#also sorry if it took a while to respond I work an overnight shift so it likely sat in theee while I was sleeping lmao

[cg29fics]

Gone

Issues with previous updates, so if you’re reading along you may want to check out the links for previous chapters. The complete fic is also available via FF.Net & A03 - CreativeGirl29

Tagging 🔖 Sorry if I’ve missed anyone - If you would like to be tagged in these updates then please let me know and I’ll add you to the list: @janetm74 @drileyf @katblu42 @psychoseal @weirdburketeer @alexthefly @misstb2 @thundergeek59 @burningcowboyhoagietaco @dragonoffantasyandreality

Previous. Chapter 40. Missions.

Chapter 41. Woken.

After sitting for several minutes in silence, Scott decided to speak. “Okay, let’s look at the facts… We have Doctor Emily Sanderson, she’s had a very bad childhood, but ended up coming out of it a lot stronger. The only motive we can find so far, is that her father was reported by dad to the police… Then we have Nurse Maria Andrews, she lost both parents at Crest Valley, plus her two youngest brothers were horrifically injured. So, her motive is possible revenge against International Rescue, and possible monetary gain.”

“So, you think it’s Maria then?” Alan questioned.

“I’m really not sure,” Scott frowned, “as I’ve said before, she’s stepped up and took on the parenting role to her three younger brothers. If I was her, then I’d just be grateful that you were alive, and I still feel like there’s more that we don’t know about Emily.”

“I agree Scott,” Jeff sighed, “John, can you do further checks into the backgrounds of Emily’s brother and aunt?”

“Of course!” John confirmed.

“Maybe look at Maria’s other brother as well?” Gordon suggested.

Jeff smiled. “That’s a good idea Gordon… Penny, can you call your Police Commissioner friend, and see if he knows what’s going on with those two women?”

“No problem Jeff, I’ll get on it straight away.”

“Good, then I suggest that once you’ve all seen Virgil, and we know what’s happening at the station, then you should all return to the hotel and see if you can help John,” Jeff stated, “we’ll meet back in the canteen tomorrow morning, and go through everything we have found”

“FAB!” They all chimed.

After each of the boys had spent a short amount of time with Virgil, Penny had informed them that the commissioner had revealed that, because of an ‘anonymous tip-off,’ the Hood’s former hideout had been found. Due to this development, the police had decided to hold both women overnight for further questioning. However, they had all been warned that unless further evidence presented itself, or if upon waking Virgil remembered one of them being there, they would both be released the following day. Upon hearing this their grandmother, alongside both Parker and Penny had returned with the rest of the boys to their hotel, while Jeff had remained at Virgil’s side. All of them determined to help John with the additional background checks on the two women. Hoping that it would yield something that would point them to the correct offender.

… …

The next morning: 7am.

Nurse Carrie Greggs, who was on duty for the day shift, gently shook Jeff’s shoulders to waken him. “Good morning,” she greeted, when Jeff finally opened his eyes.

“Hello,” Jeff yawned.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she smiled, “I’m just about to take Virgil of the sedatives.”

“What… You are?” Jeff responded in surprise.

“Yes,” the nurse replied, “his readouts have been good during the night. So, we’d like to give this a try now.”

Jeff pulled himself up into a more comfortable position. “How will this work?”

“We will start by switching his infusion off,” Carrie explained, “because Virgil was on Propofol, he should start waking up soon. We will then check his breathing and see how he’s doing. If he's still needing support, then we will keep him on a lower dowse of sedation so that he can interact with you. If he can breathe on his own, then we will have to ask you to stay in the waiting room while we remove the tube. Once that’s done we will provide him with some oxygen until he’s feeling a bit stronger.”

“I just hope he’s more with it today,” Jeff grimaced.

Carrie smiled sympathetically. “Just be prepared. Even if he his sensible, the tubes will make him cough!”

“Okay,” Jeff replied, gently holding Virgil’s hand in his.

After a short time, Carrie began to speak. “Okay, Virgil is starting to wake. Mr Tracy, we’re going to ask Virgil to squeeze your hand. Please let me know if he does.

Jeff nodded. “Come on Virg, you can do it!” He quietly willed.

“Virgil, can you hear me?” Carrie asked. “If you can, then I want you to squeeze your dad’s hand,” Carrie glanced at Jeff, but he shook his head to confirm that there was no reaction. “Come on Virgil, I know you can hear my voice. Please squeeze your father’s hand for me.”

“He did it!” Jeff grinned, when he received a response. However, his heart immediately sunk when Virgil’s head began shaking from side to side, like it had done the day before.

Carrie immediately took Virgil’s other hand in hers and held it, so he couldn’t pull at the tubes. “Talk to him. Let him know you’re here.” She said.

Jeff nodded and leaned closer to Virgil. “Everything is going to be okay Virg.”

“Keep going,” Carrie said, when Virgil didn’t respond.

“Please son, open your eyes for me,” Jeff pleaded.

Virgil’s eyes, unfocused, slightly cracked open, as he began coughing against the tube.

“Virgil, look at me… You’re in intensive care. There’s a tube in your mouth helping you to breathe. Do you want us to take it out?” Virgil nodded his head, turning red from the amount he was coughing. Nurse Greggs pressed a few buttons on the monitors. “Virgil, I want you to try and take a deep breath for me?” Virgil responded to her command. “Well done, that’s it!”

A doctor, followed by another nurse entered the room and observed the ventilator readouts. “Okay, he’s breathing on his own,” the doctor confirmed, “we can go ahead and remove the tube.”

The new nurse started gathering up equipment, while Carrie addressed Jeff. “As I explained, you will have to leave the room while we extubate. I promise it won’t take long, and as soon as we are done then you’ll be able to return.”

Jeff nodded. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he whispered in Virgil’s ear, before leaving the room.

Virgil, stared at the door watching his dad leave, his focus being brought back by the nurse’s voice who had been in the room with his father.

“Virgil, we’re going to take the tube out now, okay? Come on Virgil, look at me.” Carrie soothed, as the panic and desperation grew more evident on his face. “Everything is going to be okay!” Virgil locked his eyes onto the nurses, as she continued to reassure him that he was indeed safe and secure. “That’s it.” She continued, while the doctor and the other nurse worked together to pull the tube. “You’re doing really well. It will all be over soon.” Carrie smiled at him when they had finished pulling the tube. “There we go, all done now!”

The other nurse placed an oxygen mask over Virgil’s mouth and then adjusted the bed, so he was now in a slightly raised position. While the doctor observed his monitor readouts. After a few more checks they both smiled at Virgil. “Can you say Hello for me?” The doctor asked.

“Hello,” Virgil croaked.

“Well done!” He replied. “Your throat will be sore, you can have some ice chips in a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Virgil slightly coughed, “where’s my dad?”

“Your father is in the waiting room,” the other nurse replied, “we just need to do a few more checks and we’ll bring him back in. Just try and get some rest for now.”

Virgil nodded and closed his eyes.

… …

Even though Jeff knew the nurses were all doing the best job possible for his son, he had still apprehensively left the room, wanting to remain at Virgil’s side through the extubating process. However, as he had no choice but to leave, to relieve his tension Jeff had gone into the corridor outside of the ICU, and called the hotel. Scott had been the one to answer. His relief at Virgil being awake obvious. He quickly passed on the information to the rest of the family who were in the room with him, and declared that they would all be there as soon as possible. After finishing the call, Jeff anxiously returned to the waiting room, hoping that someone would return for him soon, and he would once more be able to be with his boy. After another five minutes, which had felt like hours, Carrie opened the door and signalled for Jeff to follow her.

“How is he?” Jeff asked as they made their way back towards Virgil’s private room.

Carrie smiled. “Good! The tubes out, he’s breathing well, and he’s able to talk.”

“If there are any side-effects, when will they show,” Jeff questioned.

“Any side-effects should be apparent already. However, because of the sedation he isn’t aware of them yet. As soon as the sedation is out of his system they will hit him. Given the size of the overdose, that’s most likely going to be sooner rather than later!”

Jeff exhaled after taking all this information in. Once Carrie was satisfied that Jeff was ready, she opened the door and allowed him to enter the room. “Hey Virg,” he said softly, gently squeezing his hand.

Virgil opened his eyes and smiled weakly at his father. “Hey,” he mouthed, squeezing his dads hand back.

Jeff stroked his hand through Virgil’s hair. “You gave us all quite a scare!”

“What happened?” Virgil croaked.

“Do you not remember?” Jeff asked.

“Alan gave me my chain,” Virgil muttered.

“And that’s the last thing you recall?” Jeff questioned.

Virgil furrowed his brow in concentration. “Yes… Sorry.”

“Not your fault son... Not your fault at all!” Jeff responded, before looking towards the nurse with understandable concern. “Is that normal?”

“It has been known to happen with Rynax,” Carrie replied, “It sometimes stops the brain laying down a new memory.”

“Any chance they won’t come back?” Jeff questioned.

“Occasionally,” she answered, “give him a bit longer, and once the sedation as worn off, see if anything comes through then.”

Jeff sighed, hoping that now Virgil didn’t remember which woman it was, his brothers had uncovered something in their search.

“Dad,” Virgil muttered, “what did happen?”

Jeff looked towards Virgil who was looking perplexed. “You had a really bad reaction to some drugs you were given… I promise I will explain more later, for now I want you to try and get some rest for me.”

