#(and considering to what lengths he went just to find that damn book it's no wonder why she loves him so much)

[sovamurka]

Just read the most recent chapter of Exlibrium! FINALLY, I WILL LEARN WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO SASHA AND INGA. FINALLY, I WILL LEARN WHAT KIND OF MYSTERIOUS SHIT FUCKED THEM UP! FINALLY, I WILL LEARN WHAT MADE THEIR HAIR TURN GRAY-

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley sees Meredith again after so many months, he is filled with a range of emotions. He wonders if he has done enough for Noah on his own. His primary mission in life is to be the best dad, the one Noah deserves, and he has to be honest about how that is going to affect what he has going on with you.

Warnings: Angst, smut, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was up early. He'd barely slept anyway, but that wasn't entirely Meredith's fault. He had been scrolling through all the photos of you that he had saved on his phone, and he even considered calling you well past midnight. 

He had a bad feeling. Meredith had never gone this far before. Last year and the year before, she had simply called Bradley, begging for an update about Noah around his birthday. And once he had sent her some updated photos, she briefly bugged him about custody, and then she had vanished again. But now he felt like he had made things so much worse by ignoring her calls for so long. 

"What the fuck," he muttered as he got dressed. Meredith had followed you and Noah to the damn park! He wanted to believe that she wouldn't intentionally do any actual harm, but she obviously spooked you. Since you had no idea what she looked like, your reaction had been to put Noah's safety first.

Every time Bradley thought about you protecting his child, he got a warm feeling in his chest. Simply thanking you wasn't enough; he wanted to hold you and Noah and spend hours explaining it to you. Then maybe he could understand this feeling better himself. 

But you got hurt in this mess that Bradley had helped create. And he needed to make it better if he could. 

There was a light knock at his front door, and he went to answer it as he zipped up his jeans. "Hi," Nat whispered, giving him a tight hug as he let her inside. "What time is she coming?" 

"I have no idea," he replied miserably, and Nat rubbed his back for a moment. When Bradley called her last night, she agreed to watch Noah while Meredith came by. He wanted to find out what Meredith wanted before he let her see Noah.

"Okay, well, I'm free all day. I'll take Noah with me back to my place, and you can just call me after Meredith fucks off."

Bradley nodded. 

"And if Meredith doesn't feel like fucking off," she added, "I'll make her."

Bradley couldn't help but grin down at her. "Thanks, Nat. I'll go wake him up."

Once he had played another round of musical car seats, Bradley waved as Nat pulled out of his driveway with Noah and a stack of coloring books in tow. Of course the coloring books were ones that you had brought over when you came to babysit or just spend time here, and now Bradley was itching to call you. 

Instead he messed around with his coffee maker and brewed a vanilla latte, just the way you liked it. He was still sipping it and thinking about how much he loved the way you looked in his house when another knock jarred him from his thoughts. 

He abandoned the coffee on his counter and went to the door once again. "Meredith," he said with no emotion as the tall blonde pushed past him and into his living room. 

"Bradley." Her expression was smug as she looked around; it had been years since she was here, and very little had changed. But Bradley did see her eyes catch on some of the artwork you and Noah had made for him which was hanging on the far wall. "Where's Noah?" 

"He's not here," Bradley replied, tucking his hands in his pockets.

She turned back to him and glared. She had always been beautiful but haughty. "I don't want to see you. I want to see him."

Bradley didn't waver. "You specifically told me on the phone that you wanted to talk to me in person. So let's talk."

"Fine," she said cooly, dropping down onto his couch. "But next time we set something like this up, I want him here too."

Bradley almost laughed in her face as he sat too. Next time? Over his dead body there would be a next time. Noah didn't know who his birth mother was, and Bradley wanted to keep it that way. Bradley grew up without a dad, but under very different circumstances. Meredith had a track record of being nonexistent, and Bradley didn't want that for his son.

"Where is he?" she asked, sharp eyes on him. 

Bradley sighed. "He's being well taken care of, Meredith."

"By your babysitter?" Then she said your first and last name, and Bradley felt a chill wash over his body. 

"How do you know her name?" he grunted, clenching and unclenching his fist in his lap.

"It wasn't hard to find out after I got her license plate number. She's a nursing student at the University of San Diego, Bradley. A mere child," she said, shaking her head sadly.

Bradley's heart was pounding. Meredith knew who you were, and she wanted something from him. "Did you scare my babysitter on purpose yesterday?"

Meredith laughed, head tipped back as she placed her hand over her heart. "Are you really going to keep calling her that, Bradley? She's obviously 'babysitting Noah' because you're messing around with her. Your little booty call. And she looks like she is all of eighteen years old."

"She's twenty four. And don't talk about her like that," Bradley replied through gritted teeth. "Don't."

Her eyes lit up. "So it is true. I was just making an assumption, going off a hunch. She's cute, so I'm not surprised at all. But I don't think they are going to take too kindly to a father who is busy fucking the babysitter. One who is basically half his age, at that. A father who is distracted. A trashy, young babysitter who is sleeping with someone over a decade older than her."

"Meredith," he growled, trying his hardest to stay calm, but he was seething now. 

"And you let that trash around our son, Bradley. A glorified slut, making money and getting laid while she's at it. And that's not even taking into account that you're still in the Navy. You leave Noah with random friends of yours every time you're deployed, none of whom are his legal guardian. None of them can make decisions in an emergency. You lack any and all stability." She was completely calm as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and sighed. "No, they will not like that at all."

"What the fuck are you getting at, Meredith?" And then Bradley noticed for the first time that she brought a fancy looking leather bag with her, out of which she procured a manila folder.

"This should spell everything out nicely for you." She handed it to him, and he opened it and skimmed through a stack of papers. His heart rate grew steadily faster until it was getting hard to breathe. It felt just like the first time he hit 8 G's. He was going to throw up. Bradley could feel the bile rising in his stomach as the panic truly set in. His insides clenched as he looked at her.

"You want custody."

"Full custody, yes. I have a lawyer. A good one."

He closed the folder and tried to hand it back to her, but she pulled her hands away and stood. "You can keep that," she said with a smirk. "I made several copies."

Bradley stood as well, and got in her face. "No judge in this entire state is going to award you custody of Noah. Not after the shit you've pulled."

She shrugged and headed for the door. "Lucky for me, you've pulled your own shit. We'll just have to wait and see who sounds more believable."

His heart was thudding, and his ears were ringing. "You abandoned us, Meredith! You haven't paid a single penny for anything in nearly four years, and Noah doesn't even know who the fuck you are!"

As she turned the knob, she looked back at him and said, "Abandonment is a strong word, and you can't prove anything. And may I suggest you learn to keep your emotions in check? It will be good practice for the courtroom. And you need to keep that girl you're sleeping with away from our son. I won't hesitate to ruin her if I need to. You already forced me to go through her once, Bradley. I'll do it again with no remorse if I have to. Noah is my son. Just because that girl is fucking you, that doesn't give her the same rights I have."

"Do I need to get a restraining order, Meredith?" he called, but she was already walking out to her car with a little wave over her shoulder. 

"Not if you want me to allow you to have visitation rights. Oh, and make sure you answer my calls next time, so we can prevent another visit at the park!"

-------------------------------

You were laying on your back porch in the sun, trying to finish reading your assignments for the following week. Every hour or so, your phone went off, but it was never from the only person you wanted to hear from. It was just a bunch of texts from Greyson, begging you to come over. He must be bored. It was probably too early in the day for him to get stoned, and you knew he was too lazy to look for another girl for the night. That was why he was bothering you now. 

You squinted and turned your head away from the sunlight and thought about your ruined sunglasses, crunched up in the parking lot next to the playground. Bradley said he was going to call Meredith. You were so embarrassed; you actually ran away from Noah's mom. Surely she wasn't going to hurt either of you. She probably just wanted to see him, even if she did sound like a bitch when Bradley described her. But she was pretty. And probably just the right age for Bradley. Now you had a very clear image in your mind of exactly what he was trying to replicate when he was using the dating app.

You had a gross feeling in your stomach. You hated waiting like this. You were always waiting for everyone else. First you waited for Greyson to contact you whenever he wanted to see you. More recently you'd been waiting for Bradley to let you know where you stood with him.

When you decided you were hungry, you stood and went to your kitchen. You tore open a bag of Skittles as you looked through your refrigerator, but after you ate a handful, you left the rest on the counter and walked away. 

When your phone rang late in the afternoon, you answered it as soon as you saw who it was. 

"Bradley?" you asked softly, and you were met with a beat of heavy silence that made you want to cry.

"Hi. Any chance you can stop by later? Just for a minute?"

"Yeah," you replied, pacing the length of your small living room before curling up on your couch. "I can do that."

"I'll see you later."

-------------------------------

Nat kept Noah at her place for most of the day while Bradley had a good, old fashioned nervous breakdown. His best friend was good like that, and he didn't even have to give her any details yet. She just knew what to do without any prompting. 

Bradley sat in the middle of Noah's bedroom floor and thought about everything he could lose if this didn't work out for him. He had a dresser full of Noah's little clothes behind him, and a closet full of Noah's toys next to him. He paid for everything for his child. And not that Noah was a burden on him in any way, but they never got any help from Meredith, monetarily or otherwise. But he could see how it would be impossible to prove she abandoned the two of them. And it probably didn't help that he never returned her phone calls or let her see him when she begged in the past.

She was a business developer. She made more money than Bradley. But he never went after her for a cent, because he knew he would rather have his son to himself than have to share Noah with someone who didn't really care about him.

So why the fuck did Meredith want to be involved now? It didn't make sense. And Bradley hated that he thought the worst of her at this moment, but he did. He just knew there had to be something he was missing here. 

He laid back on the floor and fiddled with his phone, forcing himself to stop from calling you. He rubbed one large hand along his face and let out a sting of curse words. The fact that he wasn't sure if he would be able to protect his own son was making him anxious and scared. But he could protect you. He could save your name from being dragged through the mud. He could prevent you from potentially spending your time in a courtroom, from becoming collateral damage to Bradley's crime of falling for Meredith and getting her pregnant in the first place. 

And Bradley knew he had to protect you, because he wasn't worth it. Getting messed up with him was not worth your time and aggravation. He just wished he had pumped the brakes a little harder, told you this was a bad idea and shut it down earlier. He should have never let it get physical. All the flirtation and banter should have been enough for him. He should have taken it for the ego boost that it could have been and moved on, pursued a woman from the dating app and stayed away from you. 

It was already too late for him though. Because he knew how you tasted. He knew all the little noises you made when you were underneath him. He knew how good you looked in his clothes. He knew how much Noah loved you. And he fucking knew you loved his kid right back.

And now all of his baggage was coming back to haunt him. 

"Fuck!" Bradley shouted. And then he scrolled through his phone until he found Tracy's number. It was a Saturday, and he hated to do this on the weekend, but what choice did he have? 

"Hello?" 

"Tracy? It's Bradley Bradshaw. I'm not sure if you remember me, and I'm sorry it's Saturday-"

"Bradley. Of course I remember you. And your sweet son. Noah, was it?"

"Yeah," he replied, running his hand over his eyes. He had taken Noah with him last year when Nat urged him to talk to a lawyer about setting up a will. They had also touched on the topic of a custody agreement, which Bradley had firmly told Tracy was something that wasn't necessary at the time. 

"What can I do for you?"

"Do you remember our conversation about custody and parental rights for Noah?"

"Yes, I remember."

He sighed deeply. "I think I need to revisit that conversation."

----------------------------

You changed into a cute sundress and packed up the three remaining coloring books and the pack of neon crayons you had for Noah. You added a bag of Skittles to your tote, and then you headed out to your car as tears prickled your eyes. 

Your arm hurt a lot more today, and changing the bandages with your left hand had been challenging. You considered taking your first aid kit along with you and asking Bradley for help. But then you decided that getting over there and getting this over with was more important. 

He must have spoken to Meredith by now, and while you weren't sure exactly what that meant for you, there was no doubt it wasn't good. 

You parked in his driveway alongside his Bronco, and let yourself in the front door. It was late. Noah was probably in bed already. That was probably why Bradley asked you to come now. 

"Hi," you whispered. He was sitting in the middle of the couch with his elbows resting on his knees, and he looked impossibly handsome as he glanced up at you. 

"Hi," he echoed, his voice deep and raspy. You thought that maybe he wanted to add Princess to that greeting by the way his lips were silently working, but then he snapped his mouth shut. 

You wanted to go sit in his lap. It was the only thing that would make you feel better right now, but you knew you shouldn't do it. And as you took a few steps closer to him, he stood, and you could feel the heat from his big body. 

"Are you okay?" you asked softly. He leaned a little closer to you, like he wanted to kiss you. His hands were reaching for your hips, but you watched him clench them into fists and drop them to his sides. 

"I think I will be," he replied, and you couldn't stand it any longer. You reached for his face, stroking his mustache as his eyes closed. And then you kissed him. And he kissed you back. Right before he took a staggering step away from you.

------------------------------

The only thing Bradley wanted to do was get lost in your kisses and beg for you. He wished he could forget about everything that had happened after he fucked you at your place and left for work yesterday. Pretend Meredith wasn't a threat. But he couldn't keep pretending. That much was made clear when he spoke to his lawyer earlier.

After he stepped away from you, he cleared his throat and said, "We can't do this anymore."

You laughed humorlessly as you ran your fingers along your glossy lips. "Can't do what anymore, Bradley? What exactly have we been doing?"

"Messing around," he replied, keeping his eyes on your face. It was so much more than that though, and he felt like the biggest asshole in the world for trying to make you think he felt any differently. For trying to make you think he didn't care about you. "It was fun, but I need to take things seriously. For myself and for Noah."

You pressed your lips together and looked at the floor. "Did you and Meredith get back together?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. 

The thought of it made him sick. It made him feel outraged to even think about Meredith at all, let alone romantically. But if that's where your mind went, then so be it. 

"We talked about it."

You gasped, but you didn't look at him. "You told me she abandoned you. And you think that would be best for Noah? Best for you?"

"I'm... not sure," he replied, wanting more than anything to collect you in his arms and take care of you. Kiss you. Be with you. But he couldn't protect you and do those things right now. Not after his conversation with Meredith, and especially not after speaking to Tracy. "But sometimes people change."

"You sound unsure," you said, looking up at him hopefully as tears collected in your eyes. "Why won't you give me a good reason? A solid reason?"

Bradley ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath, using his anger to hold back his own tears. "I can give you a whole list of reasons. Is that what you want?" You didn't respond verbally, but the quiver of your lips made him keep going. "You're too young for me. I need a woman more mature than you. Someone who would help me take care of Noah. Someone I could be in a real fifty/fifty relationship with. And not just with Skittles."

You sobbed, and he hated himself. But he kept going.

"You think you want this, but you don't. You're just a kid. You don't know what you want. But I can guarantee that me and all my baggage isn't it."

"I never said you had baggage-"

But he cut you off, shaking his head and saying, "I said it. So it doesn't matter what you did or didn't say. This is not going to work. I don't want this."

You had tears dripping onto your cheeks now as you looked up at him. Your pretty face was scrunched up in sadness or rage. Probably both. Because he was behaving like a dick. 

Your shoulders shook while you cried. "Fine. I understand," you said through your tears. "I can't make you want me back."

He felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs, because you were the only thing he wanted right now. He had let himself indulge in his feelings for you, and now he was hurting you on purpose. And it was killing him.

"Can I say goodbye to Noah?" you whispered, swiping at your tears.

Bradley nodded, stumbling behind you as you walked quickly to Noah's room. He stood in the doorway and watched you gently brush Noah's hair away from his forehead as you sobbed. Then you bent to kiss his cheek and whispered, "I love you, Noah."

Bradley couldn't take it. He turned away and walked back to the living room. He broke his own heart, which he could eventually probably handle, because the outcome he wanted was important to him. He could come to terms with keeping you away from him. He knew you'd be better off without him in the long run anyway.

But he hadn't anticipated how much this was going to hurt his son. Maybe he had made a mistake.

When you walked back into the living room with your tote bag on your shoulder, you slapped Bradley's house key against his chest without looking at him. He fumbled and caught it before it dropped, but when he turned toward you, all he saw was the swirl of your dress as the door slammed shut behind you. 

Bradley stood with the key in his hand, inhaling the smell of wildflowers as he listened to your car pull out of his driveway. 

"Goodbye, Princess."

-----------------------------

Bradley, what did you do?! Hope you enjoy your babysitter fic which you help me write, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 14

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[distillatoria]

when i first read the catcher in the rye in high school i was having one of the worst mental health years of my life and i was hanging by a thread. i was suicidal and suffering academically because of severe depression and undiagnosed adhd. so needless to say reading about this sixteen year old boy being kicked out of school for the fourth (?) time and having a total mental breakdown in the aftermath was something that really resonated with me.

of course i identified with holden. he was a mentally ill teenager. he was flunking out of school. he couldn't keep up with the expectations society set out for him and at the same time he was just starting to realize society was falling short of the expectations he had set out for it as an idealistic child.

what i got out of that first reading, essentially, can really be summed up by this quote directly from the text:

"[Y]ou’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You’re by no means alone on that score, you’ll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now.”

in other words, that i wasn't alone.

but reading it from the perspective of someone in their early 20s gives a much different message. and i'm sure it'll be different when i reread it at 30, and 40, and so on. this time around what really stood out to me were the lengths that holden went to in order to cope with his struggles - some of his favored coping mechanisms being exactly why some people find catcher in the rye so hard (or even annoying) to read.

his obsession with and avoidance of people he deems ingenuine or hypocritical. the way he avoids emotional vulnerability by pushing away the people who care about him. the way he blames others for the consequences of his own actions. his refusal to consider other points of view. his scrambled tone and tendency to go on tangents. his immaturity and the way he clings to childhood.

the whole way through i just wanted to help the damn kid. as an adult reading between the lines it's so apparent now that catcher in the rye is holden's (concealed) cry for help. and it really does reinforce my distaste for people who write him off as a whiny rich boy.

of course he's not a perfect person. he's not supposed to be a role model. he's not supposed to be your best friend. but he can be someone you identify with and whose shortcomings you can use to understand where you can grow.

if you were forced to read the book in school and skimmed the text and all you got from it is "ugh i hated that book the main character was such a spoiled douchebag and all he did is complain" - i think it might be worth taking another crack at it, and maybe you'll get more out of it this time. or not. up to you.

but if you look at holden and think, wow! this guy is so cool, he's got it exactly right! i want to be just like him!

or wow! holden is just like me! surely there is nothing wrong wih that! - then you might wanna dig a little deeper too, cause you're missing the point.

i'm not really sure how to end this post since it's kind of been a stream of consciousness but i guess what i'm trying to say is read and reread books every once in a while and use critical thinking. and get a library card.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Not Enough

has anyone else just wanted Danny to go completely fucking feral at Dash? anyone?

yeah me too

this is some truly self-indulgent shit y'all

"Hey Fenton!"

Danny slammed his locker shut, sighing as Dash clapped him roughly on the shoulder.

"I'm throwin' a huge ass Halloween party this weekend, ghosts are all about Halloween right? You should totally come!"

It wasn't the first party Danny had been invited to since being outed as Phantom, but somehow Dash didn't seem to get the hint that he wasn't even remotely interested.

"No." Danny snapped, he threw his bag over his shoulder and turned his back on Dash, walking away without another word.

"What's your problem?"

Danny stopped, turning back around with a face of utter disdain.

"Excuse me?"

"I've been trying to be nice, but all you do is just brush me off! Like you can't even pretend to be busy or something?"

Danny stared, mouth halfway open as he tried to find the words to respond.

"Are you actually serious?" he finally choked out, almost too bewildered to be angry.

Almost.

"You're not still mad about all that stuff from before right?" Dash asked. "Like, I don't even do that shit anymore, it's over."

"Is it?" Danny's eyes flashed brightly and Dash took a half step back as the air went cold. "Because I'm pretty sure it was just yesterday that I pulled Mikey out of his locker."

"Well, yeah but that was Mikey." Dash laughed. "C'mon man, I wouldn't do that to you. We're totally cool now, so why you gotta keep blowing me off? You talk to Kwan like it's not big deal, and he used to wail on you all the time!"

Danny took a deep, slow breath, then another.

"Have you considered that maybe it's because I don't like you?" Danny said through gritted teeth.

Dash huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at the ground.

"Look, I get it, I was a jerk, but it's over! I'm actually trying to be nice, now you're the one being an asshole."

Danny looked as though he'd been slapped.

"You're such a fucking idiot Dash." Said Danny, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage. "You can't just treat someone like shit every single day for two years and then expect them to get over it because you invited them to a few parties."

"Then how come Kwan gets to hang out with you?" Dash could feel his face heating up. "You're just gonna let him off the hook? That's not fair!"

"HE APOLOGISED!"

In one thunderous moment, every locker in the hallway slammed open, sending papers and books flying across the floor. The few students still packing up their things got the fuck out of dodge, whether this was a ghost thing or a Fenton thing (was there even a difference at this point?) they wanted no part of it.

Dash couldn't move, his feet felt heavy, he wasn't entirely sure if Danny had done something to him with his ghost powers, or if he was just afraid.

Because he was certainly afraid.

Even after everyone found out, Danny still didn't use his powers at school unless it was a ghost emergency. He didn't use them for pranks, didn't use them to get even, didn't even use them to show off.

But he was sure as hell using them now, and Dash suddenly realised why he was always holding himself back.

He was terrifying.

Danny took a few steps forward, stopping barely an arm's length away from where Dash was rooted to the spot, trembling.

"Kwan apologised to me." He said, quietly this time. "He apologised to my friends, he even apologised to some other kids, and when I told him that I wasn't ready to forgive him, he accepted that and left me alone until I was ready to talk to him again."

Dash wanted to speak, but he couldn't seem to make his brain form the words he needed, it was too busy buzzing with danger run danger get out run run RUN.

"You made every single day of my life miserable for two whole fucking years, and that isn't even counting the bullshit you pulled in middle school. How do you feel right now Dash? Does it scare you to be around me? Does it scare you to be at the mercy of someone that you know damn well can hurt you?" Danny leant in, grabbing a fistful of letterman jacket. "I hope it does, because now maybe you'll have an idea what it was like for me going to school every fucking day knowing that you would be there, ready and waiting to hurt me. Every single FUCKING day."

Dash found himself being thrown backwards, his feet finally able to move again as he caught himself.

