#admitting that someone else is stronger than you is SUPER fucking hard

[allastoredeer]

The way I've always seen radioapple is that inevitably Alastor would mellow out around Lucifer, because unlike every other sinner that would see him fall to take his place, Lucifer is already beyond him. It's the difference between having to worry about everyone and only having to worry about the biggest predator in the room. By definition Lucifer is so much scarier than anything that would dare attack the Radio Demon that he makes him (feel) safe.

And if his insecure ass would just accept that, he'd be much happier. :)

But alas, he's so used to being attacked and noticed that he can't begin to imagine a world where he's not a target. I think on some level he's convinced himself that he likes being in that constant state of justified anxiety.

Alastor has so many issues and I want to study them all under a microscope. I think, even in a developing relationship with Lucifer, it would take a long, long time, full of emotional turmoil and coming to terms with his insecurities, before he even begins to allow Lucifer to "protect" him. In any way.

As someone who also hates being vulnerable, or weaker than anyone I'm around, I project so much onto Alastor its not even funny. To give that bit of vulnerability to someone--to open yourself up enough to allow someone to take care of you, to PROTECT you (which can feel so degrading in some circumstances, in my experience), is super fucking hard, and I think Alastor would have to go through massive amounts of character development before he got there LMAO.

But I want him to feel comfortable and safe around Lucifer. I want him to feel like he can trust him. I want good things for Alastor if only he would open himself up and allow that vulnerability T.T

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

You Go First ~ D.G.

A/n: Took me a hot second but here he is! It’s really fucking short for some reason? Idk it all came to me in a rush and I just had to get it down. Hope you still like it!

Request: “Dick Grayson x male reader, reader and dick go on a mission which leads to them confessing at the same time.” By anon

MASTERLIST

“NIGHTWING.” A head snapped over, eyes scanning as quickly as possible to see why the voice had called out to him. When he saw Y/n hefting the large beam and leaning back, readying to chuck it like a baseball… well, there really was only one thing to do.

He hit the deck.

They’d originally met as kids, both working in the same circus. Where Dick had been one of the Flying Graysons, Y/n had been a sight to behold: the youngest strong man ever known. Y/n was seven years old and could lift anything from a whole adult person to cars. Dick had kept track of all of his friends from the circus when he’d lost his parents and been whisked away by Bruce Wayne, especially when they picked up Superboy for the first time and a bunch of teenagers who didn’t get taken seriously formed a team wholly their own.

Now Dick wasn’t that kid anymore. Robin was someone else’s title, onto its third holder as he had moved onto the man he was now. Tim fit the role much better than Dick had.

They’d met again when Dick had still been Robin though. The team had infiltrated the circus to look into a string of robberies that were being tired to the very place and people who had practically raised him. How could he have not looked into it?

Y/n was still in the circus, eight years older and much much stronger. Even Connor had been surprised at seeing Y/n picking up whole cars without breaking sweat. When Dick said that he had been able to do that for years (claiming he’d gotten the information from a newspaper) Connor had admitted that he wasn’t impressed at the feat of strength itself but in Y/n’s performance. It was easy to tell for Connor that Y/n was much stronger than he was letting on but was pretending to be the exact same level of strength he had been at seven. A safe bet for someone trying to stay off the radar in a world full of heroes - and, scarier, villains - but also a safe play when he “pushed his limits” to show off for the crowd and still was well within things he could pick up without risking his safety or health.

It had been hard not to be fascinated with his childhood friend after that. How strong was Y/n? How was he so strong? Dick hadn’t thought about it as a kid of course, but as Robin, in a world full of super people, it made him curious now. Had he been an experiment? Was he alien? A meta? He told himself the curiosity was professional, that he was worried these robberies might be Y/n’s work. After all, he had the strength to pull it off - and they didn’t know if strength was all he had.

But even when it turned out not to be Y/n, Dick kept in touch. First writing letter, and then phone calls and texts and face times. They were talking a lot, and he got himself in trouble a few times for answering a brief call or text or listening to a voice message while on patrol.

When a traveling superhero popped up out of nowhere with superhuman strength but no ability to fly, Dick was on top of it as Robin. The new guy was just the right age for his team. But then he recognized the build and abilities. The motif of the “Strong Man” gave Y/n away even before he spoke and his voice sealed the deal.

To Y/n’s credit, he recognized Dick just as quickly. It made him realize that it wasn’t an act of detective skill. Y/n was a lot of things but he wasn’t a trained eye like the Batfam was driven to be. That meant that the recognization was proof of familiarity. Y/n simply knew the way his body moved and the expressions his face made and the lilts and rises of his voice. Dick knew Y/n just as intimately.

How many people was Dick on such a personal level with?

It had created a tension between them that Dick hadn’t been able to ignore. Or handle. Even now, nothing has gone particularly wrong. Their plan was sailing without a hitch. Everyone was safe and accounted for and within line of sight. The mental link was up and running no problem and they were coordinating with their usual fluid ease. They were winning, and it was happening quickly. Dick shouldn’t be as jumpy as he was.

And yet.

As the metal beam shot over his head and smacked into one of the enemy supers, Dick found himself not worried for the one getting a beam to the face but the one who’d thrown it. Y/n wiped sweat off his forehead while also ducking a second attack. He had taken the time to defend Dick from an enemy that had been behind him. Dick might have been in a pickle for the first time the whole fight if Y/n hadn’t intervened.

It was almost comical how eager they were to make sure the other was having the easiest time possible. Even as Dick went to mock Y/n’s protectiveness, he flung a smoke bomb to blind someone taking a swing at Y/n.

The entire fight they were like that.

Not exactly back to back, but watching out for each other every single step. They were like parts of a machine. Two halves of a whole. Where either stumbled, the other immediately stepped in - and there was a lot of that when both of them were so busy taking care of the other person. It was throwing th e enemies off to try and attack Y/n and get a batarang pinning a sleeve to the wall behind them; or to go for Dick and get tackled to the ground, pinned and unable to move too quickly to stop Y/n from keeping them in place with a bent pipe or a piece of rope.

Dick had never fought like this before. Eventually he stopped worrying about the enemies coming for him specifically. He completely trusted Y/n to handle them. It made him feel… wonderful. Completely placing himself into Y/n’s hands and not once being let down.

It was like a drug, and he was high.

When the fight ended, Dick was wonder struck to realize that he wasn’t cool calm and collected like he usually was. He was exhausted and on edge. He was almost like how he was when he first started - before the toll of his decisions had completely come crashing down on him. Before he’d lost a brother in this new family of heroes he had found. Fighting was fun, and quipping came easily. He wanted to keep going. He could keep doing this all day.

It was probably that energy that drove him to turn to Y/n. It was habit to look, to make sure he was okay, but it was pure adrenaline that didn’t stop him there. A look suddenly wasn’t enough. As if Y/n was having the exact same thought they began moving at the same time and met in the middle. Dick told himself that he was checking for injuries but when Y/n went for a kiss he didn’t hesitate to reciprocate.

Artemis smirked. “I was wondering how long it would take them.”

Wally put his arm around her, smirking. “Took us ages didn’t it? But it happens eventually.” He shrugged, sighing in content as he watched his best friend part from the man he cared so deeply for, grinning. He hadn’t seen Dick that happy in a while… “If he breaks his heart I’ll kill him,” he mumbled under his breath.

Artemis covered her smile. Wally had stopped joking, his quip dying on his lips at seeing Dick radiating such energy and light. Radiating such love.

It must have been serious then.

“For his own good, I suppose he better behave then,” she decided. If Wally didn’t kill Y/n, she would have to. That boy better be on his best behavior.

-

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

[godofvillains-arch]

“Can only ignore so fucking much until some bitch ass motherfucker shoves it down my throat. I doubt God’s gonna do me the favor of ‘letting me live’ regardless.” Maybe if he married Pip he could get away with it, Pip’s a good kid.. God wouldn’t take someone important to him… right? And what if he did? That’d leave Pip alone… A saddened expression crosses Damien’s face for a moment before he shakes it off. “I can only do so much, but I know one thing, I won’t go down easily when my time does come.”

There’s a bit of a snort, yeah he knows the stubborn type. He’s ONE of those stubborn types. “Yeah, I get that. More than you might think. I believe ya on that.” He’s got no reason not to anyway.

“There are just.. people like that. It’s your choice what you do with it honestly. Some people won’t stop trying, even if you nearly cause their death.” Like he did. He’s lucky the other survived. Either way, Pip still helped him growing up, that’s why he’s the way he is now. 

“Fair. They’re like, well known serial killers in America. Like, really bad to the point they didn’t get caught until so much damage was done. It was like some kind of sick fantasy for them.” He’s not gonna get into detail though. It’s bad enough he has to deal with them in Hell occasionally. “Sounds like this All For One guy isn’t any better, but the fact that he helped you makes it hard to fully hate him I’m guessing?” Or he could be wrong.

“I didn’t think about that, then again I’ve been so dead set on thinking that he’ll just say no. But we both know Pip doesn’t deserve to be in Hell. And try horns, wings, and a tail. Sharp teeth like mine, pointed ears, red eyes. You know, all that.”

@resiliency-in-starlight

-----

"I understand... As long as you go down with a fight, not letting them have it easy, that's good... I'm destined to be a vessel, a new body for my old man... I haven't given up. I still battle tooth and nail for my body. But he still tries to consume me. I'm keeping my body as long as I can.. But in the end, who knows what will happen to me," he speaks honestly with a shrug.

"I mean I nearly killed the brat a few times.. Guy just will not give up... I mean, I'll admit... it's nice someone cares about me on the other side. But he doesn't understand me... Even if I DID want help, I can't just abandon my allies."

"Oh, gotcha.. I don't pay much attention to American news.. I just live and chill in Japan. But I'm pretty sure even in my own world those people exist. Cuz my world and this one are nearly the same.. Just mine has super powers... As for All For One, I hate the bastard with every fiber of my being. The problem is, is he grows stronger the more I hate him and everything else... So I've been trying to calm my hatred. Which is kinda why I went to Nimue's world in the first place."

"I mean, you never know unless you try," the villains says with a shrug. "Hat can hide the horns, keep the wings beneath a loose hoodie, tail can wrap around the waist and remained tucked under the shirt. Sharp teeth-- some humans DO get their teeth sharpened. Just tell people he did that cuz he thought it was cool. There's cosplay items that make your ears pointed, can say it's that cuz it's his trademark. Red eyes, red contacts."

[ooooo-mcyt]

Yknow what? I'd actually go so far as to say that, as much as ive seen it complained about, it's actually pretty hard to "UwU" or "Woobify" Grian within the context of yhs.

I mean. It's possible if you go really extreme with it, but it's hard.

Grian at his core is actually a primarily decent person most of the timeand is a primarily innocent party in most things. One who goes through a Lot.

If you really think about it Grian's moral compass isn't too far off normal basic human morality. He's often anxious and hesitant when faced with any involvement in criminal activity, he's frequently dismayed and offput by suggestions of violence (the less deserved the more dismay is expressed as well), he's disappointed and frustrated at seeing the people around him do fucked up things, he's almost always polite with a good head on his shoulders when faced with a kind or reasonable person. Even well into ts, long after first coming back to Japan, Grian is still incredibly uneasy and fidgety with the suggestion that he take part in violence, I mean, remember that time he, Taurtis, and Sam were tasked with killing Geode and Grian not only initially tried to refuse outright but then checked in shakily with the other two multiple times just to confirm if they were really going to kill someone. Grian's typically the character most likely in the entire series to be incredibly put off by and very hesitant about doing bad things (especially to people he's not one million percent certain deserve it).

And while one could argue that we can't really praise his moral compass for being hesitant about involving himself in crime/wrongdoing when he often ends up participating anyways. Actions speak louder than words and all. However I disagree. The fact that Grian vocally does not wish to be involved in this kind of thing and has proven to behave on the more reasonable and polite side when acting independently in relation to likewise level headed people....is Very important. In fact, in actual legal cases, oftentimes a factor in trying individuals is the question of whether they would commit the crime in question indepently or under normal circumstances. This is the basis for necessity, duress, and insanity pleas, amoung other's. People who would not act the way they did in a certain scenario under normal circumstances are often liable to be judged favourably in their actions. In fact, speaking of duress pleas, Grian's got a pretty solid one for a lot of his actions. The times Sam or Yuki held a knife to his throat or the times police threatened to kill him if he doesn't comply with orders or any alike incidents. In cases where duress isn't applicable to Grian's behaviour there are oftentimes incidents in which an outright case for violence in self defense can be made. In fact, most of Grian's circumstances leave him very viable to be judged sympathetically on a legal standpoint. The fact that he was a minor, the fact that he had no apparent history of violence or crime, the fact that he was in a severely abusive relationship with a criminal and entering said relationship marked the start of any sort of criminal behaviour from Grian, any criminal behaviour from Grian always being in a group setting never lead by himself, the fact that he always clearly and openly protests when pulled into these group settings, the duress and self defense pleas that are applicable to pretty much all incidents in which he does engage. Which are also all factors that can and should be accounted for on. a moral basis as well, obviously. And like, Grian has a reputation for being arrogant, cynical, and rude or whatever, but he's really not. He very rightfully calls out other people's horrible bullshit and makes snappy remarks towards his abuser but that's the opposite of a problem and Grian's proven himself more than capable of reasonable civility towards reasonable people. Grian just isn't the selfish arrogant disrespectful criminal that he's sometimes implied to be and in fact he's largely innocent- or absolvable, if you'd rather- in most of the things levied against him. Grian's not a literal saint giving to the needy and taking care of orphans in his spare time but he's a decent guy overall???

And hey, speaking of that super abusive relationship Grian landed in. Let's not forget the impact of that situation. Sam was undoubtedly abusive towards Grian. He threatened Grian's life various times, he basically told Grian he was nothing compared to Taurtis, he shoved plastic down Grian's throat and laughed when he choked, he got Grian locked up in solitary confinement through complete lies just because he thought it'd be entertaining I guess, he forced Grian to kiss an abnormally large amount of people against his will (some of these instances sam recorded despite being asked not to), he himself tried to make out with Grian without consent while Grian was sleeping in his own private room, he forcefully dressed Grian up in feminine cosplay meant to be ~attractive~ complete with fake breasts, he lied to Grian about the gender identity of someone Grian dated as a joke (his words) and lightly mocked Grian afterwards, he locked Grian in a basement for three days straight and it's unclear whether or not he was planning to let him out anytime soon, he dragged Grian into a closet with school staff despite Grian's very vocal distress and discomfort then scolded Grian for considering reported it when this staff member made uncomfortable comments on the outfit Sam had forced Grian into, Sam offered to give Grian to another guy who made a similar uncomfortable comment later on as part of some trade, he consistently dragged Grian against his will into criminal activity whether by threatening him, tricking him into participating, or just altogether falsely implicatng him, amoung Many other things. And every step of the way Sam did his best to completely gaslight Grian. He used every gaslighting technique in the book. Telling blatant lies (for example, "i would never stab taurtis", "you are taurtis", "grian's crazy and he stabbed taurtis"), he denies doing shit to Grian that Grian knows damn well he did ("i would never stab taurtis"). He hard projected his bs onto Grian (from blaming grian for 'making' sam do awful shit sam did to claiming grian actually fullstop did the awful shit sam did). He was just constantly trying to turn people against Grian (convincing yuki and taurtis to back him up in calling grian a bad manipulative friend and insisting he needed to apologize for 'making' sam horrifically abuse him. arriving in the police station and instantly without hesitation telling them grian was crazy and dangerous and pinning his own crimes on grian. having taurtis back him up and help scold grian for getting mad about being locked in the basement for days). Telling Grian he's crazy (taurtis incident again, solitary confinement incident, the time sam kissed grian without his consent while he slept and grian got mad). Telling everyone else that Grian's a manipulative liar (taurtis incident again, solitary confinement incident again). Yknow. Gaslighting. Sam was just so unbelievably abusive. In like. Every possible way. Which adds a LOT of trauma to Grian. That on top of his parents abandoning him as a little kid too because we couldn't leave it at severe abuse.

Grian's not a bad person. And he's certainly a very sympathetic person. Which is why it would be hard to woobify yhs Grian. It would be hard to make a very sympathetic very sad character egregiously sympathetic and sad. His whole arc is getting abandoned by his parents, going to visit his friends, and getting violently abused and forced into a multitude of disturbing activities against his will for an extended period of time.

One could argue that sure Grian isn't a bad person and sure Grian's got a pretty sad life, but certainly a lot of people are guilty of making Grian more helpless and scared and generally 'pathetic' than he is in canon.

To which I reply...not really?

Grian already doesn't have half the fight response people ascribe to him throughout the series. That was a whole other post but honestly Grian's response to traumatic situations is very frequently to cave to them and he's got a much stronger submissive streak than people often admit. I mean, Grian was asked to dress up as his best friend who just got stabbed "to make things less awkward and make me feel better" and he did it within ten seconds of being asked without the others even needing to threaten him at all. Grian does express quite a bit of despair, fear, and submissive tendency in canon when faced with dangerous or traumatic situations. And while it's possible to go a bit too far with that if you consistently leave out the token fight entirely, I see people swing way too far un the opposite direction way too often. There's a reason Grian never actually killed Sam in canon. There's a reason Grian never made a serious attempt to get him arrested for his crimes. There's a reason Grian never just left. When Sam found Grian after he ran out of the gym during the Taurtis incident? Grian didn't lunge for Sam. There was no serious altercation between the two. Grian scrambled back and tearfully babbled platitudes while shoving plastic down his own throat on command. And even beyond that, a lot of the interpretations accused of making Grian too helpless/scared/'pathetic' are works that involve Grian processing trauma years after the fact. Which. Even if Grian was the most aggressive on edge fighter in the history of trauma responses during the traumatic events? People don't process their trauma after the fact the same way they instinctively respond in the moment. Even if Grian never shed a tear throughout any of the traumatic ordeals he experienced, it would be far from unrealistic behaviour for him to still process after the fact by panicking and sobbing his eyes out regularly. Which, again, Grian wasn't even all that fight oriented while it was happening so panic and tears isn't even super far removed from his actual in the moment responses let alone processing after-responses. It's just. It's really hard to "UwU" Grian tbh. He's a decent person, he went through hell (his own words actually), and he was never even really very effectively aggressive when he did. And while it's possible to dip too far into that territory, far more often I see things swung egregiously far in the other direction.

[poisonousquinzel]

https://lady-ha-ha.tumblr.com/post/160715688748/is-that-comic-before-the-reboot-and-which-one-is

(I have not read this comic) Is this true? (if so, ivy deserves someone better).

Post

Kay, first off both of those people are Jarley shippers so take everything they say with a grain of salt and then some, cause no. that part isn't about how much Harley loves Joker and will always choose him over Ivy. Literally you can tell ops don't know what they're talking about cause her whole thing in those issues is going to kill him for years of graphic abuse but ultimately falls back with him once she’s face to face with him.

Like wow, congrats on missing the fucking point again but not surprised from people who ship her with The Fucking Joker.

also, ffs, can anyone please have basic comprehension skills and realize that Harley and Ivy are both fucked up sometimes because they’ve got issues and that’s not comparable to Joker’s long ass history of graphic and disgusting abuse.

Harley and Ivy are villains, they're not a wholesome cookie cutter, White Picket Fence, super vanilla ship with no bad moments. They're both bad guys with a fuck ton of trauma that they both have to work through, and have done so at this point. 

Gotham City Sirens was published between 2009 - 2011, Harley and Ivy weren't blatantly romantic at this point nor had they had anywhere near the development that they’ve had at this point.

Like don’t go into Harlivy content expecting them to be the perfect wlw rep with no flaws during their arcs from BTAS to current time cause that’s just not realistic. They’re both deeply flawed people who’ve got a fuck ton of trauma that they need to (and have) worked through. 

I have talked about the BTAS issues here and this post is good at explaining them too. 

X

X

Harlivy is not and has never been a purely wholesome, goody-goody ship. They’re messy, they have issues, and they have bad moments sometimes, but they both worked through their seperate trauma and came out stronger and better because at the end of the day, they care about each other. 

Harlivy has messy, toxic moments sometimes, but they’re not, and have never been, abusive. There’s a difference between unhealthy moments and a ship being abusive. 

That’s completely different to how Joker acts Constantly, because he does not care that his actions towards Harley are abusive, because he doesn’t give a shit about her. 

He enjoys hurting her. He enjoys ruining her. 

Jarley has always been intended to be written and shown as a domestically abusive relationship.

This is also the first instance where it's directly referenced that there's something more than platonic between her and Ivy, other than the reference in Batgirl Adventures. 

Gotham City Sirens is also not connected to any verses.

This didn’t happen in the timeline we’re in rn with Harley Quinn (2014)/(2016)/(2021).

Comic timelines and shit are stupid and make everything more confusing and awful and I hate it sdfjdksksdkjsd

-

this is gonna be a long post since ops wanna just cut and paste random bits of the issues like jarley stans always do (cause jarley never has good moments that aren’t entirely surrounded by him abusing her) I’m going to show them in full context. *added a keep reading cause it is a lot

(All panels shown are from #15, #18, #19, #20, #21, #23, #24, #25)

So, Harley's entire thing at this point in the GCS comic in that she's been triggered by flashbacks of Joker's abuse and she breaks into Arkham with the intent to kill him.

The entire thing in these issues is showing her smarts and how she knows people's trump cards to get under their skin so she can break into Arkham. 

She’s trained to identify these things in people and she's fucking good at pushing people's buttons. 

this is also just one of my fav Harley covers so I wanted to show it jsdjksdks

“Trump cards. Everyone has one. Places where the armor we build around ourselves is weakest.” 

She’s right. And it’s now shown that Harley’s willing to use those below the belt trump cards if she has to.  

And frankly, I’d say this is worse than what she says to Ivy. And I’m not surprised she did it. She didn’t want to, she tried to get him to just open the door - 

“Don’t make me do this, Aaron. There are some secrets that should stay hidden. Things you should never learn about your own life.” 

but she’s also entirely fueled by rage and the desire to kill Joker. She came here for a reason and she’s not leaving until she’s done it.

“I’m going to kill you. For everything you’ve done to me. All the times you’ve made me feel useless and small. For all the times I will never forget. For all the things I can never forgive. All the memories -”

“Hello, Harley. I’ve missed you.” 

“Memories. That’s all I have left. The past is gone and all I have is... memories. 

Memories.

Memory. 

Gone.

I guess I too have a trump card.”

“Oh, Ivy. You know exactly what my answer is going to be. But you’re hoping you’re wrong, aren’t you?”

She’s also right about this, they already mentioned this in #18.

“How did I become the bad guy?”

“You’re the one choosing a man over her girls.”

“Are you kidding me? You would never say that to Harley, and we both know she’d dumb us in a flat second if Joker called her.”

“Hey! That’s not fair-- Actually, that’s probably true.”

“The difference is, she can’t help it. You can. And she’s working on it. You’re not working on it.” 

“Too easy, Ivy. Too easy. I know your weak spots. Now I just need to push.”

This is exactly what she’s been doing since the starting point of this post. She’s still in that mindset and she knows she can’t beat her on a regular battle field. Neither of them can. 

“Like I said-- You beat me in any level playing field. But I don’t fight on those fields.” 

Harley’s biggest strength as a villain is her ability to completely mentally stall her opponents and learn their weak spots. She wouldn’t win against the majority of the Big Bads if she didn’t fight on a different field than they are. 

so, like yeah, out of context what she says to Ivy seems awful and completely screwed up, and it is, but it’s also built up really well and it’s completely in character for her at this point in her fall during these issues. 

Is what she did fucked? absolutely. It’s not painted that it’s not. 

Ivy Literally Goes To Kill Her For It.

In the end of this all three of them are recaptured by Catwoman and Batman and that’s where we’re starting off at again. 

“Oh, Harley.

The only human I’ve ever called a friend.

To what lengths will I go? Where are my own limits? She is the Strangler fig. And I am the tree, choking underneath. 

Without me, she could never grow. 

But without her, I would fall if I grew too tall.” 

“Will she ever stand by herself? 

Will she ever be ready? 

She is in throes of madness. She sees him, her brain flooding with adrenaline, it makes her excited, nervous, then the feelings start to fade, and she needs more. And more. 

She sees it as passion. She sees it as love. 

But it’s not. It’s addiction. And she’s relapsing.” 

Ivy is well aware of the nature of their relationship. She’s not stupid and she’s been shown already to know that it’s something that takes time. It’s not a one off break up and it’s over. That’s not how abusve relationships work. 

What do I do?

I could use my pheromones to alter her brain chemistry.

I could leave her behind abandoning her to the wilds of her own mind.

I could kill her right now.

Show her how red Nature can be.

There's one other option.

It would require patience.

Even love.

Maybe I'm more human than I want to admit.

"You have one chance to answer this."

I know, if she agrees, she'll be doing it for revenge. For him.

"She put us behind bars."

But maybe if I get away from this place, if I give her something else to think about. Maybe she can break the cycle. But it has to be her choice.

"I'm going to kill her. Come with me."

So yeah, it’s definitely not a just “Harley hurts her and runs off with Joker and it’s just a plain ol’ her choosing him over everyone and that’s that.” 

Jarley shippers love to just reduce all her scenes and arcs down to their “epic love” and shit, but that’s taking away literally everything about her and reducing it down to the 3 panels that they’re “cute” in. Her arc in this part is fucking heartbreaking to read.

And Ivy damn well knows what’s going on with her. She’s smart and she’s the one that’s been there throughout all of this. She found her in the park after he shot her out of a rocket. 

And she knows it’ll take time for Harley to get over and through his manipulation, that’s just how it works with abusive relationships. 

But she’s also not forgiving at first, she’s mad and rightfully so, until she sees the sate of Harley’s cell and realizes how bad her addiction is at that time.

A lot of the unhealthy moments on Harley’s side when it comes to them are directly caused from the effects of being in an abusive relationship with Joker. Because she’s always in this area of her journey in those moments. She’s never fully over him or emancipated. 

And that’s realistic. It’s hard sometimes to be friends with someone who’s in abusive relationships like theirs, having to watch them return to that person time and time again and it’s frustrating after a while. 

I know from personal experience, it’s really hard to watch someone you care about go back or forgive someone that continues to hurt them. 

But abuse victims desperately need a support system outside of their abuser. It’s a crucial part of being able to escape, because when they do try to get out they need someone there or they’ll literally have no where to go but back into their abuser’s arms.

It’s heartbreaking and it’s really rough for everyone effected, but that’s just how it is most of the time. Especially in their case, as they’re not just regular folk dealing with this. 

If she doesn’t have Ivy, Harley has no one else to go to but Joker, on more than just an emotional level. 

She’s lost her job. Her income. Her home. Her livelihood. Her everything.

Most of the time she has no other choice but to return to a life of crime after she’s released from Arkham because she can’t get a job, she’s a notorious criminal and she’s got a lot of issues that don’t just disappear with a bit of therapy. 

She has no other choice but to return to Joker because the other alternative is the streets. At least she knows what to expect with him. 

And that’s not even getting into the manipulation, gaslighting and degrading abuse that he drills into her constantly. 

He’s made her believe she’s not anything without him. That she’s not smart or useful or anything. 

And that’s why it’s so damn important for her to have a support system and why he’s so damn against Ivy. 

Because Ivy is the good voice on her shoulder telling her he’s wrong and that she doesn’t deserve that. 

-

And on Ivy’s side, she’s aware she gets very near cutting off all parts of her humanity. 

She’s a plant goddess, she’s insanely powerful and she feels everything through the green. Frankly, she’s not even on the same playing field as these villains. She’s significanty more powerful than Harley and Joker. 

Her connection to Harley is what keeps her humanity in tack, because despite everything, she does care about her. She was the first person she let in, the first person Ivy called a friend. 

The person that was able to get through to her in #14/#15 when she was losing herself. The one that was able to get through to her that the dude was manipulating her. 

“Ivy, I know you think you love this guy... but you’re just gonna end up strapped to his rocket!”

She had to knock her out for the dude to trust her / not attack them anymore. But Harley got through to her by mentioning how they first met in the park when she saved her after Joker shot her off in a rocket.

And Ivy is understandable turned off towards humans considering her origin and trauma around that. 

She’s got a lot of trust issues.

But both of them work through their seperate traumas over the years because their affection for each other is stronger than the issues their trauma has given them.

-

and also, sometimes, they just have shit writers. that’s an issue overall in comic fandoms. Some writers just fucking suck at getting any of the characters right, let alone LGBT characters, who’re notoriously treated like garbage by DC. 

[peeterparkr]

perennial;tom holland|ten.

chapter ten: aconite 

↳ flower meaning: [beautiful flower, poisonous] be cautious 

chapter summary: reasons to love, reasons not to and conversations that should be held. 

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: it’s slightly angsty, slightly fluffy, the chapter begins at some point but will not be at that point, you’ll see

word count: 10.2K

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER:

masterlist & profiles  

nine: in which we get to know who Clark is

previous chapter next chapter   perennial masterlist.

perfidy  ( series masterlist)

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Hey guys! So as you might have noticed I took a break, school has been super demanding and honestly I wasn’t as eager to write this, kinda lost motivation to write perennial because it got too demanding and honestly, well you know it... But I’m back on track! I hope you like this chapter, it’s slightly different. 

