilemma, but before you could even decide, Jace did it for you. Your husband, ever attentive, noticed your hesitation and immediately got up.

“Here, my love. Why don’t you rest and I’ll stand for now,” He suggested.

Even more whispers broke out at this. What Jacaerys was proposing was sweet, but it had never happened before and the idea of the Queen sitting on the throne in the presence of the King was…well it was simply unheard of.

You were sure a few people would call the action scandalous, but at the moment though, you didn’t really care what they thought. Your feet were aching and you needed a place to sit down before your knees decided where for you, so you nodded and accepted his offer.

“Thank you, my love.”

You sighed in relief as you sat on the throne. Albeit, it wasn’t the most comfortable of seats with all the swords and points, and you would’ve much rather been in your cushioned chair in your chambers, but it was better than nothing and the pressure on your feet was gone.

Nodding his head, Jacaerys gave you a small kiss on the side of your head and then he stood with Aemma in his arms, and gestured for Lord whoever to keep speaking.

Had you not been out of breath, you would have laughed at his face and the face of many others as they not only witnessed their King give the most powerful seat in the realm to his pregnant wife, but also witnessed him stand up while bouncing his baby daughter in his arms.

It was an unusual sight, but an adorable one that you cherished.

Motioning to Ser Darklyn to bring Jaelin up so that your family would complete, you smiled in content and Jacaerys once again motioned for the man who had been interrupted to continue his petition.

“Lord Mooton. Please, do continue,” He said with a large smile.

You giggled.

Ah, so that was his name.

[witchescollection]

protection work 101-ish

1. the basics

to start with, lets look at some common terms. i’d define them as follows:

wards = long-term protection on spaces (altar, room, etc) - they’re generally seen as permanent despite needing energetic top ups.

shields = temporary personal protection (veiling, amulets, visualization) - you can also shield someone else, either directly or remotely.

cleansing = an act that resets energy to neutral - can be a space, yourself, or an object.

banishing = essentially telling energy or an entity to fuck off (in varying degrees of hostility). i tend to be more nice than mean, especially if that entity is important or likes to hold a grudge.

these concepts get blurred sometimes, and that's fine. most people use them in overlapping ways - it’s just useful for this post (and this blog) to have a list of definitions.

2. why protection work was hard for me at first, and what i do now

i've always found protection work difficult to keep up long-term. i really struggle with doing big rituals consistently (probably the ADHD). i don't have the energy for it. for ages, my protection either just... didn't exist, or it happened in the moment - shielding when something felt off, visualising energy forming around me, stuff like that. the idea of putting wards up every full moon or doing protective cleansings every sunday made me feel exhausted just thinking about it. the energy it took, the way it felt like a chore didn’t feel right, and had me really questioning if witchcraft was for me. i believe that the more energy you give something, the more energy it has - but the more i complicate things, the harder it gets for me, and the less my magick feels like an extension of myself

so instead, i started doing it intuitively. i put my wards up once, and rather than topping them up on a schedule, i check in with them. if they feel off, i fix them. if they feel fine, i leave them! this is something that no one really talks about in protection work, which is: you have to get to know yourself. you have to build trust in your own senses. that comes from meditating, yes, but also from learning to set boundaries, making decisions about what you want your space to feel like, and letting yourself be messy and wrong and curious until you start to learn what "off" feels like. building your intuition will help you sense when you need to top up your wards, when things aren’t right. i visualise a pulse scanning out from me (think like a laser beam), to figure out how my wards are. when my wards are strong, i feel a kind of energetic solidity around me. when they're broken, it feels more like a wooden fence with slats in it, and the energy leaks. things come through that shouldn't. sometimes i feel it energetically. sometimes it's just vibes being off. sometimes my deities let me know. sometimes i don't notice at all until shit starts going sideways.

i also have a servitor who maintains my protective space (his name is alfred (like from batman)). i created him, i feed him energy, and he works like a bouncer: letting only kind-intentioned spirits and energies through. i’ve talked about my “swinging-door” policy here if you want to read more about it, and if you want a separate guide on how to set a servitor up let me know. ultimately, this means that sometimes, if i'm meditating and talking about something, a deity i wasn't expecting shows up. i might think i need aphrodite's help, and freyja turns up instead. or maybe dionysus just wants to hear some gossip. it also allows deities to decide what kind of relationship we have, and let them take the lead. i also send a regular pulse scan out, and if my wards are low I feed energy into them and servitor with visualisation, usually i'll set a five-minute timer and visualise a meter filling up, like i'm charging a battery. i can do this from my bed so it’s decently low effort. again, if you’re like me and find ceremonial magickk feels more performative than a natural extension of yourself, it’s fine to not overcomplicate it! find your own rhythm.