"I'm s-sor-sorry." he mumbled, his lips felt numb and tingly and his head swam with panic as he struggled to get the words out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Danny's voice cracked, his face wasn't twisted in rage anymore, his eyes were blue once again, and shining with tears. "Are you really sorry for hurting me? Or are you just sorry that the guy you were beating the shit out of turned out to be Phantom?"

"I didn't... I didn't know." Dash gasped out, he could barely hear his own words, all he could hear was his own heart beating loudly in his ears as he struggled to draw in breath. "I didn't know it was like that, I just thought-"

Thought what? What had he thought? That he wasn't really hurting anyone? That it wasn't that big a deal?

No, he hadn't thought that, because he hadn't thought at all.

"And you're gonna stand here and tell me I'm an asshole." Danny was almost sobbing as he raggedly spat out each word. "Because I won't forgive you for something you never even apologised for. This is the first time you even acknowledged that you were an absolute jerk to me, and you followed it up by demanding that I just get over it."

Dash stared down at the floor, it sounded terrible when Danny put it like that.

"I wasn't... demanding anything." he said, he was embarrassed by how whiny he sounded. "I was just trying to make it up to you, I was trying, I just thought... it's not fair that I can't have second chance. I was trying so hard and all I wanted was a second chance-"

"I DON'T CARE." Danny's eyes were screwed up tight, but it didn't stop the tears of fury from pouring down his cheeks, his voice so shredded with pain it was barely recognisable. "I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU. I DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT. I DON'T OWE YOU A SECOND CHANCE. I DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING. YOU FUCKED ME UP AND YOU. CAN'T. FIX IT."

Dash didn't know what to do. Danny was openly sobbing, his breaths came out in grunts as he couldn't hold the rage and misery back.

He was still standing within arm's reach, Dash cautiously put out a hand, to comfort him? He wasn't sure, but he barely brushed Danny's shoulder before Dash found himself spinning violently and his cheekbone exploded with sudden pain as he hit the floor. Cold hands drew away from him roughly.

"DON'T TOUCH ME." Danny screamed. "DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH ME EVER AGAIN."

Dash watched as Danny grabbed his backpack and his footsteps disappeared down the hall.

It was over, just like that it was over.

Dash sat up and touched his face, he wasn't bleeding but he knew it would bruise pretty bad. It hurt, he would be squinting through one eye for a few days.

Danny could have done this to him at any time, he could have done it to him every day if he wanted, and maybe he would, now that he'd done it once.

The thought made Dash feel cold as dread pooled in his stomach.

The next day Dash told people he'd gotten his black eye from playing football, his team knew it wasn't true, but they didn't ask. He kept his eye out for Danny, wondering if he would pop up invisibly and knock him off his feet, or drag him through the floor, or hit him when nobody was looking.

He clung to Kwan's side all day, afraid to be alone.

Phantom could be anywhere, he could get him anywhere, if he wanted to hurt Dash nobody would be able to stop him.

Nobody had been able to stop Dash, and he didn't even have superpowers.

But in the end, nothing happened.

Dash went through the day untouched. Danny didn't even look his way. Not once. He just acted like yesterday never happened.

But it did happen, Dash still had the bruise on his cheek, and the terror set deep in his bones.

In the following days, weeks, months, Danny still never touched him, never looked at him, never talked to him. Dash realised that Danny probably wasn't going to do anything else after all, that maybe he hadn't even meant to hurt him in the first place.

He was a hero after all, he protected people, even people he didn't like. The only time he had ever come into contact with Dash again was to haul him out of the way of a ghost, and he did so with the same care as he would with anyone else.

Danny wasn't like him, he didn't gloat about hurting him, he didn't revel in the fact that Dash was scared of him. He just went about his day, acting for all the world like Dash didn't even exist.

Dash never gave him a true apology, it was clear Danny didn't want one, it was far too late for that.

It left Dash with a sick feeling of unfulfillment. He understood now what Danny had been going through, the pain, the terror, he wanted Danny to know that he was truly sorry, that he really had changed this time.

But he couldn't, because forcing an unwanted apology on him would just make Dash the asshole all over again, he was trying to steal a forgiveness that he could never have.

So he had to find his closure somewhere else.

He stopped picking on Mikey, and Nathan, and all of the other nerds he frequently hassled. He even tried apologising to them, some forgave him, others didn't, and he had to be okay with that. He struggled not to lash out, it still felt unfair, the world had always told him that you were supposed to forgive people when they apologised. It always happened that way on tv, in the cartoons he grew up watching. The mean kid would apologise, the other kids would forgive him, and they would all become friends.

He was realising that the real world was a whole lot more complicated than that, he didn't earn forgiveness just because apologising was hard, he was learning fast that he didn't earn any brownie points for taking responsibility for his actions. He was just doing what any decent person should.

It took him a while to come to terms with that, to stop being angry at people for not letting him make it up to them. For not letting him prove that he had changed.

All it took was to occasionally pass by Danny in the hallways for him to cool his jets and think more clearly. To remind him that he was the bad guy, he was the one who hurt people, that his victims did not owe him anything.

In his last year of school, he had found himself watching the juniors below him falling into the same behaviours, the same struggle for power and control. Pushing other kids around without so much as sparing a thought to how it made them feel.

After a lengthy chat with Mr Lancer, Dash was given permission to pull out younger students from detention one day a week. He would talk to them, ask about their lives, ask about their feelings. He would ask why they lashed out, why they thought it was okay to treat people that way. Most of them didn't have an answer, or simply refused to give one, but he would push, he wouldn't let them hide in ignorance like he did.

Some of them did feel guilt for the way they treated people, and they only needed someone they could talk to who could understand what they were going through, so they wouldn't take it out on whoever was around at the time.

Others would take more effort, they need a far stronger push in the right direction, they were defensive and combative, selfish and unapologetic.

Dash had been one of those kids, he knew they would be hard work, but he did his best. He couldn't help all of them, some were simply unwilling to change.

So he contacted the school-board, he pushed for better protection for students, more programs to help troubled kids, he volunteered to keep running his own counselling groups even after he graduated.

It still never felt like enough.

After graduation he turned down his favoured college to attend one closer to home so he could continue his volunteer work. He joined petitions and rallies for change across entire school districts, he spoke at other schools' anti-bullying campaigns. He'd attended enough of them in his own childhood that he knew they did next to nothing, but it gave him the opportunity to reach out to kids for one on one support.

He found more volunteers for his counselling groups, he helped people start them up in other local schools. It was a lot of work, especially when he was also juggling his college studies. He was taking a major in psychology, it was brutal, Dash had never been good at studying, but he'd decided that this was what he needed to do, this was important to him.

It still wasn't enough.

It would come at him in the night, as soon as he laid his head down on his pillow. He would see the faces of all the kids he hurt, it felt so much worse the older he got, they just looked younger and younger every time the memories came back to plague him.

He had beat the shit out of children. Kids who were the same age as the students he now counselled. He beat them until they were bloody or bruised, he shoved them into lockers, pulled pranks that humiliated them in front of the whole school, and he had laughed.

He'd laughed at their pain.

When the guilt weighed him down, he would begin searching for new programs to volunteer for, new petitions or rallies to get behind, always finding another way to help protect kids like Danny from kids like him.

And to protect kids like him from doing things that would one day haunt them.

He had spread himself thin across every school in the district, barely keeping afloat at college, but it wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

Kids still slipped through the cracks, schools were still too lenient, there were too many kids, not enough volunteers.

Casper High was holding another anti-bullying assembly. It had been a few years since Dash had attended one at his old school. This year they had excitedly announced that they'd even secured an appearance from Phantom himself.

Dash's blood ran cold, his hands shook as he went over his notes, he was slated to do his speech alongside Phantom's, they would be sharing the stage for a solid 75 minutes, barely a few feet from one another.

When Danny showed up he was already in Phantom form, Dash spotted him discussing emergency exit plans with one of the organisers in the event of a ghost attack.

He was so different from when they were in school.

He was tall, and broad, he stood with confidence and had a good natured charm to him. He was a hero, he was strong, he was brave. He could fight monsters ten times his size with a smirk and a witty one liner. He could take on anything, he wasn't afraid of anything.

He was a kid, running down a hallway, screaming words that still pierced through Dash's mind every time he saw the hero's face.

"DON'T TOUCH ME."

Dash's hands clenched around his notes, shaking so violently that they barely even looked like words.

"DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH ME EVER AGAIN."

"Dash?"

A deep voice cut through the chaos in Dash's mind as cold hands closed over his tremblings ones.

"It's good to see you again."

Phantom was smiling at him, his hands still closed around Dash's.

"Good... good to see you too." Dash mumbled, not able to meet the man's eyes.

Phantom paused before releasing Dash's hands.

"I've heard all about your work." Phantom grinned as Dash finally looked up and met his eyes.

"Yeah." he said, and then before his mind could catch up with his mouth, he blurted out, "I'm sorry, for everything."

Phantom's eyebrows rose for a moment, before he gave a gentle smile and clapped a hand on Dash's shoulder.

"I know." he said warmly. "Thank you."

They gave their speeches, Dash had told his story many times before, the victim that he'd pushed to breaking point, the boy whose words drove the change that made him the man he had become.

For the first time ever, that boy was listening.

After the assembly had packed up and the volunteers were heading home, it was Danny Fenton who approached Dash and asked if he wanted to go grab a beer together.

Dash thought it would be rather awkward, but Danny had plenty of experience socialising with the public, awkwardness slid right off him, and soon enough Dash found himself laughing alongside Danny as he told a story about the new misadventures of the Box Ghost.

He returned to his dorm that night, head still swimming from one too many beers, and he had the best sleep of his life.

He pulled back on some of his volunteer work, hunting for new people to take his place as he focused on college. He was falling far behind, but he would work hard to make his way back. As a volunteer he could only do so much, but with the right education and training, he could do so much more.

The guilt still haunted him, every so often when the pressure and the stress weighed heavy, it would creep back into his mind. It would probably never go away, not entirely, but at least now he had his closure.

Finally, it was enough.

[mxchellesworld]

Discuss!

Spencer Reid x Reader

Synopsis; Where the team discusses the question ‘do you kiss after head’, you find out Spencer has too little experience to answer the question so you help him out

Warnings; smut, oral (male receiving), sub!spencer, praise, slight degradation 

a/n; LMAO im so sorry for disappearing again life has been actually kicking my ass but anyways lately i’ve been thinking about subby early season spence so here we go,, hope you enjoy!

***

Another Friday night and the team was out bar crawling after an easy case. But this time all members were there as it reached 11pm which was rare. Usually Hotch and JJ would have been home by 10:30 and Spencer wouldn’t have been there at all. But there was something light in the air which had all parties concerned sitting packed in a booth, laughing after each sip of their drinks. 

Since it wasn’t your first rodeo together you knew how the night went. It started off with Rossi offering to buy the first few rounds, always whiskey but he made an exception for Penelope. Then again who would deny her anything. 

Once the drinks were flowing and lips got a little loose, the questions would start popping in at the top of your heads. However these were not your run of the mill, ‘hows so and so doing?’ ‘done your taxes yet?’ oh no. The name of the game was discuss where you would all think of a question which would help you dig just a tiny bit deeper into your coworkers sex lives. 

Maybe if you were all sober then you’d avoid thinking of each other in such positions, pun intended, yet in this state your prying minds were open and your stomachs were ready to grow abs from bending over in laughter. 

You raised the margarita glass up clinking it with a fork to get the tables attention. Everyone including Aaron had a smile on their face, ready to hear the intrusive question for the night. 

“Ok my fellow profilers, doctor, and tech genius,” you added pointing at Spencer then Pen, “Do you kiss your partner after they give you head? Discuss!” you finished in your most formal voice. 

Right as you took a swig of your drink the mixed responses of yes and no filled your small space. 

“Why wouldn’t you? You guys especially, if someones willingly trying to swallow then you damn well owe them a kiss,” Emily finished earning nods and ‘exactly’s from JJ, Pen, and yourself. 

“Ok but thats weird. I just can’t explain it but its a no go for me,” Morgan finished. This only gained him a scoff and raised voices, “Hotch man help me out here,” he said looking over to the man hiding his smirk behind the amber liquid. 

“I have to agree with the ladies here Derek,” he said curtly. 

The girls yelped and hooted at Hotch for siding with them while Morgan sat with his arms crossed being the singular person left out as even Rossi agreed. Meanwhile you noticed the presence next to you had shrunk back and wasn’t too active in the conversation. 

“So Spence do you kiss your partner after they,” you trailed off shaking your fist by your cheek and poking your tongue in the side. 

He coughed as he instantly sat up quicker. Even under the dim lights of the bar you could still see the blush creeping up from his neck to his ears and the slightest tint on his cheeks. 

“Oh I uh- I never-” he said looking anywhere but your eyes. 

“You don’t kiss them?” you said raising your brows. 

“No! I-i mean yes. I would I think b-but I haven’t had the chance to actually partake in such.. activities,” he finished finally taking a look into your eyes. 

You could tell he was waiting for you to laugh in his face for being so inexperienced but you felt far from it. If anything you wished you could be the one to show him things. 

That sweet boy had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it. Maybe it was his naivety considering how exceptionally smart he was. Or maybe it was the cute sweater vests he wore and now he nervously tucked his hair behind his ears. All you knew was that you wanted Spencer Reid and tonight was your night to make it happen. 

You hummed taking in the information, “Well that’s not a bad thing Spence. Everything takes time,” you said putting your hand on his arm for comfort and giving him a smile. 

Going to turn back to face the table you almost didn’t hear Spencer go to speak again, “Do you?” 

Got him.

“Why don’t you find out pretty boy,” you said with a wink as you downed the rest of your marg. In the corner of your eye you could see Spencer shifting in his seat, subtly moving his bag to cover the slowly growing tent in his slacks. 

As the night went by you couldn’t help but really give him a show. You had popped open a button or two on the long sleeve you had on, since it was getting stuffy in the booth. Though when you leaned forward and jutted your chest out, the soft inhale of a breath from the man next to you was just serving as motivation to get bolder. 

For the last hour you called it quits on the alcohol and drank a few glasses of water before you drove home. Spencer had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since your little interactions. 

The team had all gotten up to say their goodbyes. Rossi going by and giving everyone a kiss on each cheek. Derek having to quite literally rangle Penelope from talking to passing by groups on their way out. Then there were two. 

You turned to the side where Spencer was nursing on his coke, “Hey pretty boy, it’s late, let me give you a ride home,” you said grabbing your belongings. 

“Y-yeah ok. Thanks Y/n,” he said getting up. You’d noticed how he still had the burnt orange bag over his crotch. He couldn’t still be hard could he? Well you’d love to find out. 

As gentlemanly as he was, Spencer opened the door for you to exit the building first. The whip of fresh night air cooling on your exposed chest and legs under your skirt. 

You unlocked your car and stepped in, Spencer waiting to hear the little beep signaling his side was open. As he sat down you heard him let out a little whimper. Your head shot over to look at him, you could tell from the flush on his cheeks he didn’t mean to let the noise out. 

Holding in your chuckle you started the ignition and pulled out of the lot, “Can I put on some music?” 

“Yeah I don’t mind,” he said looking over at you with his lips in a line. If it was anyone else, they’d probably think he was uncomfortable but you loved his tiny awkward smiles. 

The ride to his apartment was mostly silent besides a rare quip from Spencer about paper work or fact about an older building you had passed by. It fascinated you to no end hearing him talk. Spencer was a hand speaker, meaning he always used his hands waving them around and making gestures. The pale digits had you captivated. Probably a driving hazard but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. 

You pulled up into one of the visitor spots and put the car in park. You looked over to see Spencer almost contemplating something. You’d seen the look on his face before when he was looking over puzzles. 

“Somethin on your mind Doc?” you said with a small smile. As cute as he looked when he was nervous, you’d never want him to feel uncomfortable around you. 

“Would you-,” he cleared his throat, “Wo- Would you maybe want to c-come inside?” 

“Of course Spence I’d love to,” you finished with a reassuring nod. 

As he led you upstairs you were giddy with anticipation. So what if nothing happened. He was your friend first and you were glad he was letting you into his personal space. Even if you wanted nothing more than to have him writhi-

“Y/n?” 

The door closing snapped you out of your thoughts. You didn’t even realize you were in his living room. The dark green walls and shelves bursting with books put a grin on your face, “Sorry Doc, just caught up in my thoughts. What did you say hun?” 

His brows practically raised to his hairline from hearing the pet name. While he was used to the names coming from Garcia they took a whole different light coming from your lips. 

“I was asking if you wanted water or something,” he said fiddling with the keys in his hands. Eyes darting everywhere but your face so you wouldn’t be able to see the flush rising on his cheeks. 

“No I’m fine thanks for asking though,” you said taking a seat on the worn leather couch. 

You reached for the tv remote making a face at Spencer to ask for permission. He nodded and you settled back turning on an old sitcom that played late at night. 

As the episode ended you both sat in silence. Again you didn’t mind but you could practically hear the cogs moving in Spencer’s brain. 

You were about to speak when he cut you off before you could even get a word out, “What did you mean by ‘why don’t you find out’.”

Gaining confidence you moved closer to where he was on the couch, slow enough for him to stop you in case he wanted to back out. 

“Well you have options pretty boy,” you said moving a leg to straddle him. Your hands instinctively going to his brown locks. You could’ve sworn you heard a little moan leave his chapped lips. Noted. 

“W-what are the options,” lust blown eyes looked up to yours. 

“One, you can put that mouth to good use on me,” you said trailing your finger over his bottom lip, “and let me cum over that pretty face.” 

His eyes shut hearing your words and you weren’t having it, “Nuh uh eyes on me honey,” instantly they were back on yours. 

“Or number two. I can suck you off and let you cum down my throat, but,” you paused making sure to roll your hips on his growing length, “ you have to give me a nice big smooch after.” 

The hands on your hips pulled you closer as he bucked his hips into you as you finished the sentence. It was clear which option was preferred. 

You moved to slide down in between his legs. You let your hands trail down his clothed thighs, causing him to jump. 

“Tsk such a needy boy,” you said mockingly, “Am I not going fast enough baby?”

“Please Y/n,” he all but whimpered. It was like music to your ears. 

Your hands went to his belt, looking up in his eyes for a final sign of permission. Once he nodded you quickly undid it and he lifted his hips to help get his pants down. You palmed him over his boxers, feeling the wet patch where he was already leaking pre cum. 

“Is this all for me Spence? Does the thought of my lips around you make you this hard,” you said taking him out of the striped confines. 

“Oh god please just,” he cut himself off. You could see his hands curling fists besides his legs. 

“Please what baby? I can’t give you anything unless you ask.” Your hands continued their task of leisurely stroking his length. 

“Fuck please put your mouth on me,” he rushed out, hips bucking to prove his point. 

The answer was good enough for you so you wasted no time in leaning forward and taking him in your mouth. Both of you let out content sighs as you tried to take him further. 

You looked up to see him with his head leaned back, eyes scrunched closes in pleasure. 

You pulled off with a pop, letting your hand work him over. “Better keep those pretty eyes on me before I decide you can’t finish.”

He looked down with a flash of worry, that was quickly replaced by a loud moan as you spit down on his cock before taking him in your mouth again. 

For a germaphobe, Spencer loved how nasty it was. He was thanking god or whatever higher being there was for giving him his eidetic memory because the sight below him was something he’d never wanna forget. 

Your eyes were teary and you had spit dribbling down your chin but he wanted nothing more than to give you more than just a kiss after you finished. Or well after he finishes. 

You could tell he was close by the way he was throbbing on your tongue. Again taking him out of your mouth you used both hands to jerk him off. 

“You’re doing such a good job baby. So good for me. You wanna cum in my mouth pretty boy?”

“God Y/n I’m so close please please please,” he whimpered out. 

“Cum for me baby, be my good boy Spence,”  you said before taking him down your throat. He was big, not girthy but long and it was a struggle but you’d be damned if you didn’t try to take him all. 

Hollowing your cheeks you bobbed your head quickly, egging on his release further. His hands finally found a place in the back of your head. Pushing you down further as he came. 

“F-fuck Y/n I’m gonna”

His moans and whines were a symphony of sounds you’d have on repeat in your head forever. 

You swallowed the salty release but before you could even wipe your lips you were being pulled up by Spencer placing his lips on yours. You moaned into the kiss, his hands gripped the sides of your face not wanting to let you go. 

The need for air made you both pull back. You looked at one another, chests heaving and looking like you ran a marathon. 

Then a sad look came across his face. 

“Spencer what’s wrong?” 

“You didn’t get any pleasure,” he said looking like a hurt puppy. Oh your sweet boy. 

“It’s ok baby, I can take care of myself,” you tried to shrug off.

He was quick to push you back on the couch, taking the spot you were previously in. His warm lips trailing down your exposed thighs. 

“I wanna do it, but only if you kiss me after.” 

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Hello! I saw your asks open and i wanted to request some angst headcanons with dad!Asmo. I just read Luci's and oh man that sure hurt my heart, you write angst so well!

Unwanted (Dad!Asmo x F!Reader) ANGST

A/N : Mammon plays a really big part in this, just as Beel played a big role in the dad!Lucifer fic. It's never hinted whether they're together or not, it's kind of up to the imagination... but if you'd like, I can write a part two to this??? (I will also, to anyone who might want it, write a part two to the dad!Lucifer fic)

Word Count : 2.3K Warnings : pregnancy ; children ; maternity ; babies ; hinted abortion ; angst ;

He never wanted children, he didn’t want anything that would actually tie him down to anything or anyone. It wasn’t his “thing”, and you both had done everything to prevent it from happening. Up until now, everything had worked, there had never been one mistake, but the both of you got sloppy. There was a party, and… well, you loved him, and he had said that he loved you, and precautions weren’t a “thing” at that moment. One slip up, one mistake, and now everything was falling apart.

“I didn’t want this. I don’t want that.” He spat the words at you, pointing towards your stomach. He had only stopped pacing long enough to say it before starting again, walking the length of his room as he gnawed at his perfectly manicured fingers. You hadn’t expected anything different from him, but it still hurt that he was blaming the whole thing on you, as if it didn’t take 50/50 participation to make something like this happen. “It’ll completely ruin my image. A child with a human! It’ll be all over the tabloids, in every magazine… I can’t have that.” His behavior shouldn’t have been that shocking to you, but to hear just how selfish he really was, to know that he thought so little of you, it hurt way worse than you ever thought it would. One moment he was professing his love to you, and now he’s disgusted with you. It could have been that your emotions were running high from the situation, or maybe the hormones had just taken over completely, but you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, and you wanted to fight him. “Your image?! This thing could kill me and all you care about is your stupid public persona… Screw you! I wish I never fell in love with you.” His eyes went soft, and for a moment you thought that maybe he’d apologize, maybe he was rethinking his own words, his actions, that maybe you’d be able to be a team to work through this mess. You were wrong, you were so wrong. “Wish all you want, we both know you’d have never been able to resist me.” Narcissistic, selfish, he was just awful. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to fight back the tears as you walked past him. He didn’t deserve your last words, he didn’t deserve anything. He didn’t deserve you.