Sometimes life is ironic, like winning the lottery after you die, or meeting the love of your life and finding out they’re married, or rain pouring down on your wedding day. 

Ironic by Alanis Morissette had been the first song that had played when they’d arrived to that bar, James remembered. 

Ironic. 

But the most ironic thing to y/n at least was Dancing Queen being sung in the background by two—no, three drunken girls, the bright notes buzzing, as they were too boozed up to hit any kind of decent note or any kind of lyric. It was ironic, as y/n was trying to hold back the tears as she rushed through the dancing crowd, a very unaware crowd, that was sweating and dancing and cheering and singing to the beaming to the cheerful song as she tried to swim her way through to finally get outside. 

Y/n knew Tom and her had never been fine. It just wasn’t a word in their relationship vocabulary. It was usually chaos. Like what it felt at that precise moment. She knew that Tom and her were chaos, that was true. But this. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

It was something she already knew would happen, eventually, though it’s stupid to walk into a relationship knowing you’redoomed.  It must have been a figment of her imagination. What she had seen. And on her birthday. Her very own birthday. 

But it wasn’t. 

She hadn’t imagined it. 

But what exactly had led to the chaos? Why had it come so easily? Everything had been particularly lovely. 

But of course, she knew that the fact she was crying outside a stupid bar trying to catch her breath, as she could still hear the faint music from the inside was no coincidence and was no surprise. Her sorrow had had a beginning and this chaos had been building up since James’ arrival, this was the ending she definitely didn’t want. 

Not that it had to do with her brother per se, but it came from that moment. Or maybe she was just trying to blame it on someone else rather than on Tom. 

She did blame it a bit on James. 

“Y/N, here you are,” James said as soon as he had walked out of the bar. “It��s—“

“I don’t want to hear it right now,” she stated before looking up to see her brother. “I know it, James—“

“Y/N—“James wanted to calm her down. “I” 

“I know, you told me so-”She snapped. “I fucking know that. Go and search for your fucking boyfriend that’s the only think you care about-” 

Clark had walked out as if he knew he’d be mentioned. Clark had arrived days before, apparently James announcing his engagement hadn’t exactly been to share it, but rather a warning to y/n. 

“Y/N, are you alright-” Clark had tried to ask. 

“No, get out of my face, I need to… Where the hell is Emma?” Y/N didn’t mean to snap at him but she couldn’t care any less. 

“It wasn't him,” Clark had tried to say. 

But it had been. However, y/n guessed she knew what he meant. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said. “Could’ve been any other day but no, everyone fucking decided to ruin my damn birthday, I didn’t even care about it! I just—Need to leave.” 

“But I’m sure Tom—“

And even though y/n knew it wasn’t... it felt...it had hit too close to a feeling that she was too familiar with. A deja-vu if one must say. A nightmare that she had once forgotten. 

Of course, nobody did understand why she had reacted that way.

Correction, they did. They would expect her to react that way because what she’d seen had been hell. But they didn’t understand what she truly felt. Maybe Sam, probably Sam. Who had seen her all those years back, way too long ago. Yet it seemed like just yesterday. But Sam had seen a very different y/n back then...Not stronger but a y/n that kept her feelings. Not like this, running away from it, wasn’t y/n supposed to be stronger now? 

He guessed that reliving it wasn’t easy, especially by what came afterwards. There was a slight difference this time, however, huge difference, actually. 

Tom did run after her, and he was probably still searching for her.  

“You don’t get it,” y/n said. “I—I need—It just felt—It felt just like that time.” 

James saw Tom rushing out of the bar, too. He pitied Tom for once this week. 

This wasn’t Tom’s fault… allegedly. Technically, it wasn’t. Now, if you look at the background of course he was to blame and he was an idiot, but this was something that James… could understand. He could, in a way, team up with Tom. 

James knew this would eventually happen. This chaos was ticking and it was only a matter of time till the chaos exploded. 

Relationships are complicated, but they’re bright most of the time. When two people are in love what else can you do about it?

James knew it, love was a bitch and love can make us do impossible things. Some people often confuse love with possession or love with passion or love for a caprice. James was particularly scared y/n would confuse love with a memory. 

Love shouldn’t hurt. That’s why he was probably too worried about y/n. And too angry at Tom for making a fool out of his sister. He, however, was impressed by that. But not really since James knew that from a very young age y/n was stupid enough when it came to Tom. But to make a fool out of y/n when she was the one to almost usually keep her sanity? 

James was impressed by how easily it was for Tom to make y/n go stupidly crazy when it came to him. Even now, he had been so impressed by his sister’s stupid infatuation. James did, however, like that Tom managed to get that smile he hadn’t seen in a while.  But she looked very stupid while at it. 

Tom was an idiot, too. Y/N also managed to make Tom the most stupid man on the planet. Not that he needed help with that, though. 

However, just as fast as Tom could make y/n smile he could be just as fast to break her heart. Most of the time he didn’t mean it, and James was sure Tom didn’t mean to this time. 

It’s the backstabbing disadvantage Tom had for being an idiot. 

James had been one of the few people who had seen the true nature of their relationship. He had indeed noticed Tom was so foolishly in love with y/n from an early beginning and he had been the one to point it out when she was just a kid. He wished he hadn’t because the moment y/n had heard him say those words, she had turned into a very stupid little girl. 

He had, however hinted it out to Tom, several occasions, that he did notice. 

“Y/N looked pretty, huh?” He had asked once after seeing the boy blush. 

“Breathtaking much, Tom? Please close that mouth.” 

“You and y/n looked awfully good together in those pictures from prom.” 

“Stop staring at my sister, eyes up here buddy.” 

James did notice. Tom had even once told James about it. In his own way. 

“I don’t actually hate your sister, not really.” 

But he didn’t quite understand why they acted like that. Why had they been so full of pride to admit they were in love with each other? How bad would it be for both of them to admit that their eyes followed each other? Why did it hurt them so badly to admit they made each other blush and smile? 

James had seen it after y/n came back from Rome, from both sides. Y/N would hum songs, Tom would be smiling more. 

They’d be talking. Not fighting. Even laughing together. 

And James had seen that this week, and he had been proven wrong. They truly were in love, even after all, even after everything. He could see them both, trying to fight for each other, the simplest of things he’d seen like Tom pushing y/n’s hair back if she was reading the script and it bothered her sight, or y/n gently squeezing Tom’s arm when she saw he was nervous about directing. Or both of them giving each other a look, with probably an inside joke of theirs or as if they were speaking with only their sight and then looking away and smiling to themselves. 

They were in love, and James knew it. James knew love. 

Love for him was Clark. 

His damned secret, kept for too long from y/n. He would’ve kept him a secret for longer, not because he was ashamed, and not because he didn’t like him. But because… Clark was something so personal for James and sharing him meant losing their intimacy. 

Clark and James were fine by themselves, they didn’t need anyone intruding in their relationship. 

Clark is the love we all dear and yearn for, the kind of love you only see in movies in the background, nor even the main characters, just the one perfect couple that’s always in the cafe, quietly smiling at each other. The kind of love that’s cozy, and that though it may be troubled sometimes, it’s truthful. The one love you never want to give up.  

He’d seen the way Tom looked at y/n, it reminded him of the way Clark looked at him. 

Maybe that’s why he wanted to side with Tom this time. 

James was getting married and though it might had come to a surprise to y/n, he knew that if he were to tell Tom, Tom wouldn’t be surprised at all. 

Tom had introduced Clark to James. Maybe he owed him for that.

“This guy, I swear, he’s the perfect catch for you, you’re gonna thank me one day, maybe on your wedding day,” Tom had said with mischief. 

“You know you don’t have to introduce me to every gay guy my age you meet,” James had sassed. “Besides, where did you meet him—?” 

“Golfing, his dad—“

“Oh, he golfs? Hard pass, I hate guys who like golf,” James had cleared. “Pretentious idiots.” 

“Hey!” Tom had frowned, “no, but he doesn’t golf, he hates it, but his dad dragged him along so that’s why I think he’s perfect for you! I swear I had two words with the guy and I—“

“No.” 

“I already gave him your number.” 

He had hated Tom at that point but… he guessed he was very thankful for that and that’s why maybe he was having such a hard time trying to convince himself that Tom wasn’t meant to be for y/n, because if Tom had been so right about Clark, how wrong could he be about y/n? 

James wanted y/n to have a Clark. And though, he had initially loved the idea of Tom and y/n, he now saw how it could end up so badly if they didn’t get rid of the baggage, which was unmistakably very heavy for both of them to ignore. It's baggage that’s been built from years now. 

Baggage that James and Clark didn’t have, because they always talked it out. Baggage that had shown up at that very particular night. 

But he had told y/n about it, he had warned her on his very first day in LA. 

“You’re getting married, oh my god,” y/n had said for what James was sure was the hundredth time. And she had been even more excited when she’d learned he’d be coming. 

“Yes, can we move on—“

“No!” She stopped him. “Why do you want to move on?” 

“Because—“he couldn’t quite explain it. Clark was his. He didn’t have to say anything else. 

“James!” 

“The same reason as to why you didn’t want to tell me about Tom,” James said.

“So you have baggage?” 

“Not—“James closed his eyes. “When you were—Back in Rome.” 

Y/N watched him. “Oh, because—it’s,” y/n understood about it. Love is between the people in love and that’s it. 

“Or—no, no, look, it’s—“James sighed. “I’m—it’s my thing you know?” 

“I’m your sister.”

“It’s not about not sharing it with you,” he rolled his eyes, “it’s about keeping him to myself, you know? To be lucky enough to know what we have.” 

“But—Clark? I thought you—I didn’t know—You said you hated the guy!” 

James glared at his sister waiting for her to see the irony. 

“No, my case is different,” she pointed out. “Tom and I-- well… You said you hated him!” 

“Well, I lied alright? I just never wanted to admit—I mean you knew I was dating him, why does this come as a surprise?” 

“Because you— hated him?”

“I didn't. I just didn’t want to admit that I fell in love with someone Tom introduced me to.” 

She looked away. “See? He’s not that bad. I mean he—he introduced you to him, he's not as bad.” 

“I know he isn’t,” James agreed. “But you have to talk to him.” 

“Everything was simpler when we pretended to hate each other,” y/n had said, melancholically staring at the ceiling as she had a flower pressed to her chest. “Maybe I—understand it, spreading it out is difficult.” 

James rolled his eyes. “Why is it so hard for you to tell him that you’re not okay?” 

“Because I feel like he knows already,” she admitted. “But we're trying to pretend we are  okay, so we… I don’t know, fake it till you make it.”

“Y/N—“

“I’m kidding, I mean—I guess we haven’t really had time to talk, we—We already kind of talked the Timmy thing which—“

James could tell y/n was the one who didn’t want to talk, they were very much alike in that matter. “The Timmy thing?” 

“He’s incredibly jealous of Tim,” she rolled her eyes tiredly, “which I don’t—It’s stupid.” 

“Is it, y/n, didn’t you tell me you slept with him?” 

“Yes but—I—Look,” she coughed. “It’s—Not something—I… I don’t know, when… I saw Cherry, I guess I wanted to get over him, but I can’t… I...it always comes back to him, you know?” 

James watched her, confused. 

“It’s funny, how we translated the bad parts into good ones, and I am so scared that I won’t get to say everything I feel for him for yet another chance…. And he is just...The love of my life, and it feels...there’s no other explanation for it, you know? He just is. And I look back and even though we were always fighting I just…” She took a deep breath. “And it did break me, the Cherry thing, him moving on with someone else just, I guess I wanted to move on, too, I thought… It’s gone, you know? Then he comes back and it’s another spark, you know? I just get out of my stupid senses... but I just did it because I couldn’t bear the thought that we are not meant to be.” 

James remained quiet. 

“And no matter what everyone says, I’d still choose him, you know? It’s so…” She cleared her throat. “So stupid, but then I just remember that feeling with us laughing and smiling and the...The first time he ever said he loved me I couldn’t quite… Believe it, you know? And it’s not… Gosh I hate that we are both so stupid but we’re doing our best, and he…I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid but I think… I like to think we both missed waking up beside each other.” 

“That’s not love.” 

“No, I know, not that, but it is love, in our own very particular way,  but we’re so much more than that, yes the pieces are all scattered around, but I know I want to fight for it, and… I think our problem is we aimed too high or… I can’t help but be confused about the script you know? Because if it hadn’t been for it… I would’ve never had a chance yet it seemed like I… It’s a very delicate subject, but I don’t know, love is complicated, that’s it. But I love him more than anything.” 

James knew that y/n knew that Tom and her probably didn’t work out. She knew she’d broken Tom’s heart. It was no secret that y/n felt that  the worst thing that she’d ever done was breaking his heart. She knew that, and though everybody said it, she should forgive herself, she knew that it wasn’t easy. 

James didn’t know what to answer. 

“I don’t want to lose him.” 

“Yet you’re loving him as if you are going to,” James intruded. 

“You never know, and i think that’s the best way to love, love as if you’re gonna lose each other, then you know you’re really loving them…. Life has taught us both that we can screw up,” she gulped. “And I don’t know, I know...there’s a part of me that thinks it won’t last even if we try to, you know? But then again, I think about it and I know we’ll eventually end up together again. And I know I… look, I know I shouldn’t be saying this because I need no man but this time in L. A., I felt… numb, you know? And I guess I was sad because there was nothing holding us together, and… I would put on a smile every Friday, you know? Pretend I was okay, and I was healing of course, but I still had so much love left for him. Still do and I don’t want to let go of my chance. Might as well be happy, I’m tired of listening to me crying anyway.” 

Y/N did say ‘you know’ a lot, and James did know. Not sure how. 

“Why do you love him?” He asked. 

“He’s just too good to be true,” y/n smiled slightly, to herself. “I don’t—know, I just do, he’s the only one that gets through to me, and I feel alive when I’m with him,” she bit her lip. “I feel like I am a teenager all over again, but a good way, like when you’re excited about trying new stuff and excited about growing up, and being rebellious, and” she closed her eyes. “As cheesy as it sounds, I just lose all my defenses, but with him, I don’t feel lonely, he’s like… I don’t know, he’s just a song written by the hand of god.” 

James only listened. Y/N wasn’t… this, usually. Y/n never really said things like that. It was odd. 

“Y/N, that’s—“

“I know, I’m being ridiculous,” she blushed. “But I do love him. Because he’s—a moment, he is… I love him because I know him, and even with his flaws I completely love him.” 

“He’s an idiot, y/n, he slept with Cherry.” 

James didn’t understand it. Not really. Or not completely, for that matter. But he knew it. It was so complicated but he didn’t blame her, he guessed that y/n wasn’t a quitter, maybe that’s why she was trying so hard. And maybe she was right, and he knew it, Tom wasn’t that bad… But the fact he’d slept with Cherry was completely inappropriate. 

“I never thought I’d need him,” she admitted. “And I missed him, but I didn’t miss the heartbreak.” 

A broken heart can blind us. 

He’d seen Tom once back in London, and he wasn’t alright. Tom wasn’t doing fine with y/n being away, and with the heartache, his eyes always looked tired, and he was paler, and quiet. 

Tom was never quiet. 

And yet just as James had arrived in Los Angeles he’d seen a very different Tom, one with bright eyes and pink cheeks again. Like y/n, too. Her voice over the phone sounded off, always too distracted, or not there. Now she seemed… better, but still broken. 

James knew there was no use on trying to convince y/n and she had promised that she wouldn’t continue unless she talked to Tom about it. James knew she was so good at avoiding it. 

Y/N had taken James to set the next day and he’d seen them again, very different, very professional. He saw it in their eyes, though. Eyes looking to lock with the other and that shy smile. 

James had to look past that, as he saw his little sister’s dream come true, and he could tell that she didn’t quite believe it herself. And it was like seeing that little girl just from years ago with a hope and a dream and her always bossing the Holland boys around as she wrote a script for their home made movie. 

He saw them all like kids, Tom, Harry, Sam and y/n. It was like them being kids again. In a way. 

Now it was a real set, with real actors, a real movie, a real script and Harry was directing, he couldn’t believe it. Y/N and Tom were discussing over with some of the actors and Harry talked to the crew. 

James guessed Tom and y/n had a lot to say between the chemistry of the actors. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, how they did work together, at least in the professional way, as Tom was directing them.

Did it hurt? James wondered as he watched Tom, directing Gregg, telling him how it should feel: 

“She’s the love of your life and that guy over there took the chance when you blew it up, of course you hate him, he’s the worst person in the world because… What makes him so bad is that… he is perfect for her,” James had heard Tom say. 

James had time to observe y/n and Tom. From afar and when y/n was not hiding. On that particular day when they were rehearsing that one scene when Valerie and Teddy were together, when they were supposed to be in love, dancing, all while William had to watch in the distance. 

Odd scene to see, considering his conversation with y/n. Did y/n have feelings for Tim still? Even if she assured she loved Tom? 

All of James' doubts were clearly erased as soon as he’d seen them.He’d seen them laughing with each other, shyly looking away, and y/n… giggled. 

Y/n giggled? 

It bothered him. Because it felt like Tom didn’t care, as if they’d simply erased it, in a way. But James was very aware that y/n was only bottling it all up, and y/n is dangerous, if she bottles too much she would end up losing control. 

James had seen them walk away together to have lunch, Sam and Harry had gone separate ways after but stayed far enough from them. Emma had joined James instead, they were close to y/n and Tom. 

Emma seemed sad. James couldn’t ask much about it, but from what he’d gathered from Harry, things weren’t going fine. Harry had only mentioned how it would take him a lot of time, that there was hope but that Emma just didn’t want to give in. But James could tell Emma did love Harry, and he admired Emma, her bravery and strength. She had to break off an engagement because her fiance wasn’t sure about it. Of course she wouldn’t forgive him that easily, Harry had been an idiot. 

James wished y/n was a bit more like Emma, y/n was too forgiving, and y/n was too stubborn and too blinded by the stupid boy to see it. 

James and Emma were eavesdropping, because both of them probably didn’t have a conversation themselves, and because both of them had gone close so they could hear, but hidden enough not to be seen. 

Nothing interesting about their conversation, the script, the set. Until...

“I was going to take you camping,” Tom mentioned out of the blue.

 Y/N had chuckled. “What?”

“Yeah,” he gulped. “For your—for your birthday.”

She grinned. “Camping?”

“Yeah,” Tom cleared his throat.

“That sounds so—cool,” y/n said, a bit confused by the idea. 

“But guess that idea is off the charts now.” 

She scowled. “Why?” 

“I am pretty sure your brother doesn’t want you alone with me,” Tom laughed nervously. 

James nodded in agreement to Tom’s statement as Emma tried to hide a snicker.

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes, shaking her head and letting out a very forced laugh. “He’s an idiot.” 

“No, no, I—I understand it, you’re his little sister and he’s always been very protective.” 

“He hasn’t,” Y/N chuckled.

“Oh, he has, even I know he had a talk with Tim,” Tom hissed the name. 

“What?” 

“Didn’t you know? He told him that if he broke your heart he’d chop his dick off,” he assured her. 

James shrugged and looked at Emma. “And he didn’t,” James whispered. “Because Timmy is a good guy.” 

Emma scoffed. 

“I… oh my god, I didn’t know,” Y/N sounded embarrassed. 

Tom coughed. “I’m terrified of your brother.” 

“Good,” James mouthed to Emma. 

“Hm but what were you planning?” Y/N asked, getting back on the subject. “Camping, really?” 

“I dunno, rent a cabin, go for a hike, spend the day and night together,” Tom had changed his voice and gotten slightly closer to y/n. 

“Hm tell me more,” y/n had grinned. 

James motioned as if he was going to puke. 

“And I thought we could have time to ourselves you know? I know we work best when we are alone,” Tom had continued before getting his lips close to hers. 

“Hm we do,” y/n had closed the gap between them. 

“My sister’s an idiot,” James told Emma. “Why are you letting her do that?” 

Emma rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “I can’t stop her.” 

“And well I thought it’d be romantic,” Tom continued. 

“Hm why don’t we go?” 

Tom laughed. “And take your brother?” 

“We wouldn’t-” 

“We would have to, y/n,” Tom laughed. 

James nodded again. 

“But yeah that was my idea, you and me in the woods with no distractions,” Tom commented to y/n. 

“Hmm…” Y/n had leaned yet again to kiss him. 

James scrunched his nose, he really didn’t understand how Tom managed to get y/n so stupid. 

“You know, the cabin I had seen was really romantic,” Tom explained. 

“Was it now?” y/n blushed. 

“Yes, hm... it had a fireplace, and it was so cozy,” he continued. “And I know it’s not 80’s type of aesthetic you like—“

“No, no, shut up! I would’ve loved it, it sounds so romantic,” y/n had chanted. 

James was confused. “It doesn’t, ew,” he whispered to Emma. 

“It was,” Tom agreed with y/n. 

“And what were we going to do?” Y/n asked. 

James closed his eyes and shook his head. 

“Hm, there was a nice place to go hiking, uh, fishing, maybe? and you know relax, talk, get...cozy,” Tom continued. 

“Oh,so he was right?” Y/n asked. 

“Who was?” Tom frowned, confused. 

“James,” Y/n said. 

James raised his brows at the mention of his name.

“About what?” Asked Tom. 

Y/n giggled. “You were planning on giving me your—” 

Thankfully, Tom hadn’t let her finish the sentence. “You’re taking away all the romance out of it when you say it like that!” 

James wanted to die. 

Y/N laughed, loudly. “But were you?” 

Tom was embarrassed. “I—I mean it may have been on the schedule yes hopefully—I mean don’t say it like that, oh my god, y/n—But—“

“Was it on the schedule then?” Y/n asked. “How did you write it? Sex at 8?“

“No! No, I—it was—Not planned—I mean I wasn’t going to assign like a time but I mean it would I—kinda thought I—mean I knew—I assumed—“

“Oh, so you assumed it?” Y/N laughed. “So you just assumed I was going to ride you?”

James seriously thought he was going to die. 

“No, I didn’t!” Tom was red. “Y/n! I—I no!” 

“So you didn’t want to then?”

“Yes! But—I thought it could be an open possibility?” Tom was nervous. “I—“

Now it was y/n’s turn to not let him finish as she had already kissed him again. Emma was so entertained by the conversation and James’ reaction that she couldn’t hide a lighter for not longer. James lost it by then, so he quickly stood up and walked to them. 

Emma followed, curiously. 

The couple was still kissing. 

James cleared his throat loud enough for both of them to hear him and quickly separate. 

Y/N frowned. “James for god’s sake!” 

James walked over to them, “We are having lunch and I don’t see you eating, so Emma and I should join you.” 

“Sorry y/n,” Emma whispered to her friend. 

Tom and y/n were red, so, so red, and Tom was shaking. James only glared once at Tom before Tom moved away from y/n, just as James sat between them. 

“Your food is intact,” James pointed out. 

Tom moved away. “I—we were.” 

“No, Tom, eating my sister’s face is not lunch,” James cockily said. 

“James what the fuck,” y/n snapped at her brother. 

Tom laughed nervously. “James, c'mon man.” 

Emma felt awkward. “Why don’t we—eat?” 

They stayed quiet for a bit. 

“So, what are you guys?” James asked. 

Tom almost choked on his food. “What?” 

“James!” Y/N complained. 

Emma just smirked. 

“yeah, what are you? Have you guys talked about it? All your emotional baggage?” James pushed. 

Tom coughed. “We have been.. discussing it.” 

Y/N turned to Tom. “don’t answer” 

James smirked. “No, no no no, y/n, I wanna know.” 

Tom nodded. “What do you want to know?” 

“What is going on,” James reminded him. 

“I love your sister,” Tom answered. 

Emma watched between all of them. 

“Doesn’t answer my question,” James raised his eyebrow, as if challenging Tom. 

“James,” Y/N hissed. 

“I—it’s it’s true I am deeply in love with her and have been for a while now,” Tom said as if defending himself. 

“Are you a couple?” James asked. 

“Yes,” Tom said. 

“No,” answered y/n at the same time. 

Both of them turned to each other, with confusion. 

Emma blew her cheeks in. 

“Um… What did you think of the… I saw you guys were working on Jesse’s girl today!” Emma quickly intruded. 

James clicked his tongue. “No, wait Emma… This is interesting,” James continued. 

“What-” Tom frowned watching y/n. 

Y/N shook her head. “James can you please leave us alone.” 

“I… Well, I’m just confused, and I have more questions… A,  y/n why do you keep making out with this man if you’re not a couple I mean you can do whatever the fuck you want with your life but this man may I remind you has broken your heart and hurt you in so many possible ways—even broke your bones?” 

Tom coughed. “That was accidental... all of those.” 

James shook his head. “Eh, I haven't finished pretty boy, and b) why are you Tom, saying you’re a couple when you haven’t talked about it?” He pushed. 

Y/N glared at her brother. “James this isn’t any of your business.” 

Tom only clenched his jaw. 

“Uh, er… Guys, I’m gonna….” Emma had awkwardly stood up, “I’m gonna pretend they need me over there,” she announced before leaving. 

“You’re fucking insane,” y/n declared at her brother before storming off, following Emma, leaving James and Tom alone. 

Tom avoided his gaze. 

“I know you hate me, but-” Tom started. 

“I don’t, I care a lot about you and that’s why I’m doing this…” He said. 

Tom scoffed. “Oh, so you’re helping me out with this?” He glared. 

“I’m not,” James said. “But you perfectly know what you did to y/n, and I’m sorry Tom but you can’t-” 

“It’s between me and her,” he said. 

“But I know you both, and you’re both so stupid, Tom, for fuck’s sake, and you slept with Cherry,” James snapped. “I’m not letting that-” 

“Who told you?” Tom asked. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Jamessaid. 

“Did you tell her?” 

“Didn’t have to,” James said. “She knew it already. And if you don’t have the balls to talk about it with her, which honestly-” 

“I want to, okay?” Tom barked. “I can’t believe I did it but I want to work it out!” He snapped. “I thought you were fine with us!” 

“No, Tom I’m not—fine with this,” James explained. “And I can’t believe I’ve let you hurt her this much and I swear Tom she might believe you but I don’t-” 

“Look we want to talk it out, I mean it alright—your sister is the love-” 

“Love of your life! Then why have you been such an asshole to her?” James wondered. “Do you even know it Tom? How badly you broke her? After Rome? Do you even realize-” 

“Yes I do! And that’s why I bloody want to do things right this time, okay? I want to give her the entire world, alright? I’m not… I’m not joking, alright? I actually… I want to make it up to her, I’m… so in love with her, and I just want the best for her,” he said, gulping. “I…” He sighed. “Maybe we haven’t talked about it because we both know it’ll break us apart, alright?” Tom looked away. “And I just want her to know about it, everything, how she’s been my everything… Since we were children, okay… James you know me, you’ve known me my whole life and you know I’m not lying to you, I love her,” he sighed. “I don’t want to hurt her and I know I’ve fucked up. I just… I know it, it’s so hard, and I…” He gulped. “I guess… I know I slept with Cherry, I know, I did it, I’m not denying it, and I have no excuse but I… When I did it it was… I thought she had left to move on with Tim again because... “ Tom looked away. “I know it, alright? I’m not… good enough for her and you’ve shown me that, because you didn’t fucking act this way with Tim, and no one has said it with me, I know I’m the bad guy here, Harry doesn’t approve of me, Sam doesn’t approve of me, Emma doesn’t approve of me, you don’t… like me,” Tom gulped. “But I genuinely love her, and I know I’m a fucking mess, but… nobody knows about us, alright?” 

James clenched his jaw. No, it wasn’t alright no matter how many times he said it. 

“And it’s difficult to apologize, you’re right, I probably don’t have the balls for it, I’m a fucking coward, and I know, but I’m just trying to be honest with her, and with you, I genuinely want the world for her, and if I have to go back to the start then I will,” he sighed. “And I don’t know how to talk about it with her, and I don’t know if she feels the same way,” he took a deep breath. “And it’s killing me that I don’t know where she’s standing, and she avoids talking and I know how… She works, you know? She’s always been so reserved.” 

“The problem with both of you is you both think it’s you against each other,” James said. 

Tom looked up at him. 

“It’s always been that way, y/n against Tom, and I feel like you’re doing it again,” James said. “I am just telling you both, to realize it, it’s both of you against the problem not you against each other,” James said. 

Tom nodded. “I know that, and I’ve tried talking to her, but she… Ignores it, or someone comes in, or we have to-” 

“You’re searching for excuses,” James said, he seemed calmer now. 

“I’m not,” Tom said. “And I really mean it James, I don’t want to break her heart, I don’t want to hurt her anymore.” 

“And if she ends up hurting you?” 

“I’ll work it out,” Tom said. 

“Why are you directing this?” James questioned. 

Tom didn’t answer that, instead he took a deep breath. 

“If this is another one of your stupid plans—“

“It’s not, and not even a plan to try to win her back,” Tom explained, “it’s not—not like that. I want to give her the world,, and I know this—This whole thing is the world to her, you—you really underestimate me, Jay, as if I were some kind of stranger to you or to her, but—I’m not,” he repeated. 

“Maybe it’s time you both move on.” 