3. advanced protection

i mentioned before about using a shield on someone else, either directly or remotely. taglocks, which you’ll hear mostly used in baneful magickk, are helpful if you're protecting someone else - usually i enchant a crystal or an amulet for them. consent is important here - i don't like remote magick on people without them knowing. for example - my boyfriend (who's very much not a witch) wears a few protective bracelets, one of which is a hematite bracelet from me. it’s sentimental and serves a spiritual function (win-win). you can also shield someone else if you’re with them in person, just by visualising them the same way you’d visualise yourself! this only really works whilst their visible, but can be useful if you and a friend are walking through a busy place and you want to shield you both from the energy.

another thing worth mentioning, and this goes for all advanced practices, is that the most potent magick is that which is a natural extension of the self, and that doesn’t feel like a chore (more on that in another #moaw post). veiling is one of my favourite low-key protective acts. so is wearing enchanted jewellery. both of these work at the subconscious level, and have the added benefit for those in the broom closet of being pretty discrete (you can veil with anything over your head! doesn’t have to be a headscarf). i'm messy, so i don't clean my space often, but when i do, i notice the energetic shift - it’s one of the most underrated methods of cleansing, and again, very discrete. another method is setting up my digital boundaries! curating what i consume, who i let into my digital space, and noticing what drains me. this is energy work too. protection work doesn’t mean much if you’re then bringing negative energy into your space through your phone.

and here's a big one: know your land. get to know the spirits around you. build good relationships. that way, you're not doing protection alone - you have backup. if something breaches your wards, you have plant spirits, ancestors, deities, and the land itself helping you notice, and you can (with consent) draw from their energy or ask for their support. so even when i'm tired or distracted, i'm not unprotected.

4. “i think something’s in my space - help!”

don’t worry! i’ve created a handy flow-chart below to help!

step one: diagnose it

is it just negative energy from an interaction you had? have you been behind on cleansing? is it something mundane?

→ if yes → cleanse and reset your space

→ if no or unsure → keep going

step two: what is the entity?

use some method of divination to figure out who the entity is! some good questions to get started:

what do they want?

are they trying to communicate?

did i do something wrong?

is this a known spirit? have we interacted before?

is it just some local energy passing through?

step three: response

if it’s just lingering energy → cleanse

if you accidentally offended something → apologise or offer something meaningful, and keep talking - depending on the level of upset, you might be able to salvage this and forge a new relationship

if they’re just cranky for no reason → be compassionate, but banish! sometimes entities (especially ghosts) take out their anger on random folks, and you might just be unlucky.

if they won’t leave/are actively making things worse → banish!

step four: check your wards

do the pulse technique i mentioned earlier (or whatever works for you), and figure out how the entity got in - are your wards fractured? did you forget to energise your servitor? whatever it is, diagnose it and work on it.

step five: reflect and learn

most strong negative energies don’t just wander into your space for fun. hopefully by now you’ve figured out the root cause - write that down and reflect on the experience!

5. final thoughts

banishing is, firstly, a boundary. it's no different than saying "hey, i don't want to talk about that right now” or “please leave my house.” it can be kind. it can be neutral. it can be mean. it's just a way of telling an entity to leave. i think there’s this misconception in the community that banishing is negative, and it can be, but it doesn’t have to be. and sometimes the kindest thing is to send stuck energy moving if you can’t help it and it’s causing a nuisance (or being actively damaging).

and honestly? you're probably fine. when i was starting out, i wasn't talking to spirits or doing anything risky. i could've skipped protection entirely and been fine. as i got more confident, i started staying in places where the vibe felt off, just out of curiosity, because now i know how to handle it if something weird happens.

you're probably not going to get haunted by a demon. you probably don't need ten layers of magickal protection. if you're not poking around the otherworld, antagonising spirits, or diving into deep trance work, you're probably okay. there’s so much fear-mongering out there, and i get why - better safe than sorry - but take a moment to remember that everything will be okay, and if you fuck around and find out and need a hand, there’s many resources and many people here on witchblr to ask.

and if you’re gonna keep fucking around and finding out? good on you - but you might need stronger wards than someone like myself, who stays pretty far away from the fucking around part of witchcraft now.

--

thank you for reading this! i hope this was helpful, and if you have any questions or add-ons please reblog/reply or send an ask. just a reminder: everything i wrote here is my opinion, and i know people will have different methods, and i encourage y’all to share those! and if you have any suggestions for topics you’d like for this longer form series (tagged #moaw if you’d like to read the others), please also send me an ask.

[trainer-from-unova]

a second

Ⓢ english ao3 Ⓢ spanish ao3 Ⓢ masterlist Ⓢ

ship: the void x afab!reader (x robert reynolds)

summary: void started feeling something about you, and when he discovered that bob was your boyfriend he felt frustrated. wanting to live what he lived every day he convinced you that kissing him or having sex with him wasn't being unfaithful since they both share the same body.

au: bob and void are a system

c/w: post-canon, feelings realization and denial, love confession if you squint but void's very bad at feelings, background relationship with bob, implied cheating but I'm not sure about that, teasing, noncon/dubcon rough kissing, consensual rough sex, piv sex, masturbation, fingerfucking, biting, multiple orgasm, no protection

a/n: this starts like my drabble "muscle memory" but obviously it's longer, more spicy and ends very different / english isn't my first language / edited version after watching the movie: Ⓢ

word count: 3622

Everything can change in a second, including him. As a system, one personality may not remember the experiences of the other, but the muscle memory remained. On the few occasions that Void was present he couldn't help but turn his neck in the direction ______ was facing, fix his eyes on her, prick up his ears when he heard her voice, and even feel the urge to take her hand. To make matters worse she was often in his mind, and he didn't know if they were memories that weren't his own or if it was his imagination, which, for some reason, designed all sorts of scenarios with her. Those were things, or rather according to him, distractions that got on his nerves. He wanted to believe that it was more Bob's fault than his, so when he had the chance, on one of the occasions when he had control of his body, he went to ______ to question her.