Virgil frowned not wanting to rest, but finding his eyes were naturally shutting as he drifted off to sleep.

… …

A few hours later:

Over 24 hours she had been held for questioning. Over 24 hours, in which, somehow, she had managed to keep her cool, and answer all the questions that had been fired at her. It had been extremely difficult to maintain the façade. Especially when the police had revealed that they had discovered the Hood’s hideout, and had somehow managed to get the computers working. ‘No doubt because of the Tracy’s,’ she inwardly scowled. Knowing, because of information divulged to her by the Hood that they were also International Rescue. Thankfully though, the recorded imagery hadn’t been retrieved, thanks to the help she had received. Plus, when no other evidence had presented itself, and luckily Virgil had woken and not remembered anything, the police had eventually believed that she was an innocent victim, who had been dragged into all this business by the Hood’s insidious lies.

Now as she stood outside of the police station, she beamed an inner smile. It felt amazing knowing that despite the bad luck she had been having she had so far gotten away with everything! All she needed to do now was to make sure that it stayed that way. Plus, she still wanted and needed revenge against Virgil, and his family. She breathed in the fresh air that freedom brought her. Firstly, she needed to go home, shower, and make sure the damn bite that Virgil had inflicted on her hand was healing. Secondly, later that afternoon she would make her way to the hospital for a meeting she and her colleague, who had also been accused, had been asked to attend. Thirdly, she would need to gain access to Virgil Tracy, just in case his memories did come flooding back to him, and silence him once and for all!

Then finally, she would need to make sure that she did continue to look like an innocent victim, not only to the police, but also to her work colleagues. Pondering her thoughts on how to do this, she smiled to herself, maybe the way forward was to make sure the blame was firmly placed onto the other woman. She knew that she could arrange that, she just needed to make sure that the wheels were firmly in motion!

NEXT. Chapter 42

[bitterfrosts]

While I agree with you that songxiao had communication problems and am open to the possibility of that just happening every time, I don't think it's necessarily true that it would've always just been left that way. Sure, xxc made like no effort to reach back out to sl, and that is totally a guilt thing (but also kind of an issue FJSJJFKS) but sl did! And that's what I think is important. Even though it took him a while, he was still willing to go and patch things up. Then he gets fuckin killed by what is "essentially" xxc AND gets corpsed and still after all that, he goes and finds what remains of xxc as soon as he's able and sets out to roam the world together with him. It isn't like "I'll apologize and we can go on our way," it's like, the complete opposite. There's clearly absolutely nothing that can stop him from them being together. I feel it would be kind of mean for me to say that tragedy made them stronger as a ship but I do feel like it's a really good indicator of how they feel for one another, and how whatever happens between them, there's always that willingness to work things out from at least one party 😅

So I think in the end they could've always worked things out, xy or not. I understand the need to say it isn't a ship without flaws, but I do believe it's one with flaws that could be overcome, because if nothing else, they clearly care for each other above all else. And with that in mind, had someone not existed to end both their lives, I think they would've had a pretty fair shot :p - wifiwuxians!! Sorry for the long ask!

could be! I just can’t see a world where they end up having that kind of discussion without a catalyst. In canon, xy and the Chang clan were that catalyst. Let’s say maybe the sunshot campaign was the catalyst. They’re not going to have the discussion of “hey I have personality issues that I think you’ll find hard to realign with the mental perception you already built of me” until they get one. Song Lan is always going to react with extreme malice and anger, because he is a very very angry person. Xiao Xingchen is always going to try to fix it out of extreme guilt because he has a guilt complex. Xiao Xingchen is always going to wordlessly leave in that situation because since it’s all “his fault” he’s not going to sit down and rationalize why a person he didn’t know was a very very angry vengeful person might say that out of the blue. (Song Lan does not mean it, at least not permanently. Maybe he’d like a couple weeks to himself to try to come to terms with whatever happens to him in this hypothetical AU, but he’s always going to regret his words and come back, because at heart song lan is a good person who is capable of apologizing and knowing when he needs to. It’s why he chases after XXC in canon. But that realization is not going to be automatic. Ever.)

Now, what happens after that purely depends on how things go. Can they find each other again and work it out? They would HAVE to at that point. And yes! They are capable of that! But what if circumstances act against them again? What if say... XXC ends up being accused of being a Wen sympathizer because he objects to the punishment of clan extermination and song lan can’t get to him in time? Process repeats, song lan can’t get to him in time to apologize, issues never resolved, ad nauseam. That’s the tragedy of it all, really. They COULD work to get over it! Do I think they would without being forced to in some way acknowledge it? Probably not.

@yiling left tags on the initial post once about how they’d have to learn how to have healthy conflict discussions if they ever want to start their sect. This is true! But at the core, they’re 17 and imagining it seriously yes, but also idealistically. I can’t picture them actually sitting down to have that kind of conversation until they’re much older and wiser, and again, this would require them to have made it that long without the catalyst that tears them apart.

So, who really can say? You make good points! You might be right! But I just can’t picture a world where they get over it without some kind of tragedy making it necessary beforehand, because they ARE idealists fundamentally, and I don’t think they’d start that conversation without SOMETHING shattering that. But as we both agree, they’d try afterward! That’s why I love them!

[mercy-burning]

High Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer calls Reader to see if he can come over, but she’s already having her own fun and suggests something... out of the box. Category: Smut 18+ (oral- male receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, sex while high) Warnings: Smoking (marijuana), language, smut. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 4.1k

***

The prospect of seeing Spencer Reid again was something that always excited Y/N. They'd only been seeing each other for about two months, but she never really knew when she would get to see him because of his job, and that made their relationship all the more interesting. Though, she wasn't really sure if she could call it a relationship, considering they had only went on one date. And even then, it was barely considered a date because they ended up leaving the movie twenty minutes in and spent the rest of the night having sex in her car.

Recalling that night to herself, Y/N smiled and wondered about all the other things they could do together.

She daydreamed for a few more minutes, and in no time her legs had started to shift together, craving any form of friction. And since her partner wasn't there to help, Y/N figured she'd find it elsewhere.

After shuffling to her bedroom, she stripped herself of all her clothes except for a pair of thin scarlet panties and put on a hotel bathrobe she'd stolen, not bothering to tie it closed. Then she opted to reach towards something she didn't normally use, but had on hand in case the need ever presented itself.

In a small box under her nightstand was a lighter accompanied by some joints she'd gotten from a friend a few weeks ago. The only time she ever really smoked was when she was with said friend, but it wasn't something she was ever opposed to partaking in. It just rarely ever crossed her mind.

Minutes later and Y/N was on the couch again, windows shut, lights off, a few candles lit in an attempt to offset the strong scent, and her earbuds in. There was a glass of red wine and another glass of iced water on the table in front of her, and she was all set. Before she took the box out of the pocket of her robe, she took a sip of wine and leaned back against the arm of the couch, one leg hanging off and and the other pulled to her chest.

After turning on a lo-fi playlist and taking a joint and the lighter from the box, Y/N finally lit it, then set her things on the table before taking a long drag. When she pulled it from her lips and slowly exhaled, she closed her eyes and focused on the music blasting through her earbuds. It didn't take long, only a few 3-minute songs, to feel a little buzzed. She kept her breathing steady, only taking a few drags once in a while as her free hand drifted over the front of her body, tracing patterns down her stomach and occasionally her breasts.

She was completely and totally relaxed. But just as she was about to dip her hand past her panties, the music stopped and her phone rang.

Had she not been slightly buzzed, she would have been more annoyed, but instead she just sighed, more disappointed than anything that her plans would (maybe) have to wait, depending on who was calling.

So Y/N was more than happy to look at her phone and see the words 'SPENCER REID' across the screen.

Unplugging her earbuds and then taking one more drag from her joint, she answered the phone. "Hey, Doc, what's up?" she inquired, smoke falling off her lips. "I'm happy you called."

"Hi, Y/N. Sorry to call so late."

"Nah, that's alright. It's never too late to get a call from my favorite guy."

She heard him laugh a little from the other end of the line. "Good. Well, um... I just got back from work and I was wondering if... maybe I could come over? That's fine if you're too busy, but I could really use the company, and I... I've missed you."

The smile on Y/N's face was unavoidable. And maybe it was only the buzz talking, but God, if hearing his voice wasn't the best thing in the whole world. It was almost as intoxicating as the high she was slowly but surely achieving.

"Aw, I've missed you, too, Doc," she purred. "What did you have in mind?"

Would it be wrong of me to pick up where I left off, she wondered as she waited for him to answer, her hand hovering over the waistband of her underwear. She took another drag of the joint and decided against it, though it was still tempting.

"Well, we can do anything you want, really, I just... I just want to be with you, that's all."

"Hmm... Alright. Well, come on over, and I'll be waiting."

"Okay. Should I, uh, bring some overnight clothes?"

Y/N felt like that was his subtle way of asking if they were going to be sleeping together that night, and just in case it wasn't, she added extra emphasis on her answer to either confirm his inquiry or give him a hint. "Yes."

He cleared his throat on the other end of the line before saying goodbye, and it made her giddy. They hung up, and she put the joint out, sticking it back in the box before wafting away some of the smoke and tying her robe closed. Every move she made made her head swim a little, but if anything she figured the small high she's created will make the sex feel even better.