The twelfth week was supposed to be the most exciting. It was when most couples would finally make their announcements, happily tell family and friends that they were expecting. Your twelfth week was a nightmare. You were trapped in the Devildom, human doctors wouldn’t know what the hell was going on if they delivered a child with horns, a child so angelically demonic that they’d probably call the hospital priest to your room as soon as they saw it. The only place where you’d be able to safely deliver a child like this and live through it would be in the Devildom. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to relieve yourself of the problem. You had gone to Lucifer, Satan, Barbatos, even Lord Diavolo, asking them if there was any way that they could just… get rid of it. Sadly, Asmodeus wasn’t just a narcissistic, selfish prick, he was also sadistic. None of them could do anything without Asmodeus’ approval since it was his child too. Every time one of them asked him, he would refuse. He didn’t even give a reason, he just wanted to see you suffer. Strangely, you had found comfort and solace in Mammon. You were pretty sure he was only helping because he still had a crush on you, but he became your emotional, mental, and physical support throughout everything. You had told him many times that he didn’t have to basically “fill in” for Asmo, but he insisted that it was the least he could do considering his little brother was being a dick. He wasn’t just your support at the house, he was… invested in the child that Asmo hadn’t wanted. He took you to doctors appointments, sometimes even getting in the way of the doctor as he pointed to the ultrasound screen. He was so excited that most people just assumed it was his kid, and he never denied it either. It was just easier that way, to go along with whatever the other demons said because he knew that any mention of Asmo would upset you and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Some days the both of you would sit on the couch in the living room, flipping through the pages of maternity books. He’d really try to understand the diagrams on the pages, but you could tell that he was confused and sometimes he’d even look up at you from the pages, and then down at your stomach, and then up at you, before looking back down at the pages. It was cute, and you’d giggle lightly, resting your head on his shoulder as you continued flipping through the pages. He had become the only person in the house that you felt like you could fully trust and rely on. Everyone else wanted to stay out of the drama, nobody wanted to get involved, but Mammon wasn’t there for the drama, he was only there for you, he was there when you needed him.

“Can you believe him? Can you believe both of them? We haven’t even broken up and they’re sleeping together, she’s even wearing his clothes. It’s ridiculous, and Mammon is out there playing dad with my kid.” Asmo sat on the edge of the counter, voicing his complaints to anyone who would listen. Sadly it was Beel’s turn since he was the only one in the kitchen right now. Most of the time the other brothers would just hide themselves away, not wanting to deal with Asmo right now, but Beel had gotten hungry and he really thought he’d be lucky enough to avoid his brother. “I don’t know what the big deal is… You didn’t want the kid anyway.” He wasn’t going to walk on eggshells around Asmo, he wasn’t going to lie to make anyone feel better. In Beel’s eyes, Asmo was completely in the wrong. “If Y/N is finding some sort of happiness in spending time with Mammon, who are you to complain? It stopped being your place when you said you didn’t want it.” He shrugged before grabbing his plate and going straight back to his room. He wasn’t going to continue listening to it, but he hoped that he had left Asmo with something to really think about. He walked up the stairs, going straight to the bedroom door, knocking loudly. He wasn’t going to stop until someone opened the door either. Mammon got up from the bed that you both had been propped up on, rolling his eyes as he walked over to his door, groaning loudly when he saw Asmo standing there. “Whaddaya want? We don’t need ya here… yer just gonna stress ‘er out.” He was trying to talk quietly, not wanting you to hear him or even know who was there. He was so protective of you, he wouldn’t let anyone else serve your food during meals, he’d even stand outside the bathroom door whenever you were in there just to make sure you didn’t fall or hurt yourself. Asmo pushed his way into the room much to Mammon’s annoyance. “I don’t care, Mammon. Y/N isn’t yours, and neither is the child. They’re both mine, and I’d like to have a word with her.” He said snidely, but Mammon wasn’t going to have it. Brother or not, he cared too much about you, he had worked so hard to help you get over what Asmo had done, and he wasn’t going to let him waltz back in and ruin everything. Mammon wasn’t weak, he was way stronger than he looked, and right now he was showing his strength, grabbing Asmo’s arm and practically throwing him out of the room. His teeth were barred and the growl that was coming from him sounded feral, animalistic, it was terrifying. “Neither of them are yers! I’ve been there fer everything, every doctor visit, I even bought a damn room fer the kid and she’s sleepin’ in my room, next ta me, and a next ta Y/N. Ya know why?! ‘Cause ya don’t jus’ get ta come back when ya fine’ly realize that ya fucked up! Now… leave us alone. We don’t need ya here.” He left Asmo out in the hallway, crumpled against the wall as he walked back into the room. “She…” Asmo kept repeating the word as he pushed himself up off the floor. He was having a daughter, and he hadn’t even known about it, he wouldn’t have known about it if Mammon hadn’t screamed at him. It was strange how knowing made things more real, it made him care more, and the worst part was that he knew it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to you. He didn’t know how to fix what he had done, but he knew that he had to try at least. “Lucifer…” “I don’t want things to be like this when she gets here. It’s not going to be long either.” You sighed, finally relaxing once more in the bed once Mammon got in next to you. “Why was he here anyway?” Mammon shrugged, focusing all of his attention on your stomach trying to calm himself. He liked watching it move, he thought it was neat.

The delivery was smoother than you thought it would be, and Mammon only fainted twice during the whole thing, so he did pretty good. Delivering a child in the Devildom had its perks, the main one being that you didn’t have to stay more than one day in the hospital to recover. They did some spell and you were completely fine. It was strange, but you appreciated it greatly. The only issue with the perk was that it meant you were going back home and that meant you’d have to face Asmo. She looked so much like him, and you could tell that Mammon was upset by it. Even though he knew she wasn’t actually his, he wished that she didn’t look so much like her father. Her eyes were his exact color, and it left you speechless when she first opened them, gazing up at you with wonder and curiosity. She was precious, and she was yours. As you walked through the door you were met with balloons and streamers, and Asmo. You heard Mammon growl quietly, and you quickly held your hand out to him, silently begging him to stop. He was holding the carseat and you didn’t need him to lose his temper right now. “I just wanted to welcome her home, welcome you home. I bought some things for her, they’re outside of Mammon’s door.” Asmo said nervously, and for once he was terrified of being rejected. “We don’t need noth-” Mammon had started, but you quickly shook your head, pleading to him with your eyes to just stay calm. He groaned loudly, eyeing Asmo angrily before walking past him to the stairs. “Fine. She’s prob’ly hungry… I’m gonna feed ‘er. Ya comin’ up?” You nodded quickly, making sure he got up the stairs alright before turning back to Asmo. “What are you doing, Asmo?”

He moved into the living room, waiting for you to sit down before he did, and he looked scared, he looked sad. Of course you didn’t like seeing him like this, but it was his fault, he had caused all of this. “I don’t want to be alone. I know that sounds selfish, that I’m making this about myself again, but I’m not trying to. When Mammon told me… he said she… It's a girl?” You nodded slowly and you saw his face light up for only a second before it left once more. “I was scared, I am scared… I didn’t know if I’d be a good… father. I never saw myself as one, but seeing Mammon, and he’s doing so well… I never saw him as a father either… I thought that maybe, since he could… that maybe I could too.” He sighed, bringing his hand back up to his lips to chew at his fingers again, his orange eyes glistening with the tears that hadn’t fallen yet. “I know that what I said was wrong… I was rude. I didn’t think I’d have a problem finding someone to take my mind off of everything, but I was wrong. I love you, and nobody else is going to take your place, nobody else can take your place.” You both sat on the couch in silence, his tears finally falling as he waited for you to say something, and yours building up as you tried to think of something to say. “This isn’t fair… You know this isn’t fair. You can’t… you can’t pick and choose when you want to be a dad. You weren’t there… and you made it very clear that you didn’t want her. I… I can’t do this Asmo… I’m sorry… They’re waiting for me… I-I have to go.” You took a deep breath as you stood from the couch, wiping your tears with the back of your hands as you started walking to the stairs. “Y/N…” He walked up behind you, grabbing your hand to stop you. You didn’t turn around to face him, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, but he didn’t mind. He was actually thankful that you didn’t look at him, because what he was about to say was the hardest thing he’d ever have to say in his life. “I know that I’m unwanted… But… If I may… Can I meet her? Just once? Please?”

[fific7]

Unexpected - Part 3

King Caspian x Reader

Summary: What happens if you push the respectful and well-behaved King Caspian a little too far? You’re about to find out.

A/N: The final chapter. This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with some lemon zest 🍋 Friends to Lovers AU.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including debatable consent at first, loss of virginity and oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My video edit)

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Ever since his hasty departure from your study, Caspian had not exactly avoided you but had taken to just popping his head round the door and wishing you a cheerful good day before disappearing again. You had smiled to yourself. It certainly did seem that you had some kind of an effect on the King. You weren’t absolutely sure what that was, but it appeared to be a positive one.

You were excitedly planning an outfit for that evening as a banquet was being held to celebrate Cornelius’ birthday. No-one had mentioned how old he actually was and you weren’t sure if that was because they didn’t know or if they were just being tactful. You’d bought him three new quills as his gift, which he’d accepted gratefully as he was always snapping the tips off his.

Later that afternoon, there was a brief knock and Caspian’s smiling face appeared round your door. “You are coming to the birthday banquet tonight, aren’t you, my lady?” You nodded, “I am, Caspian.” “Well… I’ll see you there,” he grinned, and then he was gone.

Smiling, you went back to mentally reviewing the dresses in your wardrobe. Tonight you’d make sure you looked your very best for Caspian.

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Meanwhile Caspian walked off down the corridor, deep in thought. He was sure that she’d noticed that he was keeping a physical distance between them the past few days, but it was the only way he could think of to avoid making a complete fool of himself. Again. Like he had the last time. His face burned every time he thought about it. She’d known why he’d rushed off, he was sure of it.

He would have to dance with her tonight. It would look strange if he didn’t, and he felt his stomach tie itself into a knot. How on earth was he going to keep himself under control? He would just have to figure out a way… somehow.

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Eventually, after several changes, you’d chosen a deep ruby red velvet dress with a sweetheart neckline, your hair was artfully pinned up and you had added a sparkling necklace and earrings.

The music played, the tables were laden with food and drink and Cornelius was thoroughly enjoying himself as the centre of attention. The courtiers whirled around the room in spirited waltzes and you watched as Caspian danced with girl after girl after girl. Everyone apart from you, in fact. You had a sick sinking feeling in your stomach - it looked like you’d got it all wrong, he obviously didn’t have any feelings for you at all. You blinked fiercely as you felt your eyes fill up. Well, your mother always said pride comes before a fall, and you supposed that you’d been prideful in thinking that he felt something special for you.

Taking a large drink of your wine, you considered leaving the banquet. What use was there in staying? Just to watch Caspian dancing with all the other women, while you - a sorrowful heap of jealousy - sat in the corner by yourself? No, that was not going to be you, you thought.

Standing, you smoothed your dress and started to move out from behind the table, only for Cornelius to lightly grip your wrist. “You’re surely not going already?” he questioned you. You nodded, “Yes, my lord. I.. I have a headache and should retire to my chamber, I think.” He did not let go of you, “Oh, my lady, can’t I persuade you to stay just a little longer? It is my birthday after all!” he smiled mischievously at you. Oh, he had to make you feel guilty, didn’t he? You sighed, “Very well, my lord, just for a very short time though.” He refilled your wine cup, “Have some more wine,” he encouraged you, “I’ve heard it’s very efficacious in treating headaches!”

Laughing, you sat down and took the goblet from him. “Indeed? I confess I haven’t heard that said of wine, my lord.” Nodding vigorously, he replied, “Oh, yes - I am sure I read that recently somewhere - in a medical book or suchlike.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure approaching you, one of the Kingsguard. Before you turned to look fully at him, you saw a look of annoyance flit over Cornelius’ face, before his usual small smile returned.

“May I have the pleasure of the next dance, my lady?” asked the handsome soldier, whose name you didn’t know. You nodded and stood, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to lead you onto the dance floor. The orchestra finished playing the previous waltz, and prepared to play the next one.

Caspian’s dark eyes met yours as he straightened up from bowing to his partner. Something flashed in them and you looked away, up at your own partner. Wasn’t he happy to see you dancing with someone? Well, that was a shame, you thought - he can just have a taste of his own medicine! The music began and you and the soldier began to dance, thankfully neither of you treading on each other’s toes. You saw that Caspian was dancing with yet another lady. Hmmm, not so bothered then, you thought somewhat bitterly.

Throughout the dance, however, any time you looked towards Caspian his eyes were on you. Continuing to look away, you’d wait a few moments and look again. Yes - still looking. Now you were confused, if he didn’t care, why was he staring? Maybe it was just a ‘big brother’ kind of thing. The dance came to an end and you and your partner bowed to each other, and as you stood straight again you realised with a start that Caspian was standing slightly to the right of your soldier, gazing at you.

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Caspian’s heart had jolted in his chest when he saw her take the floor with one of his Kingsguard. Jealousy raged through his veins. She was only supposed to dance with him! He continued staring over at them as the dance progressed, barely looking at his own new partner, and as soon as the dance finished he quickly bowed, mumbled a thank you and hurried over to her and the soldier.

The soldier bowed his head to his King and took himself off at speed. Caspian was still looking at her, and eventually she cleared her throat and said, “Good evening, your Majesty,” bowed her head slightly and also started to leave the dance floor. “No!” he exclaimed, and her eyes met his again, a confused look in them. “I mean… don’t go, I was about to ask you to dance.” She gave him a small smile, “And are you asking me, your Majesty?” Now it was his turn to look confused, “Why, yes… I am,” he replied and extended his hand towards her.

Taking it, she followed him to a more central area of the dance floor and as they reached it he swung around, pulling her close against him and drinking in her scent. He heard her give a small gasp and realised what he’d done - the waltz the orchestra was playing required a side by side promenade at arms’ length for a few steps before traditional waltzing then took over. Hastily, he released her and they performed their promenade steps, before he was able to take her into his arms once more.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he breathed next to her ear, “I was overwhelmed when I saw you arrive.” She laughed, not meeting his eyes, “Really, your Majesty? I didn’t think you were even aware I was here.” “What?” he said, totally confused, “Of course I knew you were here!” She still wouldn’t meet his eyes as they moved around the dance floor. “Well, it’s just that you were so busy with all your dance partners I didn’t think that you were, your Majesty.”

Caspian felt like a thunderbolt had hit him. Of course! What a damn fool he was. He’d been so busy trying to distract himself from mooning over her, that it hadn’t dawned on him what it might look like to her - that he was totally ignoring her. He’d noticed that she’d gone back to calling him ‘your Majesty’. He desperately thought of how he could explain this without giving himself away. “Oh… no, no… I’m, I’m always aware of… of where you are,” he said then winced as he realised how lame that sounded. “I thought I would save the last dance for you,” he added, hoping this would redeem him somewhat.

She finally looked at him, a slightly reproachful look in her eyes but she didn’t speak. “I’m so sorry if it looked like I was ignoring you,” he said in a rush, “I just didn’t want to seem too eager.” She laughed but he could tell there wasn’t a lot of humour in it, “Don’t worry, your Majesty, that definitely wasn’t the impression you gave.”

Caspian was panicking. How could he be so stupid? Now she was upset with him, and he only wanted her more than ever - she looked stunning in her ruby red gown. He held her even closer to him and decided to stop talking, maybe he could just show her how he felt by holding her close. He saw her eyes widen and realised that had been a mistake too. There was no doubt that she’d felt his rampant erection, even through the heavy fabric of her dress.

He made a sudden decision and danced her rapidly across the floor back to the table, hastily sitting down and tugging her into the seat next to him. He pulled his tunic down as far as he could over the bulge in his lap and leant forward slightly, embarrassed and running his hands over his face. “Are you alright, my King?” she questioned him. He looked sidelong at her, “I think you know exactly what’s wrong with me.” Then in an even quieter voice, “The same as in the orchard that time.”

He saw a blush start to rise over her face. So she did remember it.

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Oh! you thought, your mind racing back to that encounter in the gathering dusk. You had thought about it frequently over the years with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. You knew you’d been quite forward in your curiosity, and often wondered if Caspian ever thought about it too. And now it seemed that he had. With a frisson of jealousy, you’d also wondered what other sexual experiences he’d had since.

“I… we said we’d never talk about that, Caspian.” While dancing and when he’d pulled you closer to him, you’d felt that hard length of his against your stomach and knew exactly what it meant. But now here he was, bringing up the subject himself.

“We said we’d never speak of it to other people,” he corrected you, gazing into your eyes, “but maybe we need to discuss it further between ourselves. Come, let us leave the banquet for a while so we can speak in private.” He stood up and held out his hand so you also stood, taking it and following him as he led you out of the banqueting hall, aware of the many envious glances from the other women as you left with the King.

They could think what they liked, you thought. They will know you were childhood friends, although you’d made a point of never telling that to any of them. Castle gossip will have ensured that they all knew about it in any case.

Caspian led you upstairs to one of the empty salons and outside onto the large balconied terrace which was attached to it. He knew his castle well, you thought. Due to its position in one of the towers it wasn’t overlooked by any other window or balcony, and the size of the large terrace prevented anyone from seeing anything if they looked up from the grounds.

He came to a halt and turned towards you, his eyes blazing with something - you weren’t sure what - as he looked into yours, “I…I want,” he faltered, “I need…!”

You opened your mouth to ask him what he wanted and needed but before you could speak, he pushed you up against the terrace wall, you felt his mouth on yours and he was kissing you passionately. You realised he was also raising your dress and felt the fabric creep past your knee and then halfway up your leg.

Looking down you saw that Caspian had unlaced his breeches, just as you felt his fingers brush past your undergarments. Because unlike last time, it was he who had hold of his manhood and before you fully realised what he was doing, he’d slid his erection inside you and continued to push until he was fully sheathed. You were gasping and his dark brown eyes looked more like deepest black as he stared into yours, before he lowered his head onto your shoulder, groaning and whispering your name.

“Caspian!” you eventually managed to breathe, “what are you doing?!”

“What you wanted me to do that night in the orchard,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice rough.

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Caspian gripped her hips through the dress fabric and began to thrust up into her. She’d wanted him to do this to her those few years ago, right? She’d told him he was a coward because he’d pulled out. So now he was only taking what he could’ve had under the pear trees that evening, wasn’t he?

He heard her voice, through her gasps, “We were children, Caspian, who didn’t know any better. Now we do. What if you get me pregnant?” Caspian stopped thrusting, she needed to hear the truth.

“I don’t care! I’ve wanted you every second of every day since!” his voice broke, “Don’t you realise I’ve always been in love with you?!” He leaned his head back slightly and looked into her eyes, “Tell me you don’t want me to do this and I’ll stop.” She hesitated and he immediately began thrusting again, kissing her and pulling her closer to him. Eventually he felt her fists pummelling his chest, “Caspian! Please! I can’t get pregnant.”

He stopped with a heavy sigh, resting his forehead on hers for a moment before straightening up and pulling out of her. Taking his dick in his hand he turned away from her, frantically rubbing and squeezing his length before finishing quickly, bending over slightly and catching his seed in the palm of his other hand.

Turning back towards her, he found he was looking at empty space. She was gone.

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You ran as fast as your fancy dancing shoes would let you to your chamber. Throwing yourself headlong onto your bed and beginning to sob, you wondered how on earth you’d got yourself into this stupid situation. Because you teased him! your brain yelled back at you, it’s all your fault and you know it! Caspian is such a polite, shy, well-behaved boy and look what you made him do!

Eventually your tears stopped flowing and you wearily got up from the bed, struggling a little to unlace your dress at the back but eventually managing it. You’d had to learn how to do that as you didn’t have a lady’s maid, unlike at home. Having washed your face, taken down your hair and changed into your nightdress, you had just lain back down in bed and pulled the quilt over your head when you heard a single knock at your door.

You knew it was Caspian, that one knock had been a special signal between the two of you since you were children. Knowing in your heart that you shouldn’t answer it, you nevertheless got up and opened the door.

It looked as if Caspian had also been crying, his dark eyes were as wide as saucers. “I need to explain.”

You nodded and stood back, allowing him to come into your chamber.

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He locked the door behind him, he didn’t want any interruptions during the discussion he was about to have. She’d walked back to her bed and sat on the edge of it, looking down into her lap. He followed her over there, also perching on the bed next to her.

He drew in a deep breath then said in a low voice, “I’m truly sorry for what I did earlier.” He looked down, “You looked so beautiful but you danced with him, you were in his arms and I was so very jealous! I wanted you so much. But what I did was unforgivable.” He heard her exhale then she said, “I have to say, it’s not how I imagined losing my virginity, Caspian.” His head flew up, “But that… we… didn’t that happen when we…?” She shook her head, blushing, “No, not properly. You didn’t get far enough inside that time,” and looked up at him, “but you did this time.”

Now he felt himself blushing. “Oh! I always thought I lost my virginity to you that evening,” he said, “And you? That means you haven’t been with anyone else?” He held his breath and then she shook her head, her eyes downcast again. He felt an immense sense of relief, blowing out a big breath of air. There was a short silence and then he heard, “Caspian?” He looked over at her, “Yes?” “How many women have you been with since then?”

He leapt up off the bed, drawing himself up to his full height, “None!” he shouted, then as he saw her jump, lowered his voice, “I have been with no woman except you.” Suddenly he knelt in front of her, and he met her intent gaze, “I’ve never wanted anyone else apart from you.” He noticed her eyes welling up, and a few tears slid down her cheeks. He reached up and gently wiped them away, “Why are you crying, my darling?” he asked, “Doesn’t that please you?” She managed a feeble smile, “I’m crying because I am pleased to hear that, yes.”