When the young woman opened the door to her bedroom after hearing a knock on it, she smiled when she saw who it was, although when she saw his serious expression, it was quickly erased.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I'm Void," he informed her just in case, and she nodded, "Can I have a word?"

"Yeah, come in," she said stepping aside to let him in. As she closed the door behind him he looked around her bedroom, and noticed a cork mural on one of the walls, which had pictures with several of the so-called "Thunderbolts" and other friends, but mostly with Bob, with both of them grinning from ear to ear or pouting; selfies taken by them or full body shots taken by others, in different locations and wearing clothes from different climates. "What do you want to talk about?" she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts and making him turn to look at her, who was approaching him slowly, at the same pace as he was.

"I see flashes... of you, in all situations," and if the young woman was already confused and interested in his presence in the body and in her bedroom, with that sentence the confusion and interest increased. "I don't know if they are memories of Bob or if it's my imagination playing tricks on me. I want to know if what I feel is mine or his."

"...What do you feel?" she asked intrigued, leaning closer to him.

"Weakness," he answered quickly and without any hesitation, very sure of himself as usual. She looked at him in surprise and confusion, though she tried to be discreet and didn't realise that her breathing was hitching with nerves; Void already make her nervous, not because she was particularly afraid of him but for Bob's mental well-being, and this strange conversation wasn't helping. "I feel... a certain favouritism towards you, which distracts me when it shouldn't. Has he said anything to you about it?"

"Um- yeah, well," she said with a shy smile. "We've been dating for a while."

"...Oh."

He understood everything now, including the pictures on the corkboard, but he didn't understand the frustration he felt inside him. He didn't understand what she saw in Bob because, although he hadn't met him (for obvious reasons), it was clear to him that he was better than him or anyone else in every way. It wasn't love, it couldn't be — that word had no meaning for him, and he didn't see himself capable of falling in love with a human, even if she wasn't very normal and ordinary. He could only make sense of what he felt and the fact that he found her physically attractive with one explication.

"I suppose Bob's love for me is contagious," she said trying to hide the smile that formed on her lips.

"What you call love is just a chemical reaction I feel since I have a human body, since I share a body with him," he said, not very pleased with that fact, but unable to stop his eyes from scanning her up and down, from her lips to her breasts as he felt his body heat up, and she realised, "It's just the instinct to preserve the species," and she simply rolled her eyes at such a scientific and unromantic response, but he saw the perfect opportunity to bring up one of the memories he had, and perhaps it would lead him to be able to create a similar one of his own. "Yeah, that's what I remember," he said smiling sideways as he stood dangerously close to her and her face — she didn't flinch, she was used to being so close to him, even if it was someone else, "you rolling your eyes, naked while screaming my name... God," he said almost in a whisper as he slowly approached her lips.

For a second she thought about letting him do what he intended to do, and for a second he almost succeeded — but she averted her gaze and ducked, subtly avoiding him. He froze, processing what had just happened since he wasn't expecting it, while the other one stepped back a little and realised something.

"Well, I think you're..." she sighed deeply and took a quick glance at his crotch, "having a chemical reaction to preserve the species inside your trousers," she said trying to sound as serious as possible, but at the same time the situation was so surreal that she couldn't help but want to laugh.

He lowered his gaze to look at his crotch, though he didn't really need to, because he could feel it, and it frustrated him. It also frustrated him that he felt that his hands and her hips, like their lips, were magnets, but that she didn't want to bring them together — not if it wasn't Bob, apparently.

"Just one kiss," he said trying not to sound too desperate or pathetic, let alone intimidating. "Please," he said approaching her again, taking her hands in his.

"Bob and I have never discussed whether having a relationship with you would count as infidelity..." she said worriedly as she subtly shook her head. And it wasn't that she didn't want to ask, as she was curious about the answer, but she never asked him, as Bob hated to remember the existence of Void.

"Of course it wouldn't be, we have the same body," he said with the same gesture, trying to convince her with his confidence and calm tone. "Besides, he doesn't have to know," he said as he moved closer to her face again, placing his dominant hand on her cheek and behind her neck to lift her face, "nor will he be able to," he said before finally merging their lips and wrapping his other hand around her waist.

She tensed as she felt his lips on hers, but was there anything she could do to resist? He was Void, he was stronger than her — but he had the same body as Bob and kissed just like him. She let him do it, and surprisingly, it felt as good as if he were her boyfriend, causing her to inadvertently put her hands on his shoulders. When they parted they looked at each other's lips and then into each other's eyes — he looked at her hungrily, and she looked at him confused by what she had felt, and uncertain whether to continue.

"I don't think we should," she said, "this is wrong."

"Then why did it feel so right? And why are you still in my arms?" he asked smiling sideways, mischievously. "I can offer something different as well as similar," he said stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She, still hesitant, remained silent and thoughtful as she averted her gaze. He looked at her eyes and then her lips, and from her lips to her eyes, again and again. When he grew impatient he approached her lips again, but this one pulled back again and looked him earnestly and steadily in the eyes at last.

"...Say it," she said unable to keep her eyes from wandering to his lips for a second, but quickly returned to his eyes. He pulled back a little as his smile faded. Now it was he who looked serious and thoughtful, and she knew he knew what she meant. "Why so serious?" she asked tilting her head and the smile forming on her lips, looking for their eyes to meet again and enjoying the fact that she was now the one teasing him. "It's just a shorter way of saying what you've said before," she said as he put his hand from her cheek to her waist.