“I don’t want to move on, and—I tried, I—that’s why it happened, everyone said it: Move on, Tom, she’s just another girl… and fuck.” 

“She’s—“

“She’s not, I’m very aware of that, but even Haz and Harry said it, I fucked up, she fucked up, move on man,” Tom mocked their voices, angrily. “Just another girl, and, and I tried to… move on, thinking yeah, it’s only a stupid thought or whim, yes and I thought—if she’s really just another girl, then why the hell can’t I move on? how—Even other friends said, hey, you’re Tom Holland,” he let out a soft dry cackle. “a million girls are dying to be with you and—“Tom closed his eyes, “maybe it was that, me trying to—Trying to move on, but I don’t—want it, I don’t want another girl, James.” 

James only watched him. 

“And I’m telling you this not because you are her brother but because you’re my friend and I’m—I’m just—You know me, James, you know me perfectly and you’re acting as if you didn’t, yes I’m—I am an idiot, and yes I know I’m probably the worst option for her, and I probably tick every single bad box but—at the same time I’m—“ he gulped. “I just can’t believe how stupid I am, and I—I am” Tom meant it, James could tell. “When I’m with her, I feel like myself, and I don’t often feel that way, and she’s just this… incredible person. And I’m—terrified, I’m terrified of it. But I need her,” he gulped. “Not—in—I don’t know.” 

Maybe James needed to hear that from Tom. Though he still—James couldn’t forgive Tom. Even if it wasn’t his business, he could forgive him for breaking his sister. 

“And I’m very aware that I’ve lost her before because I know it, I’m an idiot, but maybe I’m too stubborn to admit that I lost my chance. Because I—I haven’t, alright? And this might be my last one but—I can’t admit it to myself, but I know about it, Jay, I know that what we could’ve had is gone so maybe just let me cling on to whatever we’re holding on until she decides to let me go, alright?” 

“I don’t understand why you’re both in a relationship where both of you think it’ll end up badly,” James had questioned. 

“You see, I’m trying for it not to end up that way,” he said, 

“But you think it’ll end, then?” 

Tom hadn’t answered him. 

“Why do you love her?” 

“She’s my home,” Tom shrugged as he quickly answered, he didn’t have to think about it. “I—I was always scared of growing up but it doesn’t hurt when I’m with her, when life is—getting too hard she was always there with those pair of old jeans and bright smile and yes, initially she was there to call me an idiot but she just made time stop, completely,” he shrugged. “Because she just—“ he smiled sadly, “she helps me find my heartbeat in the middle of all the bustle.”

James didn’t know Tom could be so poetic. But he meant it, or at least James hoped he meant it. 

James didn’t push it any further. After that, y/n had ignored him. Y/N was excellent at doing so, if she wanted to ignore someone she’d make sure they noticed. And she was angry at her brother. Besides when it comes to siblings, it feels even more personal and very immaturely done. y/n had ignored James and made sure to make him feel ignored. She would avoid his gaze, and she’d pretend she didn’t listen to him. 

She hadn’t even offered him a ride back to aunt Eliza’s. 

Tom had been the one to offer it. 

James had apologized to Tom, and he had only shrugged it off. 

“She’s your sister. I get it, she deserves the world, you’re only trying to give it to her.” 

Harry said he needed a beer, maybe they all needed one. 

Maybe James had to give it to Tom, y/n was one to ignore people and her problems per se. Tom had also ignored James, not like y/n, Tom was probably angry at James. James didn’t care for that. 

“I love the chemistry between Gregg and Auli’i,” Harry had said when they were at the bar, all of them beers in their hands. “They’re—really—“

“It’s too familiar,” Sam had laughed. “Very familiar.” 

“Not—there’s something missing,” Tom said. 

“Is it weird?” James asked. 

“What?” 

“Come on, the script?” James said. 

Tom shrugged. “It gives me a better understanding of her,” Tom admitted. “It’s—She really did write her heart out in there.” 

Harry watched between them. 

“What happened today?” Sam wondered. “I saw y/n storm off with Emma.” 

“I was a jerk,” James said, “to her and to Tom.” 

Sam and Harry side-eyed each other. 

“What’s going on with Emma?” Sam asked, quickly trying to avoid the subject. 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, it seemed like an old bad joke hearing about it. 

“She’s… She says she’s not ready,” Harry said. “She just says she’s not ready, and she…” Harry took a deep breath.

“You two are the most stupid men in the world,” he said, staring at Tom and Harry. “You both come here, without giving them any warning, and you expect them to run after you? And don’t--Emma’s reaction is logical,” James continued. “But you have to understand that Emma came here to heal, Y/N came here for her dream, and you two came in barging just to shove it, the two men they came running away from just shoved in their way to say ‘Hey, y/n, I’m in charge of your dream now’” 

Sam took a log sip from his beer, with a big smirk. “Thank you, James, that’s what I’ve been telling them.” 

“But… Okay, yes, but you don’t know all the facts,” Harry sighed. “Look, if we hadn’t taken the project probably nobody else would!” 

James blinked. “What?” 

Tom looked away. 

Harry bit his lip, nervously, shaking his head. “I… We called the studio looking for her project and apparently there had been a lot of directors and producers rejecting the project,” Harry said. 

“So yes, we decided to barge in, and we said we’d be the stand in directors until someone showed up,” Tom explained. “We worked with the casting and everything and we’ve been behind the stage but we--And, I know that y/n never wanted us to be involved but the thing is it’s… It’s a hard project, and she’s unknown, and… It’s an amazing story, you know? But it’s… Films these days are all about superheroes, I should know, or too serious, and--It’s got potential, it’s got a lot of potential, and--” Tom sighed. “Maybe it was a mistake but at least this way we can be assured it’s get done her way. So at the end… we did accept the project because I’m just... “ 

Harry watched his brother and then turned to James. “Yeah.” 

James had really underestimated Tom, probably everyone did. Maybe that’s what Tom was so stressed about. 

“I do--” Tom clenched his jaw. “I might want to change just a few bits but I…”He looked away. “We’ve been talking about it with her, to make William more human, less of an asshole.” 

Harry nodded. 

“I think,” Sam shrugged. “Well, I don’t know much about films or whatever, but I think he’s human enough, and at least you understand it, I think y/n actually did a great job on him,” Sam continued. “I…think he even made him even way too nice,” he chuckled. “Like, there is a point where you understand why she loves him, I think, the story is built so you think you need to hate him but I guess the audience is supposed to fall in love with him as Y/N-- I mean, Valerie falls, hell, she even made me want to fall in love,” Sam laughed. “But I mean it’s purely fiction, in real life I don’t get how the hell she’s in love with you.”  

“Shut up,” Tom rolled his eyes, he had chuckled slightly, but James saw that Tom was slightly hurt by those words. 

James had read the script only once, he hadn’t really read it because he felt like he was reading y/n’s diary, which he had done once when they were younger, and she had been so angry at him. The script had felt like getting into y/n’s deepest feelings. He remembered a particular line which had stuck out from the rest. 

“I love him and I’ve run out of reasons to say why, I just know that  even when there’s no music playing we will find a way to dance.” 

Maybe Tom needed everyone to know the backstory, see past his actions. And probably y/n didn’t know this, James knew she’d get angry because she wanted to get it out herself, not be helped by him, make a name for herself, however in the industry it was difficult enough. But maybe it made sense, the reason why y/n loved Tom so much, because she didn’t need reasons to, she just did, and he kept giving her reasons to. 

“But….Emma, then?” James asked, trying to get back on the subject. 

 “Well… she slept with Josh,” Harry continued. 

“What?” Tom interrupted, angrily. “She did what?” 

“That night after the movie,” Harry bit his lip. “I-” 

“And you’re okay with that?” Tom questioned. 

“They’re not together, Tom,” Sam quickly said. “Besides, it’s most likely because-” 

“Because she was nervous about Harry coming here,” James ended the sentence.

Harry shrugged. “She was honest about it, and I mean--I don’t, I know she doesn’t love him, and yes, I was jealous but…” 

James watched Tom who nodded, knowingly. 

“I mean she chose a random guy to have sex with because she was stressed,” Harry nodded. “And she did tell me it meant nothing and I mean, it’s… It’s her body, she can do whatever she wants, and we… are not together.” 

“Where does one draw the line, though?” Sam questioned. “With rebounds, I mean.” 

James scoffed and shrugged. “It depends, on how soon, how the relationship ended.” 

“The whole, are we in a break or not,” Harry shrugged. 

“Yeah,” James laughed. “Classic Ross and Rachel, we are on a break type of situation, like, of course, they were on a break but it was too soon, because-- there are breakups that last for a day, y’know? The argument says it all, and right away… Gives the wrong impression, as if, I didn’t love you anymore so I hooked up with the first person I saw, either in spite or-” 

Harry nodded. “Yeah, also who it is with.” 

“Oh, yes,” Sam nodded. “Right, like.. If it’s with another ex?” Sam clicked his tongue. 

Harry scrunched his nose. “I think that’s normal, you know?”

“Is it?” Tom frowned. “Why would it be normal?” 

James saw it as an opportunity to defend his sister, not sure whether Tom knew it or not. “Because it’s something familiar,” James said. “Like, you don’t have to search for something you might not like so just go to someone who once you know… Knew you.” 

Tom coughed. “But like, that should mean they have feelings for them.” 

“Nah,” Sam tossed a few fries into his mouth. “Well, depends on the ex, but like, if you’re only hooking up with them, I mean,” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“It could awake feelings,” James nodded. “But if you’re searching for an ex it means you’re not up for someone new, it means you’re stuck somewhere there and sleeping with an ex means not wanting to move on.” 

“And alright, if you-- You’re still dating Clark, right?” Tom asked. “If you broke up and he slept with his ex would you forgive him?” 

James scrunched his nose. “I mean,” he shrugged. “As long as he doesn’t sleep with any relative.” 

Tom opened his mouth to say something but then exhaled defeatedly. 

“Like, for example, Sam,” James said. “That’s crossing the line on rebounds.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s… fucking up, by the way Cherry’s coming and well--” 

“What exactly happened between you both?” James questioned. 

Tom bit his lip, he took a deep breath as he tried to map his thoughts out, knowing that what he was about to say would change a lot of things. 

“We were friends,” Tom said. 

Sam and Harry only watched his older brother, probably nervous to the outcome of the conversation. 

“I--Well,” he sighed. “She said she wanted someone to show her around London and…” Tom shook his head. “I… Well, she did flirt since the beginning and I… I didn’t answer at first, but then…I was so angry, I… I thought about it and thought hey, I lost my chance and y/n ran back to Tim and she is probably moving on.”

“Why did you think she was moving on?” James questioned. “She literally told you she loved you and only you.” 

Tom took a deep breath. “I’m an idiot, and… I dunno,” he sighed. “I thought she would end up going back with Tim. 

Harry widened his eyes with surprise, awkwardly asking for a second beer. 

“I don’t know, I was heartbroken, I was stupid and… I missed her too much and I...And I felt lonely and and everyone here sees me as the bad guy, and I continue to be the bad guy, but she was someone new and someone who didn’t know me and she was... And then I saw Tim posted a picture and it was… Undeniable taken by her, you know?” Tom looked down. “And I… Well, that’s how they started last time, her taking pictures of him and I thought she would again and so in spite, or full of rage and so I tried to move on and the option was right there in front of me and Tim kept posting you know, and even if he didn’t say it I just knew it was y/n, and one day after way too many beers I finally gave in to Cherr’s flirting and it--”He squeezes his eyes shut. “And I told her that whatever happened, it didn’t have to mean anything I told her, no strings attached, no feelings and… it happened,” he sighed. “And I….But it didn’t feel… I don’t even remember how it happened and I just didn’t feel good with it, it made me feel even worse and lonelier and then she kept wanting to hang out and I just shut her out because it was a mistake and then, I thought I was a rebound to her as well, she had just broken up with her girlfriend and I thought I was just a rebound but she then… Showed more and I just… Gave her no explanation, not… I don’t know, I told her I wasnt in a good place and that I was still in love with someone else and that wouldn’t change and yes, I’m the asshole again and…” 

All of them stayed quiet. What were they supposed to say? 

It was ironic, how both Tom and y/n had assumed they’d move on, and the reasons why they did it, both of them sleep with an ex and a relative, because both of them assumed the other one would move on. Why? Maybe that’s why they were so stubborn right now because both of them realized neither did and they probably never would. As if they were just happy to find out they still loved each other but were too afraid to admit it out loud. 

They remained quiet. 

“Eh,” Sam had cut the silence, too awkward for him to handle. “Not that I don’t want to talk about a conversation that will probably end up giving Tom a mental breakdown, and don’t get me wrong I love having awkward silences,  but I need… I need to know, Jay,” Sam smiled. “May I know what’s that on your finger?” 

Harry and Tom finally landed their sight on James’ finger, a silver band wrapped right around his left ring finger.

“Hm?” James quickly hid his hand. 

“Is that an engagement ring?” Harry questioned with a smirk. 

“Uh-” 

“Wait, uh--” Tom shook his head to shake away the sad feeling. “Are you engaged?” 

“To Clark?” Harry asked. 

Though he didn’t want to talk about it, he knew that the other conversation wasn’t for him to know. The other conversation was something Tom had to work out with y/n, which, yes, the reason had been very stupid, y/n had to work out with Tom how Tom felt about Tim. 

Probably James and everyone else did, maybe they really had made Tom feel unworthy of y/n’s love and that’s why he kept sabotaging himself. 

James did end up telling them, and he even finished the conversation thanking Tom for introducing him to Clark. Of course he didn’t have to tell them all the details, they were three straight men too stupid to care, and James was grateful he didn’t have to share as much, because it was his story, not anyone elses to know, it was his relationship and it was his Clark. 

James had, however, explained to them that Clark would come, too, James was slightly nervous about it, given that he knew that y/n was definitely not going to be welcoming and that she’d keep ignoring him. That’s how y/n worked with James, no matter if he tried to apologize, she wouldn’t talk to him. 

James knew he had made a mistake with this, but he needed to hear it from Tom, and though it wasn’t technically any of his business, he knew that Tom was more understanding, in his own way, than y/n. 

Tom could talk to James, that’s the difference, and Tom hadn’t talked to James for a while and so James didn’t know, and of course it drove him crazy not to know why or how this was happening. 

Tom, Sam and Harry all offered James a room in the house they were renting to stay there with Clark, he had accepted it because he knew Cherry was coming. 

James didn’t want to face Cherry. Because James had this one habit that he couldn’t ever get rid off, he was too nosy when he wasn’t asked, and he had talked to Cherry about Tom, and warned her that Tom was just too important to y/n. 

Y/N, as expected, kept ignoring James. But he had seen that Tom and y/n had gone out one night, alone, together. He had heard them walk into the house, and as much as he had tried to avoid eavesdropping, he had walked out, innocently to the kitchen and he’d seen them, on the couch, talking. 

“I think we need to add a scene,” Tom had said. “It’s… important.” 

“But… I don’t get it,” y/n said. “You want me tro write another one, I thought you’d said it was too long.” 

“But this one is important y/n, it gives… backstory to William.” 

“So you want me to make something up? Just to….”

“Yes, I told you, William searches for her after the whole London thing.” 

“But that didn’t happen,” y/n said. “And that’s why Valerie-” 

It seemed, Tom had told James, that Tom had found a loophole to talk without talking. Tom had explained to James that y/n would be avoiding the conversation, that didn’t surprise James. But Tom found a way to use the script to go over it, Tom had told James that they hadn’t really talked much but he had figured how to make them understand each other. 

“It did happen, so let’s add this scene, right before Jessie’s girl scene, I need it,” Tom said. “And I talked about it with Harry and he says he wants it, too.” 

“So he searches up for her? And then what? She shuts him out-” 

“She’s not the one answering the door,” Tom explained. “But William does go to mend things and then T… Teddy opens the door.” 

y/n had stayed quiet, as James was still wandering in the kitchen. 

“James will you please leave?” She asked her brother. “I won’t continue this conversation until you leave, I know what you’re doing.” 

He had left, but at least they had opened a conversation. He had seen them the very next day, asleep on the couch, so peacefully y/n laying on top of him. She had woken earlier than him and seen James in the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” James had said. 

“Morning,” y/n had answered sheepishly, as she stretched out. 

“Oh, are you talking to me now?” James had asked. “I made tea.” 

“No,” y/n had said before getting a glass of water. 

“I’m sorry,” James said. 

“No, you’re not,” Y/N answered. “You got it your way, didn’t you?” 

“I just want the best for you,” James said. “Have you talked already?” 

“About some things,” y/n said. “But it’s none of your business, as you said it before, it’s like Clark for you, Tom is mine, and my relationship is mine.” 

“So there is a relationship?” James asked. 

“There’s a hope for one,” y/n said. “And yes, I fell asleep on him, and yes, I keep kissing him but I simply want to, alright?” 

As soon as Tom had woken up and walked up to them, probably sore from the couch too as he was stretching out his arms, y/n ran over to him and gave him a passionate kiss, probably a very dumb way to prove to her brother that she was being rebellious. 

And if that hadn’t been a message clear enough, she’d flipped James off before walking away. 

“I’m--” Tom probably wanted to apologize to James but was still left too dumbfounded with the kiss. 

“Don’t,” James had rolled his eyes. 

That kind of behaviour continued, y/n trying to prove something to James. 

Cherry had arrived three days before y/n’s birthday, and Clark had arrived the next day after she did. 

They hadn’t had any contact with Cherry, not James at least. James was too busy exploring LA with his fiancé. It felt weird saying it. 

“Fiancé.” 

Y/N didn’t know Clark was in town, but as soon as she learned it, she had seemed to forget she was angry at James. She’d met Clark before, of course she knew of his existence  and that her brother was seeing him, they’d met but y/n had learned from James’ pasts relationships to not get too attached because ‘James changed couple more often than he probably showered’, which was too different from y/n, and y/n, though she had noticed about Clark, and though she did mention it from time, to time, James had tried to avoid it, because he’d finally fallen in love and he didn’t know how to act around it. 

Clark, however, had shown up to Harry’s engagement party, and that hadn’t gone well. Of course James was skeptical of showing his family, and the Hollands because he… Well, he didn’t want Clark to think they acted that way. Of course, that’s why he was reserved. 

Tom had been the one person who had had contact with Clark. 

Clark had said it to James once, “Tom is deeply in love with your sister.” 

“They hate each other,” James had answered. 

“No, if he did hate her he wouldn’t pay that much attention.” 

Clark was right, obviously. Clark, actually was someone who liked to observe and he was the one to calm James.

As soon as Clark was in town, he had listened to James’ stress and said: “She’s been in love with him her whole life and the dude, too. And you’ve said it, y/n tends to save it all for herself.” 

He was right. But James still thought that y/n and Tom had to talk about it, otherwise the chaos would come, but maybe it could wait. 

But y/n’s birthday arrived. 

Although the chaos was supposed to be coming, James wouldn’t have guessed it would come this way. And he wouldn’t have guessed it would come that way. 

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[thatsamericano]

Careful, Throwing Snowballs May Result in a Kiss

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano. Background mentions of Seborga, Veneziano, Canada, and France.

Ratings/Warnings: T for cursing and mildly suggestive dialogue. Pure fluff with no warnings to speak of.

Word Count: 2103

Summary: America throws a snowball at Romano when he’s trying to build a snowman with his brothers. Once Romano tackles America, he has to decide what he wants to do with him.

A/N: Written for @hetalia-fanart-memes, who requested Romerica with the prompt “Don’t throw that snowball” on @helltalia-inc. I hope you enjoy this.

It was snowing in the park only a block away from where the nations had gathered for the world meeting. Romano was never the biggest fan of the cold, so if it had been up to him, he would have gone straight back to the hotel.  He was looking forward to taking a flight back to Rome the next day, where he hopefully wouldn’t be dealing with this snow crap. In the unlikely event that it was snowing in Rome, Romano would go to Naples or another city in South Italy not affected as strongly by the winter.

But for today, Marcello, who had come along on this trip with Savino and Feliciano even if he couldn’t attend the official conference, had practically begged Savino to come build a snowman with him after the meeting. Feliciano had begged too, and under the force of two sets of puppy dog eyes, Savino had folded like a paper napkin.

This wasn’t so bad, Romano reflected. Sure, it was cold as shit, but he was relatively protected in his scarf, hat, and gloves, and he got to spend time with his brothers. At least he hadn’t been pelted with a snowball, which many of the nations had, thanks to America and Canada.

Romano glanced up when he heard France fussing about his appearance as he attempted to brush snow out of his hair. America, who was obviously the one who had thrown this particular snowball, was laughing in his usual obnoxiously bright, ridiculously loud, attention getting way. So, of course Savino turned to glance in that direction instead. He didn’t really have another choice.

Savino hated how his heart started pounding as soon as he looked at Alfred. It wasn’t fair, damn it. No one should look that handsome while just fucking standing there, hunched over a little as they laughed at their own joke like they were God’s gift to comedy. Alfredo was laughing so hard at himself that his cerulean eyes were narrowed into thin slits and tears were leaking from the corners. The sunlight reflected off his glasses, creating a bright light Savino couldn’t manage to look away from. Alfred’s grin was so big it could swallow the sky whole.

And the bastard had dimples, as if God hadn’t blessed him with too much beauty already. Savino wanted to kiss the corner of the idiota’s mouth, just to feel those dimples under his own lips. Savino swallowed heavily at the thought and told himself to focus on the snowman he’d been working on for the past half hour.

But he was too late. America’s smile had already softened, and he had already noticed that Romano was looking at him.

“What’s up, Little Italy? You feel like joining in on the snowball fight?”

Savino scoffed and forced himself to go back to reshaping his snowman’s head. “Hardly. As you can see, I’m busy at the moment.”

“Are you suuure? It could be a lot of fun.”

“If you want to go run around with America, that’s fine,” Seborga told him. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Romano wasn’t looking at his baby brother. He was looking at America, because he knew that mischievous tone of voice from back when they lived together, and he knew that Alfred was planning something. Fredo was never good at subtlety.

America was rolling a snowball together in his gloved hands with a smirk on his face. Because of course he was.

“I swear to God, if you throw that fucking snowball at me—”

The snowball went sailing through the air, and it hit him square in the chest. Savino was stumbled backwards a little, because Alfred had used way too much fucking force with that throw because of his super-strength. It wasn’t enough to really hurt him, but it was almost enough to knock him off his feet.

The sounds of laughter rang out around him. Alfred, of course, and Feli and Marcello nearby. Canada seemed to be chuckling, though he was too quiet for Romano to actually hear him, and so were the other nations nearby, even the ones like France who had been America’s snowball victims.

And that just wouldn’t fucking stand.

Romano glared at America as viciously as he could manage when he was more irritated than truly pissed off. “Now you’re gonna get it, stronzo!”

Alfred took off running, shrieking with laughter, and Savino chased after him. They ran for a couple minutes, because America could be pretty fast when he wanted to be. But he couldn’t outpace an Italian.

Eventually, Savino tackled him in a snowbank and fell right on top of him. If America had really wanted to get away, Romano would have had no hope of holding him down. But America wasn’t struggling. He relaxed back against the snowy ground, panted for air, and smiled up at Romano sheepishly.

“Looks like you caught me.”

“I guess I did.” Savino moved one of his hands to the side to gather up some snow in his palm. Alfred didn’t notice. He was still too busy grinning up at him.

Alfred giggled, because apparently, he found the idea of being in this position inherently hilarious for God knows what reason. “Now that you have me, what are you gonna do with me?”

Savino gazed down at him thoughtfully. He took a moment to examine the golden blond hair tousled underneath his knit cap and how it perfectly framed his rosy cheeks. He stared at the goofy smile and the electric blue eyes that had distracted him so thoroughly before. He memorized what it felt like to have Alfred’s firm, solid body laid out underneath him.

“I can think of a few things,” Savino admitted quietly. “Not all of them would be appropriate for a public park.”

Alfred’s eyes widened comically behind his glasses, and his face turned red. No, not just red, practically scarlet. His face practically matched the poinsettias that had been decorating the lobby of the office building they were in earlier today. “Vinny, that’s um, that’s, wow, I…”

Romano chuckled at how flustered and tongue-tied he was. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Alfred nodded frantically, with a desperate look in his eyes. “Please.” He might have been embarrassed, but he was eager too. It was too adorable for Savino to resist.

He started to lean down, and America closed his eyes, because he was innocent and gullible enough to do that. He couldn’t see Romano’s arm lifting with the snowball he’d make earlier. A millisecond before their lips touched, Romano shoved the snowball he’d made earlier directly into the crook of America’s neck, right above his coat collar and scarf, where he was unprotected from the cold.

America’s eyes flew open, and he squawked indignantly. “You tricked me!”

Romano laughed at the offended look on his face. “You made it so fucking easy.” He couldn’t believe America had actually fallen for the oldest trick in the book.

Alfred growled at him, and the low noise sent a tingle down Savino’s spine. “That was evil. I really oughta do something about it.”

Savino snorted. “What the fuck do you think you’re gonna do, Mr. Tough Guy?”

“This.” Before Romano could ask what “this” was, America flipped them over, and in the space of a second, he was pinned underneath someone a lot stronger than him. He couldn’t have escaped if he’d wanted to. Savino couldn’t breathe properly, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the sudden body slam or the fact that Alfred was on top of him.

To repeat, Alfred was on top of him. His brain couldn’t function at half its normal capacity when he realized that.

Then Alfred was kissing him, and it wasn’t soft, nor gentle, nor sweet. America’s tongue shoved its way into his mouth immediately, without any build-up or finesse, and Romano could feel how frustrated he was. He must have been suppressing this desire for as long as Romano had, because it didn’t just feel like something America wanted. It felt like a raw, animalistic hunger, like he was kissing Romano hard enough to bruise because he might die if he didn’t.

Savino felt the same way. He groaned in the back of his throat, clutched the collar of Alfred’s coat, hauled him close enough to feel the edge of his glasses digging into his face, and kissed him back just as forcefully.

After a while, it had to end. They couldn’t kiss forever because of that whole inconvenient “need to breathe” thing. Alfred disconnected their mouths, sighed happily, and scooted down a little to nuzzle Savino’s cheek.

“Best revenge ever,” Alfred declared triumphantly.

Savino huffed out a laugh. “I’m not sure if that counts as revenge. Revenge is supposed to be something the other person doesn’t like.”

“And you liked kissing me a lot, didn’t you?” America sounded so smug and sure of himself, and ordinarily, Romano would have been annoyed by anyone with that kind of attitude. But with Alfred, the fondness tended to outshine his annoyance. That didn’t happen with most people.

Savino rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I did.”

“I liked kissing you too. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages. I could kiss you all day long. Well, except for when I have to go to the bathroom or something like that. But other than that, pretty much all the time.”

Savino shook his head and laughed again. “God, I love you.” The words slipped out, because they were so easy to say. Fredo was a dork who would openly admit to wanting to kiss Savino all the time, and he wasn’t even exaggerating. He looked like a goddamned movie star, but even with his occasional moments of arrogance, he never seemed to realize how ludicrously attractive he was, much less how he could have anyone in the world wrapped around his pinkie finger. America made Romano laugh and smile more than anyone else ever had. Of course Savino loved him.

Alfred blinked in shock, he’d just seen the face of God, but somehow more astounded than that. Then he grinned, with the adoration of a child to its mother or a puppy to its owner, but somehow purer and more loving than that too. Savino’s internal similes were failing him.

Alfred’s words were failing him too. “I love you too! I love you so much, I just—” He didn’t finish his sentence and resorted to covering Savino’s face with ecstatic kisses.

Savino giggled at his overexuberance. “Tesoro, I believe you. You don’t have to prove it, okay?”

“But I want to.”

Fair enough, Savino supposed. He laid there, grinning like an idiot in the snowbank, and let Alfred keep kissing his face. His hat had been knocked off earlier when Alfred flipped them over, and the cold at the back of his head and the nape of his neck was starting to get to him, but he was trying to ignore that.

When he noticed Savino shivering, Alfred sat up and pulled him into his lap. “Better?”

“Much.” Romano saw his hat on the ground and frowned in indecision. It had been laying in the snow for a long time, so it would probably only make his head colder, not warmer.

So instead of reaching over to get his hat, he nestled his head into America’s shoulder. America wrapped both arms around him in a clingy embrace.

“Now it’s perfect,” Savino decided.

Alfred kissed the top of his head. “Damn right it is.”

Savino wasn’t quite warm due to the temperature outside, but he was content and drowsy. The rhythm of Alfred’s breathing was oddly soothing.

That rhythm was interrupted by an abrupt laugh. “Dude, I just realized. If someone came by looking for us, they’d find you curled up in my lap instead of running after me and throwing snowballs. They’d be confused as hell.”

“Let ‘em be confused. I don’t really care what they think, do you?”

Alfred squeezed him a little tighter, and Savino didn’t have to look up to know that he was smiling.

“I never did. I’m just happy to be holding you.”

Savino’s face was warm, and he was blushing at least as badly as Alfred had been earlier, after Savino had implied he might do something to him that wasn’t appropriate for a public park. He wasn’t used to this much affection, and maybe he never would be.

But Romano didn’t care who might walk by and see him blushing with a cheesy grin on his face. He was happy, Alfred was holding him, and that was all that fucking mattered.