Caspian’s brain hurt a little as he heard this; he wondered if he’d ever understand women. He decided the wisest course of action would be to remain silent and just smiled back at her, nodding as if he fully understood. She sniffled a little and then said more boldly, “Caspian, when you were… you know… earlier, you said you’d always been in love with me.”

His mind rapidly rewound to when he’d been trying to make love to her, had he said that?! He really didn’t recall - his mind had been on other things! - but as it was the truth in any case, he nodded. He took hold of her hand, “Yes, it’s the truth. I’ve loved you since I met you.” “But we were just children.” “It doesn’t matter. You’re my soulmate, I’ve always known that. It was truly awful when I had to flee the castle as I knew I wouldn’t see you - maybe ever again - but I had no choice, and I just had to try and put you out of my mind until Narnia was safe.”

He got up and sat next to her on the bed again. “It was really difficult. Just recently, everything was starting to return to normal and I was about to try and find you, when you arrived here as Cornelius’ assistant. It seemed fated that we should be together. But you kept on saying how I was your dear friend and.. and my heart broke. I was sure that’s all you felt for me - friendship.”

She shook her head, “No, Caspian. I don’t think I realised it until I came to the castle and saw you again, but I think I’ve always loved you too.”

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Caspian’s face had the hugest grin on it as you finished speaking. “Really? You love me?” You nodded, “Yes, I do.” Suddenly he was back down on one knee, “Then please - make me the happiest man in Narnia and marry me!” You must have looked like an idiot with your mouth forming a large O, but eventually you managed to say “Yes!” Then he had jumped up, pulling you off the bed and wrapping his arms around you, whirling you round while you squealed and he kissed you.

After the two of you had calmed down somewhat, he left to go back to his own chambers as even although you were now betrothed, it wouldn’t be seemly for him to spend the night with you, even if you just slept in the same bed. He promised that he would have a ring for you by the next day and while you’d assured him there was no rush, he’d insisted that he wanted a betrothal ring on your finger as soon as possible.

You lay awake most of the night, too excited to sleep. It seemed incredible but all of your most precious dreams had come true.

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The next morning, Cornelius had appeared in front of your desk as usual and throwing aside his usual decorous manner, had hugged you. “I am so pleased to hear your news!” he declared. “I’ve never seen Caspian so happy. He was bouncing around like an over-excited rabbit this morning,” he chuckled, taking your hand and squeezing it while you laughed at his description of Caspian’s reaction. “I know the two of you will be so happy together,” he continued, “Now! We must start planning the wedding!”

When Caspian came to your study later that afternoon, he led you out from behind your desk, went down on one knee and proposed to you once again. This time, he produced a small jewellery box from his tunic pocket and opened it, showing you a ring with a large pear-shaped diamond as the centrepiece. It was beautiful and as Caspian slipped it onto your finger, he whispered, “To always remind you of the pear trees in the orchard,” with a small mischievous grin at you.

“How did you get the ring so quickly?” you asked him, as you were amazed that he’d managed to find such a beautiful, perfect ring in the space of one morning. He’d winked at you, “I have my contacts, that’s all I’m going to say.” You never did find out for sure, but there was one diamond merchant in the town nearest to Cair Paravel who had similar gems and you thought it might be from there.

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One thing you did know for sure, the other ladies of the court’s eyes were out on stalks as they glimpsed your new ring when you joined them for dinner that evening. Every single one of them was praying you were going to tell them to whom you were now betrothed and eventually - when you had still said nothing and dinner was nearly over - one of them could keep quiet no longer.

“My lady… umm, I cannot help but notice your beautiful ring!” You dipped your head, “Why thank you, my lady,” you replied. She smirked at you, “But you are not willing to share the name of your betrothed with us?” You shook your head, a faux-regretful look on your face, “I cannot as yet, my lady. My betrothed has to be the one to announce it,” you went on, with a small shrug. Of course, this just meant that their curiosity ate them up even more.

But Caspian had advised you that he had to firstly tell the Grand Council, then your parents, the courtiers and the people of Narnia in that order - that was the accepted, traditional procedure and that was that. So you had to keep quiet, although in truth you were literally bursting to tell everyone!

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

When the news was finally announced, everyone showered congratulations onto you and Caspian. Although you did get the feeling that the other ladies of the court gave their best wishes through gritted teeth and with fake smiles. You knew that they were secretly devastated as you’d won the prize they had been trying to win, and you felt slightly sorry for them as you knew you’d have felt the same if Caspian had asked one of them to marry him.

In the meantime, Cornelius - much to your surprise - had indeed become almost your sole wedding planner, and very good at it he was too! He’d already arranged just about everything. In fact the only thing you had left to worry about choosing was your dress.

Caspian was getting nervous about the actual ceremony; he was worried he was going to forget his vows when he tried to say them to you. You had just told him, “Make them up! As long as you mean them, it doesn’t matter what you actually say.” He’d laughed, pulling you into his arms and kissing you hungrily, but then the two of you had to spring apart as two female courtiers appeared round the corner without warning. You’d all nodded to each other; they pretended they hadn’t seen you and Caspian kissing, and you two pretended you hadn’t been caught.

Until you were married this was frowned on in public, in what you considered to be one of various out-dated court traditions. You’d be shaking up some things once you were Queen, you smiled to yourself.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Caspian was super-excited on his wedding day. He was nervous, yes - but it was a good nervous. Apart from the fact that in a few moments he’d be joined together for all eternity to the woman of his dreams, tonight, their wedding night, they would finally - finally - be able to make love properly. He couldn’t wait.

Their first two attempts hadn’t exactly been stellar successes - and of course, they shouldn’t even have been trying the first time around! - but he just knew that it would be third time lucky. No guilty childish fumblings, no adult angry/jealous sex… it would be just the two of them, lying in amongst the crisp cotton sheets and deep quilts of their marital bed. No prying eyes, no interruptions, no rush - it would be just heavenly. He already felt a little thrill of arousal.

He heard the musicians begin to play the joyful wedding music and he turned to see his beautiful bride - in a gorgeous white dress and holding a bouquet of delicate white flowers - bathed in sunlight and standing in the entranceway. Would he ever feel as happy as this again, he wondered? He didn’t think he would.

She paused for a few seconds and then began to walk gracefully across the Great Hall towards him. Approaching him, through her veil she met his gaze and gave him a dazzling smile.

His smile in return was even brighter and totally blissful.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@paracosmenthusiast @jessevans

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,324 Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is Part 6 of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Daryl worries about Y/N after the traumatic incident outside the wall.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl didn’t see you that whole day after he had talked with Rick, or the next morning so he decided to pay you a visit and make sure you were okay. He wiped his hands on the rag he always kept in his back pocket and put away the tools he had been using to work on his bike. Just as he was getting ready to leave, Aaron stepped out into the garage and Daryl greeted him with a nod.

“Done for the day?”

Daryl shrugged. “For now at least.” He thoughtfully chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “Hey, uhh, ya seen Y/N since that night we got back?”

Aaron’s face fell a bit but he nodded. “I stopped by her place yesterday.”

Daryl leaned back against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. “How’d she seem?”

Aaron shrugged and sighed heavily. “She seemed… okay. I don’t think she’s been sleeping,” he said a little hesitantly. He shook his head, frowning. “The bruising on her neck… it’s bad. Thank God you were there.”

Daryl’s stomach flipped at the thought. “Ya… Well, the whole thing was bad. Those people? Seemed like—” he hesitated to say what was on his mind, to confide in Aaron, but he also felt like it was eating him alive. Maybe if he spoke it, he would feel less consumed by it. “It seemed like they knew her.”

Aaron’s brow drew down low over his eyes. “Hmm. What do you mean?”

“I heard ‘em say she was comin’ ‘back where she belongs.’ And more than that—if they had wanted to kill her, she’d be dead. They both had guns and knives on ‘em. But they didn’t. They were tryin’ ta take her.”

The shadow on Aaron’s face deepened and he rubbed a hand thoughtfully over his chin and mouth. “Well, I don’t think I need to tell you that the intentions of some men out there in this world are even more emboldened now,” he said with disgust.

“Yeah… But ain’t the first time neither. That night I stitched up that gash in her arm she said the same thing. She said ‘if they had wanted to kill me, I’d be dead.’”

Aaron gulped and shook his head. “I don’t know what—I just—I don’t know,” he said vaguely. “She hasn’t told me much about before.”

Daryl turned back to the table and fiddled with some of the parts. “Seems like she’s got a target painted on her. Maybe she shouldn’t be out,” he thought aloud.

Aaron shook his head. “Yeah, well that will never happen. Trying to keep her inside Alexandria is like trying to hold water in your hands. We’d probably have to lock her up.” He sighed heavily again and rested his hands on his hips. “Whatever is out there, whatever her past is… she knows the risks of going out. There isn’t going to be any convincing her to stay inside.”

Daryl nodded and chewed the side of his thumbnail. “Ya…”

Aaron let out a wry laugh. “I mean, can you imagine if someone told you that you needed to stay inside?”

One corner of Daryl’s mouth twitched upwards. “Ya. I know. Ain’t happenin’.” Daryl sighed. “Well, I guess the only thing for it is to try to convince her not to go alone.”

Aaron smiled at the archer. “Sounds reasonable. Know anyone for the job?” he joked. Daryl shot him a look and Aaron laughed and held his hands up. “See you later, Daryl.”

Daryl hummed an acknowledgement, set down the part he’d been anxiously fiddling with, and headed out of the garage in the direction of your house.

He felt a bit nervous as he climbed the stairs on your front porch, noticing how clammy his palms suddenly felt, and when first he knocked there was a long silence. He wondered if you were going to answer the door at all and a distinct worry seized him—that you really weren’t okay. But, finally, he could hear some soft footsteps approaching the other side of the door and then it opened a crack.

You peeked out hesitantly but as soon as you saw it was Daryl you opened the door wide. “Daryl. Hi.”

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “Hey.”

Aaron was right. You looked exhausted. There were dark circles under your eyes and your shoulders were somewhat slumped.

You continued to peer at him, waiting for some explanation for why he was standing there at your door.

“I, uhh—I hadn’t seen ya since we got back. Just wanted to see if ya needed anything. Ya know, and see how you’re healin’ up.”

“Oh. That’s—you want to come in?” you offered stepping back to make way for his broad-shouldered frame.

“Thanks,” Daryl murmured as he crossed the threshold. You shut the door behind him and he followed you up the hall and into the kitchen. He could see a pillow and blanket laid out on the couch in the living room. It looked like you’d been camping out there. He gave you a questioning glance. “So, how ya feelin’?” Daryl’s eyes found the dark bruising around your neck.

“I’m fine. Thanks,” you said a little quietly.

He considered you thoughtfully for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Ya sure?”

You sighed heavily and pressed a hand to your forehead. “Yeah. I just—haven’t slept really,” you admitted.

Daryl nodded, looking again at the makeshift bed in your living room. “Ya camping out down here?”

You followed him as he trailed over to peer at the blankets spilling off the couch and onto the floor. “Uhh… sort of. I thought maybe a change of scenery would help.” And you had the thought that if you were on the ground floor, you’d hear someone trying to break into your house…

“Did it?” he asked, his blue eyes finding yours.

“Not really.”

The archer’s brow drew down, veiling his eyes in shadow, and he let out a hum of acknowledgement. “Ya know if having other people around would help, ya could—” he cleared his throat again, his heart racing, “ya could come stay over at our place. We’ve got a full house. Ya know, if—if it’d feel safer. Ya could take my bed. It’s in the basement away from everybody.” He watched your eyelashes flutter as you looked up at him in surprise.

“Oh. I can’t—that—that’s okay,” you said, averting your eyes back down toward your feet.

Daryl’s heart was pounding as he offered up his second idea, nervously rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, I—I could stay over here. Just to, ya know, keep an eye on things. If it’d help.” Your eyes lifted back up to his face again and there was that vulnerability in your eyes again that always surprised him. He watched as your lips parted slightly as you prepared to speak.

“I can’t—I can’t ask you to do that,” you said softly, quickly averting your eyes from the sudden softness in his and fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

“Ya ain’t askin’. I offered,” he said. “If ya think it’d help ya get some sleep. You’re healin’ up. Ya need it.”

You glanced up at him again, now your expression was somewhat guarded as you took him in. You gulped at the nervous lump in your throat. “They aren’t gonna miss you over there?” you asked hesitantly.

“Nah,” he said.

You watched him for a long moment, considering his offer, but at length you nodded, remembering how well you had slept with him nearby even outside of Alexandria’s walls. Since you’d gotten back the nightmares had returned and gotten worse, likely a result of your latest encounter. “Okay. If—if you don’t mind.”

Daryl’s heart fluttered at the grateful look you gave him, your eyes fixed on him and only him. He nodded. “I dun mind.” He nudged his nose up at you twice in a nod. “I’ll come by later.” You watched as he stalked into the kitchen and went over to the refrigerator.

“What are you doing?” You watched him pull it open and look inside before glancing back over his shoulder at you.

He closed the door pointedly. “Just what I thought. Ain’t got no damn food in here either. Ya been eatin’?”

You gulped and shrugged vaguely.

“Ya, uh huh. I’ll bring somethin’ later. Ya need to eat,” he rumbled. He started to stride quickly to the front door and you trailed a little behind him. He stopped on the threshold and looked back at you. There was that softness in his eyes again that always made your heart jump. “I’ll be back later, alright?”

You avoided his eyes, feeling suddenly silly and ashamed of what you were asking him to do, that you needed someone else when you tried so hard not to need anyone or anything. His deep voice, rough with gravel called your eyes back to his.

“Hey. It ain’t no big deal. Alright?” he said, trying to reassure you, reading the shame on your face as clearly as if the word had been tattooed on your forehead.

You nodded a little, giving in to his reassurance. “Okay.”

“’Kay,” he agreed. You watched him cross the porch and go down your stairs, headed back home. That’s what he had. A home. It hit you that all you really had was an empty house and your heart ached. It was the price you paid for trying to keep almost everyone at arm’s length. You sighed heavily and shut the door.

Several hours later, there was another knock on the front door. You got up from your spot on the couch, still carrying your book and went to the door. Daryl was standing there with his crossbow slung over his shoulder and a small container in his hands. Night had fallen outside and the porchlights illuminated the strong angles of his jaw. You felt a flush in your cheeks and hoped he couldn’t see it.

You stepped back and gestured for him to come in.

“Brought ya some stew. Venison. We’ve still got a bunch of it,” he said, heading immediately for the kitchen and starting to open cabinets, looking for a pot to dump it in so he could heat it up. “And you’re eatin’ some of this now.” He paused and looked up at you over the counter. “When is the last time ya ate?”

“Uhh…”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at you. “Too damn long, then.” He resumed his searching and eventually succeeded. He set it on the stove to heat up. You sank down onto one of the kitchen stools at the island, watching him as he stirred the hearty meal. Daryl turned around and took in your expression from across the kitchen, slinging his crossbow off his shoulder and letting it hang at his side.

“Whatcha readin’?” he asked.

Your eyes shot up at the sound of his voice. “Oh, uhh… it’s just this classic novel. The Brothers Karamazov.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “The what?”

You actually smiled at him, your whole face lighting up. Daryl felt his heart flutter and he was relieved to see that some of the weight that seemed to be on you was lifted, even if just for a moment. “Yeah, it’s a mouthful,” you said. “I’ve got this thing for the great Russian writers so…”

“Russian, huh? What’s so special about ‘em?”

“They just—I don’t know. They write these beautiful, insane, touching, tragic stories. I just—” you shrugged. “The writing is incredible, even in translation.” You paused thoughtfully and Daryl felt a warmth in his chest as you looked down at the novel in your hand and smoothed your hand over the cover, staring at it like it was something precious. “And I suppose now, since the world changed, the tragedy in the stories is even more relatable,” you said softly.

Daryl felt a pang in his heart at your words. Your eyes flitted back up to meet his and he felt a spark of electricity jump up his spine.

Daryl rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and hoisted his crossbow up onto the counter, using it as an excuse to break eye contact with you as he felt suddenly terrified of the magnetic pull he was feeling.

“What’d you tell everybody?” you asked quietly.

Daryl didn’t look up from the bolt he was examining closely. “Didn’t tell ‘em nothin’.”

“Won’t they worry about where you are?”

He shrugged. “Nah. S’fine.” He quickly turned back to the stew on the stove which now had curls of steam rising from the surface of it. He pulled open some more cabinets until he found a bowl and quickly poured stew from the pan into it before setting it in front of you. He opened drawers until he found a spoon, which he slid over to you with a metallic clinking against the granite of the countertop. You were giving him a queer look. “What?”

You shook your head, one corner of your mouth twitching up. “Nothing.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes narrowed. “Eat,” he drawled.

The corners of your eyes crinkled in a smile. “You’re awfully bossy today,” you joked, picking up the spoon. You stared down into the stew, not feeling the least bit hungry despite not eating anything all day.

He let out a scoff and leaned on his forearms on the counter, his curtain of brown hair falling forward around his face. “I’m bossy when someone needs bossin’,” he quipped.

You took a bite of the stew, holding the spoon a bit awkwardly with the brace on your wrist, and chewed it slowly. Daryl watched you carefully. The smile on your face had disappeared again and he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to the bruises on your neck. He felt a renewed flush of hot anger every time. He sighed and straightened up, picking up his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder in a well-practiced habit.

“How’re your ribs feelin’?” he drawled.

You dipped your spoon back into the bowl of stew and shrugged. “Fine. Really, I’m fine.”

Daryl nodded, but you could tell he was a little skeptical. He moved around the counter and into the living room, sinking into a chair and kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table. You dutifully sat and ate your stew until it was gone before going to join him with your book. You pushed the blankets on the couch out of the way and allowed yourself to watch the nimble workings of his strong fingers as he fiddled with his bow and the narrowing of his blue eyes in concentration. Your heart increased its pace. Finally, you broke the silence again. “Thanks for doing this,” you said. You hadn’t meant for it to come out in a whisper but it had, the tightness in your throat from shame and nerves strangling your voice a little.

The workings of Daryl’s fingers ceased for a moment and he looked like he was frozen, turned to stone. “I dun mind,” he finally said. His blue eyes lifted and met yours and briefly he thought he saw some glistening light there, but in a moment he had blinked and it was gone. You were simply pulling the blanket over your lap and running your fingers along the spine of your book. Daryl pulled out a sharpening stone and went about carefully sharpening some of his bolts. You settled back against the couch and opened your book, curled up beneath the blanket. It was strange how usual, how comfortable this felt. Each passing moment of silence, each murmur to one another, each question and response all felt so easy, and that was something Daryl kept turning over and over in his mind. He wasn’t used to that. He wasn’t used to feeling so at home around another person and it was becoming a habit with you. The thought made him bounce his knee nervously.

Daryl wasn’t sure when, but at some point as he sat across from you sharpening his bolts you had drifted off to sleep. Your book was still open but had dropped down onto your chest, your left hand resting on it. Your breathing was slow and deep and Daryl felt a wave of warmth and gladness wash over him that you were actually asleep. And he wondered at the fact that not only were your comfortable enough with him around to fall asleep, but he was what enabled you to when you otherwise couldn’t. Did you think of him as safety? God, he hoped so… He was puzzling over this, smoothing his thumb across his lower lip as he took in your soft expression and the way your hair was falling around your face.

He felt his heart speed up as his eyes traced the gentle pout of your mouth and the slope of your nose in profile. He rubbed a hand at the warm and achy feeling in his chest that was becoming common, annoyed at how his mind was running away on him...

The archer stood and silently crossed the room to you. He grasped one corner of your open book and slipped it gently from your hands, setting it on the coffee table. He pulled the blanket up over you before retreating back to his chair and his bow.

You awoke as the sun was coming up, lighting the living room slowly, drenching everything in warm light. You blinked a few times, getting your bearings, and then gingerly pulled yourself up into a sitting position. Your eyes landed on the archer, asleep in his chair with his head cocked to one side, his bow leaning up against the armrest next to him. He must have heard you stirring because he was awake the next instant, taking in a deep breath and straightening. His eyes meeting yours. “Hey.” The gravel in his voice was thick, heavy with sleep still.

“Hey,” you replied. Daryl was relieved to see how much brighter your eyes looked. The dark circles beneath them were also diminished.

“I didn’t—I slept,” you said with gentle surprise.

He nodded. “Ya. Ya were exhausted. Ya fell asleep early. Ya needed it,” he said, grabbing his crossbow and pulling it onto his lap, his heart rushing at the sight of your somewhat tousled hair and the rosy glow in your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He nodded and stood, throwing his bow over his shoulder again. “S’nothin’. Glad ya got some sleep.”

You pulled yourself up, subconsciously wrapping an arm around your ribs as they panged with the movement. Daryl was already heading through the kitchen and toward the front door. He stopped and his blue eyes fixed on your face. “Ya know, I get ‘em too sometimes,” he said quietly.

You heart raced. Had he guessed why you weren’t sleeping so easily? “What?”

“Nightmares,” he said. “About the people we’ve lost. About losing more.”

You gulped at the tightness in your throat and nodded. “Yeah…”

“I’ll see ya later, Y/N,” he drawled. He pointed at you sharply. “Eat some more of that damn stew.”

You smiled at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling. “You got it.”

[aot-brainrot]

Spartacus ~ Hotchniss x Reader

Written By: @desperately-bisexual​

Request: None.

Warnings: Dom/sub relationships, Sir kink, Mistress kink, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), restraints (handcuffs), edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, degradation, mild choking, minimal in-chapter aftercare, though it is alluded to happening afterwards. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, the team refers to them as female when saying “good girl”, “princess”, etc.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy) x Emily Prentiss. (polyamorous triad).

Criminal Minds Discord Server

Aaron had been tense all week. Between work, wrangling Jack, and then still having to find the time and energy to show some attention to me and Emily, it was completely wearing him out. On Friday night, when they had come home from work, I offered to make dinner for us while they went to shower and change into comfortable clothes. After dinner, Emily took Jack up to bed and tucked him in for the night, meanwhile, I sent Hotch up to bed. I didn’t want either of them to have to put any work into anything this weekend— especially Hotch. He deserved a break. I mean, we all did, but he did the most out of the three of us, and I could tell that it was really getting to him. So, my plan was to keep them in bed, or at least the house, for as long as I could. It started with making sure that he went upstairs while I cleaned the dishes and the kitchen.