"I just want to have sex with you," he said wearily.

"Three words, honey," she said as she shook her head, "Even if it's a lie, just say it and I'm yours for a while. This is a barter, it works like this."

"I love you," he said defeated.

"See?" she asked teasingly. "It wasn't that hard."

Wanting to silence her and feel her closer again he moved closer to merge their lips again, and this kiss was better than the last one for she was ready for it.

When they broke apart for lack of air he raised his hand in the direction of the door to bolt it shut like a jedi (or rather, sith), not wanting any interruptions from the others in the house.

The clothes were a nuisance he wanted to get rid of violently. He would have been able to tear the fabrics of her clothes with his bare hands had she not stepped forward and begun to undress. He was in the greatest hurry to undress, and his eyes again scanned her body from top to bottom. Quickly the clothes ended up on the floor, making a path to the bed.

"Look at you... So hungry for sex, so human," she said still with her tone and smirk, already lying on the bed as he climbed over her like a predator over its prey. He was looking at her like one, like a victorious hunter, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't like being looked at in that way — Bob had never looked at her like that before.

"I'm going to prove to you that there's nothing human in me."

Part of her wanted to ask him why a "God" like him needed so badly to prove to a human like her that he was also a God in bed if he supposedly didn't love her and it was just a chemical reaction he wanted to soothe and satisfy, but she assumed correctly that he wouldn't like to be questioned on that score and let him do it.

He leaned over her, and she could feel his erect member brushing against her. Now he wanted to scan her with his sense of touch, so he touched and squeezed with his hands wherever he wanted to touch as she spread her legs and rested her hands on his shoulders.

His face hid in her neck, which he bit and sucked. Then Void's lips descended to her breasts, where he intended to do the same and more. She closed her eyes and let herself be carried away as she felt one of his hands grasp one of them tightly as she felt his teeth bite and stretch the nipple of the other. He wanted to devour her and mark her. He wanted to leave something of his own in her, and hopefully the next time Bob got his hands on her he would realise it wasn't him that did it, making him feel more insecure, sad and angry and thus having an easy opportunity to have dominance over the body and repeat what he was doing again.

When he came back up to her face he kissed her again quickly and intensely, and she was about to discover another difference between him and Bob: he got straight to the point and Bob took his time. He was devouring her mouth with such a relentlessness that it seemed he was actually hungry, wanting to satisfy his appetite with a good piece of meat. Her hands slid from his shoulders to the nape of his neck, slipping the hollows of her fingers through his locks of long hair as he thrust his tongue inside her, eliciting subtle moans from both of them as their tongues made contact.

He wanted to indulge his most primal instincts once and for all, and at this point it was almost a physiological need, but he took pity on her and decided to touch her, to make her enjoy it more and prepare her for what was next. Also, deep down, he wanted to do what Bob was lucky enough to be able to do whenever he wanted.

He settled in on her right and she closed her eyes as Void's dominant hand began to slide too low, seeking her warmth and wetness. His index and middle fingers just stroked over her folds, marvelling for a few seconds at the wetness of anticipation as she felt his erect member against her right thigh and a teasing smile against her neck.

"You're so wet," he said in her ear as he caressed her.

"It's not personal," she said, not wanting it to go to his head. He couldn't help snorting through his nose — to be honest he liked her sense of humour.

Void slid his fingers up to the top of her vaginal lips to caress her clit with an almost unique energy and enthusiasm, without warning and making her moan and writhe instantly. Luckily for both of them the walls of the base were soundproof, and probably by muscle memory he knew exactly where to touch. And even as she tried to move her hips to seek even more stimulation (or maybe try to pull away because it was too much pleasure) his other hand clamped tighter on her, preventing her from being able to move any further. She was a mess who only knew how to moan and talk nonsense, but she really wanted to avoid giving him the satisfaction of hearing the word "God" from her lips, even if she didn't say it in reference to him — he was already getting too much satisfaction out of seeing her in this state because of him.

When she noticed him stop masturbating her there, just as she was on the verge of orgasm, she noticed him slide his fingers back into her vaginal lips, and his fingers made their way inside her as well without warning. She wrapped her arms around his head, moaning at the intrusion. He was merciful only at first, as he pushed them in. Then he began to move them in a steady rhythm, causing the wetness inside her to be heard. When her orgasm came he couldn't help but form a smile of mischievous pride.

Void tried to search inside his mind for any shred of patience or sanity he had left, but he found none of that inside him — he was only burning with the energy of a million suns. He withdrew his fingers to finally massage his member a little, preparing to finally enter — this time the way he really wanted to. As he positioned himself between her legs and almost without thinking (out of habit) she tried to bring her hand towards the member pointing at her like an arrow, but before she could even brush against it he filled the void inside her, ignoring any cordiality but fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle. She tried to stifle a great moan as she felt him fully inside her.

His gaze remained fixed on her face as he thrust his member in and out of her — his long, tousled hair falling across his forehead and eyes, his mouth letting out light moans and his breath hitching. Void's hands stayed on her hips, pulling her closer to him as he increased the intensity of his thrusts even more. Quickly the bed frame began to make its own sound, with a very faint metallic squeak and small knocks against the wall that grew louder as he leaned and settled over her. His hands went to her legs, forcing them behind his back, and she too went back to hugging his head and clutching at his hair.