[killerkai33]

warnings: nothing really. Kinda sad is all. Oh and unedited and not necessarily super Canon.

     V's life had quickly became a whirlwind of chaos in the past few months. She lost her only friend, died, resurrected, and gained a brain parasite that tried to beat the shit out of her. A hot parasite at that, he was a total dickhead but she would be lying if she said that she wasn't attached to him.

     Thanks to Johnny literally being in her head, the two shared a bond that no one else could. They knew each other inside and out, and had gotten out of the stage of their time together in which they both felt the urge to kill each other. You might even say that V trusted Johnny now, their little trip to the hotel and his burial site had brought them closer together.

     As she sat in Johnny's old Porsche, the dogtags he gave her clutched between her fingers, she thought back to what he said at the hotel. He said he would voluntarily be wiped if it was necessary for her to live, V still hadn't fully processed that. She didn't want Johnny to die, especially not for her. He said that he wanted Smasher dead at the very least, she planned on doing everything in her power to give him the revenge he sought. Against both Smasher and Arasaka, one thing she and Johnny had in common was their hate for Corps.

     "Hey, Johnny," V's voice was unusually timid as she spoke out loud. Since she was in her vehicle she felt no need to communicate with him silently, this made the conversation feel more natural. She didn't take her eyes off the windshield when she heard the familiar glitches that signaled his presence, even though the car was not moving and they were sat in the middle of the badlands. A place Johnny wasn't overly fond of.

     If the man was good at one thing, it was complaining.

    He grumbled a response and waited for her to speak. "You asked me a few favors over our time together..." V felt the annoyance radiate off of him as she said this. He was most likely expecting her to want something impossible in return. "Well, I have one for you too," she took a deep breath, " When...if... we don't fix this- Fix me- will you visit Jackie for me? I know you didn't really know him, but besides you he's the person I was closest to. Maybe, you could check on Mama Welles sometimes too, to make sure she's doing okay without Jackie. You don't have to talk to her or anything, just-," V's mindless rambling was interrupted suddenly by Johnny.

     "No."

     V was admittedly surprised but before she could even think about saying something Johnny continued speaking. "No, we are not doing this V. I won't promise to do that because we're going to fix this, okay? You're going to be okay." The tone he spoke in left little room for arguing. That was the thing about Johnny, he had this way of speaking that could make you believe anything he said and give him whatever he wanted. Most people find that out the hard way.

     A weak chuckle escaped her, "Yea, I hope so. We both know its a very real possibility that we don't though J, that I'm gonna die," it was a shitty thing to accept but it was true. There was no guarantee that V could be saved, despite their best efforts. " Look, just in case. Please? Even if you don't say you will, just store it away in that brain of yours." This argument persisted for several minutes before V sighed as Johnny's annoyance was on the verge of exploding into anger.

     She had a feeling it was stronger for him than it was for her, but she could pick up light traces of his emotions through the connection. Though she didn't need that to know what he was feeling at the moment. She thought back to the first time she willingly allowed him to control their body. She didn't completely trust him at the time, but she was tired. Tired of dealing with the episodes caused by the relic and everything else going on around her.

     He had technically lied to her, seeing as he did much more than talk to Rogue, but she didn't comment on it. He needed that night, even if he doesn't realize it or won't admit it. He needed to feel in control of himself for once.

    To feel like a person again.

     "I'm fucking scared Johnny," V's voice was practically a whisper at this point. It was true, she was terrified. Not of Johnny gaining her body, or even dying. She was scared of losing Johnny, she didn't want to be the reason he was wiped. After all this time, he deserved a second chance, even at the cost of her own life. He wouldn't allow that, not wanting to be like Arasaka and though he wouldn't admit it he didn't want to be the one to kill the only person who didn't hate his guts.

     "I know," his voice was raspy and, for once, not completely monotone. There was an ache that could be heard, but more surprisingly, there was hope. He was going to do everything he could to save her. V gasped in surprise as she felt herself be lifted, it was difficult to maneuver but she assisted where she could and eventually found herself in Johnny's lap. They sat chest to chest and  their eyes met, they stared at each other for a moment before V realized something. This was the safest she had felt in her entire life.

     She didn't feel like this with anyone else she had ever met. V went limp, seemingly collapsing into Johnny's chest as she buried her head into his chest. After a moments hesitation, his arms wrapped around her and clutched her firmly. "You ain't going no where, got it? I got you Princess," Johnny held her tighter. She was reminded of the night she passed out in the parking lot, she thought she was dying. Johnny must have caught on to her thoughts that night and said something similar.

     This was all very put of character for Johnny, but something about V made it impossible for him not to comfort her. Of course, he would later realize that this is what it feels like to care for some one. He liked Rogue and Alt, but it wasn't like this. He and V have been connected in more intimate ways than anyone he was with, even if it wasn't necessarily by choice. When he was alive it always felt like it was him against the world. With V around, he felt like he had someone wholeheartedly on his side for once.

     The thing about living in Night City is that its a lonely life, they were all the other had now. Neither had any intentions of letting each other go, they were stuck with each other now.

     V felt Johnny press a light kiss on her head, so light she almost didn't feel it. "I'm going to fix it. I promise V, you're going to get through this. Ill make sure of it, no matter what I have to do." They stayed there for hours that night, just holding each other.

     Johnny kept his promise, V survived no matter the cost he had to pay. Her eyes were almost burning a hole through the stupid piece of tin she was staring at.

                            J.S. 2023

          It wasn't supposed to end like this. They were both supposed to get out of this alive. She grit her teeth before slipping the jacket she wore off her shoulders. The red Samurai logo staring back at her, taunting her. She set it on the metal, beside of the inscription she had made what felt like centuries ago.

     She lit the cigarette that had been dangling from her mouth before setting an unlit one on the grave in front of her. V stayed there until the filter of the cigarette was in danger of burning and put it out on the concrete. "See ya soon, J."

     V made two promises to herself that night.

     First of all, she was going to live. No matter what, Johnny gave everything to make sure she didn't die and that wasn't something to be wasted.

     Second, she was going to make living hell for any corpo bitch she came across. For Johnny.

[sevenstarsinning]

Sweat

This is an idea we decided to turn into a co-written chapter fic.

It picks up with already established relationships. Basically, you’re friends with Vegeta and secretly falling for him, he’s in a horrible relationship (not with Bulma), and Goku makes you an unexpected offer to help ease some of the tension. It’s probably going to end up being messy and we honestly have no idea exactly where it’s going but there will be lots of mutual pining, angst, and smut as the story unfolds.

Chapter 1

You had never met anyone stronger than your best friend, Vegeta. Except maybe his other best friend that he repeatedly refused to acknowledge as such. It had to be the most dysfunctional bromance you had ever seen but it somehow worked. Befriending Vegeta meant you inevitably befriended the goofy and lighthearted Goku. And when Vegeta wasn’t around, which was happening more frequently, you were with Goku. 

You knew from the moment you met Kyla that Vegeta was in for one hell of a bumpy ride. But you gave her the benefit of the doubt, maybe there was some small part of you that disliked her for taking so much of his time. Between training and Kyla’s constant need for attention, Vegeta was barely around, and when he was, he was miserable.

You pushed open the front door of Goku’s house with four bags of takeout in your hands and called out for him. The faint sound of his snores traveled down the hallway.

“Goku,” you said in a soft voice when you pushed his door open, “I have food.”

“I’m awake!” He shot up in bed, perfect chest on full display and still half asleep.

“Vegeta canceled on me again at the last minute because of Kyla reasons so it looks like we’re spending another day together.” After placing the bags on the bed, you crawled up next to him and started digging in.

"It sucks he keeps canceling, but that just means more food for me." Goku beamed as he tore into one of the bags.

"Yeah, he must really like her." You couldn't help the uneasy feeling you got about Vegeta's girlfriend. It wasn't that you completely hated her, but she just gave off a negative vibe that turned your stomach.

"He said she's strong, like a saiyan," Goku mumbled with a mouthful of food.

"Is that what he- I mean, you guys look for in a girlfriend?" Your curiosity was piqued.

Goku shoveled some more food in his mouth, "Vegeta says so. But I just want someone who can cook for me."

"I'm assuming you want someone that can cook well? Because plenty of people can cook but not all of them are good at it." You reached for the container of chicken egg rolls prompting Goku to grab one as it passed in front of him.

"You can cook good," he said, his voice muffled by an ungodly amount of food.

"I can cook okay. Is this your not so subtle way of telling me you want me to cook for you more often?" You raised an eyebrow and glanced at him.

"Would you?" He said with a goofy grin and hopeful eyes.

"If it'll make you happy." You smiled at him, shaking your head as he stuffed his face.

You both continued to eat, talking about food and fighting for the most part. Goku loved telling you about past fights and how his power level has increased, even though you knew nothing about it.

"So, super saiyan two is above super saiyan god, right?" You toyed with him.

“Huh? No! What gave you that idea?” He shoveled another egg roll in his mouth, oblivious as usual to the fact that you were just messing with him.

“Wait, you still have to show me ultra instinct,” you exclaimed, slapping his muscular arm, “you promised me weeks ago.”

“Oh yeah!” He swallowed a large bite of food and put his plate down. “Want me to do it now?”

“No! I’ve seen you transform in the house before, shit goes flying and I don’t want to lose the food.”

"Oh, you're right. We don't wanna lose the food. I'll do it outside then." He jumped up with as much energy as normal.

You were a little slower, especially since you'd just eaten your weight in egg rolls and rice. 

"Okay, but be careful of the house." You warned as you followed him outside.

He threw you over his shoulder without warning and flew towards the back of the yard.

"Goku, stomach, full!" You squirmed in his grasp.

"Oh! I always forget humans get full really fast!" He lowered to the ground and let you slide down his body at your own pace.

"You okay?"

You grimaced at the discomfort of being jostled that much on a full stomach. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Just transform."

He stepped back from you and started with a low growl as he powered up. You watched his aura glow as his muscles bulged and his hair changed colors. 

"Is this safe?" You asked but received no answer as he continued.

You took a step back when his growl started getting louder, eventually turning into a powerful yell that echoed all around. The nearby trees swayed and the ground underneath you shook. When you turned your attention back to Goku, the yelling faded and your breath caught in your throat.

"Fuck..." You stared at him.

His chest was even more defined, his hair was silver, and a translucent aura surrounded him.

"Well? What do you think of this form?" His voice was at least an octave lower.

"It's... fuck-" Your eyes searched for a place to remain fixed but he just looked so amazing that you couldn't look away from all of it.

"Judging by your scent, I'm assuming you like it." He stepped closer to you. Playful Goku was all but gone and the vibes he was giving off were making you see him in a totally different light. But that couldn't happen. Not when you were pining for someone else.

The moment he touched your waist, you were seconds from risking your friendship with him to satisfy the ache between your thighs.

"Goku..." Your voice was barely above a whisper as he moved closer.

Your mouth went dry as he stared down at you. Everything was telling you just to give in and let him do whatever he pleased and deal with the consequences later. He leaned down and inhaled your scent. You weren't positive, but it felt like his lips grazed your neck.

"You'd be perfect for breeding," he whispered in your ear.

"Goku, what are you trying to do?" Just the word 'breeding' sent your mind into a daze.

"This form... relies on pure instinct." His breathing had changed to short shallow breaths and he remained close.

"W-We aren't breeding, Goku." It was difficult to turn him down.

"We could." He tilted your chin up and you wanted to fight it and avoid making eye contact but it wasn’t happening. The sudden shift in him sent your curiosity and hormones into overdrive.

"Are you saying your instinct is to breed with me?"

"Yes. Especially with that enticing scent coming from between your legs." He inhaled sharply again.

You felt like a moth to the flame, unable to stop yourself from being drawn in.

"How would that affect our friendship?" You asked, fully engulfed in him.

"It doesn't have to affect it at all. It's just satisfying a need we both have." His lips grazed your cheek. "I can smell you every time Vegeta is around."

"Wait, you what?"

"Your need... you can't hide it." He continued to speak low and close to your skin.

"D- Does he know?" You felt yourself panicking already.

"I don't think so. He's never mentioned it."

"And if we... did this, we would still be okay? Just a friends with benefits thing?" You were torn between instant gratification and remaining faithful to a man that wasn't even yours. Vegeta had Kyla and no amount of wishing was going to change that.

"It's just an itch that needs to be scratched." Everything he said made sense and you were so close to just giving in, but there was still a thread of you that had doubts.

"I just don't know..."

"Let me show you how good it could feel." His lips grazed just below your ear as his hand moved down your stomach.

Before he could go any further, your phone vibrated in your pocket, snapping you out of the haze. Goku remained close and pressed his lips to your neck.

"Goku, wait. It's Vegeta," you said, looking down at his face on your incoming call screen.

"Hey... pal?" You silently cursed yourself for being so awkward.

"Why do you sound weird?" He asked.

"I'm not weird- I mean, I'm perfectly normal sounding. What's up?" You continued to stumble.

"Do you still want to do something today?" He asked with a noticeable amount of hesitation in his voice.

"I always do," you admitted way too fast. "What changed since you canceled?"

"Woman, what's wrong with you right now?"

"Nothing. I'm just- hanging out with Goku. He was showing me his new form." You were struggling to focus as Goku nuzzled against your neck.

"Are you with Kakarot now?" He asked, still suspicious of you.

"Y-yeah, he's um... he's walking around here in ultra instinct form."

Goku's hand moved down your back to rest on the curve of your ass.

"I'll be there soon," he grunted before hanging up.

"I can make you come quickly," Goku said against your ear.

"Fuck, you can't say things like that. It's already so hard to say no." You sighed.

"Then don't say no. Let me." His hand moved down past your ass and between your thighs from behind, teasing you through your clothes.

"Goku, we can't."

You moaned involuntarily and pressed your body against his. He was so big and you could feel the power radiating off of him. Ultra instinct was definitely your favorite form next to blue.

"We can," he whispered, pressing his hand against your soaked cunt.

"You want it. You need it." He pressed against your clit.

"God I really do, but-" You whimpered as he touched you.

"Tell me what you need." His lips pressed against your neck.

"Woman! Where are you?" Vegeta yelled from the house. You quickly pulled away and tried to shake off the urge to let Goku fuck you against a tree.

"Let's talk tonight, okay?" You weren't ready to shut it down completely because you desperately needed it but there were things to consider.

He smirked with an arrogance that you'd seen on Vegeta's face. The new form really did change him.

"I'm back here,” you called out, still trying to regain some focus.

Vegeta lifted up into the air and flew over. "Showing off, Kakarot?"

"She wanted it," Goku said, glancing at you. You elbowed him in the ribs and walked up to Vegeta when he landed.

"Hey, gorgeous." You grinned when he scowled at you.

"Something is definitely wrong with you." He commented, looking you up and down.

"Stop saying that. I'm being perfectly normal." You felt your cheeks flush, hoping he didn't pick up on the same scent Goku did.

A low growl emanated from him. "You can't hide from me. I know when something is off."

"Why don't you tell me what's going on with you?" You challenged, knowing he would hold it in as long as he could.

"Kakarot, what's wrong with her? Did you do something?"

"I didn't do anything. She was already like this." Goku denied any hand in your awkwardness.

"Will you both stop talking like I'm not here?" You shot the both of them harsh glances.

"Don't glare at me, woman, I just got here," Vegeta chided. He crossed his arms and stared back, still searching for some indication of what was going on.

"I know what's wrong," Goku chimed in.

You immediately looked at Goku, begging him not to say anything. 

"What is it, Kakarot?" Vegeta asked as he glanced between the two of you.

"Weren't you just saying how bad you wanted a day away from the city?"

You let out the breath you were holding and glanced at Vegeta.

"Why was that such a secret?" He asked, suspicions growing by the second.

"I didn't want you to feel like you have to take me somewhere." You shrugged, hoping he would buy it.

"That's ridiculous. Your inclinations don't dictate my actions." Vegeta was still skeptical.

"I just thought it would be nice to get away, but I didn't want to go alone." You continued with the lie.

"Why don't you take Kakarot?" 

"I would but I need to work on controlling the ultra instinct form, I need to be able to hold it longer." Goku was almost too good at lying.

Vegeta grunted, "fine, but we're flying and we're coming back at sunset."

Not only would you get to cling to Vegeta while he flew, you would also get to spend a few hours alone with him. It felt like a wish had been granted by the dragon balls, but you had to contain your excitement.

"If you don't want to go, I'm not gonna force you," you said, trying to play it cool.

"I said we'll go, woman. Are you ready now?" He seemed even more on edge than usual. You wanted to ask, but knew he wouldn't give an honest answer.

"Yeah, ready whenever you are. Goku, we'll talk later?" You glanced back at him.

He lowered his power level and returned to his base form, "as long as you're cooking, I'll be there."

Vegeta bent down to let you hop on his back. "Hold on tight." His body was so warm and his scent was perfect. The ache between your thighs multiplied before his feet even left the ground.

You glanced back to see that same smirk plastered to Goku's face just as Vegeta took off. You held onto him tight, wrapping your legs around him as he flew. You tucked your face down into his back, reveling in how perfect his body felt against yours.

You didn't even know where he was taking you and it didn't matter. You would've been happy just flying around with him. Even though you had deep feelings for him, he was also your best friend and you missed him so much.

"Woman! You're too quiet."

"I'm not super fond of heights,” you admitted.

"You'll adjust,” he replied, offering no other comfort.

"Talk to distract me. How's Kyla?" You asked, even though you didn't really care.

"Frustrating as most of you humans are," he grumbled. You felt him take a deep breath and let it out.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I won't try to fix it, I can just listen," you offered.

"What's the point in talking about it?" He sighed.

"To get it out. It helps just to talk sometimes." You urged.

He let out another sigh, "she's insufferable sometimes. I do what she wants but it's still not good enough."

"Did you get into a fight?"

Vegeta was generally very closed off when it came to talking about his relationship but you knew there was a least a little bit of fighting. You heard it when she called him a few times while you were hanging out.

"She kept pushing for me to stay with her today, so I did, and she was angry over something the entire time."

"Did she say what?" You pressed a little more.

"No, she just kept yelling about me choosing training over her and never spending time with her." He was finally opening up more, giving you a glimpse into his life.

"I mean, you were up front with her about how important training is, right? Before you got together?"

"She was well aware. I don't know why it's becoming a problem now. Frustrating woman," he growled.

"Not all women are like that. Most women are accepting of men's hobbies and often have their own,” you informed him.

"Maybe that's what she needs. A hobby. You could help her with that, couldn't you?" He asked as he neared the outskirts of the city.

"What, me?" You tried not to sound too surprised.

“You’re a woman, she’s a woman, surely there has to be something you have in common besides that?” He began to lower towards a hidden spot in the middle of a dense forest.

“Just because we’re women doesn’t mean we have hobbies in common but I can try, if you really want me to.”

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it would be helpful." He admitted as he finally stopped. You slid down his back and planted your feet on the ground, "I'll go see her tomorrow."

"Good, I have to train tomorrow. I'm surprised Kakarot didn't bring it up." He neared the water and stopped at the edge. You couldn't help but smile because he knew the exact kind of place to take you and it was out of cell range so you wouldn't be interrupted.

"I love coming out here. I wish I could just live here." You stepped towards the lake

"Away from everyone?" He glanced at you.

"I'd come visit if that's what you're worried about." You teased him with a nudge.

"I'd probably end up joining you. I don't care for humans."

"I didn't say anything about you joining me, and I'm a human, you'd get sick of me eventually." You gave him a sideways glance and smiled.

"You're one of the more bearable ones." He grunted.

You feigned a gasp, "is that a compliment? From the mighty prince Vegeta?"

"Stop it or I'll take it back." He blushed.

"Oh, no, you already said it. It's out there now." You grinned.

"No one else will know it was said if you don't make it back alive, woman." He raised an eyebrow in your direction.

"Oh please, you'd miss me too much. You'd be tracking down the dragon balls after a day. Dragging Goku along with you for yet another adventure," you mused.

"Adventu- we do not go on adventures. Take that back or I'm throwing you in the lake." He had turned to face you completely.

"You wouldn't dare. And what else do I call them? You go off and find things to fight or get into together,” you challenged him.

"Woman, I'm warning you. I know for a fact that water would be too cold for a weak little human like you." He stepped forward but you didn't budge.

"Throw me in that lake and you are coming to get me out. Do you really want to get all wet right now? Or do you just want to see me wet?" You played it off like you totally meant to say it but inside you were screaming.

He inched closer, "there are far easier ways for me to see you wet, woman."

You didn't know if he was joking, serious, or totally didn't mean it in the way you took it. You swallowed hard as the heat between your thighs returned and your need was back in full force.

“Oh yeah? Tell me how,” you challenged again. It wasn’t the best thing to do, but you finally had him possibly flirting. You had to see where it would go.

“Use your imagination, Earth woman. I’m sure you can figure it out.” Another statement that could be taken a number of ways and it left you even more flustered than before.

"You're just as insufferable as Earth women." You narrowed your eyes at him.

"As are you." He returned your glare.

It was taking everything you had not to launch yourself at him, but his words could have different meaning and you didn't want to misread anything.

“We’re both insufferable, maybe that’s why you like me so much.” You stepped forward, unable to stop yourself from pushing just a little bit more. There was a certain amount of guilt you felt because he was in a relationship but you pushed it aside, your judgement clouded by the overwhelming need to soothe the ache.

"You've been spending too much time with Kakarot. I don't like anyone." He said, but made no move to stop you.

"Then why bother taking me out of the city?" You wanted to know how he truly felt about you.

“Because I wanted to get away from humans for a while,” he said as if that was the most obvious answer.

“So, you took one with you? Just admit it, Prince Vegeta, you kinda like having me around,” you said, placing your hands on his shoulders.

His muscles tensed but quickly relaxed under your touch. “Like I said, you're one of the bearable ones."

"It's more than that and you know it. One day you'll give me a real compliment, I'll just wait til then." You dropped your hands to your sides and stepped away to turn towards the water. Having feelings for Vegeta was absolute torture but you couldn’t stop them from growing.

He stepped up next to you and sighed, “I don’t mind having you around.”

"Back at you." You smiled, enjoying the soft moment with him. You both stood there in silence for a moment. It was peaceful and it gave you time in your thoughts, which wasn't the best, but you had to calm yourself down before you did something stupid with him.

“Thank you for bringing me out here,” you said after a while. You took a chance and rested your head on his shoulder. It wasn’t the first time you did it, but that was only because you fell asleep next to him and ended up there. His body tensed but he didn’t move and that was enough for you.

[dragontamer-nia-2]

Olivier [Beyblade theories on crack]

Welcome to my random rants about random beyblade things. I have a lot of things to say about the Euro Team and how tragically underestimated and undervalued they are, as characters, but also as very smart plot devices, so in these posts I'm gonna pick a fight with the writers and yell at clouds while probably drunk. If you want a trip, and you think you don't like the Euro team, then jump on.

This guy. 

I love this guy.

This guy is great and I swear to god they knew what they were doing when they decided when and how to introduce him.

So, from the encounter at the top of the Eiffel Tower in ep 33 we know that this guy is mysterious and that he blades; he randomly starts roasting the Bladebreakers unprovoked, which is always fun, but fucks off before anything interesting can happen. What the writers decided to do in the next episode was split up the team, and have them find out more about Olivier separately: since everywhere they go they meet someone that has at least heard of him, we can't help but feel that this guy is kind of a big deal. From Max we learn that he's bloody rich, from Rei we learn that he's a great cook, from them both (when two guys conveniently share the information right in front of them… anime logic) we learn that he's the best blader in France, and from Takao and Kyouju we learn that he likes art, and… prepare your tinfoil hats, guys, because we're going deep.

The thing is, we know this guy is manipulative, and we know it because he offers Takao lunch in his own super expensive restaurant to distract him from the fact that he just ruined hundreds of people's day. Kyouju even points out that something's wrong when he sees Takao go into the Louvre absolutely furious at Olivier, and then sees them come out like buddies. We also know it because… come on guys, have you seen his face? Have you seen his evil smirk? He's a walking troll face. It's like the animators want us to not trust him. And yet, every background character seemingly adores him, even though we don't really get a specific reason why.

I mean… this is a kids show, I know. And the writing is messy most of the times. But this guy. This guy is shady as fuck. You can take him at face value and assume he's a well-meaning asshole, completely oblivious to normal interpersonal relationships, living in rich people's world where he can just do whatever the fuck he wants. Or. He could be one bad day away from being a chaotic-evil type of supervillain, because it's almost like he's doing everything he possibly can to lure and provoke Takao into battle while holding the façade of smiles and politeness. And the funny thing is that Takao doesn't even notice his intimidation attempts (while Kyouju falls for them at every step)

But, exactly, how manipulative is he? And, more importantly, is he even aware of it? Let's assume the worst about him for a second, that everything he did and said had the purpose to push buttons and provoke a reaction. Then just in episode 34 we have the following:

- He reserves the whole Louvre knowing that the Bladebreakers were going around famous tourists attractions

- He immediately interrupts Takao and makes him waste time on honorifics before letting him speak

- He invites Takao and Kyouju, two guys clearly not dressed for the occasion and who probably don't know proper etiquette, to his high class, really expensive restaurant, serves them delicious food he cooked himself, and even implies that he could kick everyone else out if he wanted to

- He namedrops that one guy from Team Who, in a conversation that really wasn't going in that direction, and then uses the bait to imply that he's much stronger than those guys, knowing fully well that Takao was having a hard time the previous day against them

- He basically corners Takao into battling in the middle of a fucking public park, knowing that there are a lot of people around and everyone wants to see the French champion battle

Now. The thing is, I can't prove he's the Machiavellian mastermind I suspect him to be, and the only way this whole thing works is that, in this episode, Olivier somehow got Takao and Kyouju alone and the rest of the team (Kai in particular) is not there to call Olivier out on his bullshit.

On the Eiffel Tower, at the very end of ep 33, Olivier did mention, among other things, that he has unresolved business with Team Who, and it's Kai that questions him to get more information. And what does Olivier do? He immediately cuts him off with "none of your business" and basically flees. We even get a reaction shot of Kai. Afterwards, Kai goes around trying to find out more information about Olivier on his own, and spies on the battle unseen. What's going on here? Well, Kai is not like his teammates, he's not naive, he knows what manipulation looks like and I think Olivier realizes it. That's why Olivier doesn't even try to play dumb with him like he does with basically everyone else, and that's why Kai circumvents the problem by playing bully with random kids instead of trying to confront him directly.

And I know all of this may be "chemicals are making the frogs gay" level tinfoil, but come on, just look at Olivier's reaction when Takao barges into the Louvre and somehow finds him. What does he looks like he's thinking?

At the end, it doesn't really matter, because Olivier doesn't win like he expects. Granted, at this point he can't lose - because the arc has just begun and Takao needs to work harder, and because Olivier already shit-talked Team Who in two different occasions while the writers want them to be a legit threat for the Bladebreakers. But Olivier can't win either, because we're already at the end of episode 34, we have three teams to juggle, and Takao can't keep losing and having to fight against the same people the whole arc. So they tie… and Olivier is shook. He miscalculated. For some reason this guy, this clueless, impulsive idiot, didn't lose immediately and neatly like he expected. And since Olivier does have honor, and respects people stronger than him, he immediately changes his tone, shuts down the peasants that don't understand these kind of things, and he starts treating Takao like an actual person (kinda).

Option A) Oh, what's this guy doing here while the Louvre should be closed?

Option B) How lucky, I caught him alone

One thing that stands out, though, is that he is the one member of the Euro Team who never loses. They had reasons to make his fight with Takao a tie, but why did they make him tie with Rei? Although I do have my own little theory about this, I noticed that he's the only member of the Euro Team that actually has other things going on in his life other than beyblade. The guy is rich, he is very interested in art, he works as a chef and wins culinary competitions. The fact that he's probably a bored psychopath is balanced by the fact that he seems to have his personal life together, he doesn't put his whole worth into spinning tops clashing against each other, and he has the self-confidence to admit when he was wrong. Which is… more than we say about the other European guys.

So, I'm thinking, because this is called Beyblade theories on crack after all, and there's too much reasonable stuff in this post so far… maybe the writers wanted to use the Euro Team to make a point about not winning, and being ok with it, and they really couldn't make it with the Bladebreakers because they are the protagonists. They can't lose - not permanently. Olivier doesn't win, twice, and… he's shook that he miscalculated, he seems to be honestly confused, his whole drive is not winning, but understand what's going on. That's why he sends the Bladebreakers to Giancarlo, that's why he convinces him to bring them to Ralf, he does want to study Takao, and… is he using the rest of the Euro Team as guinea pigs? Or did he notice something that's missing in them, and subconsciously wants to fix it?

Here's my hot take, and the conclusion to this dumb post. Olivier is not aware of his own machinations. He's a natural manipulator and he has a talent to read people or get info out of them, and he mainly does this by playing dumb and wait until people scream at him who they are and what they want. He reads the Euro Team, he reads the Bladebreakers, and realizes one thing: they could help each other. He baits Takao with the prospect of more beybattles and then follows him to see what happens. If it's chaos, good, if it's some life lesson, better. He manages to get Giancarlo on board and the both of them, combined with Takao, eventually get to Ralf. But what Olivier doesn't realize is that the very thing that he is subconsciously asking Giancarlo, Johnny, and Ralf to fix, is their inability to lean on other people, their skeptical and wary natures, their need to be perfect, without weaknesses, in the eyes of the world; and if Olivier was aware of his own machinations he would have realized sooner that, all this time, all he wanted was to have friends. And if I’m right about anything about this, then the writers will have done a good job with at least one member of the Euro Team, because it’s not only a fucking genius way to introduce the arc, the team, and the theme, but he’s also a damn good character.