She ran to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, then spritzed on some perfume, hoping to mask some of the smell in case, for some reason, Spencer had a problem with it. She was sure he wouldn't, but she never wanted to make him uncomfortable with anything. Also, she just wanted to smell like the vanilla perfume she had that he once told her he loved anyway. Running back out to the living room, Y/N noticed that it still faintly smelled like marijuana. The candles masked it enough, though, and she figured it might dissipate by the time he got there.

Eventually she found herself on the couch again, before deciding to wait by the door. The thought of seeing Spencer again sent her body into a giddy, lovesick mess. She wanted to see him as soon as possible, and if that meant waiting by the front door like a puppy then so be it.

And then there was a knock at the door.

She wanted to wait. Really, she did. But she couldn't resist, and almost as soon as he'd stopped knocking, Y/N grabbed the doorknob and twisted, opening the door to reveal him standing there. He almost looked shocked, probably at the speed and ferocity with which she used to open the door, but once he saw her face, the shock melted into pure adoration, his lips forming a shy smile as he clutched his bag in his hands.

"Hi, Y/N," he said softly as she stepped aside and let him in.

"Hey'a, Doc," she chirped happily as she shut the door behind him.

He took his shoes off and set his bag on the ground before he spoke again. "You... lit candles," he observed, then turned around to fully take her in. His eyes drifted to her robe, which hung loosely closed, her underwear just barely peeking through. "And you look..."

His soft voice turned her insides into a quivering mess, and it took all of her strength not to jump him on the spot. She waited for him to finish his sentence, but it was clear that she'd rendered him speechless.

"Yeah, I was only going to have a relaxing night in," she explained, tilting her head up and exposing her neck. "You called at just the right time."

His head also tilted upwards, but he sniffed the air a few times. "Have... you been smoking?"

Y/N was a little panicked, but she tried not to let it show. "Oh. Yeah," she laughed, twirling a piece of her hair in between her fingers. "I was smoking a joint when you called, so I'm just a little buzzed right now. I hope that's okay. I thought maybe the candles would help offset the smell, but it's pretty strong I guess."

Spencer cleared his throat before speaking. "Oh, uh, no, that's okay. You know, actually, research related to using cannabis before and during sex isn't really conclusive, but it's theorized that depending on the person it could increase pleasure during orgasm, and even just touch in general."

"Is that so?" she responded, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. She could have listened to him talk all day. He nodded, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. It made her want him even more. "Well... I think we should test out that theory. Don't you, Dr. Reid? Wouldn't that be fun?"

Her hands played with the tie of her robe before she slowly undid the knot and pulled the soft fabric apart, running her fingers lightly across her bare stomach as she did. She took her hands away from the robe just before it exposed her breasts and dropped her hands to her side. Spencer's eyes raked over her once more, each of his breaths getting noticeably heavier.

"Well?" she encouraged, tilting her head to the side.

He took a step towards her, clearing his throat a little. "Are, um... Are you high enough to try do you think? Or do you want more?"

She smiled. "Well, I can definitely feel a little of the effects right now, but some more wouldn't hurt. Would you prefer I smoke beforehand or during?"

"Um... Either is fine, I suppose."

One more step and he was close enough to touch, so Y/N reached for his hand and laced their fingers together, already melting at the contact.

"Would you like to share?" she finally asked. "Of course I won't make you if you're not comfortable, I just thought I'd ask."

He smiled a little, squeezing her hand. "I appreciate that. And... I'd love to share."

Pulling herself away from the door, she kept her hand locked with Spencer's before leading him a few steps away into the living room.

"Have a seat," she offered, reluctantly letting him go as he made his way to sit on the couch. Y/N turned and cleared the coffee table, setting the drinks and candles on the side table instead, and then grabbed the small box as she turned to face Spencer.

Her eyes locked onto his as she swiftly opened the box and grabbed a new joint and her lighter. Setting the box on the side table, she made sure to keep her upper body somewhat covered by the robe. It left just enough exposed that Spencer's eyes briefly left hers and glanced down at her chest, checking to see if anything had slipped. Almost as quickly as he'd looked down, he looked back up, swallowing and slightly parting his lips.

Y/N took that moment to close their distance and promptly straddle his lap. He straightened and placed his hands tentatively on her waist, over her robe as she brought her hand up to his face, lightly tracing the end of the joint across his jawline.

"Have you ever smoked before, Doc," she asked softly as she brought the joint around to trace his lips.

He exhaled a little, and she could see his tongue dance behind his lips, trying to find words it seemed, before settling on, "A few times... I don't particularly care for the smell, but I manage."

She pulled the joint away from him and placed it between her lips, simultaneously holding out the lighter for him to take. He did, and she watched his hands as he flicked it on and lit it for her. She took the lighter from him and reached to the left to toss it on the table next to the box, her hips grinding softly in his lap. She could feel Spencer's breath hitch as she came back, this time leaning backwards a little and sliding the robe over her breasts, finally exposing them as she inhaled.

The pure longing in Spencer's eyes was just as exhilarating, if not better, than the feeling Y/N got when she removed the joint from her lips and slowly let go of her breath. She blew the smoke to the side, barely missing his face, and she noticed how he slightly chased it, tilting his head to inhale some of it.

With her free hand, Y/N dragged her fingers across her breasts and sighed longingly. "You said this could increase pleasure just by touching, right, Doctor?"

He nodded, his eyes drifting down to her chest as he softly bit the corner of his lip.

"Well, I can't tell if this feels better than it would normally, but it definitely feels pretty damn good," she remarked before taking another short drag. Her fingers pinched her nipple lightly, and she moaned as she exhaled, grinding her hips against his once more.

This time he breathed a little louder, nearly a whimper, and it urged Y/N forward. "Touch me, Doctor," she breathed, grinding her hips once more and taking her hand away from her breast.

Without hesitation, Spencer's hand replaced hers, his thumb rolling softly over her nipple. She sighed, holding onto his shoulder with her free hand before taking another drag. This time, when she exhaled, Y/N tilted her head upwards, exposing her neck and, again, grinding her hips. Her eyes closed as he continued to touch her, his other hand resting firmly on her bare waist, skin burning skin.

Every second of this is pure bliss, and they both still had a good amount of clothes on. It could have been the drug taking effect, or maybe it was the fact that they hadn't seen each other in a few weeks, but it was the best Y/N had felt in a while.

As she leaned into him, enveloping herself in every sensation, Spencer leaned his head forward and took her nipple into his mouth, lightly sucking on it and swirling is tongue over it, his other hand tightening its grip on her waist. She moaned again, grinding her hips even harder and feeling her stomach flutter at every touch. He moved along to her other breast, following the same motions with his tongue as before as she continued to rock into his hips.

She took one more drag and then exhaled before pulling herself away from him and forcing him to look her in the eye.

"As much as I love how this feels, Doctor, I think you have on a few too many clothes. Here." She handed him the joint. He took it and she climbed up off of him and knelt to the ground, taking him in as he brought it to his lips and inhaled. Y/N sighed, tilting her head and softly biting her bottom lip when he pulled the joint away and breathed out, smoke pooling around his face.

God, he's so hot, she thought to herself as she took him all in. He was wearing just a white button down dress shirt with a tie, black pants, and one sock that was purple, the other white with red polkadots. The sleeves of his shirt were pulled up just below his elbows, showing off small muscles and veins.

My God, those veins...

She pulled herself out of her trance, crawling up Spencer's legs and resting her hands on his belt. "Can I take these off for you, Doc?"

"Yes," he responded breathlessly.

Y/N looked up at him as she worked at his belt, unbuckling then sliding it out and tossing it on the floor. Then she deftly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants before sliding them down, also tossing them aside.

"I'm a little more high than you right now, Doctor, so you might want to catch up if you want this little experiment to be accurate," she purred as she palmed him through his underwear. Without hesitation he took another drag from the joint and closed his eyes, leaning his head back while she continued to tease.

"That's it, Doc, just relax. I'll take good care of you."

Spencer exhaled, groaning as he did so. Y/N's hands continued to trace his dick through the fabric, and she could feel him getting harder beneath her touch. Her head leaned down to kiss his inner thigh, and she trailed her tongue lightly upwards, eventually reaching and pressing a firm kiss to the tip of his dick through the fabric when he took another drag. Her mouth then travelled upwards to his lower stomach, undoing the bottom buttons of his shirt and slowly working her way up, pressing soft kisses and little licks to his skin after undoing each one. She took her time, lightly raking her nails up and down his torso in between buttons. By the time she reached the top, undoing his tie and tossing it aside, leaving his shirt on but completely open, he was in the middle of taking another drag.

Sliding off her robe and tossing it aside, Y/N waited until he exhaled, then straddled him again and firmly pressed her lips to his. Her hands glided up to the back of his neck and through his hair, tugging lightly, as she's learned over time he very much enjoyed. As if she'd needed confirmation, Spencer moaned into her mouth, using his free hand to lightly caress her back.

Now that there were less clothes between them, Y/N ground her hips against his again, and her lower stomach practically burst into butterflies, sending her into a mess of tremors. She moaned softly as she took his bottom lip between her teeth, and then before he could lean in and kiss her again, she pulled away, taking the joint from him and taking another long drag. Her other hand played with his hair as she leaned her head back and breathed out, smoke falling around her.

Spencer's hands gripped her waist firmly as he rocked her hips into his, leaning forward and kissing down the front of her neck.