"Say it," he said in his typical deep voice in her ear.

"God," she cried in his. That reminder of what he was was music to his ears, but more than a God he was an animal — a wild dog in heat.

Quickly her mind began to feel increasingly foggy, beginning to feel a great warmth inside her lower abdomen along with the wet sounds of their private parts colliding. She knew she was about to cum, and when she did, he, far from stopping, kept going. Deep down she was willing him not to stop — she begged him, not only with her eyes, but also in words mixed with whimpers. At that moment she was out of her mind, unable to think clearly.

Thanks to his supernatural strength he was able to have a lot of stamina, but the accelerated pace soon took its toll in the sense that he was about to cum too. He didn't want to, he wanted to hold on as long as he could inside her — her insides were still so tight, wet and warm that all he wanted to do was keep going and not stop for a second. He thrust deeper than he should have, stealing her breath for a second, and then he cum inside her, stopping short as he filled her and sighed deeply.

He pulled out and dropped down on top of her, but he didn't have a second to relax, as she pushed him off of her and moved to the side, seemingly annoyed. He knew it couldn't be because he had cum inside her, as he knew it didn't matter to her as there was no risk of getting pregnant.

"No aftercare?" he asked confused and slightly annoyed as he watched her reach over to the bedside table next to her, taking a half-empty packet of tissues between her fingers.

"Do you mind?" she asked now, annoyed and slightly confused as she got out of bed.

"I just told you that I love you!" he reminded her indignantly as he pointed with his arm to the spot where that had happened, where they were standing before, because he did want to do that — he wanted to relax and have her hold him after what they'd done, after what they'd been through.

"Didn't you just want to fuck?" She asked as she bent down and picked up his clothes from the floor to throw them on the bed, letting him know that she wanted him to get up and get out of there as soon as possible.

"I made you cum twice, you have my cum-" he said pointing to her crotch where it was starting to come out, and she grabbed a tissue from the small plastic packet to quickly wipe it off.

"Bob make me cum more and cums at the same time as me," she reported casually and without even looking at him as she threw the handkerchief into a small bin she had lying around.

Where was the passive girl from before, who begged him in every possible way not to leave her side? It seemed that now she was the one who had changed her personality, wasn't he the only system in that house? He didn't understand her — first she refused to kiss him, then she asked him to tell her he loved her, then they fucked, and finally this. Was this how unpredictable and unstable he and Bob were perceived?

"Didn't this mean anything to you?" he asked as he watched her hurry back and forth, picking up her old clothes and grabbing new ones from the wardrobe.

"Did it for you?" she asked stopping short to look at him seriously as she raised an eyebrow.

"...No," he replied, or rather, reminded himself as he got out of bed.

"Hurry up," she said annoyed pointing to the bedroom door with her head, indicating that she wanted him to leave as soon as possible, "and leave Bob alone," she added quickly, and even though she was the weaker of the two, it sounded like a threat.

She would admit that Void did well and had a good time humiliating him for acting like a human (or rather a dog in heat), including when he said "Please" when he asked her for a kiss, when he sort of confessed and when she coaxed the "I love you" that didn't really mean anything to her. Besides, she would never forget the hungry look in his eyes as he watched her, but if she agreed it was because he had the same body as her boyfriend — he kissed with the same lips and after a kiss she couldn't refuse to go on, going for more. But the one she loved was Bob, the shy and respectful boy who looked at her as if she was the Goddess there, who took all the time in the world to caress and kiss her between all kinds of compliments and "I love you"s that really moved her and she responded. And Void, although he didn't understand it, knew it. For a second he forgot that she wasn't really his. He may have felt favouritism for her, but she felt favouritism for Bob. He knew she wasn't lying when she said it wasn't personal. And unlike this one, he was truly alone.

© trainer-from-unova / alicent burton | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[not-neverland06]

Hey I’m just begging for a fic of Logan with a shy reader that she has a crush on him but thinks he’s never going to fix on her since Jean exists (maybe the reader can make her hair color change depending on the emotion or something

a/n: sorry I haven’t been responding to asks. The new job has officially killed my spirit. But I got to work out finally and do some yoga so hopefully I’ll start feeling more motivated 🤞🤞this one will be shorter

Logan Howlett x X-men!reader (Chameleon)

“Chameleon!” You jump, shoulders flying up to your ears. Almost immediately you can feel the tips of your fingers tingling. Sure enough, when you look down they’re already disappearing. Sighing, you turn around and glare at Scott. 

“What have I told you about scaring me?” 

He grimaces, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I forgot.”

You roll your eyes and turn back toward your project. “Every time,” you mutter bitterly. You’re not an idiot. You know he thinks scaring you is funny. The whole school does. They all like to see you yelp and blend in with the nearest surface, the only thing visible is your stupid hair. 

“You’re, um, turning red.” Scott points to your head and you don’t have to look to know your hair is shifting colors.

You reach over and swat harshly at his arm, “Because you pissed me off! I know you scare me on purpose,” you accuse, jabbing your finger into his chest. He laughs and stumbles away from you. 