As I was finishing up, I heard Emily coming down the stairs. I turned, my hands covered in soapy water, pointing back to the stairs, insisting that she let me do this on my own. For once, I just wanted to do something for them and not have one of them argue about it or pull the Dom card in order to make sure I wasn’t alone. Just this once. I wanted to make this weekend about them. That wasn’t too much to ask, right? Yeah, well, Emily didn’t seem to get the memo, because even though I practically ordered her to go back upstairs, she only grinned and then joined me at the sink. She didn’t help me, to be fair. She wrapped her arms around me, rested her chin on my shoulder, and she started nibbling on my earlobe as she watched me wash all of the dishes one by one.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too.”

Her hands started wandering, making me tense up and freeze. “Don’t stop.” So, that was how it was going to be. I finally got around to doing chores, and her game was to distract me. What would Aaron say? Truth be told, he’d be proud of me, however, he would scold Emily for getting me worked up on purpose so that I would abandon the task of cleaning up the kitchen. “The sooner you finish, the sooner we can go upstairs.”

“We can���t tonight. He’s tired.”

“No, he’s just stressed. But you know what helps with stress…” Her hand made its way between my thighs, her palm pressing against my clit until I let out a gasp. “I said, don’t stop.” I started washing the dishes faster. “Good girl.” She put her fingers over my clothed clit now in order to add more stimulation, but still not enough to get me anywhere close to the edge. It was barely enough to just tell me that I needed her. “I think I might know a way to make Sir relax… Do you want to know my idea?” I nodded. “Answer me.” Her other hand grabbed my cheeks roughly.

“Yes, Mistress.”

She released my face. “I think that if we teamed up against him, he wouldn’t be able to stop us from finally topping him. I’ve always wanted to, but he’s too damn stubborn about it. But together…” She chuckled wickedly in my ear. “He’d be our little mess.”

I whined slightly in response to her words. I could just picture Aaron writhing underneath us as we pinned and fucked him. Fuck. “He wouldn’t like that.”

“No?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Why not?”

“Because I would be breaking about a thousand rules.”

“Not if we both take the heat for it.” Her fingers pressed harder. “It’s like Spartacus. He can’t punish the both of us.”

Jack’s plastic cup clattered in the sink when I dropped it in order to grab onto the counter and hunch forward. “Fuck.”

“Does that feel too good, baby?” she teased, pulling her hand away from me. I rolled my hips back against her, a silent plea for more, but she didn’t give in. “What do you think about my idea?”

I was literally too fucked to think about anything. Up, down, left, right— none of it mattered until I felt her touch again. If it meant giving into her terrible plan that would only end up with both of us getting punished— something she was sure wouldn’t happen— I would do it just to encourage her to put her hands on me. So, I nodded. “I like it, Mistress.” I left the rest of the dishes for the morning. I turned to face her. “As long as we really do it together. No giving into whatever he says or does.”

Emily grinned. “That’s it, baby girl.” She held my face steady with her index finger and thumb on my chin so that she could kiss me roughly. When I started leaning into her, kissing her back with even more eagerness and excitement, she pulled away. “Come on.” She grabbed my hand before leading me through the house. “Play it smooth. Get into bed with him and try cuddling close enough so that you can grab his hands when I give the signal.”

“What’s the signal?”

“When I come out of the bathroom, I’ll lean over to kiss him, which will distract him. That’s the signal. Just pin his hands and I’ll do the rest.” We approached the second floor of the house. I stopped, tugging at her hand slightly to warn her that I wasn’t taking another step yet. “What is it?” she asked, worried.

I searched her eyes. “I just really fucking love you.”

Her smile returned. “I love you, too.”

With that out of the way, Emily continued to lead me, walking us down the hallway and to our bedroom. As we walked in, she released my hand so that she could go to the bathroom and I could close the door. Aaron was reading a book on our bed. I thought he would have been trying to fall asleep already considering I thought he was exhausted, but Emily told me that she didn’t think he was tired at all, and this was proving it. My hope was that he was still somewhat tired. If he was off his game enough, it would make my job of pinning him down only that much easier. If I failed to do the one thing Emily had tasked me with, this whole mutiny thing was going to come back to bite us in the ass, which I really didn’t need when the whole point was to help Aaron relax for a bit. Losing control did that. The best part about being submissive was that I could just turn off my mind and leave everything up to Emily and Aaron. While Emily was a switch between being a Dom for me and a submissive to Aaron, he was strictly a Dominant, which probably took a toll on him. Considering the week he had, he probably just needed to turn off his mind. I knew all too well what that felt like.

I crawled into bed with him. He released the book with one hand so that he could drape it around me when he realized that I was going to cuddle against his side and under his arm. He was wearing his pajamas now. The soft touch of his navy blue sleep shirt rubbed against my cheek as I laid down and nuzzled against him, feeling how warm and tense he was. He rested his hand on my hip. As I laid there, my chest pressed against his side, the two of us tangled in each other’s arms, I debated how I was going to handle grabbing his hands. He was hardly sitting up, enough room between his head and the headboard for me to hold his wrists above him; but the real question was how the fuck was I going to get them there? His hands were on me and his book, which meant that I was going to have to contort in some ridiculous way in order to grab both of them while gaining the upper hand to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to escape.

And then I heard the bathroom door open. Well, it was now or never. I craned my neck slightly to get a look at Emily who was walking out of the bathroom, now dressed in only her lingerie, and her hair had been teased a bit. I suddenly understood just how far she was going to make sure that Aaron would be distracted enough to make catching him off guard easy, and also that she wanted to make it very clear to him that even though I was in on this little plan of hers, she would be the one to take all of the blame for this if he ever decided to punish us for this.

“What’s that for?” Aaron asked, peeking up at her through his lashes.

Emily shrugged nonchalantly as she made her way towards the bed, and then crawled on until she was straddling his thighs. “It got too hot.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure.”

I started running my hands over his chest. I could feel his abs flexing in response to the sensitive and unexpected touch. Emily looked at me briefly. “Aren’t you hot, baby?” she pouted, leaning forward to kiss him. He set his book to the side. Just as she dodged his lips at the very last second, she leaned back, and I raced to reach for both of his hands and pin them over his head.

Aaron’s eyes widened. “What the fuck—” Emily cut him off by kissing away his words. He moaned slightly. She barely pulled away from him, but she adjusted so that her weight on his thighs was forcing him to hold still. He tugged against my hold, but I was sitting up now, which gave me a little more strength than he had— though he was naturally strong because of how much he worked out. “Stop it,” he commanded us both with a growled. Emily shook her head and bit her lip. “Fucking brat—” He let out a loud moan when Emily passed her palm over his length that was growing hard in his flannel pajama pants. His head was thrown back against the pillow now, giving his eyesight a clear shot to me, allowing me to see the mix of anger and pleasure that was brewing in his iris’. “Y/N, stop this.”

I looked at Emily. She reassured me with a nod. “Sorry, Sir,” I apologized while shifting on the bed until I was above him, my calves sitting on his wrists to hold him down. I blushed at Emily. “Did I do well, Mistress?”

“You did so well, baby girl.” She pulled me in for a kiss.

Aaron struggled beneath us. “I swear to god, the two of you are going to regret this—”

“Shh…” Emily cooed to him. “We just want to make you feel good, baby.”

“Sir,” he corrected through gritted teeth.

“Not right now.”

“What did you just say to me?”

Emily passed her palm over him again. “I said not right now, baby. We’ve got the upper hand here, not you.”

Aaron looked up at me. “I’ll make you a deal. Both of you. If you stop this now, I won’t punish you later.”

“Not a chance.”

But I wasn’t so sure. The deal itself sounded enticing. I mean, we hadn’t gone too far yet, and we hadn’t really done enough to deserve any kind of punishment. Okay, maybe we deserved a few spanks— but that was it, and I could live with that. However, if Emily and I decided to proceed, things would be nice for a while like a calm before the storm since it would be pleasurable for all of us, but the second we were caught off guard, too, Aaron was going to get us back for whatever we would inevitably do to him. But I promised Emily that we would do this together. I made her promise that we wouldn’t give into anything he would say or do. That included deals. If she wasn’t going to give into her tricks, then neither was I, as skeptical as I was.

“Sorry, Sir,” I said again, this time with a teasing grin.

“Fine,” he groaned, rolling his hips in response to the way that Emily was playing with him. “Fine… Then, whatever Emily does to me, Y/N, just know that I’ll punish you for it.”

I froze. “What? That’s not fair.”

He grinned. “Then, you better get her to stop….” he trailed off when she reached into his pants and grabbed ahold of his erection. “Fuck—”

I felt his hands knead my thighs since that was just about as far as he could move, and since he wasn’t going to get out of it, he must have figured that the least he could do was play with me. It worked. The slightest touch set me off, making me feel the throbbing and heat growing between my legs. In fact, it was impossible to not notice it, because every time Emily did something to Aaron, his grip hardened on me, making me practically fall forward until Emily caught me. With one hand, Em was holding my chin to keep me upright, but her other hand was incredibly preoccupied with slowly teasing every inch of Aaron’s cock, twitching in her palm in response to the slow, sensitive, and calculated movements she was making. It was barely enough. Just like downstairs when she was teasing me, she hardly did enough to just get him worked up. But the way he was squirming under me was a tell that he loved it.

Emily kissed my cheek. “Touch yourself, baby girl.”

“Don’t fucking think about it,” Aaron hissed under me.

“It’s okay,” she cooed in my ear.

Well, shit. On one hand, she had just given me permission to the one thing I wanted most— which she knew would still prove to be a task considering I was still wearing all of my clothes, and my legs were a little preoccupied with holding Aaron down. But, on the other hand, Aaron was not having it. The second I’d lean back ever so slightly to listen to Emily’s command, I’d be setting myself up to get punished later. Eh. C'est la vie, right?

So, I reclined, resting my back against the headboard, making sure that my calves (practically my knees, at this point) were still trapping Aaron. As I snuck my fingers past the waistband of my pants and underwear, I hissed and bucked my hips. Emily smirked. The second my fingers made contact with my clit, I let my head fall back against the wall and my eyes screwed shut as a moan fell from my lips. Emily had made me so wet downstairs. I hadn’t really noticed the full extent of it until I was there, rubbing it around the sensitive nub that was begging for more attention so that I could inevitably cum. I gripped Aaron’s hair with my free hand.

“Don’t cum yet, baby. There’s no fun in that,” Emily said.

I pouted while looking at her. She was working faster on Aaron’s length now, even going as far as to shifting around on the bed so that she could lick his tip ever so slowly. He thrashed.

“Em, stop,” he begged lightly.

“Aw,” she sulked sarcastically on his behalf, following it up with a wicked chuckle. “Does that feel good?” He nodded his head and bucked up into her hand. Emily immediately pulled her touch away, tsking her tongue at his disobedience, but still admiring the way his cock twitched and stood at attention naturally. “Do you think he deserves to cum?” she asked me. I couldn’t seem to respond because all of my focus had shifted onto the way I was getting close to my orgasm, and I was worried that with the way my legs were shaking, Aaron could potentially take advantage of that weakness in order to get out of this. Emily wasn’t having it, though. “Answer me, slut,” she demanded, slapping my thigh.

I shook my head. “No, Mistress. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Aaron growled lightly in response to the way we were talking about him like he wasn’t even in the room, which was demeaning on its own, but then to add discussing his orgasm denial on top of that… well… maybe we just shouldn’t let him out of this. Ever. It was safer that way in the long run. Still, when Emily lowered her mouth onto him, it shocked me when he grabbed my thighs as hard as he could. I whimpered. I was getting really close. The closer my peak got, the faster I went, racing towards my own orgasm that I had been so desperate for ever since Emily put her hands on me downstairs. I tightened my grip in Aaron’s hair.

“Mistr—” I moaned while rolling my hips. “Mistress…” I was a panting, breathless, moaning mess; and neither of them had even done anything else to me yet. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like when they would finally put their hands on me and put in this same amount of effort— if not more, actually. “May I cum, please?”

“Cum,” she quickly answered after releasing Aaron from her mouth.

I let out gasps and curses as I tipped over the edge. My walls contracted around nothing, the empty feeling plainly obvious to me in that moment, but it didn’t deter me from pushing through my powerful orgasm. I let out a quiet, almost helpless scream, “Thank you, Mistress—”

And then the unexpected happened. Actually, you know what, I should have seen it coming. I suspected earlier that this could present to be a problem later on down the road, but I didn’t think it would be so quick, and I didn’t think that it would be so vicious. One minute, I was falling apart, my whole body giving out in response to my orgasm washing through me, the next thing I knew, Aaron had used my weakness and his strength against me in order to throw me off balance, giving him the chance to flip me over onto the bed, his hands on my thighs holding me so that I didn’t go flying and so that I couldn’t escape. Suddenly, he had one hand on my neck, the other one found Emily’s neck. She paused, eyes wide. I gulped. This was exactly what I had been afraid of. We thought that by teaming up, he would be outnumbered, and with how stressed he was, maybe he would give into our game; but that wasn’t Aaron Hotchner’s style. We should have known. The second an opportunity to switch control had arisen, he took it. I barely even felt my orgasm fade away because I was a little more concerned with his hold that was increasing pressure around my neck.

Aaron pulled Emily around like a rag doll, forcing her to lay down next to me on the bed. We both clawed at his hands, but it didn’t seem to matter, because he wasn’t going to let us go, no matter how much we struggled, because we had refused to let him go only moments ago, no matter how hard he struggled. Touche.

“I warned you,” he said to me.

“Sir—”

“No, no, no. You don’t get to talk. Neither of you do.”

I whimpered and kicked uselessly against the bed. Spartacus. That was the example Emily used downstairs. She said that if we stuck together, there was no way he could choose one to punish over the other— but what she failed to remember was that he had zero qualms with the idea of punishing us both simultaneously or at different points. Telling by the way he was pinning us by our necks, I was going to assume that the time for reckoning had already come, and that meant that we were absolutely fucked; meanwhile, he would get off on whatever torture he had in store for us.

He squeezed our necks until both of our breaths hitched. “Don’t move. Understood?” We both nodded as far as we could, considering his hold. “Good.” He released us roughly. Both Emily and I gasped for breath. As we shivered and coughed away the feeling of his thumb digging into our skin, Aaron shimmied around until he was able to grab ahold of my pants and yank them down my legs. And then went the panties. “Strip each other the rest of the way,” he demanded while getting off the bed. “Now.” He headed into the closet, probably grabbing the black box, if I had to guess.

Emily and I turned to each other. My eyes searched hers for a moment, fear running through both of us— but it was still a good fear that had us excited for what was going to come. Though, maybe we shouldn’t have been too excited. But I just had to ignore what Aaron was doing in the closet so that I could steady my shaky hands and reach out for the clasp of Emily’s lingerie bra. She moved her hair out of the way so that it was easier for me to do while completing the task blindly. She leaned in to kiss me quickly. I melted for a moment just as the clasp came undone, and I inched closer to her, letting her roll over me and pin me down on the bed. Our ankles played with each other as she continued to kiss me roughly and simultaneously slide her bra off her shoulders.

“My— My shirt…” I mumbled against her. We still had to finish stripping each other before Aaron could get back. She pulled away from me just enough so that I could sit up and after she was finished with peeling my shirt off, I could help her wiggle out of her panties. She pushed me back against the mattress the second we were nude. My fingers slid into her hair and twisted into a gentle grip. “He didn’t want us to move.”

“We’re already in trouble. What’s the harm?”

The faster we moved, the more obvious the shaking bed was, encouraging Hotch to come back to find us breaking basically every rule we had. There he was, holding the black box, visibly pissed off. Emily and I didn’t stop. She kept me right where I was, encouraging me to keep touching her and to let her slide her knee between my legs so that I could hump her thigh. When he slammed the black box down on the bed, that was when we finally pulled away-- more like jumped away, to be fair.

“You really wanna help them get off, huh?” Hotch asked, pulling Emily off of me. “Fine.” He tied Emily’s hands behind her back with ease, even though she was trying to fight against him. “Open.” I watched as he gripped her jaw and stuffed her panties into her mouth. She finally stopped fighting-- just long enough for her to pout up at him, begging for mercy in this whole situation, but he wasn’t going to be that nice. “Such a brat.” He spanked her. “How about you?” he asked me, grabbing another length of rope and coming around the bed. “Will you be good for me now?”

I nodded urgently. “Yes, Sir. I promise.”

He pushed me on my side so that he could tie my hands behind my back, too. “Good girl...” He wasn’t as rough with me when he put my panties in my mouth. “The two of you thought it would be so funny to fuck with me. Is it funny now?” Neither of us said anything as we watched him grab a hitachi wand and another length of rope from the box. “I don’t tolerate Y/N being a brat. Ever. You...” he cooed as he hit Emily’s ass again, “I expect it from you, but not my bunny. You’re just a bad influence, I think... A bad influence that needs to be taught a lesson. A lesson about not corrupting my good bunny.”

Hotch worked the toy between me and Emily while ordering us to move as close to each other as possible. I whimpered. I was so close to her, yet with our mouths full and our hands tied, there was no way to touch each other. I hated it. But that was Hotch’s point, I knew that.

“I’m keeping you two like this for at least an hour. The first one to cum goes on no-touch for a week.”

My eyes widened and I looked at him. He knew that I was more sensitive than Emily. She could hold her orgasms back longer and better than I could! That was his other point, though, and I knew that by reminding myself that he was punishing me for everything Em did to him. Fuck.

“Good luck.”

Once the rope was wrapped around mine and Emily’s hips, ensuring that we would stay close, holding the toy in place between us, he turned it on. I jolted and moaned. For some reason, it was tilted in my direction, hitting right against my clit while Emily hardly got everything. Hotch realized what was happening, but he didn’t move it. All he did was tease by telling me that if I didn’t want to cum before her, I needed to figure out a way to make her cum first. So, I cried and rested my head against Emily’s shoulder as I started grinding around, trying to move the toy to face her instead, but all it did was stimulate me further. At least I got it to budge. Now it was against both of us, and she was trying to push it back my way. The friction of our bodies was too much. Everything from the kitchen downstairs to Emily letting me cum a few minutes ago to the alluring thought of trying to make the other cum for Hotch’s game was... it was overwhelming. The more I struggled, the closer I got to my orgasm. I just couldn’t hold it. Emily was so much better at it than I was, and I hated her for that.

“Aw, bunny...” Hotch cooed while laughing. “You’re already close, aren’t you?” He sat at the foot of the bed and kneaded my thigh with his large hand. I nodded helplessly. “Don’t hold back for me, baby. Go on. Cum. Everything you give me today will be the last you get until next week. Don’t you wanna feel good for me?” I nodded again. “Then, cum.”

I cried into my panties and shook against Emily as I came. She kept fighting to move the toy towards me-- not for the sake of the game anymore, but because she wanted to see me struggle more. Very Dom of her.

One orgasm came after another. The more I fought to take the toy away, the worse the overstimulation got, and at some point, I couldn’t even fight back anymore. The toy had found a perfect spot between me and Emily, so as I painfully came again and again, Emily finally tipped over the edge, too; all while Hotch was watching and smirking. He was so proud of himself. He liked watching his subs squirm with pain and pleasure, unable to escape his torture. I shouldn’t have listened to Emily. I knew that this was all a bad idea-- I warned her that something like this would happen, but... but I gave in... and now I couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t until the end of the hour, when I was crying and shaking, that Hotch finally took pity on me. He reached between me and Emily, and he turned off the toy, letting us both brew there in our sweat, cum, and tears. He didn’t untie us, though. He was letting us catch our breath and cuddle while tied and helpless, and that was amusing for him. It wasn’t for us. We couldn’t protest, however, so we waited, and I stared at Emily with a look that said: “I’m never listening to you again.”

[honkhonkrichard]

Theory: Stanley Uris was Murdered.

Tagging @vvanini I hope you can follow this okay it’s very word vomity lol

Okay So TW because this post will touch on Stan's death ad the methods behind it

I propose that Stan Uris was murdered. by IT. In his home on that fateful night. I think that Stan posed the biggest threat to IT and therefore IT felt the need to take him out before the battle even started.

Allow me to explain.

Okay, so, I need to lay out some basic "rules" or "facts" before I make my case. They are as follows.

- IT planted it's roots in Derry, and finds it difficult to leave, but still can at it’s own wil.  If you read the book (I honestly don't blame you if you haven't) You'd know that once the Losers kill IT for the final time, Derry (the Physical town) is obliterated. Buildings explode, sinkholes appear, things are flooded. The town is in ruins by the time that the Losers leave the sewers. The movies don't adapt this so If this is news to you thats fine. the bottom line is that destroying IT destroys Derry, like ripping a tree out of the ground with all it's roots. Because of this, we can make the claim that while it can Leave Derry (as it does every 27 years) it probably takes tremandous amount of power to do so, which is why IT only goes when the cycle is over. Why does this matter? Well, what if IT left Derry to get to Stan? The murders had stopped for about a week when they're all in the Jade of the Orient. Plenty of time for IT to cross from Maine to Georgia. Side Note: We KNOW IT leaevs Maine to elsewhere in the world because of King's extended universe all interconnecting. it's not far off at all to make the claim that IT is the same evil that haunts, say The Shining's Overlook Hotel, which is in Colarado.

- IT is omnipresent This is also a given, IT lives everywhere, and can fuck with time and space in godlike (or maybe eldritch like) ways. in IT: Chapter Two, when Mike claims "IT Doesn't know I know what I know" he's unfortunately wrong, because we know that IT can be in A) Multiple places at once, B) can manipulate anything on the drop of a hat (See: Stan being teleported away from everyone else in Chapter One, Everything about Neibolt, etc) and C) Knows everyone's deep fears. This is further proven by IT Saying things like "Beep Beep Richie" (although this is Horribly Horribly executed in the films, ugh.) and so on and so forth. On top of all of this, We can make the claim that IT can exist outside of Time as well, given that IT is immortal. SO, what's stopping IT from Knowing Mike was going to call them all back (Espically considering that IT TOLD Mike to do this?). Even if we keep IT's omnipresence to the location that IT inhabits (in this case Derry) IT would still have knowledge of where the losers are through Mike. And if you take the Lucky Seven/Chosen Seven route (oh my god I got theories on that too) you could argue IT knows where they are inherently due to their cosmic status.