I love this guy.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Out Tonight (Part 2)

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Papi

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

Summary: After a night of karaoke, Barba teaches you some Spanish, gives you some slightly patronizing advice, and follows you up to your hotel room. (Lo siento por mi español. Por favor dime si cometí algún error!)

Rafael Barba x female reader

Warning: NSFW/18+, Dub-con!! Everyone is enthusiastically willing, but also super drunk.

For @thatesqcrush​’s kink bingo!

6,089 words

“So… Rafael Barba,” you changed the subject away from today’s trial. His failure to get a conviction had sent him into such a steep emotional spiral he cried in your arms at the bar, despite having just met you an hour ago. “That’s Spanish, right?”

The vulnerability in his eyes flattened. “Cuban,” he said, already bracing for the “but you don’t look Latino” comments, or worse, something about rafts or cigars. Instead your eyes got wide like he just ripped off a mask and revealed himself to be David Bowie.

“Cool!”

“I… guess?” There were eighty thousand Cuban-Americans living in New York, but sure.

“Hablar… I mean, hablas español?”

“Sí, lo hablo,” he answered with wry amusement, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You chewed your lip in thought before slowly saying, “Aprendí un poco de español en la escuela, y lo me gusta mucho.”

His brow raised. You actually knew more than he expected, which is to say, you could string more than two words together. “Not bad. Toda mi familia es de Cuba, así que el español es mi lengua materna. Soy el primer estadounidense.”

He spoke faster, at a natural pace, expecting you to follow, but when your eyes glazed over and you awkwardly squeaked out, “...Qué?” it became clear you did not, in fact, speak Spanish.

“Let’s stick to English,” he grimaced.

You whined in disappointment. “But that was so hot! Please? Un poco más. Dime algo en español!”

“Algo.”

An unflattering snort erupted from your nostrils, and you started giggling like a manic school girl. Barba shook his head with second-hand embarrassment, though a smile crept over his lips as you continued struggling to contain yourself, pleased at how well his bad joke had gone over.

“Come on, teach me something,” you pouted, leaning towards him, pushing your chest out. “Por favor… papi?”

He choked on his drink so hard burning whisky shot up his nose. “Ay, dios!” He pounded his chest and ordered a water. “OK, OK, bueno,” he put up his hands in defeat. “Hablaré en español. Solo para ti, mamita. Te gusta?”

“Mucho, papi.” You were taking advantage of calling him that now that you’d seen his reaction. He didn’t nearly die this time, but a red blush was sweeping up his neck under his shirt collar. Emboldened, he leaned toward you, eyes heavily lidded as he flirtatiously held your gaze.

“Tienes novio?”

“A husband? Do I look married?” you flipped your ringless left hand back and front and worried about your age.

He laughed, raising a hand to his forehead with his palm shading his eyes. “That would be esposo.”

“Oh. Right.” Your face darkened. “No, yo soy… single.”

“Estás soltera,” he prompted.

“Ah, gracias. Estoy soltera. Y tú?” you tilted your face down shyly and looked up at him through your lashes. “Tienes esposo? O novia?”

“Nope,” he popped the p, staring into the empty bottom of his scotch glass and wishing he hadn’t decided to cut himself off. The sip of water he took was boring and not numbly soothing at all. He had been single for a depressingly long time, in fact.

“Muy bien,” you smiled with delight, and he suddenly realized his years of failure at relationships were, tonight, a positive. It was the answer a very beautiful woman was hoping for. He may have been suffering from a string of humiliating losses, but winning you over reawakened his cocky self-assurance.

“Acércate.” He curled his finger to beckon you closer, and you swung onto his lap. God, you were so close. Your body fit so perfectly in his arms and you smelled like strawberry lemonade from that cocktail. Before he could help it, he was kissing you again. Softer and a little less desperate this time. A little more… something else. He just met you, but the way you made him feel cared about was stronger than he had ever felt, depressing as that was to admit. The one time he had put his whole heart into a relationship, he’d had it shattered so badly he was still picking up the pieces. Since then, he chose relationships that were mutually guarded, partners he knew he would never connect with, and who didn’t expect anything back. Barba did not open up to people. He’d never let himself cry on anyone before, except his abuelita. He must have been extremely drunk to let his guard down so much, but he pushed the realization out of mind as your fingers curled through his hair around the back of his head and pulled him deeper, your strawberry tongue slipping between his bitter lips. He wanted this. He needed it. He felt so close to you, so right—that was all that mattered.

He started whispering to you in Spanish between kisses, phrases you couldn’t understand, some that you got the gist of. He cringed a little at your attempts to reply in his first language, but kissed you more softly each time. You were trying, at least. You were trying very hard to understand a piece of him. The phrases he murmured against your lips grew progressively more filthy, which your keen ears picked up on even if you weren’t entirely sure what they meant.

“Como se dice, ‘fuck me harder’?” you asked in a low voice full of lust, fingers tightening against his scalp.

“...damelo más duro,” he said with a shudder. His cock twitched and he wondered if you’d noticed the growing erection pressed against your thigh as you sat in his lap. What you would think. But you must have noticed, and you weren’t moving to get away from him.

“Damelo duro, papi,” you purred, leaning to say it into his ear, your breath warm and tickling.

He swallowed, heart hammering in his chest. Barba, always so eloquent under pressure in court, could barely form words to express a coherent thought. You were just joking. You must have been. To you it was a foreign language, and it didn’t sound like a real request to your ears. This was just a flirty game, teaching you naughty Spanish. “Y-you are… getting into dangerous territory here,” he tried to laugh jokingly, but his throat was dry. He swallowed again.

You lowered your voice and your eyelids. “I mean it,” you whispered against the shell of his ear. To punctuate your point, you rolled your hips, deliberately grinding your inner thigh against his forming erection. He was so wildly aroused with alcohol he thought he would come right there, but its effects were also preventing him from getting completely hard yet, something he should probably have been concerned about, but wasn’t.

“Would you like to go somewhere?” he said, voice strained with urgency. “I would very much like to go somewhere immediately and fuck your brains out, please. If that’s… alright with you.”

***

The streets of Midtown were as bright and crowded as they were during the day, just a little less hurried—except for two people. You held Barba’s large hand, long elegant fingers laced with yours, laughing giddily in the warm summer air as you raced toward your hotel, stopping only to desperately kiss each other, fingers in each other’s hair, reigniting the flames that pulled you together.

Barba broke away panting, his lips wet with your saliva. The fresh air had a sobering effect, and something serious occurred to him. He had been animated and outgoing all night at the bar, but he suddenly very much resembled the shrewd lawyer whose picture you had seen in a news article. You felt like you’d been called to the principal’s office under the severity of his gaze, waiting for whatever it was he had to say.

“Did you take any pictures of us together?”

“I… might have taken a few selfies,” you admitted, terrified you’d committed a heinous faux pas.

“Good,” he said. “Do you have location data enabled? You should send those to someone you trust, along with the time you left the bar, and where we’re going.”

Gears in your head turned slowly to put together an intelligible response. You opened your mouth and declared, “...whuh?”

“You’re out drinking alone, taking a stranger home!” he gripped your shoulders as if to shake you. “Do you know how many cases never get off the ground because there’s no ID, no proof the victim and assailant were ever in the same room? Those photos would establish a timeline and a suspect, and would be enough for a warrant. Do you know what I would give to have evidence like that in every case? A lot more rapists would go to jail.”

“Are you… saying you’re a rapist?” you said slowly, cocking your head.

He stiffened, mentally replaying his own words. His eyes darted to the side, up, down, and three other directions in rapid succession. “N-no… But you have no way of knowing that. You’re too trusting. No matter how charming someone seems, it’s better to be paranoid and take precautions.”

“Uh-huh. Real charming. You know, it’s creepy telling someone that right before you’re going to sleep with them. How do you say that in Spanish?”

He groaned and looked so crestfallen it impressed upon you how much horror he must deal with every day, prosecuting special victims cases in the big city. How much that weighed on him and made him see nothing but worst-case scenarios around every corner. It didn’t seem so strange now that he was single—it must be impossible to connect with anyone when you live like that.

“I just… want you to be safe,” he said quietly, eyes down. A swelling of sympathy flooded your heart, and formed a lump in your throat. Before you could think twice, you’d pulled him into your arms.

“I feel very safe with you, Rafael.” Your words drew a tiny, strangled noise from his chest, and his grip around you tightened.

The mood had shifted catastrophically, to the point that it seemed unlikely a one-night stand was in your future any longer. Barba walked slowly by your side, lost in reflective silence. Sex or no, you invited him up to your hotel room. You would never get enough of being around him, and couldn’t bear to say goodbye, even if you were only sitting up talking of somber issues late into the night.

But by the time the elevator doors closed, leaving you completely alone together for the first time, your libidos overpowered the gloom and his hands were all over your body, his mouth hot and fervent against your throat. You moaned wantonly, confident in the privacy the elevator afforded as it whisked you upward toward the eleventh floor. You slipped your hands inside his jacket, feeling his solid pectoral muscles stretching his shirt, and he cupped a hand between your legs, kneading the crotch of your pants. Even through your jeans, it sparked a fire that sizzled through your whole body. You pulled at his back, drawing more of his weight against you.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Several cleaning ladies stared unimpressed as you and Barba quickly unhanded each other, stood straighter, and tried to pretend you were dignified professionals just riding an elevator together and definitely not almost having sex in there.

They were far more used to seeing this sort of thing than you were, judging by their almost bored eye rolls, but as you passed them on your way into the hall, one of them muttered something in rapid Spanish that made the other women giggle and Barba trip over his feet, face neon red, and look down at the front of his pants which were sporting a very conspicuous tent.

“Madre de Dios,” he groaned.

Shoulders convulsing with laughter, you took his arm and led him to room, uh… You fumbled in your purse for your room key with the number written on it.

“This is my first time doing this,” you confessed as the magnetic lock clicked and the light on the door changed from red to green.

“Having sex?”

“With someone I just met. In a bar!” you teased, turning the handle.

Part of you wondered when both of you were going to wake up and realize you were acting like horny teenagers—that you shouldn’t be doing this. But you hoped you wouldn’t, at least not until morning. You weren’t nervous. If you had been introspective that night, that would have surprised you the most. The whole confident, sexy Mimi Márquez, Out Tonight act was just a character you put on for karaoke to get psyched up and out of your shell. If you had been questioning yourself, you would have wondered how a shy good girl was having a one-night stand with a handsome Manhattan lawyer wearing a suit that cost more than your mortgage and not having an anxiety attack. But you weren’t questioning yourself, and you weren’t nervous. You looked in his intelligent eyes that were as pale as the underside of a silver maple leaf or dark as a dense hemlock grove depending on the lighting, and you simply wanted him.

***

He followed you into the dark hotel room, which was disappointingly small and shoddy for how expensive it was, so you left the lights off to preserve some mystery. The city glowed through the window brighter than a full moon, anyway. Barba pulled off his suit jacket, tossing it recklessly aside as he prowled toward you. Almost immediately, he thought better of this and found the heap of designer fabric on the floor next to the sandals you had kicked off, picked it up, smoothed it out, and carefully folded it over the back of an office chair at the little desk. He removed his tie and did the same.

You grinned behind your hand. Changing tunes so quickly from ravenously horny to prim—it didn’t surprise you that a guy who dressed as sharply as he did would have his priorities on wrinkle-avoidance even in the heat of the moment. It might have rubbed you as snobbish if it wasn’t so funny.

When he returned to you, his back was to the window, so you couldn’t make out the expression on his shadowed face, but the silhouettes of his shoulders were tense and his voice sheepish as if expecting a rebuke. “Sorry. I couldn’t leave it there. It’s a Brioni and—”

You slid your fingers under the pink-striped suspenders at both shoulders, closed your fists around them, and tugged. He lurched forward, and you caught his lips with yours. Letting out a surprised moan, he closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms around you, grateful you weren’t accusing him of vanity. You held firm to the elastic bands like a leash on him, pulling him closer when you wanted to deepen the contact until he was so enraptured he needed no extra encouragement to shove his tongue between your lips as they parted, his hands roaming your sides, your hair, and over the swell of your bottom, grabbing a handful.

“You really do… have the best ass… below 14th street,” he said devilishly, in between crushing his hungry mouth against yours.

Running down the length of his suspenders, your hands took a tour of his entire torso, enjoying the firm bulk of his chest, and the softness of his belly. You liked that there was something to love there. Gym rats with nothing but hard muscle were painfully dull. His stomach twitched ticklishly at your probing touch and he broke away from your lips to protest, so you continued your suspender tour all the way to the bottom, where the leather straps attached the elastic bands to his pants. His hips rocked forward, and his clothed cock pressed into your thigh. You let out a sultry breath and pushed your own hips back against him, lining him up against your clit to ignite a burning, tempting pressure between you. You couldn’t even kiss him. Your mouth hung slack, and all you could focus on was the friction of his hard cock against your aching cunt. You had to get out of these clothes.

“Bed. Now,” you huffed.

“Yeah.”

As he toed off his leather shoes, you slipped his suspenders off his shoulders and were slightly disappointed this did not immediately make his pants fall off. He climbed on top of the blanket, and you climbed onto his lap, throwing a leg over his hips.

An impressively sized hand with a vein meandering across it curled around that tempting leg, palming the tight denim stretched over your thighs. The hand rode up, found the bottom hem of your blouse and dove under it. You shivered as warm fingertips crested over your jeans and found your waiting skin.

“Are you okay with this?” he rasped, eyes flicking across your face.

“Keep going,” you nodded, the prickles of your skin screaming in protest at the thought that he might stop. His hand worked up your side, exploring new territory under your shirt. Every point of contact sent warm waves vibrating out to your most intimate parts. You lowered your mouth to his and your lips melted against his, pussy soaking through your underwear as you felt his body respond beneath you. His clever fingers found the band of your bra and inched over the fabric.

“Is this alright?” he paused his advance to check in again.

You leaned close and whispered, “I want you to touch me, papi,” darting your tongue just below his ear, and rolling your hips over his cock again. “Touch me everywhere.”

He growled, deep and throaty and thick with lust, his own hips bucking up to grind himself against yours. With your carte blanche permission given, a switch flipped inside him and he dove in, roughly palming your breasts with both hands, rolling the fat and finding your hardened nipples through your bra cups. Even through the thicker fabric, his thumbs circled and pinched the sensitive peaks hard enough that you whimpered with every sensation. Your hips were moving without your leave, desperately driving against his cock while your hands quickly worked to unbutton the front of your shirt. He had become an animal, his eyes unfocused, breathing heavy, lost in voracious need.

“S-slow down,” you tried asking, wondering if he would—if he could at this point, despite all his earlier talk of consent.

His hands were off you in an instant, and he was apologizing and asking if you were OK.

“Just testing your off switch,” you smirked as you finished the final button, and your blouse opened up. Marveling at the man beneath your legs, you unhooked the front clasp of your bra and felt his cock stir at the naked sight of you. Any lingering uncertainty was gone—you managed to score the most principled lay in all of New York sitting by himself in a karaoke bar, and you trusted him completely. “Since I already know your on switch, don’t I papi?”

He swore in Spanish, some excitingly lusty expressions you would have to take note of later.

“What was it again? Cómo se dice...” you teased, tapping your index finger against your lips in thought. You watched his pupils widen as you pinched your finger between your teeth. “Oh yeah. Damelo, papi. Damelo duro.”

Hearing those words from your perfect sensuous lips drove him wild. Grabbing your hips, he rolled you onto your back, swapping positions. His fevered mouth pressed wet kisses all over your exposed skin, heated breath dancing over your neck as his tongue flicked out to taste you. You reached down to curl your fingers into his thick, dark hair. He pushed your breasts, which had fallen to the sides, back together and ran his tongue through the cleavage. You drew in a sharp breath. “Just like that, papi,” you moaned. He took a nipple in his mouth, sucking and circling his tongue over it until your cunt was pulsating and your breath coming out in hard, ragged whimpers, then pinched it between his teeth, drawing a yelp of pleasure mixed with pain. You yanked at his hair and your hips bucked jerkily. Your core ached with emptiness, longing to be filled by his cock. You wrapped your legs around his lower back and pulled his hips down against you to feel more of him. The strangled noises in his throat were practically feral as his clothed sex rutted up against you, valiantly striving to be inside you through your pants. His mouth sloppily devoured your breasts until they were burned raw from his stubble.

He released your nipple with a wet noise and sat up to free his straining erection from his pants. The latching mechanism didn’t seem particularly hard, but after nearly a minute of fumbling he had made very little progress, and you held up a hand and told him to stop.

He whined and gave you puppy dog eyes, but did as you asked. “Is this another test?”

“No. It’s just… those pants are not that complicated.”

His head tipped in confusion.

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?” You were tipsy yourself, but considering you could at least manage buttons, you had a sudden, sinking realization that he was far more incapacitated than you. He was so well-spoken and thoughtful you hadn’t noticed, but he was a lawyer—staying controlled and eloquent was his job. You might have been drunk, but he was drunk drunk. “If we have sex right now I think that would make me a predator.”

He frowned, cock still straining against the binds of his pants. “Technically, in New York state, being intoxicated does not invalidate sexual consent.”

“Don’t you lawyer this! I don’t care what’s technically legal—you are way too drunk. And I don’t want you waking up with regrets.”

His shoulders fell, because he knew you were right. It was a law he considered a glaring loophole, and he admired you for doing the right thing, but ¡maldita sea! he wished you were just a little less ethical. Deep down he knew he wouldn’t be doing this if he were in full command of himself tonight. But that was why he was so desperate to do it now. He would never let himself go again, not for a long time, and he would miss out on experiencing an intense—if ultimately not real—connection with someone. He would miss out on getting to be with you.

“Well...” you hesitated, watching the disappointment in his eyes displace what had moments ago been confidence and excitement, and tormented by your own unsatisfied ache. “I mean, we can still fool around, right?”

He laid his body down alongside you, his breath still coming in hot, shallow pants. His comforting weight settling beside you on the soft hotel mattress stirred up the coiling insistent heat between your legs. “Is this OK?” he whispered, voice heavy with lust. Blood pounded in your ears as his hand slipped under your waistband.

“Y-yeah, that’s OK,” you nodded. A compromise. It wasn’t sex. Technically.

Trapped tightly between your skin and your jeans, his fingers reached your slit, spreading it with surprising deftness to find your clit. Waves of pleasure exploded through your body as he pressed an irresistible finger to it, making your thighs spasm and lift off the mattress as you bit back a sinful cry. You were almost screaming from just one touch. The sound of throbbing blood in your ears was deafening, and your cunt throbbed in time with it to an unbearable tempo. God, you wanted him to fuck you with his cock.

He drew in a shaking breath as he observed your response, his lust-clouded eyes boring into you with a hint of the keen perceptiveness he used in court. He risked probing deeper, pushing a long digit farther into your panties, dragging it through your pussylips as you squirmed beneath him, then drew it back, dripping, to circle your clit, and smiled as you clamped a hand over your mouth to keep a neighbor-waking vocalization in check. You were soaking wet for him, and it made his erection strain jealously against the closure of his slacks. It had been too long, since he’d allowed himself time for anything other than work. It was almost unbearable having someone moan for him and not be able to fuck them. But you said no, so he focused on what you would allow him to do—on giving you the most earthshaking orgasm you’d ever experienced.

The tightness of your jeans was too restrictive, and you quickly unbuttoned them and zipped them down. “My papi’s fingers feel so good,” you groaned. “I want more of them.”

“You feel… so good,” he answered, lowering his mouth to yours for a fervent, but surprisingly tender kiss as he moved his fingertips over your swollen, stimulated cunt. He traced over your dripping entrance, and pressed in just the tip of one finger, leaving you gasping for more. He withdrew from your pants and brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean, his eyes closing as he savored it. “You taste good, too,” he whispered low and gravelly, almost a growl, though not one you would describe as predatory. There was no danger lurking behind those perceptive eyes—the thrill he gave you had a different source. Your tongue darted over his, dipping into his mouth to taste yourself on his broad tongue.

“Is papi going to fuck me with those fingers?” you challenged, enjoying the way his breath hitched every time you called him that. You’d heard it in passing and knew it was something like calling him “daddy,” but you’d never expected it to have such a big effect.

He helped you pull your jeans down below the swell of you ass, not bothering to take them all the way off and interrupt your pleasure any longer. Once he had all the access he needed, he plunged his fingers into you. He observed carefully, gauging your reaction in the way the slick walls of your cunt gripped and twitched around him, and the tone and frequency of your pleading moans. When one finger wasn’t enough, he added a second, satisfied with his judgment as you cried out and arched against him, your hands gripping the blanket at the stretch. “Te gusta, mamita?” he purred, but you were too breathless to give an answer except a throaty carnal whimper.

Adapting himself to your responses, he alternated penetrating you with his fingers and teasing your clit, kissing you hot and fierce, ramping up his intensity to draw louder and louder cries, leaving a trail of wet bruises down your neck. Curling his fingers inside you, he hit a sweet spot that made your legs begin to tremble. You wailed uninhibited and raw, too overwhelmed with pleasure to try to rile him with another “papi.” He sucked your pulse point under your ear, savoring the feeling of your blood racing beneath his lips. Knowing how turned you were, how much he was affecting you was so deliciously invigorating to his ego. As easily as he could command a courtroom, he’d never had the same confidence in his body. Past lovers would say he had perfect technique, but no soul, no intuition for what a they needed—but here you were, cunt twitching on his fingers, moaning over and over for him.

Your eyes kept closing to focus on what he was doing between your thighs, but when they opened you saw how intensely he was watching you. The arousal on his face as he watched was intoxicating. You had never seen such anyone look at you with such wanton lust, and it heightened your excitement.

“Rafael… Raf—oh, fuck,” you hissed, jerking your hips up to deepen the penetration. “Keep going... deeper!”

“Dime, ‘más profundo,’” he ordered softly, but confidently.

“M-más profundo, papi.”

“Eres buena estudiante,” he praised, a smile lighting his eyes as he sank his fingers deeper with enthusiasm. You were getting close, the fire singing between your thighs blossoming outward through your entire body but always coiling tighter in your core, building an unbearable tension that threatened to break you. He rocked his hips, and the heat twisted tighter at the feeling of his iron-hard cock grinding against you.

You squeezed your hand between your two bodies, groping blindly down his stomach until you found his pants and the massive tent he was pushing into your leg. You grasped the hard outline of his cock, squeezing it and working it through his clothes. He drew a sharp breath and for a moment the rhythmic thrusting of his fingers stuttered and paused. His hemlock-green eyes were black with arousal as they examined you. Then he rocked his hips, thrusting into your palm with a low groan, and his fingers pumped into you again with renewed vigor.

“Que buena chica eres… Just like that,” he croaked. His breathing was growing ragged, he was starting to fall apart with your hand working his cock.

He adjusted his weight to free his other hand, stroking the side of your face as he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips. His thumb kneaded your cheeks as they smiled against his mouth and went slack with lust. His mouth wandered lower, teasing your collar bone with light nips to make you yelp and sigh, then bending to take a mouthful of breast. He withdrew his two slick fingers from the depths of your cunt and circled your clit slowly, gently—then fast and rough as he sucked at a hardened nipple, drawing a shattered gasp from your throat. You rubbed his cock frantically, trying to repay some small amount of the pleasure he was giving you. When he plunged his fingers back inside, he added a third, and you moaned at the added fullness—at being stuffed tight, almost too much for you to handle, an intense pleasure threaded through with pain.

“Oh, fuck,” you cried out, eyes rolling back as you felt your climax build, every nerve ending in your body on fire.

“Is that a good fuck, or a bad fuck?”

“Good,” you stammered, barely holding yourself together. “Don’t stop, papi, I’m almost there.” The hint of pain faded into pure bliss as you imagined it was his cock splitting you open.

His eyes gleamed wickedly as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, watching you come undone with every stroke. This horrible week, he had felt so helpless, useless. It made him doubt himself. But this—this he had control over. Your body. Your arousal. Everything that had fallen apart wasn’t his fault; it was because of circumstances outside his authority to influence. When he was given complete control, this was his effect. He could get any result he wanted, elicit any twitch of your cunt, any moan from your lips, and have you singing in ecstasy just from his fingers. Imagine if you let him fuck you, the songs he could have you singing then.

He angled his hand so his palm was rubbing against your clit as he thrust, and he could tell you were riding the edge of the precipice by the helpless mewling whimpers pouring from your lips with increased fervor, how your walls began to invite him deeper, taking more of him until he was buried three knuckles deep and you were still bucking your hips to intensify each thrust, starving for more. His own hips began rocking at a frantic pace into your hand.

“Rafael… Oh, Rafael,” you moaned. You loved the shape of his name in your mouth. It was like you weren’t even strangers, the more you said it. For him, it would have been too personal for a casual hookup most nights, but for some reason it turned him on even more than when you called him papi.

“Ven conmigo,” he urged softly, his hips stroking at a delirious pace that did not match his calm tone. You didn’t recognize what it meant, but the sound of Spanish rolling over his tongue mixed with the wet lewd noises of his fingers fucking you drove you to the edge.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna...” Your voice broke.

He ducked his head back to your chest and drew a nipple between his teeth, sucking hard just as you came over the precipice and pushing you off it with a violent shove until you wailed out loud, careening into a free-fall steeper and farther than you’d prepared for, your back arching and your walls crashing around his fingers, clenching and convulsing around them.

“Open your eyes,” he said. “Look at me.” You could hear the lawyer in his voice—controlled, assertive. Not quite a command, but your eyes fluttered open obediently. Holding eye contact while your body was being rocked by wave upon wave of fierce climax was too intimate, but he repeated his request low and soft as a tiger’s purr. Your met his gaze and held it. The look of lust on his face, his lips softly parted, lower lip quivering, renewed the strength of your orgasm and sent another shockwave coursing through you.

He kept pumping into you through your orgasm, riding out the aftershocks, until your legs were shaking and weak. The sensation of you coming on his fingers turned him on so much, he only needed to rock into your hand once more, flick his tongue over your breast, and he lost control. He was not vocal as you were as his thighs trembled with his own release, but his hips slowed, and then stopped, their desperate thrusting, and you felt a warm, wet spot soak through the front of his pants. Your gasping cries were stochastic and desperate now, overstimulated—you pushed his hand out of your underwear to stop his relentless fingers, and he rolled off of you heavily.

Laying back on the soft pile of hotel pillows, he slowed his breathing, then sucked his fingers clean one by one with a lascivious growl of pleasure. You watched him, shivering with fascination, and he glanced back at you with a piercing gaze. “I want to fuck you next time. Por favor, déjame a cogerte.”

Next time. You turned away, your cheeks burning up. You never assumed there would be a next time to this, but your heart wouldn’t stop beating at the thought.

“Next time sounds good. That was…” You turned back to praise him, but his eyes were already closed, and a light snore was emanating from his nose. “...Amazing, you lightweight.”

The dizzying effect of all the booze was catching up alarmingly quickly now that you were spent. After the strenuous effort of tugging the blanket out from under Barba so you could tuck it over him, you were completely worn out, and within a minute you were fast asleep as well, cuddled under his arm, your chests rising and falling in unison.

[bananagukkie]

sidekick. jjk

summary.⇢ You didn’t realize that your best friend was in love with you or the fact that he was Busan’s “newest” hero. 

genre.⇢ fluff, a pinch of angst

words. ⇢ 6,583k

rating. ⇢  idk, can you handle neck kisses?

a/n ⇢ well i finally finished it JKEFNKJFN it kinda sucks but I’m new to all this. oh well, hope you like it??? <33 also i wanted to change the fuCKING TITLE BUT I ALREADY MADE THE IMAGE SO I  T WAS TOO L A TE

As a kid, you were always fascinated by super-heroes. Whether it was the superhero saving the innocent citizens of Busan or the western superheroes on the TV. When you were a kid, your mother had always told you that heroes were just humans and at one point they needed to be saved too. The idea of a superhero -- a savior -- needing to be saved was a concept that you were never able to grasp. You scoffed at the idea, they were far too strong to ever get hurt, at least that's what you thought. Countless memories of you staying up late at night to watch your favorite movie and getting up early in the morning to watch the news. It was a strange sight for your mother whenever she would walk into the small living room to see a six-year-old take notes of the heroes on the news. Your childhood consisted of freaking out over any hero poster in the stores, buying costumes for Halloween, and hours upon hours of staring at the TV. Your obsession was almost as comical as it was serious. 

When you reached your teenage years, it didn’t get any better. You had saved up all your money to buy yourself a bicycle and a camera- right after quitting your two part-time jobs. Your daily routine was to head the living room (or any nearby television) to watch the news, head to school, come back from school, watch the news again and take pictures whenever a Super-Hero was in the city. To be honest, people thought you were some nosey fan account whenever they saw you with your bike and camera. Not that it wasn’t true- but it still hurt. Being called an Aspiring Journalist would’ve been better.