“Alright, alright, calm down. I was just messing around a little. Look,” he glances down at the lesson plans before you and sighs. “All this will have to wait. Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You huff and shove the papers into your desk drawer. “Alright, lead the way.” You feel Scott’s eyes still lingering on your hair and glare at him. “Move it, Summers,” you demand. 

You were already in a bad mood, you didn’t need him making it worse. It honestly shouldn’t be such a big deal for you. You get scared by everyone all the time. You used to enjoy it, enjoyed the way it felt like you all had your own joke. But, eventually, it started to feel less like an inside joke and more like you’re the unwitting butt of one. 

Some mutants get amazing powers, like Jean or Charles. Logan’s abilities are incredible, even if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that. But yours, well, you're better suited as the cheap gimmick of a children’s birthday party than an X-Men. You’re just a walking mood ring that blends in with her environment. 

The only thing you’re good for is reconnaissance missions and embarrassing yourself. You don’t know what Charles sees in you. You’ve never understood why he insists you’re such a good asset to the team. Yes, you are good at spying on people, but you don’t need to when Charles has such strong telepathic abilities. You’re essentially useless in a fight due to a lack of regenerative or strength abilities. 

More often than not you feel like a child playing dress up, chasing after the big kids. You know the others don’t mean anything bad by it when they tease you into going invisible or laugh when your hair changes. It’s all in good fun. But it doesn’t make you feel any less like easy entertainment rather than a teammate. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve got little to no control over your abilities when it comes to Logan. You’ve never had such a horrifically bad crush like this. Anytime he opens his mouth around you, you're fighting off the urge to just go invisible and run away. You feel like you go feral around him. You don’t know how he hasn’t caught onto what the colors of your hair mean when you’re near him. 

It’s constantly switching between some odd mix of red and pink when you talk. Which, you know what it means, but you’re praying no one else does. Red can mean angry, depending on whether you’re talking to Scott or not. You know, though, that with Logan it just means you want to jump his bones and you’re hopelessly in love with him. 

Thankfully, like the others, he associates red with anger. Which isn’t great for you because that just means he thinks every time he opens his mouth you’re pissed off. At yourself, maybe, but at him, never. It just means when he wears those stupid tanktops you want to dig your teeth into his biceps and never let go. 

Scott opens the door to the meeting room and you slide in past him. Charles gives you a brief smile as a greeting. You take the chair at the end of the table, which just happens to be next to Logan - completely coincidental. He gives you a tense smile and you return it stiffly. You tug your hood over your hair, praying he doesn’t notice the red in your strands yet. You don’t want him to think you hate him. You completely prefer that over him knowing how feral you are for him, but it’s not conducive to your slow plan to finally get him to acknowledge you as a sexual partner. 

You swear, if your name isn’t Jean Grey, you might as well just be a shapeless blob of nothing. He glances over at her, that smoldering look in his eyes, and you try not to throw up in your mouth. Scott wraps an arm around Jean’s shoulders and they break their lingering stares. 

Logan glances over at you and catches the glare on your face before you can get rid of it. He huffs and turns towards Charles. With a sigh, you sink back into your chair and focus on not just going invisible. 

“Chameleon,” Charles says your name and your eyes widen. You wonder how much you’ve missed while you’ve been glaring at the back of Jean’s head. “Does that sound alright with you?”

You look around the table for help but they’re all staring expectantly at you. “Sure,” you stumble over the word, racking your brain for any answers. It seems not even your subconscious was paying attention to Charles droning on. “Sounds great.” He gives you a satisfied nod. 

“Good. Off to the jet, all of you.” he rolls out of the room and you wait until he’s out of earshot to kick Logan under the table. 

He glances back at you, smirking. “Don’t know what you agreed to?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope,” he gives you a look like he knew you’d say that. You hate how well he can read you when it feels like you’re constantly hitting walls trying to understand him. 

“You’re scoping a place out for us. Making sure it’s safe so we can retrieve some information.” You give him a thankful look and he chuckles. “You need to start paying attention, kid.”

You groan and get up from your chair, brushing past him. “I told you to quit calling me that.” It makes you feel like that’s all he’ll ever see you as, some kid invited onto the team. You want him to see you as someone he could have sex with, hopefully, love one day. 

He glances past you at Jean. She smiles at him and you fight everything inside you to not roll your eyes and gag at them. She’s holding onto Scott and making fuck me eyes at Logan, which he’s happily returning. This is just too disgusting for you. 

You shove past him and ignore how he calls out your name. Your real name. He’s the only one that uses it. For some reason, most people just refer to you by Chameleon. You don’t understand why. They just don’t seem to think of you outside your abilities as a mutant. 

You make it to the jet before the others, taking the private time to change into your X-Men suit. If there’s one useful thing about your ability, it’s that it affects whatever’s touching you. Which means, you don’t have to strip naked to go completely invisible. And if anyone is around you, all you have to do is hold onto them and they’ll blend in too. 

You’re tugging up the zipper of your top as Logan walks in. He gives you an odd look, sitting on the bench in front of you. “Angry about something?” He asks, gaze darting up to your head. 

You drag your fingers over the ends of your hair and sigh. “No,” you tell him bluntly, taking the seat beside him. 

His brows furrow in confusion. “It’s red, though,” he points out, his tone colored in suspicion. 

You laugh a little, “Red doesn’t always mean angry.” It’s the most you’ve ever confided about your hair colors to him. The largest hint you’ve ever given him that you don’t hate him. You’re worried if he knew how you really felt about him, he’d think you were a little creep. 