- Stan is the "most Powerful" loser So, obviously all the Loser's are powerful, espically considering they're the ones who Defeat IT (Again going on to the Lucky/Chosen Seven theory). This next claim is going to be less focused on what the 2019/2017 Movies do because they are Bad Movies and that's a whole other rant. However, in the book, Stan is (to my knowledge feel free to correct me on any of this) the only loser to Actively ward off and 'defeat' IT on his own without running away. He uses his belief in this what is Real (birds) to ward off what is "not real" (IT). The other losers do manage to take down IT in their own Right, but Stan is ultimately the one to Really get IT. This is because Stan's character revolves around Belief and Willpower. These are, in some form or another, the ways to Defeat IT. the ritual of Chud is a battle of Wills. in the book, Bill takes IT down and Eddie does the final blow. In the Remake (ugh) the losers can defeat it Technically using the belief that IT isn't as powerful as it claims because IT's "just a clown" (Ihatethatfuckingendingsomuchugh). Stan being much more skeptical than the rest of the group in his ability to understand Reality vs IT's illusions is a powermove, and IT knows that ability doesn't go away as Stan grows up, but rather he gets more powerful. Stan is the Only loser out of the 6 who left that has any sort of knowledge about IT, where the other losers have nothing. Bev has nightmares, yes, but she still forgets them. We're told in his chapter (Chapter 3, Six Phone Calls (1985), Part One: Stanley Uris Takes a Bath) that he has some hazy knowledge of his place in the Lucky Seven, and even goes so far as to MENTION it sometimes, even if he doesn't quite remember or understand any of it, his knowledge of IT and Derry is worlds more prominent than that of the rest of the losers.

(page 52 of IT:  "Stanley, nothing's wrong with your life!"  "I don't mean from inside." he said. "From inside is fine. I'm talking about outside. Something that should be over and isn't. I wake up frmo these dreams and think, 'My whole pleasent life has been nothing but the eye of some storm I don't understand.' I'm afraid. But then it just... fades. The way dreams do." OR  page 45: He had been smiling a little. Now the smile faltered, and for a moment he seemed puzzled. His eyes had darkened, as if he looked inward, consulting some interior device which ticked and whirred correctly but which, ultimately he understood no more than the average man understands the workings of the watch on his wrist. "The turtle couldn't help us," he said suddenly. he said that quite clearly.)

So, Stan has some cosmic knowledge of IT and Maturin and his role in the battle against It. What does any of this have to do with his death? Well, let me point out some other things about Stan's death that always stuck out to me. - His death chapter is narrated by his wife, Patty, rather than himself. The other chapters - almost all the other chapters - are narrated by their respective Loser (the caviot for this is Ben, but Ben is also wasted out of his damn mind so its understandable.) - Stan's personality is few and far between in the book, but we know he has a weird little sense of humour and that he's incredibly logical. I think that this logical part of him would be able to understand that Suicide is Never Ever the answer, and that it would cause FAR more problems than it would solve. (the 2019 movie tries to reexplain his death and it's crap and i hate the letters i hate the letters so much im gonna explode) The other losers try to rationalize his death by saying "He would rather Die Clean than Live Dirty (Page 506, Chapter 10, The Reunion, part 3, 'Ben Hanscom Gets Skinny') but he had already BEEN Dirty when he defeated IT the first time, and I think he would've recognized that. - upon finding him, Patty (in her narration) notes that Stan's head is bent back over the edge of the bathtub, so from his sight she would have been upside down. If Stan DID kill himself, why would he be positioned like that? It's unnatural, like someone Posed him. - the cuts on his arms are two length wise cuts. I'm no expert but.. that's suspicious. That's weird. - IT is written in blood on the wall. Why? Why would Stan right THAT of all things? You know who DOES like to paint with blood? IT.

Alright, returning to my thesis statement, Stanley Uris was murdered. Do I think Stan genuinely was going to take a bath at 7pm (which we're told is weird for him)? Yes. I think that's absolutely a thing he could have done or planned to do. Do I think he slit his wrists and commited suicide so he wouldn't go back to Derry? No. Not even remotely.

Let me paint a New Picture.

It's May 28th, 2016, or 1985. Stanley Uris gets a call from Mike Hanlon. Stan is incredibly hesitant to go to, and says he needs time to think about it. Or tht he'll try. He can feel the starts of a Panic attack, and as he's remembering the circles of Hell he went through as a child, he tries to hold himself together. He doesn't want his darling wife to see his break, so he says "I think I'll take a bath" and nothing else before going upstairs. he hides in the bathroom. He closes and locks the door, because, well, he's panicking. Locking doors is one of The Small things he does. Is it usually the bathroom door? no, but still (OCD is a bitch, and even with medication, but this is a special case). He looks in the mirror and tries to breathe. This is fine. He can do this. They killed IT once before and they can do it again. He thinks about his younger self, the promises made, and how he could explain all of this Patty in time to catch a flight to Maine. It's terrifying, but if his friends are going to bite the dust, he wants to be there with them, wedding vows be Damned. Then he looks at his reflection again. A younger, rotted version of himself stares back at him. IT crawls through the mirror. Stan freaks out, obviously. This isn't real. This Can't be real. But IT utilizes this notion against him. It digs it's claws into his arms, and forces him to bleed out in the bathtub. IT then sets the scene nicely. Razorblades on the counter, a bloody signature on the wall, a horrible posture of Stan's neck. So on and So forth. and then IT returns to Derry. IT's a little weak, yeah, but Stan is dead. That's what matters. the Lucky Seven has now Officially broken, and the balance shifts in favour of the clown.

So that's the theory. feel free to correct me on anything or engage I have plenty of theories on this story and I like discussing this stuff :).

[andypantsx3]

if i could keep cool | 3

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 20,322 words / 6 chapters

summary: A villain attacks Shouto Todoroki’s apartment and kidnaps what he apparently believes to be Todoroki’s secret lover. The bad news—for both you and the villain in question—is that you’re just there to clean the place. That’s how it starts.

tags: romance, reader-insert, accidental sugar daddy shouto, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

Things did not go back to normal.

You’d opened the door Tuesday morning, expecting the usual empty apartment for your next shift. Only, Todoroki had been there again, stretched out on his couch, a book in hand and what looked like an empty tea mug perched on the coffee table next to him. He was in a pair of dark slacks and another soft looking button up, rolled up at the elbows, and he did not look like he was planning on going anywhere.

“Oh, um, is now not a good time?” you asked, freezing in the doorway.

Todoroki looked up from his book, and you took a surprised step back. Damn, he was handsome. Apparently the weekend had dimmed your memory of just how handsome.

“I have the day off,” he said in his low, even tone. “I hope I won’t be in your way.”

You stared. “Oh, no. Just...uh, do your thing.”

He nodded, and you ducked down under the sink to grab your supplies again, then beat a hasty retreat to start in his bedroom while he wasn’t in it. It felt weird being in his room when he was just outside, but you powered through your usual checklist of items, making his bed, sweeping the floor, and wiping down all the furniture. When you got to the ensuite, you couldn’t help but check around for evidence of a secret lover, now that it was a hot topic of discussion, but didn’t find much beyond his sparse collection of toiletries.

It was disappointing that you’d been subjected to so much for a rumor that apparently wasn’t even true.

When you made it back to the kitchen, Todoroki was already there, seated at the island like he meant to talk to you again.

You startled and fumbled the disinfectant. “W-will I be in your way?”

He watched you evenly, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “I did tell you I planned on protecting my countertops.”

You let out a shocked laugh, delighted he’d remembered your conversation from last week. “We’ll see about that, hero. I have my ways.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not to worry, I have a backup plan if careful supervision fails.”

You looked at him curiously, and he produced a thin package in plain brown paper, sliding it across the granite at you like money in a television drug deal. He looked so suspiciously blank while he did it, the whole move almost made you want to laugh.

You settled for staring instead, wondering what he wanted you to do with the package. Were you supposed to put it somewhere? He sensed your confusion and gestured at it with one long-fingered hand.

“For you," he said. "A bribe to ensure the safety of my kitchen surfaces. It seemed to work last time.”

Oh, he meant the tulips. Had he really gotten you something else? Did he really still feel that guilty?

You smiled and waved a brash hand at him. “Oh! You don’t--that isn’t, I mean--you don’t need to give me anything. I meant what I said about calling it even.”

Then you remembered another unnecessary gift he’d given you and stuck your hand in your back pocket, fishing out the leftover tip from last time. “Oh, also this! You gave me too much last time. I took the amount your manager usually leaves.”

Todoroki looked at you strangely. You knew from your ventures on the internet that he was about your age, but he had this way of looking at you like he’d spent a hundred years traveling the world and still found you to be the strangest thing he’d encountered in it. You flushed pink.

“I was given to understand that there were vegetables in need of buying,” he said simply.

You pushed the money at him. “Yeah, which I can do with my normal amount, Todoroki. This is like buy a whole farmer’s market worth of vegetable money.”

He stared blankly at you. “I intended for you to keep it.”

You stared back. Of course he had intended that, but it wasn’t the right amount. Did he not understand how money worked? Why was he being like this?

Todoroki pushed both the package and the money back at you, fixing you with one of the most intent looks you’d ever been on the receiving end of. You felt your cheeks darken. “Last time...I don’t believe we introduced ourselves when we agreed to start over.”

You peered at him curiously. The conversation change seemed abrupt, and strange, like he was trying to distract you from arguing any further. Were you making him uncomfortable?

“Shouto,” he held out a large, long-fingered hand, like he intended for you to shake it.

You reached out hesitantly. His hand was warm, rough with callouses, and something shivery went down your spine when he closed his hand around yours. “Um, Y/N,” you supplied.

“Y/N,” he repeated to himself, and the sound of your name in his mouth fed the weird, shivery feeling. You pulled your hand away from his, and turned to the opposite counter to hide your face from him. God, was it impossible for you to keep your cool around him? Why were you so embarrassing?

Todoroki seemed undeterred by your sudden shyness, keeping up a steady stream of conversation as you worked your way through his kitchen. You wondered at his determination to speak to you, when in the media he seemed so aloof and kind of reclusive. His tone was quiet, and his manner fairly obtuse, as expected, but compared to what you’d heard of him previously, he seemed much kinder.

Todoroki surprised you even further by following up on topics from your previous conversation, which was made all the more embarrassing by the fact that everything he asked about seemed so normal and boring. You wondered why he’d even bothered to ask about the paper you’d complained about last time, when he spent his days literally fighting super villains. Papers were evil, sure, but nothing on the level of actual villains.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, when you failed to respond to his question about your paper.

You shook your head. “Nothing. I was just--surprised that you would ask, is all. Hearing about university has to be boring after everything you do all day.”

You were surprised by a low laugh. “Not really. I’d never considered going--being a hero was all I’d ever given thought to. It’s all my friends ever considered as well. It's...interesting to talk about something that isn't villains or attacks or strategy.”

You thought this over. “Still, though. It can hardly be what you actually want to talk about.”

“It’s...relaxing,” Todoroki allowed. “Thinking about something that is so different from what I do. It’s...nice.”

You thought on this. You couldn’t tell if he was just being nice or if he truly meant it, as he was kind of hard to get a read on, but you supposed if he was telling the truth, you could humor him. Maybe it really was nice to take a break from heroics, to explore other topics of conversation that didn’t carry the weight of human lives on them.

“Well if you really want to know, then my paper’s almost finished,” you said. “The cranky roommate was distracting all weekend so I spent Sunday churning it out in a coffee shop. The fancy one near campus with the nice beans, so it was actually a pretty good time.”

He asked the name of it, and you gave it, wondering if he was into coffee too. He didn’t look like a coffee guy, but then it was hard to tell anything with him. He was so unlike anything you’d expected him to be.

Things got weird again when you finally worked your way over to the island where he’d apparently pushed the money and the brown paper package even closer to you. You stared down at them.

“I’d like for you to accept them,” Todoroki said firmly, once he noticed you looking.

“I didn’t get you anything,” you said, feeling strangely squirmish. “I thought we agreed we’d call it even.”

The look on his face told you he’d agreed to no such thing.

“They’re not apologies,” he said simply. “They’re gifts.”

You looked at him, but he didn’t elaborate any more than that, and your sense of confusion only swelled. What was this all about, really? Was this normal for him? You wondered at the strangeness of the situation you’d found yourself in, and had a hard time concluding what the right thing to do was. Eventually, however, you took a tentative step closer to the counter. Your curiosity about what was in the package was gradually overwhelming your good sense and confusion. Maybe you could accept that and leave the money?

You said as much to him. “This is---really nice of you. I do mean what I said about the tip, though. I can’t accept that,” you mourned the lost vegetables, “but, um, I will accept this? If that’s okay?”

Todoroki looked like he wanted to argue, but at your pointed look, he seemed to reconsider, watching you evenly with those heterochromatic eyes. “Very well,” he said by way of acknowledgement, but something in his tone told you this wasn’t over.

You eyed him. He might be a pro hero and have cash to fling around, but you weren’t a push over. If he thought he’d get his way by arguing more, he was in for a rude awakening. You apparently had no reservations about telling one of the world’s most famous heroes to go fuck himself if pressed. He wasn’t going to win this battle either.

Slowly, you turned back to the brown paper package, carefully sliding a nail under the tape and unwrapping carefully. A fresh copy of your favorite author’s newest book stared up at you, and you couldn’t help the way your fingers clenched down possessively. Oh no.

You gaped at Todoroki. “What--?”

He looked kind of smug, like he knew just how much you liked it. “You mentioned it, last time. You said you liked reading but didn’t have the budget for books during the semester.”

Christ, had he actually been listening the whole damn time? First the vegetables and your paper, and now this? What the hell else had you said to him? What was the fastest way to cause a concussion and make him forget it all? Was this a good enough reason for joining the witness protection program?

“Todoroki, I can’t accept this,” you said.

“You said you would,” he replied. “Am I to assume you lied to me?”

Your mouth dropped open. Was he...teasing you? It was almost impossible to tell with that controlled expression and tone...but there was a glint in his eye that spoke volumes. You’d seen it before, mostly in drunk friends who were about to make mischief. Who would have thought that the notoriously deadpan number four hero had it in him?

“I’m serious,” you said. “This is too much. I loved the flowers, but you seriously don’t need to get me stuff. I know you said they’re gifts but they feel like apologies and I really don’t want that.”

Todoroki watched you closely, then rifled a hand through that red and white mop of hair. “I propose a trade for it, then, if you won’t accept it as a gift.”

You peered at him in curiosity.

“You will call me Shouto in return,” he said.

You let out a flat laugh. “That’s hardly an even deal. Be serious.”

“I am serious,” he replied, something like annoyance flecking his deep tone. He took a breath. “But one other condition, then, if you insist.”

You wondered what else he would ask for if his first request had been so ridiculous. Your first born child, maybe? A dress spun of moonlight? For you to solve these riddles three?

“Your phone number,” he said. “I’d like to text you.”

You gaped at him. He wanted what now?

“Todoroki, a name and a phone number are not payment for a gift like this,” you said slowly, trying to ignore the way your brain was rapidly entering what the fuck mode. He couldn’t be serious. “You need to trade for something you’d actually like.”

“Have you considered,” he said, “that I might like to be your friend?”

You stopped short. Oh that was...so straightforward. And also kind of nice? And also really cute?

You suddenly felt guilty for staring at him like he was a fool to ask. Was he really trying to be your friend? Was this just how deadpan rich boys did things?

“Oh, um, no,” you admitted. “I hadn’t, uh, considered. But I would like that. Being your friend.”

A slow warmth pooled in your fingertips at the idea. You did not understand this man at all, but you liked the little ironic sense of humor that sat under all the rest of it. And the way he’d apologized and had listened to your ramblings and was currently trying to befriend you was actually really sweet. You would actually like to be his friend, if that’s what he really wanted.

“Then my name and your phone number is my trade,” he said firmly.

You nodded slowly. There was a vague sense in the back of your mind like you’d just been tricked somehow, but you didn’t explore it. He’d seemed straightforward enough...right?

He handed off his phone to you for you to plug your number in, and you wondered wildly what your life was now, and what exactly Shouto Todoroki thought the two of you were going to text about.

Todoroki also hovered over you as you added him to your contacts, making sure he displayed as his first name specifically, and you laughed. “What if I know another Shouto?”

“Then you can change his contact to his family name,” Todoroki said dryly.

You huffed a laugh. Straightforward was definitely the right word for him.

After that, you fell into a somewhat easier conversation, buoyed by the knowledge that Todoroki intended to make friends. He asked you more about your life as a student, particularly interested in your thoughts on the books you’d read for lecture, your impressions of your professors this year, and your schedule and favorite haunts between classes.

In return, he shared details of his own work, stories of his time at UA, and details on some of his friends whose personal effects you’d seen around his apartment. It was so interesting to hear about the pros from someone who actually knew them personally, and it gave them dimension you would have never assigned to them yourself. It was certainly news to you that Katsuki Bakugou was a top-tier cook and could actually stop swearing and sit still long enough to make something.

You cleaned as you talked, and then found yourself lingering a little longer even after your shift had finished, enraptured by the conversation. Todoroki was so weirdly easy to talk to for someone who gave the impression of being so quiet and withdrawn, and coupled with his good looks and honest nature, it made him almost too charming.

Eventually, though, you could feel the phantom fingers of your uncompleted homework clawing at the back of your mind, and bade him a goodnight. This evening too, however, he insisted on an agency car, and moved like he would have literally shouldered the door closed on you when you started towards it before a car arrived. Then you again found yourself bundled into the back of a car, this time with a book stuffed into your hands and a vague sense of disorientation floating after you.

As you shed your jacket and backpack in the doorway of your apartment, you got a text from him as well. Goodnight, Y/N, it read, just as simple and straightforward as you would have expected from him.

You stared down at your phone for a long time, bewildered by the strange turn of events that had shaped your life these past weeks.

Shouto Todoroki had gotten you a book. Shouto Todoroki had an actual personality. Shouto Todoroki wanted to be your friend.

It seemed that after your kidnapping, returning to normal had not been an option.

If the warmth on your cheeks was any indication, you weren't so disappointed to find that out.

[thecrystalquill]

Unexpected Part 8

Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Everyone knew Fred Weasley, the cocky, confident, Gryffindor beater and prank extraordinaire. Everything was pretty damn perfect, until he meets a girl he can’t afford to be late for...

A/N: It’s Part 8 whoop whoop! What do you think of the new title picture? A little clearer with a white outline, no? Anyway, sorry this took so long to write but you would not believe these last couple of months I’ve had...

Masterlist                    Series Masterlist

         "An' the' he panicked an' he threw it in the fire! An' when he realised wha' he did, he tried to--"          "Ronald, will you stop talking with your mouth full! It's disgusting and I don't want any half-eaten chicken on my plate!" Hermione scolded, pushing her plate away from him. "Can't I just have one meal without you spitting all over the place?"          "Well can't I just tell one story without you cutting me off for something?" Ron fired back, though he did swallow his food first.          "You two really do bicker like an old married couple, don't ya?" Snickered George, sending a look to his little brother, who flushed almost instantly.          "Shut up, no we don't!" Ron whined, obviously embarrassed as he cradled his plate closer, shoving a boiled potato in his mouth with a frown - he didn't even get to finish what he was saying.          The group of Gryffindor boys laughed at his reaction, before breaking off into new conversation. It was dinnertime on a Sunday evening, exactly five days and fifteen hours before Fred's study date (if you could even call it that) with (Y/N) - he'd been counting. He'd woken up the previous morning and sat up with a brilliant bundle of excited nerves in his stomach and had been about to get ready when he realised he would have been a week early for his tutoring session, then crawled back into bed feeling impatient and disappointed. Why did she have to set the date for the next week? It only gave him more time to build up nerves - something he definitely wasn't used to. But maybe that was the point, he considered, to make him anxious and keep him waiting - to keep him overthinking and over-preparing his every planned word. He'd almost gone to the lengths of writing a list of conversation starters and topics to avoid - almost; he soon realised that that might have taken preparedness a little too far. But at least the extra time allowed him to brush up on topics that they'd already covered in class; he didn't want to seem too clueless, did he? Of course, he understood very little of what he was reading, but it was the effort that counted, right? He hoped she thought so...          "It was well funny, right Fred?" George said, patting him on the shoulder. He'd gathered that his twin was explaining something to Lee, since they were both looking his way, and quickly agreed as if he'd been listening the whole time.          He really needed to stop spacing out.

         Time was going incredibly slow. Every tick of the clock on the wall seemed louder than the last, as if it were mocking him, taunting him with each second that passed. Ordinarily, the repetitive tapping noise would have lulled him into a sleep-like daze - but now all it did was make Fred increasingly aware of each second that went, serving as a constant reminder of what he could have been doing with that time. Dear Godric, was this what detention was like for everyone else?          Fred and George had been caught red-handed setting up a prank near the potions classroom, and by none-other than Professor McGonagall. And so now there they were, sitting at opposite ends of the Transfiguration classroom as the professor marked some papers and kept a watchful eye on the pair. They had no idea how long they would be serving their punishment, which made Fred even more nervous; he had an hour until he was due to meet with (Y/N), and he desperately wanted to spend that time going over some things in his divination book, and checking his appearance (mostly the latter), maybe turn up a little early. His knee bounced erratically under the desk, the only outlet for his nerves, and his fingers tapped the wood while he stared at the clock, as if it could speed things along.          "Somewhere to be, Mr. Weasley?" Fred's head shot up at McGonagall's voice, giving him a look over the top of her spectacles.          "Yes actually, Professor," George answered for him, "Fred's got a date." He smirked, dishing out the gossip as if the two were old friends.          Fred shook his head. "I don't have a date, I have a tutor." He corrected, although he wished it were in fact a proper date. Wouldn't that be something?          George rolled his eyes. "Fine, a study date then. He's been all worked up about it really, actually got him to study."          "Well, that is impressive," said the professor, half-sarcastic. Dipping her quill to mark another paper, she suppressed a smile. "And might I inquire who this tutor is?"          "(Y/N) (Y/L/N)," Smiled Fred, feeling very accomplished that this information was enough to make McGonagall raise her brows. "Know her?"          The woman nodded, taking the specs from her eyes in thought. "Yes, a good student, charming girl." She paused for a moment, and the twins thought she might reveal something else about the mysterious Slytherin, but she quickly placed her glasses back on her nose and picked up another piece of homework. "Alright, I'll let you leave now, but don't think I'll excuse you again."          The boys beamed and stood from their chairs, grabbing their robes as they neared the exit. "You're the best, Minnie!" Fred shouted over his shoulder before he ran down the hall.          George ran after him. "Don't go getting soft on us!" She laughed as he shut the door, reminiscing how the brothers reminded her of her last favourite boys.