"Fuck," she breathed, grinding harder and feeling her breathing pick up. She could probably cum from just this if they kept at it, but in the weeks since she'd seen him last, she'd craved him, and so she was willing to drag this out as long as possible in case he was somehow called away in the middle of the night.

Reluctantly she peeled herself away and handed him the joint. "You want me to suck you off while you get high, Doc?" she inquired, kneeling once more and tugging on the waistband of his underwear. "Would that feel good?"

"God, yes, Y/N," he breathed, throwing his head back.

"Well, then your wish is my command," she purred, pulling his underwear down and tossing them aside with the other clothes. His dick was even more perfect than she remembered, and her stomach erupted at the sight of it. Licking a line up the length of him, Y/N's eyes fluttered up to look at him through her eyelashes. He was taking another drag of the joint as she took him completely in her mouth and started bobbing her head up and down at a torturous pace. His other hand drifted down to her hair, and he combed it back, away from her face so he could see her.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so good," he groaned, smoke exhaling from his lips as he said it.

She moaned softly around his dick in response, gradually increasing her pace. The lack of breath through her mouth mixed with the cannabis in her system made her head start to spin, but in the best way possible.

Eventually she slowed her movements again, then removed her mouth from him completely, replacing it with her hand. "Would you say the cannabis is increasing you pleasure when I touch you, Dr. Reid?"

At the smooth, seductive tone in her voice, he leaned his head back and sighed as she continued stroking him with her hand. "Yes. You feel so good. You make me feel so fucking good, Y/N."

His words made her stomach coil in desire, and she decided promptly that she needed him right then and there. She peeled her hand away from him and got up, sliding her underwear down and looking him dead in the eye.

"Mmm, I love when you use your words, Doc," she purred, straddling him once more and taking the joint from him to take a drag herself. She took her sweet time, sinking down just a little so that the tip of his cock sat firmly at the base of her pussy, barely touching. She exhaled and used her other hand to comb his hair with her fingers. "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give you anything you want." She meant it wholeheartedly.

His hands slid up her sides and over to her breasts just lightly, enough so that he wasn't touching them completely, but enough that she shivered. He ran them back down and firmly gripped her waist. "I want you to fuck me, Y/N," he said, completely entranced and desperate. "Ride me. Please, I want to feel you."

"Happy to," she breathed before completely sinking down onto him and rocking her hips forward. He groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Fuck..."

She set a steady pace, bouncing nicely on his cock as she took another long drag of the joint. Everything was dizzying and light around her, and every part of her body lit up with pleasure. As she exhaled, she let out a moan louder than she had all night, everything so overwhelmingly blissful and, well... high.

It wouldn't take long to come undone, she was sure of it, and she didn't want this to end so soon. So she slowed her pace, rocking against him ever so slowly, soaking in every inch of him, every touch of his hands as they roamed her body.

Spencer took the joint from her fingers and took another drag, locking eyes with her as he did it. When he blew the smoke out, it enveloped the both of them, and she breathed it in through her nose, taking a deep breath and gripping his shoulders as she worked her hips against his.

"Fuck," she breathed, leaning forward to kiss him. When their lips connected, that's when everything started to build. Y/N was pulled impossibly closer to him and her speed started to involuntarily increase. His tongue swiped out to meet with hers and his free hand reached down to her clit, circling it with his thumb. The extra sensation sent her into overdrive, and her orgasm crept up into her, threatening to explode. She groaned into Spencer's mouth, signaling how close she was to coming undone. Her lips parted from his and she rested their foreheads together, his hips bucking upwards to meet hers and plunging himself even deeper into her as his thumb worked her clit.

"That's it, fuck," she breathed, and in no time at all, release found her, blinding her so brightly it was like she was wasn't even on this plane of existence. She let out a long moan, her hips stopping and staying completely still as he fucked into her relentlessly. Her eyes screwed shut, seeing stars as her bliss increased, every thrust of his hips bringing her higher and higher until she was calling out his name.

His name falling off her lips was enough to push Spencer over the edge himself. He pulled her closer as he spilled over inside of her, and Y/N felt like she was on fire. They both hung on to every second until they were both slumped against each other, completely spent and also lightheaded.

Y/N was so unbelievably unbothered and comfortable in that moment that she didn't want to get up, but reluctantly she helped herself up off his lap and placed herself next to him, still hugging close to his side. Neither of them said anything for a while. Rather, they passed the joint between the themselves until it was finished, occasionally kissing each other in between passes.

She set the end of the joint on top of the box on the table before leaning back to Spencer and resting her head on his shoulder. She was completely aware of every glide of his hand up and down her arm as they sat in comfortable silence, until he broke it.

"Gotta say, that's not exactly what I had in mind when I called. But I'm happy about it anyway. We should do that more often."

Y/N snuggled up into his side and giggled. "Anytime, Doc."

[nights-legacy]

Survival on High Emotion-Todoroki

Main Masterlist MHA Masterlist

+The class was given a choice of partners and setting for a training mission. Naturally, Todoroki and you chose to partner together since not only for us dating but they work together well. What you didn’t account for was the disagreement you and he would have the morning of the training mission.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This way.” Todoroki said in front of me. I followed him wordlessly. I had my arms crossed across my stomach. I looked around at the surrounding woods. The path we were on weaved through the trees with no clear purpose. We were on an overnight survival training mission and so far we hadn’t had any problems.

“We need to find a place for shelter and food for the night.” I said. He made a sound of agreement. I listened intently around the area. I heard water in the distance. I grabbed Todoroki’s arm as he went to go another way. “Over there. I hear water.”

“Are you sure?” He asked looking in that direction. I nodded. “Okay.” He pulled his arm away swiftly. He was being short with me. We had a small argument this morning and we both were being reserved.

After a while of finding the right spot, scavenging for food, and firewood, we settled down. Todoroki lite the wood before sitting back against a tree on the other side. I silently sighed, looking into the fire. I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the cold start to creep up with the sunset.

“To bad we can’t see the stars to well.” I said. He didn’t respond. I huffed. I sat down on the ground and leant back against it, leaning my head back. “And now he won’t even talk to me.” I lowly.

“I can hear you.” He said with slight irritation.

“Wasn’t trying to keep it to myself.” I told him outright. I heard a sigh of annoyance. I looked up and saw he had his elbows on his knees and was rubbing his forehead in irritation. I let my head drop back.

“Insufferable.” He whispered. I took in a breath and sat up.

“Oh so your still unhappy? I mean you have me all to yourself now. No one else around to ‘steal’ me away.” I shot at him. His gaze shot up and locked on me.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He said sternly. “What I meant was that he is going to steal you away from me!”

“Tama? Tamaki Amajiki is going to steal me away from you? Really!” I exclaimed.

“You spend so much time with him that it wouldn’t surprise me.” He said running his hand through his bi-colored hair. I gave me an annoyed chuckled.

“Then you do not know Tama very well and you don’t know me very well at all, you idiot. He has been one of my best friends since I was a kid and you know it!” I yelled getting to my feet. “He could never do that to anyone and I definitely would NEVER do that to you.”

“How can you be so sure? He could be playing you, using you for his own…” I scoffed before turning away.

“I can’t believe!! I know you are still working on your social and people skills with trust and everything but I thought you trusted me.” I yelled.

“I do trust you but not him. Can’t you see that?” He exclaimed throwing his hands out. I rolled my eyes before walking away. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you!” I yelled.

“Wait! L/N, come back.” I heard him get to his feet. I shook my head. “L/N, we supposed to be in this toge…Wait not that way!” He yelled, panic suddenly filling his voice. I turn to look back at him in wonder as he yelled again. “Watch out there’s a…”

“Ahh!” The ground under my feet disappeared and I began to fall. I hit against a few hard surfaces until I finally hit a full surface and stopped hard. I yelped when I hit, the breath being knocked out of me. I was suspended in a state of half-consciousness.

“L/N!” I heard a distant yell. “L/N, are you okay? Can you hear me?” I whimpered in response as I heard him above me somewhere. “L/N?... L/N?... Y/N?!” I tried to move but everything hurt. A thud caught my attention. “Shit, Y/N.”

“Todo…” I whimpered. I felt hands gently begin to move me. I screamed out as a pain shot through my side.

“I’m sorry, shh. Shit, Y/N.” He moved me to lay across his lap, holding me close. I gripped his arm that was reaching for my face. I opened my eyes to see a look of panic, fear, and worry in his face. He inspected my body and his hand brushed across my side.

“Ah!” I flinched away when his fingers hit the same spot the pain came from earlier. He pulled his hand up for us to see blood in the moonlight. I could feel the more places start to hurt and throb.

“No, no, no.” He stuttered looking around. “I need to get you back to the fire. This is going to hurt, I am so sorry.” He readjusted me on his lap. I felt cold formulate under us and then we were moving up. He picked me up and ran as smoothly as he could once we reached the surface.

“T-t-t…Shoto.” I whimpered as he laid me down. I pulled at his suit when he went to go somewhere.

“I will be right back, I promise baby.” He assured before moved from my line of sight. I heard his footsteps run away. I whined, reaching down and touching my wound. I flinched before pulling my hand up to see there was quite a bit of blood on it. I felt my head spin. My hand felt very heavy and I let it drop.

“Shoto!” I screamed out in fear. I finally heard footsteps coming back my way.

“I’m here. I’m here.” He said running a hand over my forehead. I felt very cold but I could see the sweat from my forehead on his hand. He turned his attention to my wound. I felt something wet hit my skin and I jumped.