He slides his arm behind you on the bench, leaning in until you’re practically sharing the same air. You know your eyes are comically large, you don’t even want to know what color your hair is turning right now. “What else does it mean, kid?” He whispers and you don’t even pay attention to the nickname. All you can see and hear right now is him. How close he is, how close your lips are. 

You could lean forward an inch or two and you’d be kissing. “Um,” you swallow harshly around the lump in your throat. You don’t even know what he asked you, all you can think about now is kissing him. 

“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoes through the jet and you leap away from him, trying to calm your racing heart. Logan sighs and leans back in his seat, giving Storm a tense smile. She glances at you and laughs, “She’s nearly see-through, what are you doing to her?”

You frown and look down at your hands. Sure enough, you’re going translucent. You let out a silent groan, and tuck your knees into your chest. You take a few deep breaths until you’re one solid form again. It’s so embarrassing when that happens, when you lose control over yourself like that. 

But it’s even worse when Logan does it to you. He gives you hope, stupid, hateful hope, for one minute that he might feel something deeper. Only for it to be another joke. You’re a walking mood ring, nothing more than a quick laugh to all of them. 

Jean walks up the ramp, her gaze going to Logan first before drifting towards you. “Are you alright?” She mutters, trying not to let the others hear. Of course, Logan can, with his stupid enhanced abilities. “You’re turning blue,” she points out and you roll your eyes. 

You can feel Logan’s stare burning holes into the side of your head and it only makes you feel worse. You hate being a joke, but you also hate showing them just how much it affects you. You don’t want to seem like a crybaby that can’t handle a little teasing. But you’d thought coming to Charles’ school meant people would stop poking fun at you. It feels like being dragged right back into high school. 

“I’m fine,” you tell her. She doesn’t look like she believes you but she takes a seat anyway. Of course, placing herself right next to Logan, even though her fiancee is a few feet away from her, looking just as hurt as you. They lean into each other and whisper. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You let your glare bore into the floor, ignoring how much seeing them together hurts. 

The mission had gone well, Logan had been hoping to go to the bar and grab a drink with you. But the second his back is towards you, you’re running off the jet. Logan calls out your name, trying to catch up. You glance back at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He smiles at you and your eyes widen. You go invisible and Logan glances around, baffled. 

He calls out your name again but the door ahead of him opens and closes quickly. He can only assume you’ve run away again. You always run away from him. You’re always pissed off at him. He doesn’t know what Jean’s talking about when she says you like him. 

Logan’s never met anyone more repulsed by him. 

“Would you just trust me?” Jean tells him lowly, creeping up behind him. 

His face falls and he turns to her, glaring at her knowing smirk. “She just fuckin’ ran away from me. Pretty sure that’s about as good a hint as I’m gonna get, Jean.”

She glances over her shoulder, waving Scott away and looping her arm through Logan’s. “You’re an idiot, Howlett.” He scoffs and she swats at his shoulder. “Trust me, I can read minds, remember?”

Of course, he knows she’s got some pretty decent telepathic abilities. But he didn’t think she would so brazenly breach your boundaries. There’s an unspoken rule that the mind readers of the school don’t delve into your brain without permission. 

She sees the look on his face and sighs. “I didn’t read her mind. She got drunk a little while ago and told me about her raging crush on you,” she laughs a little at your expense and Logan lets out a short chuckle. You can be a pretty sloppy drunk if they let you go too far. He figures it was one of those girl’s nights he wants nothing to do with. You’d probably let the tight reigns you keep on yourself slip for once. 

“She goes red every time she sees me. I don’t know what else that could mean other than she hates me.” Logan isn’t surprised that you’re not taken with him like he is with you. He’s used to the rejection, but it hurts just a bit more coming from you. You’re so welcoming to the others. 

You embrace every new member of the school with open arms. Yet, with him, you get angry whenever you see him. You see through his walls, see the rot lurking underneath them. And, rightfully, want nothing to do with him. He understands your reasoning. 

Most days he barely wants anything to do with himself. He’s made a lot of bad choices in his life, half of which he can’t remember. But he’d hoped, for one minute, that you might give him a second chance. As much as Jean insists otherwise, he can see the truth of how you feel about him every time you run away. 

“Red doesn’t always mean anger,” Jean tells him elusively. It’s the same thing you’d said to him on the jet. It makes his brows furrow in confusion and he glares at her. 

“What else could it mean?” He demands sharply, sick of her teasing him with the possibility you might feel the same way. 

She bites her lip, looking suddenly sheepish. “I can’t say-”

“Jean,” Logan snaps. He stops her from walking any further, keeping her planted in one spot with him. “Tell me,” he’s sick of the games you’re both playing with him. He just wants some straight fucking answers. How hard is that?

She sighs and looks away from him. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”

“And I’m sure you promised you also wouldn’t tell me how she feels about me,” he points out. There’s a sharp tone to his voice, it’s rude but he can’t bother feeling guilty about it. 

She can’t meet his eye, a smirk fighting at the corner of her lips. He waits impatiently for her answer, irritation broiling quickly in his gut. He’s about to snap at her again when she finally meets his eyes. 

She speaks through a laugh, like what she’s about to say is so ridiculous she can’t hold it in. “She wants,” she cuts herself off with another laugh and Logan groans in frustration. He begins to walk away from her when she yells, “She wants to fuck you!” At his back. 