         Fred was rushing through his room in a panic, clothes were thrown across the floor, his bed was covered in scraps of divination notes (most of which were borrowed), and now he just couldn't find his comb. Thirty-four minutes until he had to be in the library, and honestly he felt a little light-headed. So far, Fred had tried on two different trousers, four jumpers, three shoes, and seven shirts, and now he was staring at himself in the mirror looking for any flaws in his outfit. "Fred, for Merlin's sake, you look fine." Said George from his own bed, sitting up. "What you worried for, anyway?"          A look of complete bewilderment spread across Fred's face, as if his brother had gone mad. "Have you absolutely lost it?" He exclaimed, finding a hairbrush at the foot of someone's bed and trying to get his hair to sit right. "I need to look like I've made an effort at least- but not too much of an effort - but I need her to like me- I mean I want her to- I mean--"          "I think you've already spent too long on this, Freddie," George stood up, glancing over the papers on Fred's bed, picking up a palm chart and dropping it again. "Stop fretting - I mean, she wouldn't agree to meet with you if you didn't have a chance, eh?" Fred didn't seem so sure, George realised as he stood in front of him. Sighing, he pursed his lips as he looked at his twin's hair, ruffling it up just so and swatting away Fred's hands. "Stop it, it's too neat..."          Fred checked his watch - twenty-nine minutes. He nervously tapped his foot as he let George mess his hair, roll his eyes, and then mess it again. "Can-"          "-Ssssh." George interrupted, eyeing him quizzically then squinting at his shirt in distain. "Really? This is the one you picked?"          Fred frowned in offence and looked down at his outfit. "What's wrong with it?"          "Too stripy, and it drains you." George answered, going to rummage through some draws.          Huffing, Fred threw the shirt off and onto the floor, feeling rather hopeless. "Since when did you become such an expert?" Another shirt was thrown at him, a blue tee, which he put on without question.          "Shush!" His twin shushed, pulling out a dark blue flannel shirt and throwing it over Fred's shoulders to put on. He took a step back to look Fred over, then threw his hands up with a grin. "There! All sorted, now c'mon because I'll never hear the end of it if you're late." George then went over to the bed and shoved some scrolls and sheets of paper into a satchel, hooking it over Fred's shoulder, and dumped his copy of 'Unfogging the Future' into his arms and pulled him out the door, barely giving Fred a chance to look in the mirror.          Upon entering the common room, the twins were greeted by their brother and his friends sat by the fire. The warmth of Gryffindor Tower was much more inviting than the permanently chilly stone hallways of the castle, and Fred felt as if he were almost immediately recharged. "What're you doing here?" Ron piped up from the sofa, where he had been pretending to read his Charms book. "Thought McGonagall gave you detention till dinner?"          "No I- uh... I've got a tutor..." Fred muttered, hoping to draw very little attention to the statement.          "Tutor?" Repeated Ron with an astounded expression - apparently a statement like that doesn't go unnoticed. "Since when? What for?"          Fred checked his watch; twenty-one minutes to go. "Since I got a tutor - if you must know everything, it’s for divination, so I gotta go-"          "What's the rush?" Harry piped up, partially for genuine curiosity and partially for the distraction from homework.          Twenty minutes.          "It's a girl," George answered with a smirk, loving to stir things up a little, it seems.          Each of the trio had a very different reaction; Ron nodded his head, muttering a long 'aaah...' of realisation - the only reasonable explanation for Fred's eagerness; Harry looked to be quite curious, and obviously picked up on George's teasing tone, he might have said something too, but was quickly interrupted.          "How sweet," Hermione giggled, making Fred blush at the comment, "got a crush, have you?"          Fred's cheeks flushed red, though he tried to hide it with a shake of his head. "No I- well-"          "And she's helping you with divination, which is nice of her... bit of a woolly subject really, I mean, it's not exactly a science. And Trelawny..." Hermione went on a tangent, and Fred checked his watch again; fifteen minutes!          "Yeah, look guys I've really gotta get going-"          "Hang on- who is it?" Asked Ron - not exactly a topic Fred wanted to get on to with his little brother.   

He gripped his textbook in his hand. "Doesn't matter, now I need to go-"          "Why doesn't it matter?" Said Harry, long forgetting his Charms work.          "Fred doesn't know her much yet," George replied, "you should see what he's like - gets all shy and blushy."          The trio were shocked by that one. "Noo..." They muttered simultaneously.          "Blimey..." Ron stared, anyone would think he'd seen a banshee by the expression he was wearing.          "Yup, real sight to see. Honestly I never thought I'd see the day - she's a good one, i'nt she Fred?" Said George, turning to consult his twin, only to find himself looking at an empty space. "Fred?"

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[genshin-obsessed]

Celebration | Zhongli x Reader

Happy birthday, Zhongli💖

Length: 1.5k words

Summary: It’s Zhongli birthday and you just found out. Now you have to plan a celebration for him!

Zhongli had never celebrated his birthday, he never felt there was a need to. To put it simply, Zhongli didn’t care about small things like birthdays, but he still valued life and the big picture. Though birthdays weren’t something important to him, he did value them to an extent.

The thing was, he didn’t care about them enough to celebrate his own. In fact, you didn’t even know that his birthday was today! That was, until you heard from the grapevine. Instead of being upset, you were excited to celebrate your boyfriend’s birthday.

The first thing you needed was a cake! Well… you could always bake one, but how well would that turn out considering the little time you had? So, you opted to buy a cake! Your friend Xiangling was a chef and she was also quite talented in making cakes- hopefully with normal ingredients.

Next, you would need a small place to set up the celebration. You still had yet to decide how many people you were inviting. But you were getting ahead of yourself. First, you needed to find Xiangling.

***

“Huh? A birthday cake for Zhongli? I mean I could, but it’ll take all day.” The chef informed you, making you frown. Well, it’s not her fault, you did come to her last minute.

“That’s alright! I’ll take anything you can come up with.” You laughed nervously, making Xiangling shake her head.

“Don’t worry, I know you don’t have much to work with, but I know you can do it! I’ll make the food too! Have you decided how many people are going to be involved?” You sighed and shook your head, leaning on the counter behind you. You were preoccupied with other things to think of such details.

“I’m not sure yet. I mean, I haven’t even told Zhongli about me knowing of his birthday and setting all of this up.” Xiangling nodded with a knowing smile.

“Then, why not spend this day with him? Just the two of you. I’ll cook you up a nice meal, you two can spend the day together, and cut the cake at the end of the day!” That was actually a pretty good idea and maybe Zhongli would be more receptive if you, alone, were there to celebrate something he doesn’t consider important.

“Actually, that’s a great idea! I’ll do that! Thanks Xiangling, you’re amazing!” With that, you were out of there on the hunt for the next object on your list.

The location.

Zhongli’s place was nice and so was yours but you wanted somewhere else. Wangshu inn wouldn’t do, since it was a bit far and not as private as you wanted. Eventually, you decided on your own place. As simple as it was, it was the most convenient.

So, you quickly booked it back to your place and started setting it up. You didn’t have streamers or any sort of decorations so that was great, but you made due with what you could. The least you could do was have a clean house so that he would be just a little bit impressed. Not that you lived in a junk pile.

Once your house was clean and ready for Zhongli, you moved onto your last objective.

His present.

What could you get Zhongli? Sure, the man was always low on mora but there might be something he really liked. This seemed to be the hardest decision and you sat down on the couch to think about it.

What’s the one thing Zhongli really wanted? Food? Well that was already being made but no. Maybe money? No, Zhongli probably wouldn’t want your money. What about an object? Well, Zhongli didn’t seem to have any sentimental stuff nor did it seem like he was ready to stock up on some. Zhongli wasn’t attached to mundane items like that. So what? What could you possibly get your boyfriend that he would actually like?

The next two hours were spent thinking about that but you couldn’t come up with anything. Eventually, it was time to start setting up for dinner. Xiangling has arrived half an hour early with the food.

She insisted you let her set it up while you went to get Zhongli. This way, by the time everything was ready, Xiangling would slip away and the meal would still be warm enough to eat. Well, hopefully. She always had Guoba to set something on fire.

You agreed and quickly left, wanting to bring back your boyfriend as quickly as possible. The food was getting cold.

***

“Oh, (f/n). Hello, what brings you by?” Zhongli asked with a tilt of his head. You smiled and gave him a hug, which he happily returned.

“Are you busy? I need you to come with me.” Damn! You should’ve asked ahead of time in case he was. That could’ve ruined everything you’d done today and wasted all of Xiangling’ shard work. But Lady Luck must’ve been smiling down on you.

“Not at all, where are you taking me?” He asked with little resistance as you guided him away from his home and towards yours.

“You’ll see! I have a little surprise for you!” You said, cheerfully. Your attitude always brought him joy, a type he’d never experienced before. Zhongli cherished you and if he had to lose everything in the world to keep you, he’d do so in a heartbeat.

“Is that so? Well I look forward to seeing it.” Good, because you still had to tell him you found out about his birthday and chose to celebrate him without asking. Even though it was a kind gesture, there could have been negative memories tied to said event.

***

“A dinner?” Zhongli asked as he loomed at the table that was set so beautifully. You nodded and urged he sit down, which he did. You had told Xiangling about his favorite meal, which she was more than happy to make. You also hoped the cake was in the fridge or you’d be calling her back to ask where it was.

As dinner went on, you and Zhongli talked about anything and everything. You loved spending time with him, finding yourself always feeling safe and loved around him. Zhongli had a natural calming aura, so whenever you were anxious, you went to him and your stresses and anxiety would just melt away.

You and Zhongli had been together for well over three years now. Everyday with him was a gift and you treasured every last moment with him. Sure, there were days where you couldn’t see him, but the distance made your hearts grow fonder- as the saying went.

But it was time. You had to come clean and give him his cake, then confess you had no present for him.

“Everything ok, love?” You nodded before sighing.

“Look… I found out about your birthday. And that’s it’s today. This is our little celebration, I even have a cake! I… don’t know why you didn’t tell me, but I hope it was ok to do this.” Zhongli seemed stunned but the look soon melted into a soft smile.

“Oh? I’m sorry I didn’t, but I don’t find things such as birthday celebrations necessary. They’re rather menial to me. At least my own is. I appreciate you doing this, however. Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

“W-well I have one more confession.” You said as you stood up and walked to the kitchen. The entire time you prayed the cake was inside. To your relief it was and you wasted no time bringing it out to the table. Zhongli looked over before nodding approvingly.

“This was the confession? You made me a cake?”

“Well no. Actually, Xiangling made the cake. And the food. I was busy setting things up- no. I actually couldn’t come up with an idea for a present. Every birthday should have a present. Unfortunately, I don’t know what you really want no matter how hard I thought. So, I… I failed.” You mumbled, lowering your head. You didn’t expect it to bring down your spirits this much. You could always make it up to him later and you knew that. Sadly, you still felt hurt over your own decision.

Zhongli smiled, taking your face in his hands and tilting your head to look up at him. His thumb stoked your cheek before he leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“(F/n), your presence is my present. The fact that I got to spend tonight with you is more than enough for me. The only thing I could ever want in this world, I already have, and that is you. I cherish you more than anything so simply having you at my side is the greatest gift you could ever give me.”

Your lips curled into a smile and you sighed in relief. You leaned into his chest and he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a tight hug.

“I love you, Zhongli.”

“And I love you.” You looked up at him and leaned up to kiss his lips.

“Happy birthday.”

[percival-c-mcleach]

Haunted Not By Ghosts- a McLeach fic.

The atmosphere was as heavy and thick as smog, stuck in time. The house, the barn and the ramshackle sheds were worn down from years of neglect, the barn having been particularly hard hit by time, half of its body rotted and given way to mushrooms.

The house's exterior had once been blue, now stripped almost completely to its wood and brick, with speckles of paint the only indication of what it might had been. The windows were cracked, rusted with dust. Weeds had forced themselves up between the boards of the porch, nearly obscuring the wood. Hidden among the vegetation was a dog bowl, a bright firetruck red that had now faded to a dull pink in the blistering sun, the faintest of childish block writing had faded too much to be read.

Taking a shaky breath, McLeach surveyed his childhood home. For forty years, it had laid abandoned, but it felt just as forboding now as it did back then, if not worse. Anxiety roiled in the man's stomach as he forced himself up the sunken steps, feeling the wood groan beneath him.

Joanna followed her master's footsteps almost exactly, not trusting the structural integrity of the building. She watched as McLeach hesitated with the doorknob, as if it would suddenly come to life and bite him. He gave a gentle twist of the knob- no luck.

"Aw hell.." McLeach huffed, twisting the knob harder. He jiggled the door, but the ancient wood refused to give. He crouched to examine the old doggie door-one he used as his personal entrance to the house-but he was now too old and too round for such an endeavor. Joanna looked between him and the door, noticing his pointed look. She shook her head hurriedly-no way would she be able to fit through there, and she was not looking to get splinters in her sides. Letting loose a curse, McLeach kicked the door-and it popped open nearly effortlessly. Quickly shaking off his surprise, he shouldered the heavy oak the rest of the way open, coughing as a wave of musty air washed over them both.

Once natural sunlight fell over the place, McLeach felt his breath catch in his throat- sans a thick coating of dust, the hallway looked almost exactly as he remembered it being. It was as if the other three McLeaches hadn't left the house; most of the decor still hung in place, with the addition of cobwebs. The coat rack still held his father's old bag, four pairs of slippers lined up beneath the side table, waiting for owners who would never return.

The house felt haunted. Not in the way most people came to think of haunted houses, brimming with ghosts; haunted in the sense that you could feel everything that had happened in this place. The anxiety only grew stronger, the further the pair ventured in. The carpet had faded from direct sunlight, but the patches in the shade of the furniture still remained its dark green color. Dust rose in clouds as man and lizard ventured carefully down the hall, with Joanna trying her best to hold in her coughing.

The family portrait was still there, hanging above a boarded-up fireplace. McLeach didn't blame anyone for leaving it, it wasn't something you'd want to have in your house. The sepia-colored photograph was dust-covered, but the man could still feel the cold, hard glare of his father through it. He raised his hand to wipe away the dust. The first to emerge was his mother. Thin-faced and tired, with her dark hair pulled up in an untidy bun. In one arm she cradled the newly-born Casey in his thick wool blanket, the other dangled down, gently squeezing the hand of a seven-year-old Percival. He had been small back then, missing two of his front teeth and a head full of hair like his mother's, dark and messy. Rubbing away the rest of the dust, Mr. McLeach soon followed. Towering over his wife and children, not even the shadow from the brim of his hat could have hid the starkness of his unnaturally light eyes. His large hand had a rough grip on Percival's shoulder then, the man grimaced at the memory. He couldn't bring himself to look longer at his father than was necessary. Even in photographs, he seemed to be glaring directly at his eldest.

Feeling claws on his leg, McLeach glanced down to see Joanna attempting to raise herself higher, she wanted a view too. He scooped her up as one would a toddler, though with some difficulty given her hefty weight. "Ay, you know who that is?" McLeach smiled, pointing to his mother. Joanna tilted her head quizzically- the human woman looked very distinctively familiar, even though she knew they had never met. "That's your namesake," McLeach continued, "My mama, Joanna. I promised that I'd name my firstborn daughter after her...and well, you count, I guess." Joanna wasn't able to understand just how important that was, but she felt it was very, very important. She waggled her tail happily, inching her snout closer to the frame. She clearly recognized the young Percival, and let out a rasp that sounded much like a wheezing laugh. "Go ahead, you looked weird when you were a kid too." McLeach rolled his eyes. His arms had started to ache, and he set her back down. He continued down the hall, and froze for a brief moment when he came to the wall opposite the sitting room's entrance. Beneath a framed picture of Casey with his model airplane, a round hole was at shoulder-height, the impact having shredded and burnt the faded yellow wallpaper. "..Damn idiot didn't bother to get it fixed after I left, eh?" He scoffed, "You see this, Joanna? You can tell I didn't get my marksmanship from Pops. He couldn't hit the broad-side of a barn." A slightly alarmed chirrup arose from Joanna's throat as she realized what that hole was, but McLeach didn't seem bothered by it. He breezed past the bullet-hole and past the sitting room, after taking a quick glance inside and finding that the armchair and couch were overrun with a brackish mold.

The kitchen was small, and had once been cozy. The kitchen window had broken, and one of his mother's prized climbing rosebushes had wormed its way in, leaving a layer of generations of rotting petals over the linoleum. Nevertheless, the rosebush itself was thriving, its creamy white petals shining in the golden sunlight. Reaching out to touch, McLeach couldn't help but to pluck one of the roses off, holding it in his palm. He had forgotten how silky-soft the petals felt, and how sweet it smelled; he closed his eyes and inhaled, feeling a sharp pang in his middle. A sharp pang of an emotion he couldn't quite describe. It was happiness and sadness rolled into one, and it left an ache. The smell reminded him of sitting outside with his mother, tending to the rosebushes together; if a blossom had just fallen, his mother would pluck apart the petals and keep them in a jar, preserved in the icebox until she got around to making soap and hand-cream. McLeach opened his eyes. The strange emotion only grew. He dropped the rose onto the floor, to join the rest of the fallen flowers.

Joanna had gotten braver, and went ahead of the poacher. She still felt intimidated by the house; she seen that her owner was as well. It was odd, to see him so on edge in a place that was so familiar to him. Maybe if she showed she was brave, he'd feel better. Crawling up a set of stairs, she gazed down the dim hallway. Four doors, only one of them was left ajar. Curiosity got the better of her, and the goanna went to take a peek.

The bedroom looked as if its occupant had left in a hurry. She could still see old toys and picture books on the shelves, a small, rickety wooden bed with moth-eaten blankets neatly made, with a shapeless lump that at one point had been a teddy bear sitting atop the covers. The walls were wallpapered, though it was difficult to tell what color they had been, for it was now all a dull grey. The posters on the walls were faded yellow, with vague shapes of rubberhose cartoon characters etched onto them.

Hearing McLeach wheeze his way to the top of the stairs, Joanna looked over her shoulder, and sat outside the door until McLeach could join her. He leant in the doorway of his old bedroom, soaking in the scene. After what seemed like minutes, he finally walked into the room, slow and quiet.

The thing of interest for McLeach were the picture albums on one of his shelves. The ones left exposed to the sun were faded-but maybe these were saved. He grabbed on and flipped it open, feeling a large lump rise in his throat when he seen that they were untouched. Smelled a little mildewy, but were still visible. He choked down the lump, flipping through each page slowly, wanting to savor every picture. His baby brother in his bassinet, wearing a goofy-looking baby bonnet. Flip. Their old dog, Blueberry, sleeping on the rug in the sitting room, a chewbone lolling out of his mouth. Flip. A photo of his parents on their wedding day, both looking much younger and happier than he had ever remembered them seeing; Mr. McLeach had looked kinder then, gazing at his bride with all the love and adoration that a husband was supposed to have for his life partner. Flip. His childhood friend, Ruby, sitting with the nine-year-old Percy on the river's rocks, holding baby ducklings. Flip. Flip. Flip.

These were happy memories; why did his heart ache so much looking at them? He shouldn't feel like this, looking back on what were the happier years of his life. Flip. Flip.

Percival's heart sank to the bottom of his stomach.

Of course there had to be pictures of Mr. Wells in here; back then, the McLeaches considered him as good as family. A tall, scrawny, unassuming man with shoulder-length brown hair, who had kindly and selflessly looked after Joanna and the boys while Mr. McLeach was away in the army- a second father figure, the reliant one, one who wouldn't yell and scream at the smallest of slights. After spending the summer with Mr. Wells as a boy, Percival wished he had stayed home. At least his father didn't play mind games with him, and when he hurt him, it was out of rage, and not premeditated. Not passed off as accidents that were all Percival's own fault. Not passed off as something he deserved, for something he couldn't even recall doing. The picture seemed so innocent. Just a kindly man with the boy he called his honorary son, on the back of a old mule at the fair. Percival knew better; he knew that under his child self's sweater was a nasty deep bruise, a bruise that hurt for weeks. Mr. Wells had claimed it had been an accident, that he hadn't meant to swing the shovel so hard into him. It was Percival's fault, for sneaking up on him like that.

'You'll be hurting for a while, Percy..' He could still hear that soft voice, too soft to note any real remorse, 'You frightened me something awful...I guess we learned our lesson on sneaking up on people, didn't we?'

We. As if it was a lesson they both learnt. As if it wasn't just one of the many thinly-veiled excuses used to hurt him. As if he didn't do worse, as if he did not permanently scar him physically and mentally. As if he didn't one day stop giving his excuses, once Percival had gotten too old to fall for them. As if it was the both of them having a knife held to the soft skin of their throat. As if it were the both of them who had to endure a full day and night in the skinning shed, surrounded by the dead, staring eyes of hogs. As if it were the both of them who had to endure nightmares, long after the torment had stopped.

It had always been 'We'. Never a 'I'm sorry.' It was always 'You.'

He had been brave only once. Brave enough to go to his father for help. How foolish of Percival to believe that his father would have stood up for his son. He never did such a thing before. The entire ordeal had been Percival's fault-his fault for being too stubborn, too much of a brat. If he had behaved better, Wells wouldn't have resorted to harsher punishments-it had been his fault he was treated so poorly.

For once, Percival stood up for himself.

Mrs. McLeach had tried to deescalate the fight. Mr. McLeach found himself with a broken nose, as Percival helped Joanna off the floor and out of the room. He only heard the safety click off before he had dove down the hall, sprinting from the door and into the night. "DON'T YOU EVER COME HOME!" For forty years he stayed away.

The strangled scream had terrified Joanna spitless. The goanna had been nosing around underneath McLeach's old bed, when her master emitted a sound so animalistic, that for a moment she feared that a big-cat had been hiding somewhere in the room. She immediately balled herself against the corner as the photo album was flung into the desk hard enough to shatter the frail wooden handle. The lump was back in McLeach's throat again, tighter and more painful than before, forcing tears to swell and blur his vision. His breathing came in ragged gasps, trying to keep the deep pain in his middle from winning. He crouched where he had stood, clenching his hands so tight that he felt as though they may break. He shouldn't be getting upset over this. He shouldn't be getting this upset over a goddamn picture.

It had been forty years. Why does it still hurt so bad? Why does it still feel so fresh?