“What?”

“I have to clean the wound.” He clarified. I nodded and turned my head, biting my lip in pain. I felt myself going in and out of consciousness as he fixed up my wound as best as me could. “Y/N? Hey come back to me. Please. Wake up.”

“Shoto?” I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He looked half relieved when my eyes met his. He pushed hair back and held my face.

“I am sorry. So, so sorry.” He whispered. He laid his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes in small content before flinching when I felt a throb in my side. I felt him pull away. I opened my eyes as he moved to my good side. “I should have tried harder to stop you. You fell because of me.”

“Shoto, uh, sorry Todoroki. No it wasn’t. I was just being stubborn. I should have been more careful.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and I leant my head on his.

“Maybe but I over reacted. I know Amajiki would never try to take you away from me and I definitely know you wouldn’t do that either. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I just…The other day when you were spending time with Amajiki and Mirio, Kaminari made a comment about how you two are so close and how you two would be cute if you were together.”

“Todo…”

“And it hurt because I could actually see what he was saying. You too are very close and it would make sense if you two were together.” He said solemnly. I reached up and turned his face towards me.

“I think of Tama only as friend or even a brother. Nothing more.” I ran a thumb over his cheek. He nuzzled into my hand before kissing my palm. “If I wanted to be with anyone else, I wouldn’t dare string you along.”

“I know.” He whispered. I shifted and tensed. “Don’t move too much. I didn’t have much to treat your wound and we don’t need it to get worse. I can’t stand seeing hurt as it is.”

“I’m alright, Todo.” I said. “When morning comes we’ll get help.”

“Hm.” He hummed, nosing my hair. “Please call me by my name. I, I…I liked it when you called me Shoto.” He said lowly, almost embarrassed. I chuckled and cuddled into him slowly.

“Alright. As long as you call me by mine.” I felt him nod. I relaxed the best I could against him, falling into an uncomfortable sleep.

I woke up to gentle movement. I opened my eyes and saw Shoto. He was carrying me somewhere. I yawned and snuggled into his chest. He looked down at me and smiled. His hands tightened for a moment.

“Good morning, love.” He said softly.

“Where are you?” I asked trying to move up his chest. He helped and paused when I flinched.

“Almost to the end of our training area.” He said. “The sensei’s should be waiting on us and we can get you help. You started bleeding again slightly.” His voice was laced with concern. I nodded before nuzzling into his neck.

“Todoroki! L/N! There you are. How did things…What happened?!” I heard Mic Sensei yell. I heard multiple footsteps coming towards us.

“She fell into a chasm and was wounded badly. Bad enough I couldn’t move her until morning.” Shoto explained. I looked and saw Present Mic and Aizawa standing before us. Aizawa moved forward and move whatever was over my wound to look at it.

“You took care of it well for what little you had. Take he to Recovery Girl immediately.” He instructed. Shoto acknowledged. “You will be alright, L/N.”

“Thank you Aizawa sensei.” Shoto walked us away to the waiting transportation back to the school. He set me gently in the backseat of the car. He made sure I was comfortable before he went to close the door.

“L/N. Todoroki.” Shoto paused as we both looked at Aizawa. He walked up, hands in his pockets. “I would like to also tell you that you both passed this exercise.”

“But…” I motioned to myself and my wound.

“It was a survival exercise that you chose. You have to work with what you can find and what you have on your person. You have to run with whatever happens including in injuries. You two worked through you that hand you were dealt while also dealing with high emotions on top of it. You did very excellent. Now run along children, don’t need one of my students bleeding out on my watch. Looks bad on me. Now go.”

“Thank you Aizawa-sensei.” I called out chuckling. Shoto closed the door and ran around to the other side. Once he got in, he pulled me into his side to be more comfortable. “Or should I say Dadzawa.”

“Darling.” Shoto chided but was chuckling all the same. I smiled before bringing my knees up carefully, tucking them. Shoto grabbed at the bend of my knee to help and pull me close. “After we get you tended to…can we go get some Soba? I am rather hungry.”

“Shoto!” I laughed. “Of course but only as long as we can go and cuddle afterwards. I would really like to cuddle…in a warm, soft bed…not the cold, hard ground.”

“Of course my darling.” He kissed my head. “Anything you want.”

[yesimwriting]

The Problem With Light

a/n i literally did not mean to write this, i was working on requests and then my mind was like ‘remember that lowkey love triangle kaz brekker x reader x darkling thing you always say you're going to write’ so yeah,, here we are :)),, two longer fics are coming!! 

- 

Summary: Kaz changes his plans after meeting the Sun Summoner and Kirigan teeters on a line the reader isn’t sure she wants. 

-- 

Chapter One: The Conflicts of Prayer 

--

Narrator. 

--

Kaz knows a lot about patience. He knows how to bear the weight that the passage of time thrusts onto one's shoulder. He knows how to cultivate the seeds that he sews. If he wasn’t like this he’d stand no chance at one day avenging the ghost that refuses to leave him. 

But Jesper is almost an hour late. Kaz has been standing in a dimly hit branch of a relatively important hallway in the Little Palace. Jesper was supposed to come while in disguise to bring Kaz his new disguise and his newly repaired cane. Kaz’s hand flexes again, wishing he could feel the detailed head of one of his few comforts beneath the broken-in leather of his gloves. A bitter part of him claims that if Jesper isn’t injured once he arrives, he’ll be injured once Kaz gets his hand on his cane. 

He shifts his weight, the pain in his leg starting to take its toll. The slight relaxation disappears once he hears footsteps. Kaz turns, ignoring the ache the motion brings him. His entire body hardens, preparing for a fight. He doesn’t look like he belongs here yet and there’s nowhere to run. The person crossing his path will need to be taken care of--knocked out or something more permanent. 

The person only pauses to look at him when Kaz angles himself forward in a fighting stance. He watches the person, a girl, shifts back slightly, eyes wide and defensive. She’s a mess--hair disheveled, nose slightly bleeding, and dirty kefta. Her appearance isn’t why Kaz finds himself frozen, not because of the girl’s appearance but because she’s her. Y/n l/n. The Sun Summoner. 

“Sorry! I--” She almost winces, but then her eyebrows furrow together. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Kaz’s jaw locks. He could take her physically, but for all he knows she could raise her arms and blind him permanently with her light. “That’s okay,” she breathes, something in her looking a little relieved, “I’m not supposed to be here either.” Kaz watches her oddly, wondering if her trustingness is a trap in itself. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

It’s a joke. That much is clear by the gentle uptilt of her lips. It’s as if she doesn’t know she’s bleeding and looks like she just ran out of a fight. Her expression doesn’t harshen at his silence. Kaz finds himself disliking that. It’s not enough that she can summon the sun, she also has to seem like it.

He needs to say something. Jesper was supposed to be watching her and now he’s not here and she is. The plan is unraveling and if he talks she’ll stay here or reveal where she’s going to next. That’s the kind of thing he needs to salvage this. 

His lips part, but he’s not sure what to say. “You’re not supposed to be here?” 

She shakes her head once. “No--I’m supposed to be in personal training, but I kind of got my ass kicked in group training and my pride needs a break.” The admission leaves her sheepishly. “It’s probably for the best, becoming a Sun Summoner overnight has given me a bit of an ego.” She sighs, the sound strangely light. “Then again, I kind of need an ego for what’s wanted from me and if one bad fight is all it takes to kill it then it’s not strong enough, considering--” Kaz tenses as she cuts herself off. “Sorry, I’m rambling, we both have places to be.” Hope presses into him stiffly. She’s going to say it. “Where--where are you supposed to be?” She shifts back slightly. “Not that I have to know, but you’re not from here, and--” 

Kaz steps forward, pushing through the stiffness in his leg. Y/n’s gaze drops. Kaz’s discomfort worsens, someone like her doesn’t need to know his weaknesses. “Are you here for me to pray for you?” She scratches her arm, “I-I can, but I tell everyone I pray for I don’t consider myself a Saint.” 

The honesty of the comment twisted something in Kaz’s thoughts. “Yes,” he lies, partially distracted by the beginnings of a scheme. He can feel Inej’s future anger as he lies again, “I’m here for prayer.” 

“I spent so long rambling,” she says in a tone that implies apology. 

He nods once, wondering how someone could  be that apologetic and survive. The weight of such power must strangle someone like her. That could be a good thing. Someone like her must be spiraling with all this change and sudden strength. Maybe this could be simpler than an abduction plan, a few choice words and he could convince the girl to come with him. He could get her to believe there was something she needed to do in Ketterdam. If she went there willingly, things could be much more efficient. 

Inej won’t like this, and for this to work he’ll have to think of the right way to present the plan to her. He weighs his options and the details as y/n whispers words with her eyes closed and hands folded together. The words he can make out are kind. He expected that, but what he didn’t expect was the earnestness of them. 

She means each part of her prayers. Kaz regrets noticing that. 

“I can’t promise my prayers do anything,” she finishes, voice returning to its normal volume, “but I hope you get what you need.” 

What he wants is within his grasp now that he knows what to do. “I’m sure good things are near.” It’s the most honest he’s been since her arrival. 

Y/n nods once, “I should go before my reprieve costs me more than it's worth.” 

He watches her disappear down the hallway. Her movements are light, calm and unweighted. 

“Boss,” Jesper’s appearance is brash, “I’ve spent this entire time looking for her. She was in training like she was supposed to, took an awul blow, delivered an even meaner one, and then disappeared.”