His eyes widen in surprise before he turns back to her with a displeased look. “Are you fuckin’ with me?” He demands, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. 

She shakes her head and brushes past him. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she warns, tone grave as she leaves the room. 

Logan is left standing in the same spot, stunned at the revelation. He’s not sure how much of that he believes. But he doesn’t understand why Jean would possibly lie to him about this. She gains nothing by setting him up for failure. As much as he doubts the honesty behind her words, he’s got no other choice but to trust them. 

He heads to the most likely place you’re hiding out. Charles has a private library that’s blocked off from the kids. There are too many first editions in there, he can’t risk any of them accidentally blowing them up. You like to head there when you’re trying to avoid people. 

He tries to stay quiet as he walks in, not wanting you to run off again. It’s hard to confront someone who goes invisible whenever she feels like it. He sees light blue hair draped over the back of an armchair. He feels like a creep as he stalks towards you, sneaking and pouncing on you so you can’t run away. 

He can’t imagine how Jean ever thought him approaching you would be a good idea. He whispers your name, trying not to startle you. It doesn’t take a genius to see how much you hate when the others scare you. They might not mean anything bad by it, but they have to be blind not to see how much it pisses you off. 

You still jump, glancing up at him with a surprised look. He looks to your hair for any tells of how you feel. Some pink weaves its way through the stands but it otherwise stays relatively blue. His brows furrow in confusion, he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign that there’s no red. 

“How are ya, kid? Ran off pretty quick earlier.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, giving him a brief glare before staring absently down at the book in your hands. Logan kneels beside your armchair, covering the pages with his hand. You huff, giving him an expectant look. “Yes, Logan?” You demand, tone short.

Logan tilts his head, examining you and your body language. You seem relatively closed off, irritated at him or something else. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words or trying to express how he feels. He’s more comfortable showing how much he cares for those around him. 

Throwing caution to the wind, he lets his hand drift to your wrist and tugs you forward. Your eyes widen as he drags you toward him. The kiss is short, he doesn’t want to push you too much. But it takes everything in him to stop himself from deepening it. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and devour you. 

He holds back, parting from you with a low exhale. Your eyes flutter open and he grins when he sees the bright red your hair has turned. “What,” you sputter and stumble over your words. You shove him back and leap to your feet. “What the hell was that?” You demand, voice higher than he’s ever heard of it. “What was that?” You ask him shrilly, again. 

You almost seem to be stuck in a loop, blinking rapidly and asking the same thing. Logan chuckles and gets to his feet, he gives you a knowing look and you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. 

“Jean told me.”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Realization dawns on your face and you gasp, looking up at him with something like horror on your expression. “No,” you tell him lowly. “She didn’t,” it almost sounds like you’re begging him to tell you otherwise. 

He laughs again and your face falls. You start going clear, he can see the bookshelf through your stomach and he sighs. He grabs your hand, holding onto you before you can run again. You don’t even seem to be aware that you’re slowly disappearing from view. 

“She’s, uh,” he struggles to figure out what to say to make you feel better. “She’s been coaching me,” he admits shamefully. “Trying to help me talk to you.”

You glance up at him but he can barely see your expression. The only thing reassuring him you’re here is his grip on you and your voice. “What? But I thought that-” You cut yourself off quickly and Logan glares down at where he thinks your face is. 

“Thought what?”

You take a long pause and exhale deeply. “I thought,” you mutter, “you liked her.”

“She’s with Scott,” he points out bluntly. He can practically hear you roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it. 

“Yeah, I know. But you guys are always whispering to each other and making googly eyes.”

“Googly eyes?” He interrupts, disgust clear in his tone. 

“I was wrong,” you continue, ignoring him. “I see that now, but I thought you didn’t care about me.”

Logan huffs, he hates that you thought that. He should have just been open with you from the start. He’s faced rejection his whole life, he shouldn’t have been so petrified of it just because it could come from you. If he’d just manned up and told you earlier, it would have saved you both a lot of time and hurt. 

“Kid,” he hopes he’s making eye contact with you and not just staring at some random book. It’s really hard to tell when you go invisible like this. “You’re the only person I care about in here.”

You’re quiet for a long while and he worries you’ve somehow slipped away without him realizing. But, ever so slowly, you start coming back into view. Logan awkwardly averts his eyes from your breasts, he’d been hoping he was making eye contact with you, clearly, he was wrong. 

“You mean that?” You ask, and he hates the trepidation in your voice. He’s never been good with words, he doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him. But he can show you. 

His hand drifts up your arm, wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging you towards him. You trip over your feet, hands landing on his chest to stabilize yourself. He leans down, hovering over your lips for a moment. He waits until your eyes drift shut and your lips purse impatiently before he finally kisses you again. 

He doesn’t hold himself back this time. He pours every racing thought he’s ever had about you, every one of his wanted-to-tell-you-how-he-feels-and-hasn’t moments into the kiss. Your hands slowly curl up into his shirt, wrinkling it and tugging him further into you. 

To his surprise, you deepen the kiss, mouth moving over his like you want to devour him whole. He’s sure if he opened his eyes your hair would be a bright roaring red. He smirks against your lips, happy that, for once, he actually listened to Jean. If it gets him results like this, he might have to do it more often. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

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