You still remember it vividly. The terrified screams that ripped through the city’s air, the sound of buildings collapsing and the thousands of footsteps running away from the epicenter of the battle like a stampede. 

To others, it was the most terrifying moment in their lives- but to you, it was the most exciting. 

Camera in hand, it was the fastest that you’ve ever peddled. Your muscles screamed at you for a quick break, the pain spreading up your body. Did you ever stop? No. You couldn’t, The fear in your body was overshadowed by the adrenaline, the excitement, the anticipation. Ignoring all the shouts and the screams, your eyes held stars in them. You were finally going to see a superhero up close. The closer you got, the more chaotic the situation was turning.

Squinting at a blurry black figure, you tried making them out, taking mental notes in your head along the way. It was a new villain- someone you’ve never seen before. They seemed almost abnormal. Big muscles bulging out inhumanely, their hands had large claws for fingers, their teeth were pointy with extra sets in the back. Worry settled in the back of your head, they were far larger than the hero fighting them off. 

Pedaling backward on the breaks, your bike vibrated as more buildings began to collapse when the villain jumped on them. Hopping out of your bicycle seat, you swiftly guided it to a small alleyway, “please don’t fall on my bike,” you whispered to yourself, it’d suck if the building destroyed your hard-earned bike. 

Camera in hand, your eyes searched the sky for the two. A flash of bright red and blue appeared from behind a large building, hanging onto what seemed like a small thread. An audible gasp escaped your mouth in shock. The new hero. You’ve seen them on the news before, though everything they did was small. You swore you saw him helping an old lady across the street once. Their body seemed too frail to be an experienced hero, if you saw them on the streets you’d guess that they were just a cosplayer.

Crouching down, you quickly took as many pictures as you can of the two. The monstrous villain and the rookie hero. Don’t want to flatter myself but I’d totally rock as a photographer, you snickered to yourself. Humor was the only way that you could successfully push all your fear away. 

The ground vibrated once more, but this time it had been much stronger. The villain didn’t latch onto one of the skyscrapers- it decided to land on the ground, cracking the cement beneath it. Its chest was heaving up and down rapidly, tired of the chase. The fear had begun to settle, your muscles tightening up in discomfort. As scary as it was, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get a close-up shot. The shutter of the camera sang loud and clear.

“Ah shit.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as the monstrous villain turned to face you. A nervous laugh escaped your mouth, “ah shit”. A chill ran down your spine as you came face to face with the monster. They didn’t look too different from the hero that they were fighting. Though the only similarities you found was the web pattern on their body and the shape of their eyes, the symbol on their chest was a bright blood red, mimicking the spider on the hero’s chest. You felt frozen in place, your feet suddenly weighing more than a boulder. For the first time ever, you felt fear resurfacing from the depths that you forced them under for so long.

Locking eyes with the villain, you felt your body tremble under their stare, chills running down to your bones. You didn’t dare blink, scared that the  monster might pounce on you when you did. Apparently, you didn’t need to blink.

The weight of what seemed like a thousand bricks jumped on your small body, the air getting knocked out of your lungs. The monster released an odd sound that resembled a sinister laugh mixed with a screech. The only thing you could do was kick and scream, your throat burning at how loud you were. It’s weight pressed down on you further and further, small cracking noises reached your ears but there was no pain.

The monster was quickly shoved off of you. 

Finally opening your eyes, they were a few feet away from you. It was completely silent other than your own heavy breathing and someone else’s.  Looking up at your savior, you felt your breath getting caught in your throat. The hero stood over you, a gloved hand reaching for yours. “Ah shit, I’m so sorry,” he apologized, his voice muffled by the mask over his head. He analyzed you for any injuries, guilt settling itself in his stomach. He shouldn’t have let that happen; it shouldn’t have happened.. “I have to get back to chasing this big guy away,” the hero mumbled, patting your head as he shot out a web and flew off into the distance.

Dumbfounded, you stayed in your spot. The pain coursing through your body was strong but your confusion was much stronger. Forcing yourself onto your knees, you scrambled towards your camera in hopes that it had not broken due to the collision with the ground. Releasing the breath that you didn’t even know that you were holding, you ran towards your bike. 

“Holy shit, holy shit, that did not just fucking happen,” you repeated. Disbelief floods your mind. First, you were attacked by the villain himself, then rescued by the hero. “What the fuck?!” you shouted, hopping onto your bike and pedaling off as fast as you can, avoiding the debris.

In your peripheral, you saw a bright red blur following you. His eyes looming over your fleeing figure protectively.   

It was late at night. You had slipped into your pajamas earlier, expecting Jungkook to arrive back at the dorm. He never did though. “So much for having a roommate,” you scoffed, slipping your head through the over-sized shirt. 

The performing arts major never arrived at the dorms early. He was either out with friends or in the studio dancing his. It was an admirable trait- a hardworking student. While you tried your hardest at everything, your roommate was easily able to outshine everyone with ease. “What a flawless man,” you mumbled to yourself, closing the door to your room behind you. There was nothing he couldn’t do.

You didn’t want to admit it but you always felt lonely when he wasn’t around. He was constantly doing something- sometimes he wouldn’t arrive until early morning around 6 am. You felt like you didn’t know him. After a few years of attending the university, you were stuck to the male by the hip- he was your only friend after all, as embarrassing as it was. Nobody wanted to be associated with the odd journalist major who had a weird obsession with chasing heroes. You learnt to accept it after your first year.

Walking towards the small couch, you quickly turned on the TV and went onto the News. Bringing your knees up close to your chest, the TV sprung into action and displayed the daily news and events. It was funny, you always held the same habit of instinctively walking towards the TV, your fingers knowing what buttons to press to get to the news channel. A small content hum left your mouth as you wrapped yourself in your warm blankets. 

The solitude was comforting on hard days. Though the minute you returned to the dorm on a good day, a sudden melancholic feeling appeared in the pit of your stomach. “Jungkook and his stupid schedule,” is what you would always blame. 

The vibration of your phone moved the entire coffee table. Jumping in surprise, you glanced at your phone. A text from Namjoon happened to pop up.

Namjoon was another close friend of yours that you had met in the library, sulking while preparing for a test that you were not prepared for. Turns out, he was just a friendly nerd who happened to have an alarmingly high IQ. He insisted that he’d help you study for the test since the subject was easy for him. You reluctantly obliged and from then on, the two of you became friends. You would meet each other every so often at the coffee shop or the library, becoming closer and closer.

Smiling fondly at the memory, you grabbed your phone and unlocked it to see the text. The television providing background noise, you weren’t paying much attention to it anyways.  

Namjoonie: Hey!? Get on the news asap. There's something wild going on right now…

You sat there rereading the text multiple times, confused. Wild? There was nothing going on right now. Not for you at least. The phone began to vibrate aggressively against your hand as you saw an incoming call from Namjoon. If he was really that panicked to call you right after texting- it must’ve been urgent. Quickly picking up the call, he shouted your name. “Namjoon! What the hell?”

“Ah, I’m sorry but it seems pretty serious. I’m sure you’d think the same if you saw it,” he paused, “are you watching the news?” his question muffled by the sounds of his own television.  

Finally averting your attention to the small TV in front of you, you felt like an idiot for ignoring it the entire time. The crew was filming from a helicopter, hovering over the city’s skyscrapers, zooming in on the familiar hero. The camera was shaky but it did it’s best to focus on the hero. Finally, the lens focused and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. The striking red and blue suit brought back memories you thought you had forgotten. They looked exactly the same as before- no - they seemed much more mature now. They seemed stronger and taller, their movements radiated confidence and bravery. Unlike before, the spider-like hero seemed like a true hero. 

The kind of hero you’d obsess over if you were still a young teen. 

The villain that the spider hero was fighting came into view, releasing an inhuman screech that caused the camera to move in surprise. “Even the people in the helicopter were able to hear that,” you told Namjoon as he hummed in acknowledgement. Quickly reading the headlines, your mouth murmured the words on screen. 

“The new hero in Busan: Spider-Man.”

New? He was anything but new. He had been there since you were a teen. The memory felt in your mind fresh now that you saw Spider-Man once again. 

The villain attempted to leap onto Spider-Man though it was quickly dodged by the agile hero, rolling out of the way. Latching one of his webs onto the villain’s back, he swung the villain into an already damaged building. Your eyes widened at the power he had. “Namjoon-ah, does the villain have a name?” you asked, curious about the villain. If you guessed correctly, it had been the same villain that attacked you years ago. “Yeah, they’re calling him Black Widow,” he informed. 

It made sense. It’s body was bulbous and had muscles sprouting from every limb, their eyes bright red along with the small patterns on their body. Black Widow finally sprouted from under the debris, picking up a column before launching it at Spider-Man. The speed was frightening, surely you’d be killed if something that big was thrown at you that fast. Your nails dug into the couch, your heartbeat quickening. “Please, Spider-Man,” you whispered, quiet enough that Namjoon wasn’t able to hear it. Getting up from your couch, “Namjoon, I'm heading out to see it closer,” you told him as you grabbed the keys to your car from the coffee table. “Don’t you fucking dare,” Namjoon scolded you through the phone. Staring at the small device in shock, your jaw hung open at his words. Namjoon was not fond of cussing in front of others, he claimed that it made him look stupid and immature. For you to hear him cuss- especially at you - had you flabbergasted. Slowly setting the keys back down onto the table, he sighed. “I’m sorry but you should know by now that you shouldn’t be risking your life for some news article on your blog, YN. I know how much heroes matter to you, as well as journalism- but please take your life into account as well,” his voice was apologetic and gentle. When he said sorry, he truly meant it.

“Yeah,” you whispered, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so careless,” your eyes glanced at the Television once more, your grip on the phone tightening. 

Just then, Spider-Man fell onto the floor Black-Widow on top of him. Gasping, you walked closer to the TV touching the screen. “Get up,” you silently pleaded. He was struggling to get Black Widow off- no doubt about that. Even after all these years, Black Widow was still significantly bigger. You saw a web shoot out from his arm, grabbing onto a stray piece of debris before flinging it at the monster-like villain, hitting him in the head. It wasn’t enough to knock him out but it let Spider-Man get out from under Black-Widow. 

A small surge of relief passed through your body. “What a hero,” you heard Namjoon say, he sounded just as relieved as you were. A loud screech reached your ears before the TV shut down entirely. Relief was quickly replaced with panic and fear. “Namjoon?” you called out, though you were met with silence. Soon after, the lights were quick to shut off as well. 

Chucking your phone aside, you ran to the window behind the TV and saw the city’s lights slowly turning off. Building by Building. “What the hell,” was all you could muster. A chill ran down your spine as the entire city of Busan was dark as midnight, the buildings were barely visible. A loud knock was heard from your bedroom window. Tensing at the sound, you stared at the open door. “What the fuck,” you whispered, your voice shaking with fear. 

Slowly approaching your door, you peeked into the room and saw a familiar figure hanging onto a web, hand on the window. You felt like you couldn’t move. A hero was at your window. Snapping back into reality, you released a startled yelp before running to the window to open it. Lifting the heavy window, the suited hero stumbled in and collapsed on the floor groaning in pain. The window sill was tainted red with a thick substance, it had not been there before either. Looking back at the groaning hero, you quickly crouched down at his level. Flipping his body so he can face the ceiling, “Fuck- I’m so sorry,” he groaned, his hand covering his gash. 

His voice…

His voice sounded like music to your ears, it felt like centuries since you’ve heard that muffled voice. Everything about him matured. “I’m so-” “you’re bleeding…” your voice sounded more like a sad whisper than a statement. He turned his masked head to face you, shocked by your somber tone. Gently removing his hands from the wound, you internally cringed at how bad it was. The blood stained suit. It was hard to see with the lack of light because of how much blood was seeping out of the injury. Shifting in your spot, “I saw you on the news,” you bit your lip, not sure what to say. What could you say when a hero was in front of you? This caused Spider-Man to chuckle quietly, “did you now?” he smiled under the mask. He knew you weren’t able to see it, nevertheless, he smiled. “Did I look good?” he said with a teasing tone. 

Stiffening and retracting your hands from his wound, you refused to answer such a question. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, “I’m not going to answer that,” you replied quietly, “You look better than you did years ago though”. Spider-Man shook his head, a giggle escaping his lips. “You’re so cute,” he commented, pinching your cheek. He knew who you were, hell- he lived with you. The two of you were never seen without each-other in public, it raised suspicions. ‘How could some weird writer get at someone like Jungkook?’. You were an angel in his eyes, the most beautiful woman on the entire planet, not some weird writer girl. Jungkook would keep you safe if it meant risking his life.

He never had the courage to tell you. He doubts he ever will. Spider-Man and Jungkook were entirely different people. The confidence and bravery that he has with Spider-Man completely disappears when he’s Jungkook. It never stopped him from being his full self around you though.

The gentle pinch reminded you of Jungkook, it was a habit of his whenever you did something dumb, sometimes he just did it out of random. Smiling at the hero, “stay here”.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go, babe”

Your face flared with heat and color at the nickname. It was something you weren’t used to. No one dared to call you such things, they’d rather call you ‘nerd’. Leaving the room, you shined your light from your phone and made a quick trip to the restroom. Opening the door, your eyes landed on the cabinet beside the shower. Quickly grabbing the first aid kit with shaky hands, you accidentally dropped your phone in the process. 

Apparently, it was loud enough for Spider-Man to hear. “You okay in there, babe?”. There he goes again with the embarrassing pet-name. “shit,” you cursed yourself, picking up your cracked phone and running back into your room. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, afraid that you had left him waiting for too long. Kneeling next to him, your clammy hands opened the first aid kit. Namjoon had shown you how to stitch and clean wounds when you had cut your palm open with glass before, he was like your mom. It was safe to say you knew what you were doing. “Me? I heard you fall or something. Seems like someone is clumsy,” his voice was a lot more quieter, trying to preserve his energy. “Coming from the bleeding hero,” you retorted, pouring hydrogen peroxide on a clean rag. His eyes glued to the rag, he gulped harshly and grabbed your wrist gently. “Maybe, we should use water,” he suggested, obviously on edge because of the hydrogen peroxide. You rolled your eyes, “shut it and be a good boy for me. You act like you didn’t just get slashed from a villain” you mumbled, shaking his hand off your wrist.

It was odd how easy it was to talk to him, it felt like you’ve known him since forever even if you’ve barely started talking. You halted, staring at his wound. Realization hit you like a ton of bricks, averting your gaze to Spider-Man. “Uh… I'm gonna need you to take your suit off,” you stuttered your words out miserably. “Right… wanna help me?” 

There wasn’t a teasing tone apparent in his words, it was him genuinely asking for help. Nodding slowly, “I’ll be gentle, I’m sorry,” you weren’t sure how you got yourself in this situation. Staring at your figure for a few more seconds, he nodded. Reaching behind his neck, there was a small click. Tilting your head, you watched him with interest. The hero paused, “you know you should probably take me out somewhere before I get naked in front of you,” he joked, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Oh my gosh,” you buried your face into your hands, it felt like your face was set on fire.

His hands dragged the tight bodysuit as far down as he could without hurting himself. Pushing his hands away, “there. I’ll do the rest, please. I don’t want you to get hurt even more,” you said, grabbing the suit. A fond smile tugged at the corner of his lips, letting go of his suit, “go ahead, babe”. Removing the suit from his torso, you frowned at the nasty sight of the wound. It was worse than you thought. 

Grabbing the rag, you wiped away any of the blood around the wound, being as careful and gentle as possible. Jungkook watched you diligently as you worked on him. He noted how your cheeks were visibly red even in the dark. He noticed how ethereal you looked when the moonlight hit you at a certain angle. Your lips were hanging open slightly as you worked hard on him, concentrating on treating his wound. The wound was on his lower side, above his hip. He couldn’t help but smirk at how flustered you were to see his bare upper body. 

You felt like you couldn’t concentrate. He was built like a Greek god for fucks sake. Not only that but he had a cute little birthmark on his collarbone, which only furthered your embarrassment. Sure, you’ve seen shirtless guys here and there, but Spider-Man was on an entirely different level of attractive. Looking back up at his masked face, you frowned. “I’m sorry if this hurts,” you warned. He simply shook his head, “as long as it gets the job done, right?” he pinched your cheek again, making you smile.

Nodding, you gently dabbed the rag with hydrogen peroxide on his wound. His entire body tensed up in pain, it wasn’t overwhelming- but it wasn’t the nicest feeling ever. 

Swallowing hard, “you know, I used to think of Heroes differently.” you begun, sending him a sorry smile. Tilting his head, you took it as a cue to continue. “I’ve always been obsessed with heroes. For as long as I can remember, I would go out of my way to look for heroes doing their job, taking pictures and notes. I had an entire book dedicated to heroes,” You remembered how much time you dedicated to finding heroes in Busan. “I saw them as people who couldn’t get hurt,” you looked up when you were done cleaning his wound and stitching, only to see him staring at you. Taken aback, you shyly smiled at the hero. ‘But I guess, along the way… I realized that they were just humans,” you finished. “They need a hero of their own, I suppose,”

He wasn’t sure what to say. Jungkook felt his cheeks burn with heat, his mouth agape. Gently, he held you cheek in his hand, cherishing the warmth that you radiated. Bringing you closer, he felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest. You felt like a deer caught in headlights but you hastily made up your mind. Turning your body to face his, you place your hand on the ground to support your weight, the other lifting his mask to reveal his mouth, a small mole under his bottom lip stood out to you. He didn’t complain or stop. Pulling you closer, your lips were centimeters away from his. His hot breath was fanning over your cold skin, sending goosebumps to spread all over your body. “

You didn’t have a chance to kiss him. 

The city lights of Busan turned back on, the high volume of the TV in the living room startled the two of you. Spider-Man stiffened, suddenly reminded that he had a job to finish. Getting off of the ground, he pulled his mask down. Coughing awkwardly, “I’m so sorry, but I really have to go,” he said, panic evident in his voice.

You couldn’t deny the fact that you were disappointed. A frown appeared on your face, making Jungkook’s heart clench. He wanted to kiss you as much as you did, but he couldn’t. Not with a city to save. Walking over to the bloody window, he fit his body through.

“Wait!”

He turned back to you.

“Thank you for being my hero”

If his heart didn’t break right then and there, he’s not sure what happened to it. “I’m sorry baby,” and with that, he carefully closed the window, shot out a web and left you alone on the floor.

It felt so familiar. To be left alone in the dorm. The air around you felt empty, the only sound providing you with comfort was the TV. You felt your chest tighten, you wanted to hear his voice one more time. Your hero’s voice.

Your eyes fluttered open, the ambient noises of the city filling your ears, keeping you safe from the silence. The window from yesterday was still stained with blood that had now oxidized, the curtains bunched up away from the window, allowing the light to seep in. The memories from last night flashed in your mind, reminding you of what happened. Looking on your bedside table, the small electronic clock displays the time in bright red numbers. You had two hours before your first class of the day, there was still plenty of time for you. 

Mustering enough strength to drag your body out of bed, you stretched your tired limbs, groaning in relief. Dragging your feet towards the living room, the sound of cans clinking together and items being moved around filled the room. 

Eyes landing on the suspect, a small smile tugged at your lips. Jungkook was digging through the small fridge, looking for something to eat. The boy had quite the appetite after all. An evil smirk appeared on your face. Running towards the male and jumping on his back, wrapping your legs around his waist while your hands grabbed at his shoulders. The noise that came out of the male’s mouth alarmed you. He groaned in pain and grasped at his side, quickly realizing your mistake- you got off of him. “Kookie?” you whispered, worried for the boy. A small yet pained chuckle escaped his lips, turning to face you. “Ah.. I’m sorry, I’m just a little sore,” he dismissed his pain with a blatant lie. Jungkook wasn’t one to lie, so the suspicion of him lying to you was out of the question.

Your eyes trailed up and landed on his face, a small gash on his cheek right below his eye. “Jungkook!” you scolded the boy, causing him to sheepishly wince at your tone. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He wasn’t planning on seeing you today, not after what happened yesterday. He didn’t want you getting suspicious. Placing a hand on the side of his face gently, “when did this happen, Kook?” you questioned, your bottom lip sticking out in a pout. 

You’ve known him for a while now, it was only natural for you to be protective of him. You cared for him more than you really should. 

Jungkook hung his head low, “I got in a fight yesterday”. Another lie. 

It hurt to lie to you so blatantly, you didn’t deserve to be lied to. It was for your and his own good, though. ‘Hey, YN. Did you know that I’m Spider-Man?’, it was easier said than done. Leaning into your touch, “If it makes you feel better, it doesn’t hurt a lot,” he gave you a weak smile. Scoffing lightly at the boy, “come on, it looks like you slept without taking care of it,”  he giggled, pinching your cheek, another reminder of what happened last night. 

“Yes ma’am”

The two of you walked towards the small bathroom. Everything was how it was yesterday, even the cabinet was still open. Jungkook seated himself on the toilet, looking up at you as you grabbed the first-aid kit. ‘Guess I might just make friends with this thing since I’ve been seeing it a lot’ you joked, opening the kit. “How’d you get in a fight?” you asked, the silence killing you in the inside.

Jungkook tensed up. “I… They were just saying some stuff,” he shrugged, toying with his bruised fingers. His entire body ached. The fight with Black-Widow really took a toll on his body. The injuries on his side and cheek were only one of the many. You frowned at Jungkook, “C’mon Kookie, you have better shit to do,” you scolded the boy, swatting his nose gently. His wide doe eyes followed your movements, not flinching when you hit his nose. “I guess I did, huh?” he offered you a smile which was hard to deny. Smiling back at him, you never really noticed how cute his smile was until now. An odd feeling settled itself in your stomach, you decided to ignore them.

Dabbing the small cotton ball on his wound, he grimaced. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, biting your lip in concentration. You didn’t want to see him get hurt, especially for small things such as fighting. He was far too pretty to have gashes and cuts on his face.

Instantly, his eyes landed on your lips. The brief memory of yesterday flashing in his mind. They were so rosy and plump, he wondered if they were soft. Scratch that- he knew they were soft just by staring at them. Swallowing hard, he shifted in his seat. “You okay, Kook?” you asked, placing a bandage on his gash. “Now that you’ve healed me up, Nurse YN,” he joked. He was left disappointed when your hand left his cheek, he craved nothing more than to be loved and touched by you. 

Slumping, “Hey YN,” he called out at you before you had the chance to leave the bathroom. Turning around to look at Jungkook, the tips of his ears were red and he was fumbling with the end of his shirt. “Can we go get coffee?” he asked, shooting you his best attempt at puppy-dog-eyes. Your chest clenched at his ministrations, it was hard to ever say no to Jungkook. “Of course,” sending him a smile of your own. It’s been a while since you’ve spent some time with Jungkook other than being with him during class.

Averting your eyes to the clock on the wall, the two of you had plenty of time. “Let me get dressed, okay?” you told him, walking to your room to change out of your pajamas.

--

The weather was fairly nice today. No cloud in sight, not too hot or too cold. It was perfect, hell, even the breeze was perfect.

The warmth of the coffee protected your hands from getting cold from the breeze. You were walking alongside Jungkook, who towered over your small frame. You had agreed that you would watch each other to class after you finished the coffee, hence why the two of you had your backpacks on. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, but you decided to break it with a question that had been itching at the back of your mind.

“Kookie...  Why are you never at the dorms?” pausing, “It gets lonely sometimes, and Namjoon won’t always be there to provide me company when you can’t” you finished, gluing your eyes to the ground, biting your lip. There was a moment of silence, Jungkook gathered his thoughts for his next lie. Well, half of it was a lie.

He spent most of his time dancing when he had the chance, the other percentage was his defending the city of Busan as SpiderMan. The moment you looked up at him, he was already opening his mouth to answer.

“I’m sorry,” he started off with an apology, because you deserved it. No- you deserved more than a sorry. To him, you deserved the entire world. Bringing up his hand to rub the side of your cheek gently, “I’m sorry I'm not always there. It’s not that I don’t want to be there, I’m just always so busy either at the Library or dancing my ass off,” he offered you a joking smile, “Dance is competitive, YN. When you’re not practicing, someone else is. When you’re not taking opportunities, someone else is”

It wasn’t a lie. Well, it was but it also wasn’t. Maybe he should use his expert lying skills when he gets into a fight more often. 

Looking down at you, you were toying around with the straw sheepish at how you even asked such a selfish question. “I know… But even the best dancers take breaks,” you gently hit his arm. Overreacting, he groaned and grabbed his arm. “Did you get stronger, YN?” teasing you as he pinched your cheek affectionately. “Yah! You’re gonna give me a bruise,” you scolded the male as he laughed.

He looked down at your hand, sliding his own into it. “I’ll try and make it up to you, okay?”

“You better, I’ve watched at least every single Netflix movie by now. Alone”

Rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb, “I just worry about you sometimes,” you whispered, leaning into his side and staring at the ground to avoid his gaze. And yes, he was staring at you. And yes, you felt that shit.

He felt like he was going to melt. His face felt hot and his heart sped up when you leaned into him. Jungkook knew damn well how whipped he was for you. Stopping, you looked up at him with confusion. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his finger lifting your chin up, his other hand brushing stray hairs away from your face. Shocked by his choice of words, you felt your face heat up, flustered. He noticed the familiar red hue on your cheeks, smirking in victory. 

“You can’t say things that aren’t true. That’s lying,” you pouted slightly, dismissing his flirtatious comment. 

Perking a brow at your words, he gently shoved you against the wall in an alley. Where did it come from? You guessed it was nearby, you didn’t question it. 

“It’s too bad you don’t see it,” his hands were at the sides of your face, his lips hovering over yours. You felt everything. The warmth of his calloused yet gentle hands, the hot breath that came out of his mouth, his knee between your legs. His hand trailed down your body slowly, sending chills down your spine, it landed at your hip. Squeezing it, “because to me, every inch of you is perfect”. You felt your heart beating at a thousand miles an hour, like it was going to jump out of your chest. You took this time to admire how attractive he was, the cut on his cheek, the mole under his bottom lip, his doe eyes. Everything about him was ethereal. “Kiss me,” you breathed out, eliciting a smirk from the male. “Don’t have to tell me twice, baby”. Instantly, his hot lips collided with yours, a sense of neediness and desire evident. His hand on your waist was rubbing soft circles, trailing further down slowly. Pulling away, you took a small gasp for air. “Do you know how good I’d take care of you?” he whispered in your ear, his voice deeper than usual. You surely weren’t complaining though, if anything it only gave you butterflies in your stomach and an ache in your arousal. 

“How good I’ll be for you?” he continued, dragging his lips down your neck, planting kisses as he goes. Gripping his shirt, you were nearly embarrassed at how hard you were breathing. “So show me,” the words you tried so hard to speak managed to slip out. You felt him smile against your neck, “I’ll show you”. Jungkook bit down on your neck, a wanton moan escaping your mouth. “Fuck,” he groaned at the dirty noise that came out of your mouth. “You sound like an angel, baby” he sucked on the tender skin as you squirmed under him. Kissing the forming bruise, his lips trailed further down. “Jungkook, please,” you whined, tugging at his hair. 

His ministrations stopped, the ground beneath your feet rumbling softly. Detaching his lips from your neck, he looked around. “Earthquake?” he thought out loud. Earthquakes weren’t so common in Busan, so he quickly dismissed the assumptions. “You felt that right?” he looked back up at you. Gulping down your worries, you nodded. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, though’. 

The ground started to rumble harder than it did before, “nevermind” you piped up, gently pushing Jungkook off of you. Walking out of the alleyway, with Kookie right behind your trail, a black figure was hanging off the side of a building, looking down at both of you with hawk eyes. “Ah shit, Here I was thinking I fucking scared him off,” Jungkook exasperated, putting his hands on his knees and crouching over. “Huh?” turning to face him, nothing but confusion evident on your face. 

Jungkook shook his head in dismay, “I love you, YN. But I got a job to do,” he pulled your wrist, bringing you close to him. Placing a soft kiss on your lips, he smiled at you. “Gotta protect what I love right?” with a wink, he walked into the dark alley that you two were just in. It took a moment for you to fully register what was going on. 

Wait he said I love you?

You heard a ‘Syoom’, turning your head to face the alley, a web shot out and latched onto the building near the villain. A familiar body flew across your vision, landing on the tall building. A blur of blue and red combined. Gasping silently, a proud smile tugged at your lips. “Well how about that,” you mumbled. Cupping your mouth with your hands, “SpiderMan!” you shouted, your voice echoing through the street. It was enough to get the hero’s attention. 

“I love you too,” you mouthed.  

You didn’t hear it but his chest bobbed up in down as he laughed. Bringing his hand up, he formed a small heart with his fingers.

[florenceandthemachine]

@hearteyesforbuck asked:

I have been dying for a meet-cute au where Eddie takes Chris to the gym once a week and they box a little together before Eddie spars; usually Chris sits by the ring and reads but one day Eddie finds him laying on a bench, lifting an empty bar while this really cute blond guy spots him and gives him encouragement ....

guess who’s asks are still broken?