Kaz tries to imagine the same hands that were just so neatly folded in prayer as fists. “You just missed her.” He doesn’t wait for Jesper’s reaction, he just takes his newly repaired cane back. “And we’re changing the plan.” 

--

Y/n.

--

I tried going to Baghra. I told someone who believed my prayers meant something that I was going back to training. But then I remembered her words from last time and the shame I felt when I could not create light. I haven’t summoned light once without Kirigan’s touch. 

I’m the Sun Summoner--I am the person that summons the sun by themselves. Kirigan and I aren’t the Sun Summoner together. I’m pathetic. And instead of trying to get better, I’m wandering the library because all anyone can talk about is the way Zoya punched me in the face. 

Baghra picked me apart when I looked shiny. I can’t imagine the kinds of comments she’d make if she saw me with a bloody nose and dead leaves in my hair. I’ll go tomorrow, once Genya fixes both my matted hair and cracked self esteem. 

For now, I have the one thing that’s always comforted me. My books. I wander the library, trying not to think of anything. Of Baghra, of Zoya, of the strange man in the hall. 

He seemed weighted by something. I always wish I could do more for those that ask for my prayer, but the longing is sharper now. I don’t know him, so it’s ridiculous to want to help him so badly, but my uselessness itches beneath my skin in a way I’m not used to. I don’t know why I feel more protective about this stranger than others. I’ve had people fall to my feet weeping, begging for me to save them. That hurt me, but the desire to help this one stranger burns in a way I’ve never felt before.  

“I don’t know why they don’t look for you here every time you disappear.” His voice is as soft and subtle as a shadow. “They’d save so much time.” 

I fight the urge to defensively grasp the first book I can reach. “You’re making it sound like I have a habit of vanishing in order to make a point.” My defense is weak. We both know that this isn’t the first time I ran away from something here. “Sometimes absence is just that.” 

“When you’ve waited for someone as long as I have, all absence is significant.” The words are not harsh but they should be. I don’t know how I could respond to that. 

He steps forward easily, as he always does. I keep myself still despite the way that warmth settles against my chest uncomfortably. I manage to hold onto my stillness even when he raises a hand, one gentle finger brushing above my top lip. I tense at his lingering touch. 

Kirigan turns his hand slowly, exposing the red on his fingertips. “How di--” 

“Training,” I interrupt quickly, “I promise I got a decent hit in as well.” 

When he nods, his expression is clearly weighted but I cannot interpret it. He almost always looks like that. I shouldn’t find anything about the man that stole me from everything I’ve ever known (even though he had good reason to do so) alluring, but I want to understand him. It’d feel like knowing a secret the rest of the world is desperate for. 

For a moment we just stand there, Kirigan closer than he’s ever been. Sometimes when he’s quiet I think he knows my secrets. All of mine. Even my curiosity about him. “I don’t doubt that.” 

At least he tries to be nice to me sometimes. It’s more than anyone else here can say. Except maybe Genya. “You don’t have to say that.” He knows it’s true. “Keep in mind you found me in the library, hiding from Baghra.” 

He hesitates. “No one likes training.”

“I think I’d find it tolerable if…” Can I say this to him? Admit the extent of my helplessness? He looks at me patiently, waiting for me to give something to him. “I’m the Sun Summoner--that’s supposed to be me. That’s supposed to be mine, and I can’t do it by myself.” 

The patheticness of my struggle hits me in full force. I drop my head as he weighs my words. “It’s in you,” he says it so surely I don’t think I could argue. 

I smile politely. “Thank you.” 

Kirigan reaches downwards, towards my wrist. He latches onto me so quickly I’m too surprised to back away. “Light,” he prompts like it really is that easy. 

I know I can do it with him, so I don’t see the point in showing it. “It doesn’t count if I get help.” 

“Y/n.” Sometimes I think his voice is softer when he speaks my name. 

I raise my hands, overlaying them, letting the hand that he touches make up the base of my cup. Reaching into myself, I search for the power beneath my skin. With him, that power seems to sit directly beneath the surface, desperate and greedy. I don’t call to it, instead I simply let it flow. The light bleeds from me, a sphere of blinding light bursts into my hands. It’s bright, burning, and desperate to escape my control. 

My mind clamps around the power tightly, restraining it without choking it out until the light in my hands is exactly as small as I want it to be. I hold it there, letting its warmth melt away all of the bad. I let it grow, the light illuminating a path I can barely see--a path in which I do not disappoint those that need to have faith in something and for some unknown reason decided to place it in me. I hold onto that feeling, and then I let the light disappear. 

I smile at my hands. The only good that’s come from this is the way the light makes me feel. “Y/n.” I look up at Kirigan, who’s showing me both of his palms. “That was you.” 

A feeling better than the light coils up my stomach and into my heart. I grin. I did it without him. I can do it without him. “That--how did you know that would work?” 

“I knew that you could do it, you just needed to see it.” 

Warmth fills me, light and easy. A little too light. I have to work at not reaching for him, not because I need to, but because I want to. “Thank you.” This time I mean it.

“Your gratitude is premature,” he warns, but nothing about it is harsh, “I’m here to send you back to training.” 

At least the thought of facing Baghra no longer devastates me. “There’s always a catch.” I smile, hoping he understands what he’s done for me. “But I think this time it may be worth it.” 

He almost smiles. “Tell me if you still feel that way after spending time with Baghra.” 

A fair warning. It’s more than I expect from him. “Will do.” 

Kirigan’s expression threatens to soften, but he turns away from me with a soft nod before I can try to decipher the look. I let him leave before disappearing down another hall, forcing myself to look for Baghra. I think of my interaction with both Kirigan and the stranger, at least Baghra won’t be the weirdest part of my day

[frostedfaves]

Holiday Spirit

Masterlist

Pairing: dom!Wanda Maximoff x sub!fem!reader

Summary: Wanda decides to make an ordinary day in December very special for you.

Warnings: smut 18+ ONLY (daddy kink sorry top followers, dirty talk, choking, spanking, oral, penetration, sex toy use)

A/N: there are like...two seconds of plot in this lmao. also I didn’t edit this because I just finished and wanted to post it before I got busy again. so if you see any mistakes, no you don’t

-

For the first Saturday in a very long time, you and Wanda were playing the role of a ‘normal couple’.

There were no missions for her to be whisked away on, and you were off work for the next few days. You were tucked away within the soundproof walls of your apartment under a blanket on the couch, far away from the nosy eyes and ears of Wanda’s superhero family. Lit candles scented the air with vanilla that blended with the aroma of the cookies Wanda baked earlier, and the gentle snowflakes that passed the windows behind the Christmas movie on the television only further set the scene.

“Can you pass me another cookie, baby?” Wanda chuckled when you held it to her lips without breaking away from the screen, taking it from you with the hand that wasn’t holding onto your hip. “Thank you.”

She kissed your head lightly before turning her own, not wanting to drop any stray crumbs into your hair. If there was one thing she loved, it was having the time to hold you against her for longer than a few minutes before she fell asleep, and she refused to let you go until she was forced to do so.

“Are we getting old or something?” you suddenly questioned, and if Wanda was still eating, she would’ve choked.

“What?!”

“We never watch anything this wholesome and sappy, so I just assumed this is our transition into wrinkles and knee pain.”

Your girlfriend covered her face with a laugh. “Baby, it’s the fourth day of December. Where is your holiday spirit?”

“Right here.” 

You turned your head briefly to show off a cheesy grin as you pulled her arm further around you. Despite the exaggerated theatrics of the film, you were enjoying the plot of it, and you’d come to enjoy it even more as the scene changed. The two main characters were suddenly stumbling into bed as clothes were ripped away, and you usually didn’t get riled up during sex scenes in a movie, but you definitely felt something this time.

You were suddenly aware of how long it’d been since you and Wanda had been tangled together in such an intimate way, and it was almost embarrassing how quickly your need for release began to build. Despite your best efforts to hide it, there was no going back once your hips wiggled back an inch or two to rub your ass against Wanda’s core.

Wanda could tell before you that the scene was affecting you from the moment your muscles tensed against her, and she was more than ready to play by the time your body pushed against hers. She was subtle at first, a hand slipped under your long sleeved shirt and innocently resting on your bare stomach, slowly transitioning to the more obvious approach of trailing kisses from the tip of your ear to your clavicle while you squirmed.

She slipped her right leg between yours with ease, tensing her thigh and brushing it back and forth against your clothed center in a way that had you thrusting in time with her movements within seconds. Your eyes fluttered closed and your hand slipped into her hair, little whimpers escaping you as her soft pecks turned into sucking the skin of your neck between her lips.

“You seem like you need something, baby.” 

Her deepened tone came directly behind your ear and you shivered, biting your lip as you continued to rub against her thigh. You were just about to speed up to chase your release when she stopped moving, pressing her hand into your stomach to keep you from moving as you faced her with a whine.

“Did you forget how to use your words, princess?”

“No, Wanda.” Her brow raised and your eyes widened as you corrected yourself. “No, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” She pulled her hand away from your stomach to pull the blanket away. “Go strip down and wait on the bed.”

You scrambled to your feet and down the hall as the sounds of the scene that started everything faded into the background. Articles of clothing hit the carpet as you moved at the speed of lightning to follow her order, sitting on the edge of the bed with your hands folded when you finished. You could hear her turning off the movie, blowing out candles and cleaning the rest of the mess, and her prolonging only made you more desperate for her touch.