The sudden warm weight crawling onto his lap tore him back into the present. Joanna scrambled as far up on him as she could. Percival hugged her as tight as he could, until his heart rate slowed back to normal, until he could breathe without choking. "Thanks." His voice was barely more than a croak. He took his bandana to dry his eyes with, "I'm sorry..I just.." he couldn't explain what had happened. Joanna understood though. She gently headbutted his shoulder, before slithering off of him and towards the photo album, picking it up in her jaws. McLeach took it from her, holding it in his lap. He'd tear out the pictures he wanted to keep, and leave the rest to rot in this forsaken house. The sun had just started to set as they made their way back to the truck, parked in the barren field next to the rotting barn. McLeach didn't even bother to give the house one last look before they drove off. Maybe now hadn't been the right time to come back. Maybe there never would be a 'right time.' Eventually, something had to be done about the place. Maybe he'd torch that haunted house to the ground. A house haunted, not by ghosts.

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired Epilogue

chapter 12

It’s been fifteen years to the day since Cyrus disappeared without a trace. He and Arella had long since graduated from RAD alongside his brothers. They had gotten married and have three children together now. Mammon remembers back to when they told Cyrus he would be a big brother- how excited he had been to not be the only child in a house full of adults. Now his son would never have that experience and it was all Mammon’s fault so it’s here in the room he and Arella had saved for Cyrus that he sits.

Surrounded by everything that reminds him of the child he’d lost, the Avatar of Greed flips through a photo album that Levi had made in honor of the little one, eyes wet with fresh tears. This room stays locked for the entire year except for today. The twins know they’re not allowed in here, even if they don’t exactly know why and his youngest is too young to even care about the door that’s always locked. They never told their children about their older brother- it was far too painful for both him and Arella, neither of them having accepted that their son was really gone forever.

In the aftermath of losing his heir, Mammon had become extremely over-protective of the twins and Mahlon. He would never allow this to happen again- he might actually die from a broken heart if he were to lose another child due to his carelessness.

“I wish I knew where ya were...” his voice catches in his throat. “I know you’re alive- that you’re out there... somewhere... I can feel it.”

And that was the sad truth of it all. As the years went on, he’d watched carefully over his only daughter, Azalea. If Cyrus was truly gone, it would be her that would inherit his title and throne. But she never developed all the abilities necessary to be Mammon’s successor. With every year that passed without the development of those powers, the demon only became more certain that his oldest was still alive.

For as overjoyed as he would be for Cyrus to return, he knew it would only cause friction in their little family. Azalea had gone her entire life thinking she was meant to be her father’s successor. She always took pride in it and Mammon now feared that the revelation that she was never meant to be would destroy his daughter’s world. Another thing that was his fault. She had assumed all this because he and Arella couldn’t find a way to break it to her.

Things were already tense between them after the birth of her youngest brother. She had pulled away from them in fear that she was being replaced and they didn’t want to lose her completely now. Azalea was considered a trouble maker to anyone who didn’t know the real her, often getting herself into more fights than anyone could count. If they told their daughter the truth now, she would think they were taking the position away from her and giving it to one of her brothers as punishment. Mammon and Arella were still trying to convince her that she wasn’t being replaced- that they still loved her regardless of all the trouble she gets into on a regular basis but it hadn’t been working.

And it was now, Mammon realized all the mistakes he’d made in not biting the bullet in talking about Cyrus. The white-haired demon resolves to tell them today when they come home for dinner as they did every Friday night since they’d moved into the House of Lamentation after they had gone off to RAD. He wondered how they would take the news. Would it be shock? Anger? It had to be now or never.

As the front door opened, Mammon perked up. He could hear the twins whispering amongst themselves, neither wanting to risk waking their little brother and then there was a soft gasp from the both of them.

“Zay, the door to that room’s open,” it’s Aurelius’ voice that sounds first.

“Mum and Dad don’t want us seein’ what’s in there so we should prolly jus’ avoid it. There’s a reason it’s always locked...”

He was about to call them into the room when his D.D.D. rang. It was a call from Lucifer so he answered.

“You need to come to the House of Lamentation as soon as you can.” and then the call cut off- not even a good bye which only served to worry the Avatar of Greed.

Mammon’s first fear was that something had happened to his wife on her return trip from the mortal world. He hoped it wasn’t that. As he got up, he left the door to Cyrus’ room open.

“Hey, I have to go to the House of Lamentation really quick, can ya stay with your brother, please?” The demon knows he should have waited for a response from the teenagers but this was an emergency in his mind. He needed to be quick.

Azalea and Aurelius only exchanged a confused look before Azalea called after their father. “Wait, I wanna go too!” And off she ran after him.

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“Damn, at least slow down, Old Man!” She shouts although she doubted he could actually hear her with the wind in his ears. Azalea was having a hell of a time keeping up with Mammon as she hopped from roof top to roof top, having to transform into her demon form to even have a chance at keeping up with her father. She really wishes she was born with wings as like her twin.

As the pair reached the doors of the House of Lamentation, Azalea tries to catch her breath and as Mammon pushes open the doors open, their breaths catch in the throats at the sight before them. There, sitting on the floor having Arella using healing magic to tend to the nasty cut on his cheek, was Cyrus.

The Avatar of Greed rushes forward quickly, a million thoughts racing through his mind as he embraced his son in a tight hug. He doesn’t even know where to start with his words, he was so relieved to see Cyrus safe and mostly unharmed as he pulled back to inspect him.

He’s mostly unchanged but his white hair had grown out a considerable length, tipped with black indicating that it had been dyed at some point and as expected he had grown- nearly as tall as his father now.

“What happened to you?” Mammon’s voice is soft, “Do ya know how worried we were? Where did you go?”

Cyrus couldn’t answer. Instead, he just wrapped his parents in a tight hug as he cried and cried. He just buried his face in their shoulders as they rubbed his back.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, Baby.” Arella said as she held back tears. “It’s okay. You’re home now. You’re safe now.”

Azalea just stood in the doorway as she watched her parents. She didn’t know what to think. It felt like her whole world was crashing down around her. Who was this person her parents were fussing over? When it finally clicked in her mind that she had an older brother- that she wasn’t her father’s heir- she sank to her knees. Great, she thought, yet another person to compete against for Mum and Dad’s love.

“Azalea?” Lucifer's voice called as he knelt next to her. “Are you alright?” He can tell something’s not right with the girl.

“I....” she turns her head, “I.... I don’t know. I... Why didn’t they tell us about him?”

“When you lose someone you love, sometimes it can be very hard to talk about them. Especially when you can’t accept that they were lost.” The Avatar of Pride stands his niece up, letting her hold onto him for support- for grounding. “Your parents have wanted to tell you for some time, but they just couldn’t bring themselves to. They didn’t mean to deceive you.”

Even with her uncle’s words, Azalea was still unsure. She just wants to escape right now, feeling like she was suffocating. “I... I think I’m gonna hang out in my room right now. I need some space.” With that she dashes up the stairs, an action not unnoticed by her parents.

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“Azalea, can we talk?” Arella opens the door to her daughter’s room- the one that had once been her husband’s.

“Yeah,” The girl says softly as she thumbs through a book absentmindedly.

Arella takes a seat next to her daughter as she opens her arms for her, a little relieved when the half-demon takes the invitation, the book discarded to the side as she buried her face in her mother’s chest.

“Why didn’t you guys tell me that I wasn’t....”

“We weren’t sure how- at least with you, my little flower.” She runs her hands through her daughter’s hair. “We didn’t want you to think we were punishing you in the worst way possible...”

“So what happens next for me? What’s my purpose now?”

“I’m afraid that’s something you have to discover on your own. You’ll find it one day, but you’re free now from the weight that your father’s title brings. You can be whatever you want.”

“Do you and Dad still love me? Am I good enough...?”

“Of course we do. We will always love you, princess. You are enough for us so don’t worry, okay?” She presses a kiss to the top of Azalea’s head. “We’re heading home now, okay? It's time for dinner and we can’t leave your brothers waiting.”

Azalea nods as she rises from the couch and they head out to meet Mammon and Cyrus. As the four of them walk home, everything feels right once more. With Cyrus back, their family finally feels complete.

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And so the story has a happy ending. I could possibly do another fic all bout how Azalea copes with not being Mammon’s successor anymore but I haven’t decided yet. I’m going to write a tumblr exclusive fic for Aurelius first instead of a comic before I do any of that though.

find more on my masterlist

[txdoroki]

bookshop

hey this is kinda just a silly thing i had an idea i liked for :P hope y’all like it!! <3

warnings: anGERING BCUZ OF HOW SLOW IT GOES

words: 3k

pairing: bakugou x reader

unedited!!

gn reader

desc: you work at a quaint book shop, and one morning meet an explosive college student. once again it’s so much better than how it sounds T-T i swear it’s so good bYE

no quirks

ik this seems a lot like the overused “meet your lover at a coffee shop” trope but i swear it isn’t like that I SWEAr

A/N: this was so fun to write but it is annoyingly slow </3 also in this bakugou is rich as fuck and for wHAT. he’s loaded as crap

i might make a part 2 but i’m not sure yet considering this was rlly tiring,, would y’all like that or would it be a waste? :/

HERE IT ISSSS @babymilkawa​ 

you groaned as your alarm went off way too early, the sun that shone through your curtains getting into your eyes. you rubbed at your eyes, trying to shake off the sleep that dazed your mind.

the weekend went by too fast, and you wished you could sleep for just another five minutes. you struggled to keep your eyes open, the comfort of your bed willing you to sleep. to skip work for the day.

 you were totally exhausted, having spent the weekend helping your co-worker, eijirou, unpack boxes at his apartment, on top of working on your classes. i mean, you loved to help people, but man, was it tiring.

after a few minutes of checking things on your phone, you sleepily walked to your bathroom and ran water over your face, hoping it’d help you wake up. you loved your job, you really did, but the hours? absolute hell. who the crap goes to a book shop at 7 in the morning? no clue.

you pulled one of your friend’s old sweatshirts over your head, taking a moment to fix your bedhead as well. you slipped on some sweatpants, and shrugged at yourself in your full-length mirror. you felt like crap, your entire body heavy and your blinks slow. it’s like your body was trying to put itself to sleep, even while standing.  

once you were happy with your appearance for the day, you texted eijirou to let him know you were ready. he usually picked you up drove you both to work, since you had the same shifts.

a few minutes later he knocked on your apartment door, and when you swung it open, he had his signature wide grin on his face. he was holding two coffees, and you couldn’t help but smile as well, your bad mood from lack of sleep disappearing. 

“hey eiji,” you smiled, taking one of the coffees from his hands and holding it close to your face, taking a deep breath of the homey scent. the smell made your stomach growl, and you both laughed at the sound.  

“hungry, eh? well, i mean i have a granola bar,” kirishima shuffled around in his bag, eventually pulling out two granola bars.

“of course you do,” you smiled, happily chomping the snack. he was the definition of the mom friend, and such a sweetheart.

after you talked with him for a few minutes, you both walked to his car and drove to the shop that was a mile or two away. 

you looked out of the window while he drove, and you both were sitting pretty much silently. you appreciated how you could just chill and appreciate each other’s company without communicating a bunch.

when you got there, there was a blonde guy standing in front of the doors.

“hey, bakubro, what’re you doing here?” kirishima and you walked up to him. when he turned to face you, you were confused as to why he looked so pissed off. he looked like he didn’t know how to smile.

“tch, i was going to look for a shitty book to buy, but no one was fucking here,”

“you know that we open at 7:15 right?” you smiled, 

“and it’s 7:16 right now, dumbass,” ‘bakubro’ glared at you, “you’re late,”

“by a min-” you started saying, but were interrupted by kirishima.

“you’re right, well you can come look inside now,” he took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the front door with it, stepping inside of the shop with you and the blonde following.

you took your place behind the counter as kirishima tidied up the shop. he straightened the books and fixed anything that was out of place, while you just stood behind the counter and watched the blonde.

it was like he was entrancing, his spiky blonde hair and his piercing red eyes glaring at the books in front of him.

“sir, do you need help finding what you’re looking for?” you smiled at him when you noticed he was in the shop for nearly half an hour already, staring at the lines and lines of books.

“tch no, i can find it myself,” he grumbled, not even looking your way.

you rolled your eyes and turned to eijirou when you overheard him chuckle. he was standing near gardening books section, flipping through one of the books.

“what is it?” you raised an eyebrow, tapping a made-up rhythm lightly in the wooden counter you were standing behind.

“bakugou, isn’t this the kind of cactus you tried to raise,” he turned the book towards the blonde.

“shut up, shitty hair. quit bringing that up,”

eijirou just smiled and shook his head, turning back towards the shelf and sliding it back to its place. 

you yawned, boredom filling the air as bakugou looked through the books and kirishima tended to the shelves.

you wished someone would come in soon, maybe one of your regulars or someone new. you weren’t a fan of there only being one customer in the store in the first place, but him being a bitch wasn’t much of a help either.

“have you seen that really nice green haired regular recently? i feel like he hasn’t came by in a while,” you yelled to kirishima.

“uhh, haha, no, i heard he um... moved?”

“moved?”

“yup,”

“why does it matter what happened to him, deku is a nerd anyways,” bakugou growled as he flipped through one of the many books he had in his arms.

you shrugged in his direction and walked to the back, hoping there’d be something to do that was helpful for the store. you felt like you were wasting time, but didn’t know what you should do. there were no customers, no spills, nothing out of order.

you decided to fix some of the directions, and chose to start on the paintings and vines that covered the wall. the store really was homey, you loved it. you could spend all day there, either as a customer or a worker.

it felt safe and sound, unlike most of the city that surrounded you. 

“hey, dingbat, come here,” bakugou was now standing next to the register, and you glared at him, the heaviness of anger starting to gather in your chest.

dingbat? the fuck???

“be nice to y/n, they’re chill,” kirishima swatted at the air, shaking his head.

“nope, anyways, i need to check out, so fucking come here,” 

“no, sir, you can choose to be nice and then talk to me,” you smiled at him and turned back to the decorations you were working on. sure you were a worker, but you weren’t going to help out a shithead.

“it’s your fucking job, come here,”

“y/n, i’m sorry, but do you mind checking him out? he’s got class soon,” kirishima smiled at you weakly, his stare basically a plead on its own.

you huffed and walked to the register, silently glaring as you handed bakugou the receipt and the two books he bought.

“took you long enough, damn,” 

“what is your damn problem?” you scowled, “i haven’t done shit to you and you’re being an asshole,”

“y/n, don’t-” kirishima held his hand out.

“quit being in the fucking way then, see you later, kirishima,” he grabbed the stuff from your hands and walked out of the store onto the sidewalk, the door slamming behind him.

your decorations that you were putting up fell down, and you sighed. you took a step back and pouted when you realized you’d have to start over.

“i’m sorry, y/n, i know he is really stres-”

“he doesn’t need your excuses, it’s fine, eiji,” you smiled and nodded at him. 

the rest of the day was spent with both of you cracking jokes at each other and tending to the customers. every now and then you’d rate their outfits once they left, and it was sort of entertaining to say the least. it was fun to see the little additions people would add to their outfits, not meant for others to specifically notice. like a chain on their pants, or a feather on their hat. 

all other people had entire backstories, ones you would never get the pleasure of knowing. this didn’t usually bother you, and it never really has before, but you couldn’t deny the curiosity that seemed to tear at you about bakugou’s.

his couldn’t seem to leave your mind. what was his childhood like? was he always like this? what set the way for his personality? what were his parents like? was he single..?

“i wonder if he’s single,” you muttered to yourself as you swept. your actions stopped for a moment, and you wanted to throw up. did you actually just say that out loud?

“what was that, y/n?” kirishima looked up from his phone, a confused smile on his face. you hoped he didn’t hear you. although he did

“oh nothing, sorry!” you smiled back at him, and went back to sweeping. you turned away from him, hoping the heat that covered your cheeks wasn’t visible.

“alright,” 

the rest of your day went by quickly, and by the time you got home, you were exhausted. you snuggled with one of your fluffiest pillows on your couch once you’d changed into your pjs, and you smiled. the smooth fabric of your couch felt calming to your sore joints, and it only added to your comfort. 

before you knew it, you had fell asleep, but a knock on your door shook you from your slumber.

“hey, y/n, do you mind if i come in real quick?” you heard the familiar voice of your coworker from outside of your door, and you yelled a sleepy ‘go ahead’ before closing your eyes again. 

you slowly opened your eyes when you heard a second pair of footsteps enter your apartment, and you were confused to see the blonde from earlier standing in your doorway.

“are you alright? it’s only six o’clock, and you were asleep?” eijirou walked over to you and sat next to you on your couch for a moment.

“yeah, sorry, i was just... just um sleepy,” you sat up and leaned into one of the arms of your couch for support, rubbing your eyes. you turned back towards the figure in your doorway, “what’s he doing here?”

“am i not allowed to tag along with my fucking friend?” bakugou growled, but neither one of you acknowledged him. 

“sorry, was just coming to get some sugar! i ran out, and we are gonna be making cookies! see ya later, y/n!” 

you waved as they both left your apartment, and easily went back to sleep. your dreams were nothing but blackness, and none were memorable when you woke up a few hours later.

over the next few weeks, you began to see bakugou more and more. he would come by the show every morning, dropping by to say hello to kirishima before he’d walk out of the door. you weren’t exactly sure why he’d come by every. single. day., sometimes he didn’t even buy something, only caring to say hi to eijirou.

you’d love to say that he went to see you, but you really doubted that was the case. i mean, he rarely ever said hello back whenever you’d greet him back, so it was implied he only cared for seeing kiri.

no matter what he’d say to you or rather what he didn’t say, he still occupied your mind constantly. you wondered about him a lot, not in a creepy way. you just really found him interesting... okay?????

after around three weeks after your first encounter with him, he greeted you back for the first time. 

“oh, hey, y/n, right?” he turned to you with a blank face, not very common since he seemed to always be scowling at whoever he was speaking with.

“yep, what do you want?” you nodded towards where bakugou was standing near you next to the baking books, and kirishima raised an eyebrow. 

“are you any good at cooking? i need to make cupcakes but kirishima here makes shit ones,” 

kirishima chuckled, “he isn’t wrong, go ahead, y/n,”

“um, yeah i like to bake, when are you free?” you tried to hide the blush that covered your face.

“a bit obsessed with me, are ya?” he smirked as you began shouting.

“huh?? am not, you’re the one who-”

“oi shut it, dingbat, i’ll come pick you up from this shit job how’s that work?”

kirishima just stood where he had been, staring at you both with wide eyes. he’d never seen bakugou offer to pick anyone up whatsoever before. especially not to spend time with them.

once he left, it was like time chose to go by slower than ever. you checked the clock that hung above the doorway ever so often, and would quietly groan at how much longer it’d be until you got to make those damned cupcakes.

you decided to keep yourself busy with cleaning up in the back of the store, restocking the shelves and tidying up the stacked up books that sat collecting dust.

“y/n,” kirishima called for you, his voice somewhat muffled by the shut door that separated you both.

you walked to him, and smiled at the man who was standing in the doorway. 

“quit staring and c’mon, we don’t have much time, dumbass,” he frowned and beckoned for you to come over, you hurried to grab your purse. 

“aren’t we driving kirishima too.?” you cocked your head when he began to take off out of the shop. he paused and rolled his eyes, shaking his head and continuing to walk across the street once more.

the drive to his apartment was filled with you talking about whatever and him finding various ways to insult it, although his gaze wasn’t filled with the same amount of sharpness as usual.

you decided not to say anything about it, not wanting it to cease. you were honestly enjoying yourself, even though he was being sort of a dick. it wasn’t exactly unlike him to be one, though.

after around ten minutes of the conversation flowing like water, he parked in front of a bougie looking tall apartment complex. just from looking outside, you could see the wall-length windows and the impressive chandeliers that hung inside the building. you felt small, your apartment certainly not comparable to this. 

he scoffed when he saw your wowed expression, and silently took your hand. this would’ve been romantic if he wasn’t using it to drag you inside. the pace he was leading you both at left you panting by the time you got to his door, and your arm was sore from how harshly he was pulling and swerving you around the hallways. 

when you took your first step into his apartment, your entire body began to feel light. his apartment didn’t match his firey personality whatsoever, and it was absolutely stunning. astonishing countertops and a double oven added to his impressively sized kitchen. sparkling crystal animals covered one of the shelves nearby the tv. just by looking at the entry way, you loved his apartment.

his apartment was flawless, and it didn’t even seem like an apartment. it had a generous amount of space, and you wondered how he could afford this as a college student. you decided to let the curiosity drop, it’d be rude to ask about his wealth anyways..

“y/n, quit staring at my shit and hurry the fuck over here,” bakugou grumbled, stirring you from your thoughts.

you nodded and walked over to him, smiling at the ingredients that littered his kitchen island. these were gonna be some good cupcakes.

“what fla-”

“funfetti, duh,” 

you chuckled, and examined the extra sprinkles that he had bought. they looked amazing. and expensive.

you both chatted as you started the cupcakes, since he was bossy and so were you, you decided that it’d be better to do separate jobs. he was in charge of making the cupcakes while you were “doing the shitty icing, better not fuck it up” in bakugou’s words.

you worked on the icing and tried to hold back your giggles at bakugou’s cursing when he realized he forgot to add the sugar.

“god fucking damnit now i have to redo these fucking cupcakes,” he groaned, pulling the now scrapped cupcake tray out of the oven with absolutely no care, shooting you a frown when you commented on how he was gonna burn himself if he kept being that reckless.

“shoulda paid attention,” you stuck your tongue out, a wide smile brightening up your face.

“fucking shut it, dingbat,”

“WHY WON’T YOU STOP CALLING ME DINGBAT,” you shouted, although still being careful to stir the icing at the correct pace. you weren’t about to mess up an easy job, hell no!

after a few hours of you both baking in harmony, you flopped down on his leather couch, resting one of your arms over your forehead as you stared up at the ceiling. 

“i have a baking night every week with kiri, if you wanna come,” bakugou came up next to you and muttered, and you weren’t sure if he even wanted you to. i mean, you barely could hear him. 

he handed you a rag to wipe your hands on, and sat down next to you.

“can i?” you widely smiled at him, hoping he still wanted you to. 

“why the fuck would i tell you about it if not,” he scoffed, and you giggled.

you shrugged, and around half an hour later he drove you home for the night. 

you had a tupperware of cupcakes resting on the counter next to your fridge when you went to bed that night, although the memories that came with them were seated next to your mind. the small chuckles you would manage to pull from him replaying in your mind as you stared happily at your ceiling. 

you sure were looking forward to the next weekend.

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