Tumblr keeps adding the “Read More” into the ask box, which breaks the entire post when I try to post it. Why is it happening? No idea, but if anyone knows how to fix it, please let me know, this is getting really old.

anyway, fun fact that I just learned about myself—if you want me to dedicate 100% of my brainpower to writing 4.5k of something in one sitting, you just throw in Christopher Diaz.

Eddie liked to think of himself as some kind of a “do it yourself” kind of dad.

Most of the time, that was a good thing.

Kitchen faucet broke? No worries, Eddie has some plumbers tape and three different YouTube videos telling him how to fix it.

Car wouldn’t start? Not a problem, Eddie bought the full repair manual offline and knows his way around a wrench.

Christopher needed forty gluten free, egg free, dairy free cupcakes for class tomorrow? Eddie was perfectly capable of... admitting when he was outmatched by a stand mixer and calling thirteen local bakeries to see if they delivered, because his car still wasn’t starting.

Point is, if there was a way he could work on something, Eddie would at least try it—and needless to say, that got a little complicated where Christopher was involved.

Eddie still wanted to do a lot of it on his own. Chris was his kid, and no one else's, and he didn’t even like being away from him while Chris was at school—he wasn’t sure if that was guilt stemming from leaving Chris as a kid, or guilt about introducing Shannon back into his life only to have her wind up dead, or guilt about... well, pick-a-thing, but he was pretty damn sensitive about what he perceived he could do to help his kid.

Which is why, when Chris’ physical therapist gave Eddie some suggestions about how Chris could work on strength training at home, Eddie dove completely into the deep end, head first, no floaties.

Working on Chris’ fine motor skills had been cake. Writing, drawing, arts and crafts, even playing video games, all helped improve Chris’ hand eye coordination (and if Eddie ran out of room on the fridge for Chris’ masterpieces and started framing them instead, well, that was his own business, no matter how nosy the busybodies at Michael’s got).

Working on his gross motor skills, though, that was another story. They could go on walks, sure, and they did every day. Eddie could hook up the trail-a-bike to his own once or twice a week so Chris could ride along with him, without worrying about his balance, but those were both leg heavy activities—and while it was great that Chris was building his core strength and leg strength, Eddie wasn’t about to just strap a wrist weight to Chris’ arms and call it a ‘well rounded workout’.

Short of more physical therapy, Eddie was at a loss as to what to do—so when Google Maps pushed him off the 101 to avoid a wreck on his way home from work and he got caught by a stop light right next to "Ricky’s Boxing Gym”, Eddie felt like his prayers had been answered.

Over the next few months, they had set up a pretty good routine. Eddie would bring Chris to the gym, they would hop into one of the many rings, and he and his son would get a half hour of quality time, three times a week. Eddie had his own set of boxing mitts, and Chris thought that spending a half hour trying to punch his dad’s hand was the most fun a kid could have after school. Chris would tire himself out and sit on the bench, drawing or reading for a while more, while Eddie would actually spar with one of the staff members, get his own workout in, and then they’d go home.

Nine times out of ten, they’d stop for ice cream or pizza, and completely undo any of the workout they had actually done, but Eddie thought that was a small price to pay for the whoop of joy Chris let out when he actually managed to hit Eddie’s glove dead center.

Eddie’s sparring partner of choice (well, after Chris) was Tommy Kinard. He was nice enough, and kept Eddie on his toes, giving him plenty of time to look over to Chris to make sure he was safe, and happy, and occupied, and (“Dad, I’m fine! Go punch someone!”) okay, maybe he was helicoptering a little bit. He hadn’t really thought it was a problem until Kinard went on paternity leave, leaving him in the capable, and brutal, hands of Boscoe.

Boscoe was a beast. He didn’t know her first name—didn’t know if she had a first name—but what she lacked in pleasantries she more than made up with strength. If Eddie was being honest, though, he kind of loved it; even after the first day they sparred together, when he wound up limping into the 118, proudly admitting to Hen that he had been beat up by a girl.

The thing was, Boscoe was intense, and while that was a good thing, it gave him less of a chance to helicopter over Chris.

Which, okay, maybe that was a good thing too. Whatever.

He knew the gym pretty well by that point, and knew the people who worked there, knew he could trust Chris with any of them—which is why when he looked up after dodging a jab from Boscoe, and saw Chris absent from his bench, he only panicked a little bit.

When he managed to take a wider look around the gym and saw a familiar pair of shoes laying down on a workout bench, the rest of him obscured by a bigger, bulkier body, that panic went from 0-60 real quick.

“Hey!”

He only barely managed to dodge a glancing blow from Boscoe as he ducked beneath the ropes, grabbing a towel to blot at his face as he hopped down. His voice was little more than a quick bark through the gym as he stepped around another group of machines, his frantic pace slowing a little as he got into earshot.

“... yeah, come on buddy, you can do it! Come on, give me one more rep! You got this little man!”

Fuck, had this stranger actually given Chris a set of weights?

His temper was white hot by the time he finally got around the front of the machine, opening his mouth to shout, to get a manager, to do something, but the words died in his throat as he took in the scene before him.

Because Chris was definitely on the bench, and he definitely had his hands on the bar—the bar that was completely devoid of weights, Eddie noticed, the same bar that had two much larger, stronger hands attached to them. Hands that were probably doing all the actual work of lifting the bar, because Chris was laying back, unable to speak, because he was giggling so hard.

The bar landed back on the rack with a dull thunk as Chris pulled his hands back, sticking them straight up in the air triumphantly as he sat up. The man behind the bar gave a big show of leaning against the frame of the bench dramatically, fanning himself, giving Eddie a full view of an employee shirt, name badge, and the gym logo stitched across the polo he was wearing.

Whelp, that was almost very embarrassing for him.

“Holy cow, that was such a good job! Man, you have got to be the strongest kid I’ve ever met in my life!”

“Dad, did you see me? Buck says I’m super strong!”

Eddie had to admit, he was a little thrown by whatever was happening here, but Chris was obviously having a good time, and he felt the white hot anger dissipate into something a little less angry and a little more embarrassed.

“That was some pretty impressive work, buddy! Have you been holding out on me?” Eddie dipped down and tossed a few playful jabs at Chris, selfish only because he wanted to prolong the joy his son was obviously feeling, but it was all worth it as he was handsomely rewarded when Chris started giggling again.

The man—Buck, Eddie gathered—laughed, drawing Eddie’s attention upward, and for a moment, his brain short circuited, because there was no way on earth a gym rat could be this... pretty.

Because damn. Buck was pretty.

Pretty enough that Eddie was easily distracted, waxing poetic (internally, thankfully) about beefy arms and a plush lip that he didn’t notice what was happening until Buck stuck a hand out, smiling, and Eddie could only guess what was going on. He reached out and took the hand, his own smile hitching as Buck’s face slipped into confusion.

“Uhh—”

“...I was asking if you wanted me to take your towel for you and get you a fresh one.”

Oh. Right. Towel.

Eddie’s face burned as he pulled the towel off his shoulder, handing it over, giving a too-tight laugh as he nodded his head. “Yes! If you could get me a new towel so I could strangle myself in embarrassment, that would be great.”

Well, at the very least, that got Buck to laugh again—death would be worth it if that was the last sound he heard. “Sorry I kind of stole your kid. He was wandering in between the machines, and it’s my first week off of the evening shift, so I just wanted to make sure he didn’t get hurt—but then he started asking about all the weights and pulleys and stuff, you have a really smart kid!”

Total Gym Hottie (Buck, his mind corrected. If he was going to drool over someone the least he could do was use their name) was complimenting his kid now, and Eddie was so star struck he was actually proud to say he didn’t stumble when Buck nudged his shoulder, head jerking back to the ring he had abandoned.

"...anyway, I think strangulation is the least of your worries, if I know that look, Boscoe has an entirely different death planned for you if you don’t get back in the ring. Go on, I’ll help little man here wheel you out on a gurney when she’s done with you.”

Buck sounded way too positive about that, and it was all Eddie could do to groan and walk back to the ring, tail between his legs.

Sure enough, even after he had the next day off, he was still sore when he walked into the 118 for his next shift.

--

Buck became easily, seamlessly, a part of their routine, in a way that probably deserved a little more insight on Eddie’s part, but insight was for suckers. At least two days out of the week, their schedules aligned—Eddie and Chris still worked on their exercises, but now it included Buck giving a dramatic play by play on the sidelines, talking up Chris like an announcer, or just otherwise causing shenanigans.

It was worth it, easily, because while Chris was certainly never a negative kid, Eddie had never seen him in brighter spirits. And Buck... well, anyone that could find a way to help out his son in a way that Chris clearly enjoyed earned an instant gold star in Eddie’s book. The fact that he was easy on the eyes wasn’t a bad thing, either.

“Diaz, I swear to God—”

Eddie only barely ducked under Boscoe’s extended hand, forcibly rooting himself back in the moment, looking guiltily back to her instead of watching Buck and Chris.

“—can you pay attention for like three minutes so I can hit you without feeling bad about it?”

Eddie tried, he really did, but it was hard. A few weeks had gone by since their initial meeting, and Eddie had gone from “wow he’s pretty” to “full high school crush” in no time flat. It wasn’t his fault, though—because what sealed the deal wasn’t the moment Buck had switched to tank tops over polos, or how happy Eddie was to spend time staring at Buck’s magnificent ass (and it was really, really magnificent, let the record show), it was how he interacted with Chris that sent him over the edge.

Buck was good with Chris, but somehow that was the understatement of the year. He was kind, and he was bubbly, and he was just in sync in a way that Eddie wasn’t even sure he had reached, and Chris was his son. Buck was patient in a way that seemed effortless, easily slowing himself down or changing what he was doing when he noticed Chris struggling, wether it was in going over a math problem while Eddie got the crap beat out of him or just showing him how some of the different machines worked.

Hell, right now, Eddie had his hands securely around Chris’ hips as he lifted the other male to a chin-up bar, helping Chris count out the pull-up’s he was doing—and while all Eddie could hear was Chris’ laughter, all he could see were the thick cords of muscle attached to Buck’s arms, lifting Chris like he weighed nothing.

Eddie wondered, not for the first time, if Buck could lift him like that.

Like she was a horrible mind reading pervert, Boscoe smacked him with an open hand—not hard enough to hurt, but not soft enough that he was going to ignore it.

“Diaz, this will be our last session together. Kinard is back next week—” Another punch, a quick jab that Eddie blocked with his forearms. “—so the least you could do is focus on me and not the apple of your eye over there.”

“Buck isn’t the apple of my—fuck—my eye, grow up.” Eddie huffed as he threw out a punch of his own, his hand knocked away violently, only barely dodging the sharp hook that Boscoe sent to him.

“God, I was talking about your kid, Diaz. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Oh.

Ignoring how red his face was, Eddie grumbled and threw another quick jab, though he missed completely as Boscoe stepped back, a grin on her face, and Eddie knew better than to trust that look. The last time he trusted that look, he had been talked into fighting bare-handed, and he still wasn’t sure his knuckles would ever really work again.

“You know, Kinard is supposed to take you back as a client, but I bet if you asked nice enough...”

Oh no.

“Hey, Buck!”

Oh no. Eddie looked up in horror as Buck easily lifted Christopher onto his shoulders—god, so much muscle—and jogged over, with the nerve to not even be out of breath when he smiled up to the pair in the ring. Eddie bit his tongue and leaned over to high five his kid, fully prepared to deal with whatever terrible thing was about to come his way.

“Kinard was supposed to take Diaz here back after he’s off leave next week, but I know he wanted to ease back into things after being away from the gym for a few months. You think you could spar with him in the interim?”

Oh, no, didn’t seem to cover it anymore. Eddie was having a hard enough time focusing on the task at hand when Buck was in the same building, he would be signing his own death certificate if he had to stare Buck in the face, and then try to hit said face. He hadn’t even seen Buck break a sweat before—he didn’t know if his little bisexual heart could take it.

He was somehow both relieved and regretful when Buck shook his head, looking plenty apologetic as he pulled Chris up and off of his shoulders, making sure that he was steady on his feet before he leaned up against the ropes. “Sorry, Eddie. I don’t really box, and besides, I think Chris and I are making real progress while you get your butt kicked. Show him the guns, Chris!” Buck said, and Chris immediately started some classic strong-man poses, Buck posing dramatically behind him, and Eddie felt his heart melt for two entirely different reasons.

Buck turned around mid pose as the door chime went off, giving Eddie ample time to count out the individual strands of muscle fiber in the moment before Buck relaxed, turning with a smile back to the gang in the ring. “Lena, that's my next client. Chris, Eddie, I’ll see you both next week, yeah?” He said with a grin before he fist bumped Chris and waved to Eddie, slipping back into Professional Buck mode. Eddie waved back, brows almost in his hairline as he looked back to Boscoe, who was scowling at him.

“So—”

“No, Diaz.”

“Wait, why not? Buck gets to call you Lena!”

“Beat me in the ring as often as Buck does and I’ll consider it.”

Eddie had his mouth open to retort when Chris cut him off, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he tilted his head. “Can I call you Lena?”

She didn’t even hesitate a moment, nodding her head seriously. “You can absolutely call me Lena, squirt.”

Chris promptly stuck his tongue out at his dad, and Eddie reacted in sort, falling to the floor of the ring as he grabbed at his chest. “The nerve! Betrayed by my own child, my own flesh and blood!”

Chris looked thoroughly unimpressed, sitting back on the bench as he started to pack up his schoolwork. “Lena, can you tell my dad to stop being such a drama queen?”

It wasn’t until they were both in the car, that Eddie, thoroughly beaten down by his son, his trainer, and his own brain for providing a play by play of Buck that day while he was in the locker room shower stall, really thought about what Buck said.

He didn’t box. Which was strange enough in a boxing gym, but whatever, there were plenty of machines that Buck could be working on instead.

But them Boscoe (god, he couldn’t even call her Lena in his head, it felt like she would figure it out and beat him to death) basically admitted that Buck regularly whooped her behind the ropes

If Buck wasn’t boxing in a boxing gym, what the hell was he doing?

--

As it turned out, Eddie didn’t have to wait long to figure it out. Barely a week had passed before Eddie had received a call from Chim, all but begging Eddie to switch shifts so he could take the girl he had been seeing out on a proper date. The switch was a no brainer—Maddie seemed like a great girl, and as much shit as he gave Chim for... well, being Chim, he obviously wanted to see his teammate happy, especially when the only thing he would have to change was a gym day from a Monday to a Sunday.

If he had known that this would be the day that sealed his fate, he probably would have reconsidered the switch all together.

The gym was packed—which probably wasn’t surprising for a weekend day, but damn, Eddie had been glad he booked a ring with Kinard ahead of time. It was nice to see a familiar face in the gym anyway, one that wasn’t trying to beat the crap out of him in the ring, and once Kinard joined up with them, it was easy to shoot the shit. Eddie congratulated him on his step into fatherhood, ruffling Chris’ hair as he did—not that Chris noticed, busy scanning through the machines for a familiar blond head.

Not that Eddie could judge, when he was doing the same thing.

“Hey, I’m gonna toss my stuff in a locker. See you out here in a sec?”

“Yeah, sounds good! Buck and Boscoe are almost done in their ring, we have it next.”

Eddie was halfway to the locker room before what Kinard had said clicked in his brain, and he immediately did a 180, making a beeline to the rings set up on the far side of the gym, easily spotting the pair when he knew what to look for.

It was no wonder that neither he nor Chris had recognized Buck when they walked in—he was literally drenched in sweat, his usually fluffy blonde hair dark and slicked to his forehead, scowling around his mouth guard as he danced around Boscoe.

Boscoe, who Eddie had never seen so worked up. Damn, she really hadn’t even had to try during his matches. Wasn’t that a blow to the ego.

No, Buck definitely wasn’t a boxer, because this was a dance. Every move he made, he made with his entire body, his energy flowing through each form, moving easily and gracefully in a way that shouldn’t have been possible with such an incredible amount of force and flat out violence. He almost felt dazed as he followed Buck’s movements, but in the best possible way, his eyes snapping back and forth as he tried to trace where one hit ended and the next began.

“Wow.”

Eddie was glad that Chris said it, because he still couldn’t find the muscles needed to pick his jaw up off the floor. He didn’t know if Chris had followed him over to the ring or if his Buck-radar was just that good, but for the time being, Eddie was more than thankful for the minute distraction as he ruffled his kids hair again.

Boscue was moving more desperately as the match continued, launching into a series of quick jabs, but even Eddie could see where that was her downfall. Buck knocked her arm back with her last punch and sent a kick straight for her shoulder, but then he twisted his entire body off of the mat and his other leg was in the air too, and Eddie instinctively sucked in a breath as Buck locked her neck between his thighs. They both came crashing down to the mat, struggling impressively until Boscoe slapped Buck’s thigh twice, and then—

—and then Buck was all smiles again, beaming as he released her and took a knee on the ring, helping her back into a sitting position, spitting out his mouth guard with an excited moment of praise for her technique.

Eddie could not compute. This was his downfall. Eddie is dead, long live Eddie.

“Holy cow, Buck! That was amazing! You’re like... you’re like a ninja crime fighting super hero!”

Well, that was one way to put it.

Buck’s head whipped around at Chris’ excited outburst, lighting up when he spotted Eddie and Chris near the bench, eagerly scooting forward into a sitting position closer to the ropes.

“Thanks, little man! That was some mixed martial arts, it’s super fun. I’ve been teaching Lena for a few years, she’s getting pretty good!”

Buck’s grin slid into something a little more proud and pleased as he looked to Eddie, and Eddie felt every muscle in his body tighten as Buck’s gaze burned through him.

“What did you think of that leg lock, Eddie? Total knock out, right?”

Oh fuck, was Buck flirting with him now? That had to have been flirty, right? Come on, Brain, do something.

“... legs.”

“...my legs?”

“Buck, your... your legs.”

Buck’s smile looked a little more pinched as Eddie groaned, shaking his head. “Okay, I, I’m sorry, but I have to ask you this or I will completely die. Can I take you out to dinner sometime? I know a great place off the strip, you’ll love it, my treat.”

The look on Buck’s face was skeptical, at best, but at least he wasn’t shutting him down, giving Eddie the benefit of the doubt (and giving him a moment to get his brain back online). “Because of my legs?”

“No. Well, okay, you have amazing legs. And arms, though, and like... a stupidly handsome face, and I would be blind not to notice those things—” shit, Eddie probably sounded like such a shallow asshole right now. “—but I’m asking because you’re really smart. And you’re kind, so kind to Chris too, and you’re patient, and... Buck, you’re really really sweet. And I would love to take you out for a dinner date the moment you can look past my apparent inability to form a single coherent thought.”

After a moment that felt much longer than the three seconds it was, Buck sighed and leaned past Eddie, looking critically to Chris. He slid down to his stomach, squinting as he dropped down to eye level with the boy. “What do you think, Chris? Should I give your dad a shot?”

Well, at the very least, Buck was asking the one person that Eddie knew he always had in his corner; and sure enough, Chris delivered. “I think so. Dad really likes you.”

That’s his boy.

“Last week he spent my whole entire physical therapy appointment telling Dr. Wilson how much help you gave me and how nice you were and how much he appreciated it. It got kinda annoying.”

...well damn, Eddie wasn’t expecting to be called out by his own kid like that, but if the suddenly soft look Buck was giving him was any indication, it might have been the necessary push to get him to understand how serious Eddie was.

Eddie tried to keep his excitement tamped down when Buck nodded, sitting back up. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. Only because you managed to ask me out before I could ask you.”

Wait, Buck wanted to ask him out anyway?

“If you can land three hits on me in three minutes—should be easy after spending a weeks with Boscoe—then you can pick the time, the place, and I’ll even talk Lena in to letting you call her Lena. But if you don’t...” Buck reached through the ropes to help Eddie up, tossing him a wrap for his hands as he did. “... then I get to pick the time, the place, and you start training with me in MMA instead of going back to boring old boxing.”

Eddie blinked at him in abject horror as Buck dipped his voice low, seeing with terrible clarity exactly where Boscoe had learned her terrifying grin.

“That way you can see my leg choke up close and personal. Deal?”

The stakes were too high, and Eddie couldn’t say no.

He was screwed.

He was elated.

But fuck, he was screwed.

(Three minutes later, Buck asked if Eddie was free on Friday at seven, promised to pick somewhere nice, and gave him a searing kiss before he disappeared into the staff locker room. Eddie, on the other hand, needed a spatula to peel himself off of the floor of the ring.

He had never been so happy that he could barely move in his life.)

[olympusnerd]

Medea

I recently reread the story of Medea and I don’t know why but she really resonated with me. I know she doesn’t count as a Greek hero, what with all the murdering she does, but you have to admit, Medea has a way of captivating people as made evident by the fact that centuries after her death we still know her name. 

My husband bought me a new computer with Adobe Illustrator and while I haven’t used art software in over fifteen years, I gave it a go and I’m not too disappointed with my first try :D

So here is the unofficial cliffnote of Medea’s long and (in some instances savage) story: 

For back story, Medea is the daughter of King Aeëtes, the ruler of Colchis (an ancient city located around present day Georgia) who coveted the Golden Fleece (literally golden sheep wool). Jason and the Argonauts were tasked to find the fleece for King Pelias of Iolcus (Jason’s asshole uncle who made him go get it in order to inherit the throne that was rightfully his). 

So when Jason arrived to Colchis, he was given three tasks to conquer in order to win the golden fleece: tiling the land with two fire breathing bulls, plant seeds that would grow Spartanoids (inhumanly malicious soldiers spawned from Ares son who would fight to the death), and defeat the Spartanoids. He would then have to retrieve the fleece from a tree in the Grove of Ares that was guarded by a dragon. 

Distraught over these seemingly impossible tasks, Jason prayed to the goddess Hera for help. She in turn sent word to Aphrodite who used Eros to shoot Medea, the king’s beautiful daughter and devoted worshiper (and sometimes also the daughter) of Hekate (Titaness goddess of witchcraft), so that she would fall helplessly in love with Jason and help him with his tasks. 

You read that right, little cherub boy came and turned Medea into a lovesick puppy for the doofus Jason so that he could win the Golden Fleece because even the gods knew Medea was a badass. 

She helped him with every one of his tasks, but once her father realized it, they had to get out of dodge. Medea used her powers to make the dragon (yes a MOTHER FUCKING DRAGON) fall asleep so Jason could get the fleece from a tree it hung on. (Some depictions have Medea soothing the dragon while Jason gets the fleece, some have her soothing it then having to help Jason get the damn thing out of the tree cause women have to do everything themselves. Honestly how she didn’t see he was useless at this point is beyond me)

They go on their merry way when Medea sees her father Aeëtes’ ship sailing after them. Jason can tell the ship was going to catch the Argos and was preparing to battle when Medea said there was no way they could win hand to hand with her father, so she did what any good lover would do: she sacrificed her prepubescent brother, chopped him into tiny bits, and dropped him into the ocean at intervals for her father to stop and pick up ( :,) I did mention she’s not a hero, right?)

So she has Jason sail up a river away from Colchis, long story short, they get to  King Pelias of Iolcus with the Golden Fleece. He acts like he doesn’t even know they had a deal and, spoiler alert, apparently straight up murdered Jason’s parents and little brother (though some sources say he just told Jason’s father that he died and his father actually killed them all in grief but this makes for much better story telling, just assume Pelias is that big of a dick cause he is). So Medea, who has basically been brought to a whole new country just to chase dick, says don’t worry, I’ll get you some revenge and proceeded to go straight fucking Savage. 

Medea befriends Pelias’s daughters and one day mentions “Oh, it sucks your dad is so old, he’ll probably die soon. My father is older than yours but looks our age.” The girls beg to know how this could be, and Medea, sharp, lovely, conniving as she was, showed the girls a spell. She took an old ram, slit it’s throat, chopped it up, then threw it in a giant pot with herbs. She chanted, waived her arms and boom, baby goat popped out of the pot. 

The daughters excitedly go find Pelias, chop him into pieces and perform the ritual, only to find that their dad (surprise) was dead dead. 

I’m talking Dead AF. 

Pelias’s son tells his sisters they were fooled and Jason and Medea are chased out of Iolcus and landed in Corinth. They lived there for years, had three (sometimes two in different references) sons and lived happily ever after. 

Except they didn’t because remember, this is Greek Mythology and gods are involved so no one can be happy XD

Turns out Jason gets the hots for the daughter of the king of Corinth and they are set to get married. 

Yes, after all this shit Medea has done for Jason (cheated at her father’s orders, murdered her brother, abandoned her home, saved Jason and his Argonauts from certain death at least three times, reaped vengeance on his uncle, bared him children) and this mother fucker up and says, “Naw, you see, you’re just a tool by the gods for me to get what I needed to get in order to be a king. So I’m gonna merry ole faceless Corinth princess and now our sons will be kings, isn’t that rad?” 

“Super rad,” Medea would have hissed behind a fake smile. 

It was in fact not rad, as Medea then takes it upon herself to send poison laced garments to the happy bride-to-be and she died an especially excruciating death (as well as her dad cause he tried to save her, told y’all, my girl be ruthless). 

So in a final fuck you to Jason, Medea then murders their children (which I admit, puts a big pin in all the badassery she does, but in the play Medea by  Euripides she struggles with this because she says she loves her children and it will hurt her to kill them, but ultimately decides she is more angry at Jason and that she has to do it because if she doesn’t, someone down the line will. 

“I know indeed what evil I intend to do, but stronger than all my afterthoughts is my fury, fury that brings upon mortals the greatest evils.”

Like, shit, okay, I get it. You’re pissed. Do as you please. 

Again, Medea isn’t a hero, but I find it hard to completely condemn her actions. She gives her all to Jason, only to have him choose someone else who can give him the throne he always wanted while telling her that it was at a god’s behest that she help him. In some ways, I imagine that being used like that is what probably hurt the most. But it’s cool, she ends up ending the play by riding in a golden chariot pulled by MOTHER FUCKING DRAGONS that her grandfather Helios sent for her and her dead kids, so I mean? She also ends up becoming the queen of Athens, but shit goes wrong there, too, but that’s a whole other thing that makes her like the original shitty step mom (save for all of Zeus’s illegitimate kids Hera keeps trying to kill). 

And Jason is crushed to death when a piece of wood falls off his ship, so good riddance. 

It’s interesting that this story is originally Jason and the Argonauts, a tale that’s supposed to illustrate the bravery and resilience of our ‘hero’ Jason, but really as Euripedes makes evident, it is Medea who the most resilient and in the end, of all the characters, though she may not have an explicitly happy ending, she isn’t punished by the gods for any of her actions while Jason literally dies by the ship he sailed on these ‘heroic’ escapades. 

About the artwork: It took me three days and a lot of cussing, I mean YouTube videos, to get this where I liked it. I feel like it uploaded a little blurry but overall I’m content :)

[lord-explosion-baku]

Yandere Warlock!Monoma x insecure witch!reader

Warnings: dark themes, yandere, suggestive themes, hinted dubcon scenario, light violence

A/N: THIS WAS RUSHED AS HECK. Like when I say that, the story just moves along really fast and I’m hhhh sorry about it. This is the first thing I’ve ever written for Monoma though! Fun stuff! Also ahhhh I’m not loving the way the reader reacts to how Monoma treats her. I’m so used to writing the reader with a hint of ANGERY BASTARD inside but I figured that if she’s insecure, and wack enough to fix a love potion for someone, this might be natural for someone like her?? Idk dood. I love magic and I am a newt.

“Tell me you love me…”

You’d spent so much of your time yearning for Neito Monoma, wondering if he’d ever give you the time of day. It was wild and unexpected of you to crush so hard for someone as arrogant as that warlock; usually types that constantly had to one up everybody irked the living hell out of you, especially since you were too modest by nature, too nervous to ever give yourself any credit when you’d excel, but Monoma paid you a few compliments here and there. He smiled at you during passing periods and even told you he liked the way you cast your spells. You thought that maybe he was this way with all the other witches, even so, he made you feel less obscure, visible to even a stronger caster such as him. You had no idea that he’d reciprocate your feelings, at least, until it was too late.

It was a simple potion, you couldn’t even call it a love potion. Sure, you may have added some reagents that had similar properties one would put in a love potion, but it wasn’t supposed to be for “love.” You just wanted to be more recognized by him. And woof, after you’d slipped that potion into his morning pumpkin juice, you were for sure recognized.

Things started out fine. You had stumbled upon Monoma in the school gardens, a place he rarely studied but it was one of your main haunts. He was sifting through flowers, making an eclectic bouquet full of different varieties of your flora friends. When he’d caught you staring at him, he gave you a bashful smile that nearly melted your heart.

“I was hoping this would be a surprise,” he said, tying a black ribbon around the bouquet that made the various colors of each petal pop out more. He held the bouquet out to to you and when you took it, his long warm fingers lingered of yours. Clear blue eyes scanned your face, lingering on your lips before you brought the bouquet to your nose to take in the sweetened aroma. “The prettiest flowers for the prettiest girl.”

After that, you spent so much more time with Monoma. He seemed pretty normal to you other than how often you caught him staring at you from across the classroom. He’d leave you cute little notes, if you could call them notes; honestly, they were a bit more like sonnets than anything, and he’d bring you nice gifts and pay you sweet compliments. He made you feel special. You had never known that someone who spent most of his time boasting about his power and shutting everyone else down had such a way with words! He was nearly the perfect boyfriend.