Eventually her footsteps grew louder as she approached, and you tried to be good and still as she entered the room. Her casual smile grew wider at the sight of you waiting patiently, and you looked up at her sweetly as she stood in front of you, cradling your cheeks in her hands.

“You’re so good for me.”

Her voice passed her lips in a husky tone that had your thighs squeezing together, something that didn’t go unnoticed by her at all. Her smirk was pressed to your skin while she kissed along your jaw, leaning down to part your thighs to step between them.

“How do you want me to fuck you first? Mouth or fingers?” she questioned lowly, occasionally nipping at your skin between her words, and your own got caught in your throat. “If I have to ask again, you won’t get anything.”

“Mouth please, Daddy,” you finally choked out, bucking your hips forward when her wandering hands brushed past your clit.

“On your hands and knees.”

You turned over and positioned yourself as she instructed, biting back a moan when she slapped your ass before gripping onto both cheeks firmly. A dark chuckle escaped her as she lowered herself to your soaked core, watching the muscles clench around nothing as you waited to be touched. You were just about to beg when she dove in without warning.

You shuddered and moaned when she licked a long stripe from your clit to your hole, crying out when she dipped her tongue in for a moment before bringing her attention back to your clit. Her lips surrounded it as she licked and sucked, quickly bringing you to the edge while you moaned and begged her not to stop.

She held your shaking form up by your waist as she lapped up your juices with her tongue, swallowing briefly before pushing her tongue back into your hole as her thumb began circling around your clit. You gripped the sheets as she began to tongue fuck you, the combination of the two motions making you cum even faster than the last time.

“Fuck,” you cried out when you were able to breathe properly again, yelping when her hand smacked your other ass cheek.

“Such a dirty mouth, princess,” she teased you as her hand landed on your stinging skin again and you whimpered. “Scoot up toward the middle.”

You moved forward on the bed, knowing she was up to something when you heard her digging into her overnight bag. She climbed onto the bed behind you a minute later, and the fabric of her sweatpants brushed against your naked calves. Before you could get a word out, a ribbed length was slowly pushed into you, and you were a shuddering mess all over again.

Wanda thrusted into you slowly, her hands sliding from your hips to your arms and pulling them until your bare back was pressed against her sweater, and you moaned at the feeling of being so exposed while she’d only taken off her rings. She let go of your arms to wrap one of hers around you, her free hand closing around your throat as she began pounding into you.

Your moans echoed around the room as you gave into the absolute railing she gave you, holding onto her arm for stability and sanity as her strap rubbed against your walls at an unforgiving pace. Sounds of pleasure caught in your throat and your eyes rolled back as her fingers squeezed, affecting your airflow just enough to drive you crazy. As if she hadn’t done that enough already.

“You gonna cum for Daddy?” she inquired as she pulled you a bit closer, and you nodded while struggling to function with the building pressure in your core. “Be a good girl and let go.”

Your orgasm hit you as suddenly as if she pressed a button to make it happen, strangled noises resembling sobs escaping you as she continued to thrust into your sensitive hole as your legs seemed to transform into jelly.

“I know you can cum again, princess. You’re taking it so well, keep going.”

You whimpered out your best attempt at a response, squeezing her arm to let her know your brain was still somewhat working as she brought you to another peak. She slowed down this time, shifting the hand around your throat to run her fingers around your nipple. You gasped and moaned as she kissed your neck while you came down, muscles relaxing as she moved her arm and allowed you to fall onto the mattress.

The toy dripped onto your legs and the sheets as she leaned over, grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer. She wrapped one hand around your ankle, guiding your leg up as she rested it on her shoulder, and a devilish grin appeared on her lips as she pushed into you again. You were free to moan as loudly as you wanted this time, and you took full advantage of it as she worked her way back up to forcefully drilling the ribbed length into you again, a few curse words mixing in with the nearly pornographic sounds.

“You’re using that pretty mouth all wrong, princess.”

She slid her middle and ring fingers into your mouth before you could respond, and you happily closed your lips around the digits as your tongue rubbed against her skin.

“There you go, sweet girl.”

You sucked harder as she kept pounding into you, nearly biting down as you reached your fifth climax and opening your lips to whine a bit when she continued.

“I’m gonna make you cum again because I know I can. Isn’t that right, princess?” You closed your eyes and she shook her head, pulling her wet fingers away and moving to rub them across your clit instead. “What did I say about using your fucking words?”

“Yes, Daddy!” you managed to cry out between loud moans, a few more calls of her name blending into incoherent sounds as stars filled your vision and welcomed you to a new high.

Wanda slows her pace as she works you through your orgasm, coaxing you gently to breathe as you shake in her hold and rubbing soft circles into your thigh as she lowers your leg from her shoulder. A cross between a groan and a sigh leaves your lips as the toy drags against your walls and pulls away, and you watch as Wanda’s blurry form unbuckles it from her waist and tosses it aside.

“Still in there, baby?” She chuckles as you nod tiredly. “Okay, stay here and I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into the bathroom and the sound of running water followed her exit, continuing as she came back to help you into the bathroom. You watched as she gently washed you once you were in the tub, a sleepy smile shaping your lips as you met her gaze.

“Can we have peppermint cocoa after this?”

“Thought you weren’t in the holiday mood?” she teased, and you let your eyes fully close as you laughed.

“The movie wasn’t so bad after all.”

-

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @creepingwolfberry 

[trenchcoatimpala]

Hey guys! It’s been a hot second since I wrote something, so I’m here with a little ficlet. I am still writing something bigger (4k words currently and still going) so that is coming. But in the meantime, enjoy this little one-shot filled with established relationship Destiel and Dean in a hospital. 

wc: 1.2k

Also on archive

Dean found himself drifting off to the sweet litany of beeping monitors. The sound was like a lullaby in his head, the slow beep beep beep beep nothing more than a whisper, telling him to sleep. It rocked him on gentle waves and coaxed him closer to unconsciousness, although, a Dean that wasn’t pumped full of pain medication would understand that the beeping had nothing to do with his drooping eyelids and everything to do with said pain medication. 

Sleep was welcome to his aching body. He knew it was bad, it had to be if he was in the hospital and not some rundown motel, but his mind was foggy enough not to worry about just how bad. 

He came and went from consciousness, only waking when a nurse came to check on him or the drugs wore off and the pain started to creep in. His head hurt like a motherfucker and there was a throbbing ache in his leg and ribs that caused his breath to stutter every time he inhaled. 

“How are we doing?” a nurse asked, she was blond, petite, and was exactly Dean’s type, but unfortunately, being bedridden and out of it meant that he couldn’t exactly turn the charm on easily. Not to mention, he was already taken, he had no reason to flirt.

“‘M’kay,” Dean slurred in response.

The nurse checked his eyes, changed his bandages, and the whole time Dean let his attention fall in and out of focus. The nurse was wearing some kind of flowery perfume that made Dean want to sneeze, but somehow he managed to keep his bodily fluids to himself. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll have you out of here in no time,” the nurse said as she gave him a pat on the cheek, checked over the monitors one more time, and then left the room. 

“Who’s worried,” Dean mumbled to her retreating back as he let himself flop back against the pillows, smiling as the morphine she’d given him reached his system. 

The next time someone came into his room, he was pleased to see that it was Sam, with Cas in tow. 

“Hey Dean,” Sam said as he sat down in the chair by his bed. 

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean replied with a smile.

“How’re you feeling?” Sam asked. 

Dean shifted his gaze to Cas and couldn’t help but let his smile grow. “Peachy.” 

“Do you remember what happened?” Cas asked as he sat down in the chair on the other side of Dean’s bed. 

“‘S a little fuzzy,” Dean admitted, still only having eyes for Cas. 

“That ghoul threw you good,” Sam said. 

“Straight through the window,” Cas chimed in. “You hit your head pretty bad on the concrete.” 

“But not before the ghoul kicked out your leg,” Sam added. 

Dean groaned. “No wonder I feel like I was just run over by a stampede.” 

“We’re working on your discharge papers,” Sam said as he clapped a hand down on Dean’s shoulder, Dean winced at the impact. “Sorry.” 

Dean waved him off with a grunt. “When do you think I’ll be out of here?” 

“They’ll probably want to keep you overnight to monitor you,” Cas replied. 

“Awesome,” Dean mumbled. 

“I’ll go see if I can negotiate a change to that plan,” Sam said as he stood up. 

Once Sam was gone, Dean grinned lazily at Cas. “Hi.” 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replied warmly. 

Dean reached up a hand and gently ran his fingers over Cas’s face. Stubble scratched at the pads of his fingers but Dean liked the pull of it. He took in the bags under Cas’s eyes and the scab forming on his left cheek, but in searching Cas’s blue gaze he found concern there.

“You look worried.”

Cas huffed a broken laugh. “Of course I’m worried, you’re hurt.” 

“‘S nothin’, ‘ve had worse.” 

“You haven’t had a concussion to this severity before, I know that much,” Cas said as he reached out and took Dean’s hand in his own. 

Dean liked the feeling of Cas’s warm palm fitted into his, and he said as much, leaving Cas to laugh in amusement. Dean felt a dopy grin spread across his face and he let himself get lost in those blue eyes again. 

“I love you,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself. 