Until he started to get a little more creative with his gift giving. You’d find roses left on your pillow when you returned back to your dorm room after a hard day’s work. Warlocks weren’t permitted to enter the witch’s dorms but somehow Monoma figured out a way past certain enchantments. You thought it was cute that he was willing to break some rules for you. After you told him that you were interested in brewing a certain master level potion that required fairies blood, a super rare rageant that not even Aizawa, your potion’s professor, could get his hands on, Monoma came to you with a box full of four vials of fairies blood. That was a bit excessive. The potion only called for a tiny bit.

Monoma grew more violent towards other warlocks in your life as well. He’d hexed your best friend, Hanta Sero, giving him octopus arms after Sero carelessly threw his arm around your shoulders in the main hall, right in front of Monoma and sometime after Kaminari asked you what you saw in your new, probably too invested boyfriend, Kami’s lips were seen sewn shut for about four hours until a professor figured out how to reverse the curse. Kaminari never told you how it happened, but after everyone who was supposed to be your friend started avoiding you, you kinda figured you knew what was going on.

On top of everything else, he was advancing on your hardcore. You enjoyed the attention, in fact, you craved it, but you weren’t ready to go all the way with him and he was beginning to get really pushy. When you didn’t do whatever he wanted, he’d get frustrated, accusatory, he’d make you feel guilty about things you never did! Claiming that you weren’t faithful to him seemed like his favorite thing to do and the only way to get him to stop was for him to use a strange truth spell on you, one that you were always afraid would work so you’d tell him about the potion you slipped him, though the questions he asked never lead to that. Once he was satisfied with your answers, he’d litter your neck and body in hickeys, little bruising love marks to make sure that if you weren’t committed enough, everyone else knew that you belonged to him.

So you knew you had to confront him.

Walking up the steps of the astronomy tower, your shared secret spot with Monoma, the place you’d use to make out amongst other things without being caught by any school faculty, you gripped the note you’d written out for Monoma tightly in your trembling hands, trying to steady your breath. You knew what you’d done and you had to admit to Monoma that you were responsible for how he was acting. Aizawa always said that you shouldn’t mess around with love when it came to magic. You didn’t think you were when you’d made that potion, but deep down, you knew what you were going for. This was your stupid mistake and you had to right your wrongs. You shoved the note in your pocket and opened the astronomy room door.

Monoma was already there, standing by the extravagant telescope, tapping his foot impatiently. “You’re late,” he said, hands latching onto your hips immediately. “I was beginning to think that I was going to have to fetch you.”

Instantly, he yanked you close so your body pressed flush up against his, and he turned so your back was against the wall. His body felt… warmer than usual.

“I missed you,” he murmured, nuzzling into your neck. Almost instantly his tongue slid out and he licked a strip up your neck to your ear, making you shudder against him. “Don’t make me wait for you again, angel. I can’t stand not seeing you.”

He squeezed your hips before trailing a hand up to the edge of your shirt, thumb gently caressing the skin underneath. “How are you?” He asked, playfulling toying with the elasticity of your skirt.

“Um- I’m okay,” you stammered, catching his hand in yours that only made him smirk as he brought the back of your wrist to his lips.

“Just okay?” He lifted a brow, brushing his lips across your skin. “Better now that I’m here?” He closed his eyes and breathed you in. “Oh!...” you took in another long whiff. “You got a new perfume…”

He brought your arms to hang around his neck, keeping your gaze locked into his. You wondered if he could tell just how guilty you were just by looking at you. “Did my sweet girl have a bad day?”

“I’ve just been… a little stressed, is all.”

“Mmmm, I can tell,” he mused, “lucky for you, I know the perfect way of relieving tension.”

You bit your lip, dreading the blood that undoubtedly rushed to your face. Even if Monoma wasn’t all there, he still made your heart jump, especially when he got himself riled up.

“Sound nice?” He smirked, leaning closer back to your face. “I’ll be gentle. You know I only want to take care of you, right?”

“Neito,” you began, turning your head away from his cool, mint scented breath. “N-not right now…”

He scoffed. It was too easy to aggravate him and pissing him off was a dangerous game to play. He never… forced you to do anything you didn’t want to, but he was not above throwing fits. “Then why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you? Honestly Y/N, you’ve been acting strange for weeks, and if you don’t want me to show you just how much I love you, then you might as well come out and tell me who you’ve been fucking already.”

“Neito!” You shot him an incredulous look. “I haven’t been sleeping with anybody! You know I’m a-!”

“Who is it? You can tell me,” he cut over you, not bothering to hear you out. “You know I’ll always forgive you, but I want to know what filth has been tarnishing what’s mine.”

“Nobody, Neito! I’ve never had sex!”

“Was it Todoroki? I saw him talking to you after your Charms class.”

“He was lending me notes! I missed classes because I was with you!” Jesus, you hadn’t even seen Monoma after you had charms, he was like some kind of obsessive ninja.

“It better not have been that trash, Katsuki Bakugou! He’s been eyeing you since the moment he saw that you were with me. I bet he can’t stand seeing me have something that he doesn’t!”

“You’re not listening to me!” You cried, moving your hands from his back to gently cup his face. You watched as his eyes went from feral and angry to soft and loving as you drew your thumbs across his lips, trying to ease him back to his senses. “Neito, nobody’s been talking to me… even if they were, I’d let them know there’s only one guy for me. I… really liked you, Neito. I liked you enough that I did something very wrong and it has hurt you and for that, I’m sorry. ”

“Hurt me?” He didn’t understand.

“I spiked your drink with a love potion. I thought it would just make you notice me, but now everything is wrong!”

The pregnant pause between you and Monoma was nearly deafening. He lifted his hand to neatly place over yours, his body hot. His eyes searched yours, seeming to register what you were saying. But his eyes lied.

“Liked?” His hands tightened over yours. “As in past tense?”

“That’s not the point and not really what I meant-!”

“Oh, darling, don’t be cute with me right now. I’m thinking!”

You only realized how hard you were shaking when he pulled away from you to let you breathe. Monoma ran his fingers through his hair, messing up its usually neat style. He let out an exaggerated sigh and began to pace. You brought the note out of your pocket. If he couldn’t understand your words, maybe it’d make more sense to him if he’d read them?

You reached out for his shoulders, he tensed at your tender touch for a moment before relaxing against you. You hugged him from behind, burying your face into his back and held the note out in front of him. “Please read it,” you asked, muffled by his blazer.

Gingerly, he took the note out of your hand. He read it over; it basically said all that you had done, when you did it, and why you did it. You noticed his back growing damp and you only realize that you were crying when he turned to face you, with an unreadable expression.

Monoma’s thumb found your cheek and he wiped away an escapee tear you hadn’t intended to let him see. He sighed and watched your lips part, a natural, possible submissive instinct you’d picked up since you started dating the warlock. “I love you, Y/N,” he muttered, trailing his warm, now shaking fingers down to your chin. “I love you so much, it hurts.”

“I-I know.” You forced yourself to speak even though your skin was nearly vibrating from anxiety. “And-“ you gulped “-It’s all my fault. But I’m going to fix this, Neito. You won’t have to hurt… anymore.”

Monoma’s hand found your neck, his touch tentative and gentle at first until his fingers wrapped around you and he started to squeeze.

“You know?” He demanded, his face inching closer towards yours. “If you know how much pain I’m going through, then why the hell are you trying to push me away? Why don’t you ever say you love me back? Why is my angel lying to me?!”

“I’m not,” you squeaked back, pulling on his arm but that only encouraged him to back you up against the wall again.

“I’m going to make you tell me who’s making you say these things to me and then I’m going to have you watch as I strap them to a chair and set them on fire!”

“N-no, Neito,” you choked out as he began to raise you against the wall. The corner of your eyes started to blacken as you stared into the raging blue irises of the crazed blonde.

“I’ve done so much for you, Y/N, and I’ve asked so little in return!” He scoffed at the pathetic, reddened face you were making. You didn’t think you could hold on much longer. “Tell me who it is, Y/N. Tell me who it is or I swear I’ll kill every last warlock, hell, every last caster in this whole goddamn school!”

“Aizawa!” You cried out, noting the shifting black figure across the tower windows.

Monoma blinked, registering who you had named. He was silent for a moment, not noticing the older warlock muttering an incantation behind him.

“Filthy slut,” Monoma finally seethed. “You like older men, then? I bet he gets a kick out of that, taking advantage of something so pure-“ he dropped you to the floor “-so fragile.”

Tears were streaming down your face. You couldn’t manage to look at him and didn’t dare look at Aizawa while he was preparing a spell without Monoma noticing.

“I bet you call him daddy before he makes you choke on his cock, huh?” Monoma grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look up at him. “Once I rid the world of him, I’ll make you do everything you've done to him to me. I’ll be your daddy then, and you’ll be my dirty. little. princess.” He laughed dryly, yanking your head closer to his crotch. “But why wait until then when I have my pretty angel on her knees all ready for me?”

“That won’t be happening.” Aizawa’s low voice sounded across the room. Before Monoma could even turn, Aizawa muttered something in Latin and your boyfriend’s arms were magically bound together and he fell to his knees beside you.

You grabbed Monoma before he could topple over onto the floor, hugging him tightly, whispering ‘I’m sorry’s’ over and over again. Monoma looked at you incredulously before thrashing around in your embrace as Aizawa approached the two of you.

“Obsessive and violent behavior, attempted assault on a student,” Aizawa sighed. “This is exactly why you don’t screw around with love magic, little witch.”

You wiped at your wet face, looking up to your teacher. “You knew?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then why,” you sniffed, looking apologetically bac to Monoma leering next to you, “why didn’t you do something sooner?”

“We have to from our mistakes by facing the consequences,” he said as if your situation were so simple. A potion vial appeared in his hand. “Now it's time to take care of your mistake. Step back.”

You looked to Monoma who had his lip curled up at your teacher. His eyes flicked to you. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered before scooching away from the writhing warlock.

“Stay away from me!” Monoma snarled at Aizawa as he got a bit closer.

“You need to drink this,” Aizawa said to him, “it’s going to cure you of your ailments.”

“Lying pig!” Monoma all but screeched at your teacher. It burned you to see him this way. This was all your fault, all your fault. “You just want her for yourself!”

Monoma’s eyes once again found yours as he pleaded, “angel don’t do this to me. You love me right? I love you… tell me you love me baby, just this once— KEEP YOUR HOBO HANDS OFF OF ME!”

Monoma kicked his legs up, nearly knocking the vial out of Aizawa’s hands. Your teacher sighed, “at this rate, it might be better to just knock him out.”

“I dare you to try,” the blonde growled.

“Neito, please,” you silently begged, “this is only going to help you.”

Monoma answered you with feral noises, he was practical foaming at the mouth, being over dramatic and kicking himself away from his threat, even while Aizawa backed off and waited for your go ahead.

“If you do this for me-“ you inhaled, heart beating rapidly against your chest “-I’ll do anything and everything you want.” Though, you were sure that after this, Monoma would want nothing to do with you. “I promise you, Neito, anything.”

Monoma scowled at you. “You promise?” He asked. “Anything?”

Another tear fell to your cheek. You nodded.

He finally let up. He stopped his squirming and Aizawa could finally get close to him. Monoma didn’t fail to warn Aizawa that he was going to “be the end of him,” before Aizawa popped the vial into his mouth, and Monoma drained it dry, all while keeping his glare on you.

Minutes passed. You stayed on the floor, allowing silent tears to roll off your face while Aizawa stood cross armed, watching the motionless Monoma intently. Finally, Monoma groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

“How are you feeling?” Inquired Aizawa.

“I…” Monoma winced. “My head feels like it’s splitting in half…”

“That’s to be expected.”

Guilt hung on your shoulders. Still, you managed to reach out to Monoma’s legs. His eyes opened, he looked right at you, then down to the floor, crossing his legs closer in to himself.

“You should probably go,” Aizawa said to you.

You never wanted this. You never wanted Monoma to be hurt, never wanted him to be obsessive or possessive, never wanted to feel how did you now. You just wanted him to recognize you so you did something vile to him and now you had to live with your guilt and your shame. Now you had to live with Monoma hating you. And you carried your guilt all the way home, using it to cry yourself to sleep.

~

You didn’t go to school the next day. You would have to face your problems sooner or later but after the night you had, you couldn’t face Monoma or Aizawa or anybody else who would without a doubt know about the heinous act you pulled.

You went into town, trying your hardest to forget about who you were, but whenever you saw a couple holding hands or simply exchanging glances, your heart stung. You managed to split Monoma’s head in half while you simultaneously ripped your heart to shreds. It was what you deserved.

Your legs felt heavy as you crawled into bed. You hardly had enough energy to kick your sheets over your body. You thought you just about drained yourself of all of your tears, but when your head hit the pillow, they came rushing back to you. You could only hide for so long. You were going to have to go to school tomorrow.

Sleep crept its way into your bedroom all the while another force snuck its way in. You were busy having a dream of being forced into a cauldron, when a heavy weight was pushed onto your torso. Your eyes snapped open and you found yourself face to face with Neito Monoma.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, a sickly sweet smile crawling across his face. “You were so still, so… perfect… Did you know you talk when you sleep?”

“Monom-!” Before you could get his full name out, Monoma’s lips locked into yours. He moaned as he kissed you, fingers wrapping around your wrists and bringing them up above your head. He took your breath away, but it wasn’t all that uninvited. You had missed him.

He pulled away, sighing as he took in your flustered physique. His body pressed down harder on you and you were finding your breathing to be a bit strained. He was crushing you.

“I waited for you today,” he mused, peppering kisses down your collarbone. “It seems I’m always waiting for you…”

“What… are you doing here?”

“I’m hurt you even have to ask,” he chuckled sarcastically. “Don’t you remember the promise you made me before making me drink that poison?”

You promised him you’d do anything he wanted. “But the potion was supposed to change you back…”

“It didn’t work,” he said thoughtlessly while his hand slid down to palm you breast.

“W-wait!” You grasped his hand but his merely pushed your arm back down, pulling his knees up to hold your sides tightly.

He glowered down at you. “What I mean to say is, the first potion you slipped me didn’t work.” He smirked. “Do you think that I’m so much of a fool that I couldn’t tell that a drink of mine had been spiked? I was insulted at first, of course, but your actions did give me incentive to pursue you. I’ve always had these feelings for my little angel, and soon, you will too.”

In one swift motion, Monoma held both of your hands back with one of his, while the other pressed glass against your lips. Cold liquid was forced down your throat. Panicking, you swallowed, making Monoma grin and coo, “good girl.”

You coughed when he pulled the vial away from you. He hushed you and kissed your forehead. “Things will be better this way,” he whispered as your body began to shake. “You’ll see me just as I see you. We just have to wait a few minutes.”

Your head spun and it felt like your body was sinking into your bed. Your mind was clouding over and there was nothing you could do about Monoma’s wet, hot, hungry kisses across your body. But in a matter of minutes, just like he said, it wasn’t of any negative concern. Your head, along with your heart, was changing.

“Neito,” you sighed his name and leaned up against your bed.

Monoma placed a tender kiss on your stomach before looking up at you with the most dazzling and brilliant blue eyes. You lifted your hand out to him and he wove his fingers through yours.

“Is my angel ready to make good on her promise?” He asked. You nodded and he grinned, crawling up your bed to level his head with yours. “Then let’s start with one simple request,” he said before brushing his lips against yours.

“Tell me you love me.”

~

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING (NOT SPICY): @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck @kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow @wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai @eggpienutbuttercroissant @usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello @rubyred-imagines

[edyacouky]

What an Alpha is

Can be read on AO3

***

Jason has realized quickly that what he want, what he is, isn’t normal. He has realized that before his research for his biological mom. Sometimes, he thought that Bruce and Alfred were family and they loved him. Sometimes he remembered what a great liar they were, all his future depended on them. Sometimes he remembered hos he loved Willis, how he loves Catherine and forgiven Sheila. No matter how much he loved them, he never trusted them with all his soul and heart. Finally he takes his secret on his grave.

Literally.

But now he feels better. Sort of.

Many things happen since his resurrection. But the only person knowing Jason’s secret is Essence.

Jason can’t really explain why. Essence has the same secondary gender as Jason, who is an alpha. She is raised by a culture different from Jason but with cliché about gender too.

When Jason let Essence know, he didn’t expect her to understand or being accepted. But she was.

As much Jason was relieved then, he is still scared that someone knows the true.

Many things happen since Essence.

Now Jason is happily in a relationship with Roy, an omega.

Jason is truly happy, more that he can remembered. And Roy must be too since he didn’t dumped him, yet.

Sex is good too. Jason makes sure of that. Doing like every intercourse may be the last one. Like he fears they could be. And since Roy initiate many time, Jason must succeed. But the true, like his fears, never disappears.

He does his best to fight the thought that harass him, but sometimes he lost.

This time is one of them.

Roy isn’t at home. He shouldn’t come back for a few days. So Jason thinks he is sage enough to succumb. He puts the box that he hides in one of his room walls. He cuts the security while his heart is beating cray. He can’t believe he will finally do it. It’s been months, almost a year.

There is his collection of sex toy in the box.

No fake cunt or anything else alpha are traditionalism portray use it.

There is dildo from different size, color and brand with different option.

Jason almost throw himself on the biggest Bad Dragon he has, then he stops when he see the dildo he brought one time on a space mission. Jason still doesn’t know who invent it and how it works, but this things is wild enough that it provokes Jason’s rut every time, no matter where on his cycle he is.

He had to take a deep breath. It’s been almost a year since he had the audacity to even fingered himself. He has to play soft, at least at first.

His eyes fall on a smaller and less crazy dildo. Its shape make him of Roy’s dick.

Thinking of his mate, guilt submerge him. He hates hide a part of him to Roy, even if it’s just a kinky part of him.

But his biological father’s voice, his old friend's, even Bruce’s friend’s voices remind him that he is abnormal.

An alpha who loves takes it in his ass, he is not a real alpha, neither can be a good mate.

And Jason want to be good, especially for Roy. It’s not like he want Roy to have a different secondary gender or change his.

He imagine Roy fucking him with his dick, how they can play together with a double penetration dildo.

Fuck all this asshole voices, but mostly fuck him.

Horniest is stronger that shame and he takes the smaller dildo.

Once he will have calmed the urge he could become again a good mate for Roy

***

Roy come back much earlier than he expected from his mission. Not that he is disappointed by that, quite the contrary. He missed Jason so much.

He realizes once in the front door that he didn’t warn Jason like he wanted. He can only hope that his mate will be at home.

All the tiredness he feels flies away when he smell sex. No other smell that his mate, so he is absolutely turn on.

“Jaybird.” He sing song while approaching the room

What he sees is so marvelous that he doesn’t believe it at first.

He won’t going to lie, he sometimes imagine fucking Jason. Who could blame him? But Jason never seems interested and Roy didn’t want him to feel pressure to do anything.

But now!

Now that he saw Jason ridding a really monstrous dildo, one of his hand gripping hard the headbed, surrounded by used dildo on their bed, the most illogical part of his omega brain whispers:

“Damn, I want carry his children.”

Not gonna happen if he does the fucking. He just can’t help but always have this though when he is really horny.

Without getting the time to think, Roy join Jason on their bed.

“Jaybird.” He whispers in his ears before kissing him deeply and caressing his fabulous thigh

Jason shivers but kiss him back with abandonment

At first.

As suddenly as unreal everything has been for Roy since he comes back, Jason pushes him violently, making him fall out the bed.

Roy realizes that the fact that Jason wanted alone sex time doesn’t mean that Roy can join him without making sure Jason want him to.

But before he could apologies, the room reek of fear and anger.

The look on Jason’s face freezes Roy.

The betrayal, the terror, the hate.

Roy was hoping fucking Jason, but it seems he fuck it.

“I…

-Get out!”Jason yells using his deep alpha voice

Jason never use it on people he loves, because he knows how you can feel miserable and afraid, even if it may be illogically, when this voice is used.

And damn! Roy feels miserable.

Jason deserves the world, and Roy want to give it to him.

Roy crawls to the bed, to Jason, showing him his neck with pitiful moans. He need to apologies.

But Jason pushes him again, repeat his order with more strength and baring his teeth.

Roy have to admit that he has to back off if he really want things to cool off.

He really, really doesn’t like that but submit.

Carefully he leaves the room and starts pacing in their living room.

He repeats his apologies in his head.

He keep questioning why Jason react so violently.

It’s happened before that Roy or Jason had an alone time and the other want to join. A simply “No” was always enough.

He realizes that he never saw this sex toy before, never Jason shares any interest to play with his hole.

He repeats his apologies in his head.

He start questioning if Jason is attracted by omega. Did he accept this relationship because Kory was part of it at first? Did he keep it because deep down he is afraid of being alone? Or did Roy do or say something that makes Jason thinks he can’t share it with Roy?

He realizes he is waiting for Jason for too long when his stomach starts asking to be fulling.

Roy isn't surprised when he realizes that Jason run away. He is disappointed and terrified.

He hopes that their relationship isn’t over.

***

When Bruce walks in front of Jason’s old room door, he is not surprised when he smells his son’s odor.

Until he remembers that Jason’s smell changed drastically after … everything that happen after Ethiopia.

And he doesn’t smell only the faint old smell of his son, but also loud new Jason’s smell.

He frowns.

He doesn’t remember a time where Jason sleep in here since …

The rare time Jason sleep in the Manor, they open him a new room.

He opens carefully the door.

Jason is hiding, Bruce doesn't know how else describe it, under his sheet. His hairs aren’t visible.

“Jason?” He says quietly

He miss calling him Jaylad, but it feels wrong for now.

Jason groans but doesn’t move.

“Are you ok, Jason?

-I am here. What do you think, Greatest Detective in the World?

-That something really awful must happen to you if you came to your childhood den to have comfort.”

Jason scoff.

“I am here because no one will search me here.”

That’s still hurt to realize that one of his pups doesn’t feel safe in the Manor, that Jason is right when he say no one will search him here.

But worry hits him when he realizes that something awful happen.

“What happen?

-Like you care.

-I do! Jason, tell me what happen.

-Why? So you can make it all about yourself.

-What if I promise to shut up while you will take?”

Jason’s head perk up and he glares at Bruce, judging him.

“I shouldn’t have been resurrected.”

First shot and Jason aims directly to the heart.

Bruce wants to argue with Jason, yells at him for daring saying it.

But he recognizes this light in Jason’s eyes. He test him.

Bruce takes a deep breath, keeps his scent has calming and safe as possible.

“Why do you think that?

-Because it’s true. Jason says with vulnerability. I’m not a good alpha.”

Bruce frowns, doesn’t understand why Jason may think that. Jason never seems like the kind of people who care about what a second gender should be.

And Jason is a good alpha. He is protective of people he considers part of his pack, he is fearless warrior, he is a good provider. He is always more than happy to help and cook for everyone.

“You are a good person, Jason. Bruce tries hoping he doesn’t make Jason angry. So of course you’re a good alpha.

-You don’t understand.” Jason grumble and hide again

Bruce groans and rolls his eyes. And society think that omega are the moody one.

“I can’t understand if you don’t explain it to me.” Bruce argues

Per chance he promised to shut up. Jason will avoid the Manor again for at least a few weeks and Alfred will be super pissed at him.

There is a long silence where Bruce expect Jason too suddenly leave, even punches him. But finally Jason sit down and with spite simply says:

“You can’t be more ashamed of me and I am not your child anymore any way.”

Bruce immediately want to argue. Jason should talk to him because he feels safe and loved, not because their relationship is so bad that he have nothing to lose.

“I am a fucking faggot.” Jason drops

Bruce frowns. It is not a word Jason use and he does that now to qualify himself.

“Why did you say that?

-Because it’s true. I can’t be with Roy now that he knows.

-I don’t think that you cheated on him. And I was sure that you loved Ollies’s omega. So … what happen?”

Jason mumble something, his face tunrs red.

“Do you cheat on him?

-No! Of course no! I will never do that!

-Aren’t you in love with him? Do you want to be in relationship with an alpha?

-No! Jeez, Bruce, you have no idea how much I love him! He will break up with me anyway.”

Bruce tries to pick up the piece together but the clues don’t help him understand the situation.

“Roy will break up with you because you are not straight?

-Yes! An alpha that like take it in his ass, is not a real alpha, he is not a good mate!”

Bruce blinks rapidly. Like … what?

“Everyone knows that! Jason tries to defend himself

-Well everyone is stupid.”

Jason groans and get up.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here.

-Jason please wait …

-No. I need to talk to Roy. Sooner the better. See you next time B.”

And just like that Jason leaves.

And just like that Bruce feels he let him down once again.

***

Jason doesn’t really know what he expect when he come back to his home.

Maybe Roy take this things and leave, blocking his phone number. Jason will understand if he does. But it’s not Roy’s style do to that.

“Roy.” He call hims

He doesn’t see him in the living room nor the kitchen.

Blushing he goes to their bedroom. Roy has tidy up his sex toy. Knowing that Roy clean them and put them back in their box is so embarrassing. Bu he doesn’t know if he could have endure seeing them spread out and dirty on his bed.

After looking in the bathroom, Jason is sure that Roy isn’t here, but his things are still there.

In desperation, Jason sit on the couch playing with his phone. He should apologies for using his alpha voices and running away, but what if Roy had blocked his phone number?

Damn, why can’t he have more self control?

He start thinking where could be Roy and who he should call if Roy really block him.

Suddenly the front door open and Roy appears.

“Yeah thanks. I already went there. Tell me if you …”

Roy finally see Jason and smile at him.

“No forget what I told you. It’s ok now. Yeah, I will call you later.”

Without letting Jason time to apologies, Roy sit down on the couch next to him.

“You came back. And only after a few hours.

-Yeah, I start getting better at that.”

There is a silence where neither of them don’t know what to say.

“I am sorry.”

Jason frowns and argues:

“You have nothing to apologies for…

-Of course! I should ask you if I can join you and not assume…

-Roy….please stop...It’s not for that I freak out…

-Is not?”

Jason shakes his head and takes a deep breath.

“I am the one you should apologies. I shouldn't use the alpha voice. It was a shitty thing to do and I am sorry.

-Honestly I was more surprised. I really freak you out didn’t I?

-No...I mean...sort of. But it’s not an excuse and I am sorry.

-What do you mean by “sort of”?”

Jason tuck his sleeve and bit his tongue.

“I never want you to see me like that.

-Like that?

-I really love you and want to be a good mate to you. I am sorry I disappointed you.

-Disappointed me? Hold on. Can we rewind?”

Roy stand up and start to pace trying to understand what’s going on since he came back from the mission.

“Ok so first thing first, did I like that you used you alpha voice? No, but I am not disappointed in you. And why shouldn’t I think that you aren’t a good mate?

-You saw what I did! I am a freak, you can tell it!

-What you did?”

Roy rethink what he saw in the room. The only thing he was disappointed it’s how it ended. He really feels blessed to have saw Jason so debauched playing with himself like that.

“The sex toy, Roy! Jason yells impatient blushing furiously. I put it in my ass!

-Oh yeah, that was really hot.

-What?

-I mean I would have loved participate of course. I am on board with that too. But I won’t be disappointed if you like doing it alone or only with alpha or male beta. You respect my limit, I will respect yours.

-You are not disgusted?

-Wow! How did we go to disappointed to disgusted? No I am neither of them.

-Really?

-Really.”

Jason feel like he can finally breath. When Roy sit down against him again, Jason kiss him tenderly. He start crying too, but he feels too much joy and relief.

“Are you alright?

-Yeah I’m good. I just … I just open about it only with one person, I was always so afraid to be see as less alpha. Thank you Roy.

-I love you Jason. I won’t think less of you because of that. But I still have some question.”

Jason sight but smile.

“Shoot.”

Roy takes Jason’s hand in his and look at him even if Jason avoid his eyes.

“Do you love omega? Roy finally ask

-Is that a trick to ask me if I love you?

-Maybe. Sort of. Do you?”

Jason finally look at him with so much sorrow, it provokes Roy a twinge.

“I do. Jason caress tenderly Roy’s cheek. More than any word or act can prove you.”

Damn Roy fall in love with Jason everyday.

They kiss slowly, tenderly. Things aren’t always easy but they are so happy they have found each other.

“I am sorry I make you doubt that.

-I am just glad we clear it up.”

They kiss again.

“Do you have anymore question?

-Well I have one more question in mind. Roy says playfully. Next you play with your dildo - you have a really impressive collection if I can say it -…

-Asshole.

-Can I participate or … at least watch it?”

Jason close his eyes and bites his lips but smiles.

His cheeks turn beautifully red.

“I really love the idea of you being a really active participant.

-But…?

-I had sex with just one alpha before and I never do more with anyone less. So I want it but … Can we take it slowly?

-Of course we can, baby.

-I may freak out again.

-You may. But it’s not a big deal. You are here for me, I am here for you. We are partner in every sense of the word.

-Love you.

-Love you too.

-By the way, who did you warn about my running away?

-Artemis and Bizarro.

-You realize they will kick my ass?

-Don’t worry my alpha. I will protect you.”

The end.