Cas squeezed his hand. “I love you too.” 

Dean drew his lips into a pout. “What, no kiss?” 

Cas rolled his eyes. “I’m not kissing you while you’re this drugged up.” 

Dean’s pout grew. “Why not?” 

“Because it would be inappropriate,” Cas replied. Dean crossed his arms like a petulant child, of course that proved difficult due to his broken ribs, but he tried anyway. “Don’t hurt yourself,” Cas warned. 

“It’s not like I’m not aware of my actions,” Dean argued. 

Cas sighed. “Dean, we’re in a hospital, I’d much rather kiss you once we’re back in our bed, preferably after you’ve brushed your teeth and taken a shower.”

Dean uncrossed his arms and nodded slowly. “Okay, that’s fair.” 

Cas did kiss the back of Dean’s hand to make up for it and Dean let his fingers thread with Cas’s. 

“I wish I could heal you,” Cas said softly. “I hate that I can’t.” 

Dean squeezed Cas’s hand and put on his best reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Besides, if you healed me I wouldn’t get you doting on me like this.” 

Cas frowned but there was a small twinkle in his eyes. “Still, I hate seeing you in pain.” 

“‘M not in pain.” 

“You might change that sentiment once the drugs wear off.” 

Dean didn’t have enough energy to respond so he let his eyes close and when Sam returned to the room, he found them like that, Dean dozing off and Cas sitting resolutely by his side. 

“Dean’ll be good to go in a few hours,” Sam announced as he plopped into his previously vacated chair, tearing Dean from his almost-slumber.

“Super,” Dean yawned as he cracked open an eye to look at his brother. 

Dean spent the rest of his hospital stay eating pudding and watching crap TV and when he was finally wheeled out of the building and helped into the backseat of Baby, he let out a sigh of relief. 

“I hate hospitals,” Dean grumbled as he leaned into Cas’s shoulder. 

“I know,” Cas replied as he ran a hand through Dean’s hair. 

The car ride was silent after that, and when they got back to the bunker Dean was practically carried down the stairs and into his room. Cas helped Dean clean up and then he collapsed onto their bed and Cas joined him. 

“You owe me a kiss,” Dean said as he looked over at his husband. 

Cas smiled and scooched closer to Dean, placing a hand on his cheek and drawing him in. Their lips met in a soft kiss, but Dean deepened it the first chance he got and Cas grinned into his mouth. 

When they pulled apart, Dean felt like he was floating. “That was worth the wait,” he said. 

“I’m glad,” Cas replied as their hands tangled together under the sheets. “Now try to get some rest.” 

“Okay, Mom,” Dean grumbled. 

“I certainly hope you don’t see me as an equivalent to your mother,” Cas said, slightly affronted, but teasing. 

Dean shoved gently at him, which caused his ribs to twinge painfully, but he ignored it. “No way in Hell.” 

“Good.” 

“Love you,” Dean said over a yawn as he squeezed Cas’s hand. 

“Love you, too.” 

Dean fell asleep with a smile on his face, despite the throbbing pain of his injured limbs. Cas was the only medicine he needed. 

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[artificialdaydreamer]

How to Say "I Love You"

Emotions are hard to understand, conveying how one feels to the person they love is even harder.

-

Jon had never been good at expressing his emotions. Growing up he mostly absorbed their descriptions from books, how a character was excited for something to happen, how another was jealous of someone else. The feeling he found hardest to comprehend was love. How was it possible to be so completely devoted to another person that it shifted the way you felt about everything? He loved his parents, even now that they were gone. He loved his grandmother, but he got the feeling that the type of love written about in books was different from the emotions he was actually experiencing.

When he started dating Georgie, something he’d entirely misinterpreted when it had first happened, Jon wasn’t sure what the emotions he felt were. Was the yearning to be close to her love? The happiness to have someone he could talk with about inconsequential things? Then again, if what he felt wasn’t love, then what was? Eventually Georgie came to him, told him that while she liked Jon as a friend she didn’t think their relationship was working out. They’d broken up without much fanfare and going from dating to friends didn’t really change how they interacted with each other.

As he watched Martin sleep, his coppery curls catching the light of the rising sun, his face close enough to Jon’s that it was possible to count every freckle, Jon thought he might finally have an answer. He loved Martin, that was the only explanation for why his heart clenched whenever Martin smiled, why his cheeks flushed and his palms started to sweat from the smallest things. This was what people talked about in those books, what they yearned for with such intensity, wasn’t it?

When had he started feeling like this? When had Jon’s feelings for Martin turned to love? Was it when he’d gone into the Lonely? When Martin had started working for Peter Lukas and Jon was no longer able to see him? Earlier? How long had he loved Martin and just not realized it?

Jon lay there, thinking back to their interactions over the years. Next to him Martin started to stir, blue eyes blinking open slowly. “Morning.” Martin said with a smile.

“Good morning.” Jon tried to keep his voice from shaking as his heart pounded in time with his thoughts. I love you, I love you, I love you.

From then on it was hard to not feel overwhelmed by the love, like a wave crashing over him. Jon would be in the middle of a sentence before getting distracted by Martin, how beautiful he was, his laugh. I love you, I love you, I love you. How did people deal with these emotions?

He started to use actions instead of the words he could not say. Making sure they had enough of Martin’s favorite tea in the safehouse. I love you, I love you, I love you. Offering to cook breakfast so Martin could stay in bed a bit longer. I love you, I love you, I love you. Letting his fingers linger a bit longer than was necessary whenever they touched. I love you, I love you, I love you.

They’d decided to take a walk into town, grab some groceries, and stretch their legs, passing the field full of cows Martin stopped and cooed over them. He’d gotten out his phone to take pictures and the moment was so... normal compared to everything they’d been through that Jon started chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” Martin had asked, tearing his eyes from the cows to look at Jon in confusion.

“Nothing,” Jon took a breath, trying to burn this moment into his memory. “I just love you so much.”

There was a moment of silence where Martin just stared at him, his freckled face looking even redder thanks to the glow of the setting sun. “Wait... What?”

For a heartbeat Jon wondered if he’d said the wrong thing, although he hadn’t even meant to say it at all. He couldn’t help but question if Martin’s confession of “I really loved you” meant that those feelings were gone. Had he been the only one who worried about just what the emotions flooding through his veins meant? Was he just imagining that Martin felt the same way?

“I- I’m sorry... I didn’t mean-” Jon was floundering now, scrambling for something to say to make the situation right again. “If you don’t- I’m sorry.”

“You... Do you mean that?” Martin’s cheeks were practically scarlet, his phone now dangling precariously in one hand.

“I... Yes?” Despite the fact Jon had already come to terms with his feelings, had already said the words aloud, it felt like an entirely different thing to answer when his thoughts were in such turmoil. He didn’t know how to respond in a way that wouldn’t sound selfish, asking for affection he knew in his heart he didn’t deserve. Even if Martin did still like him there wasn’t anything that Jon could do to atone for the thing’s he had said, the things he had done, the person he’d been to have treated Martin so terribly. It was ironic, that at the time he’d swatted away such affection yet now he craved it as though he were an addict suffering from withdrawal. As though he’d been living underground and now that he’d seen sunlight he couldn’t get enough.

The expression on Martin’s face was hard to understand. Was it sadness? Pity? The books Jon had read as a child had talked about brows furrowing, lips being bitten, eyes not being met, but those individual descriptions could apply to so many emotions and Jon didn’t know what it was Martin might be feeling. It was all Jon could do to not scrunch his eyes up as Martin took a tentative step closer, then another, bridging the gap between them and effectively forcing all the air from Jon’s lungs. Then he’d swept Jon up in his arms, Jon’s face nestling into the crook of his neck. It was so warm and comfortable... It felt like Jon belonged there.

“S-sorry...” Martin gasped as they broke apart, his face still red as he seemed to examine Jon for some sort of reaction. “I should have asked first, but I- Are you okay?”

In all honesty Jon was not okay. His brain was attempting to sort out just what he was feeling, synapses firing and crossing out things like anger and disgust with only his limited knowledge of emotions to go off of. Again, the words and feeling threatened to overwhelm him with the constant pounding of I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Jon?” Martin waved a hand in front of his face and it was a real effort for Jon to pull himself out of his thoughts enough to meet Martin’s gaze. “Did I do something wrong?”

“N-no... I just... I wasn’t expecting- I didn’t know if-”

“Wait... Jon, did you not think I felt the same?” Martin’s eyes were wide, reflecting the setting sun.

“I, I’m not sure.” He’d spent so much time absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t actually thought of what might happen if he confessed. He hadn’t even thought about confessing. Jon realized that he’d somehow become content with just loving Martin and not telling him. He’d convinced himself that Martin was better off without him, and that there wasn’t a point in confessing.

“Jon, I’ve loved you for the past two years.” Martin’s voice was soft, his cheeks still flushed as he stared at Jon.

“What?” Jon squawked, taking a step back in surprise. Martin reached out and grabbed Jon’s hand in his own, it was so warm, so comforting.

“Well, not exactly two years...” Martin ran his free hand through his coppery curls. “Since the thing with Prentiss, when you let me stay in the Archives...”

Jon remembered those long nights they’d spent together after Martin had started living in the document storage room. At first Jon had found Martin’s presence kind of annoying, it was impossible to get some time by himself. Then he’d realized what was going on, although he couldn’t explain just how he’d known.

Martin didn’t want to be alone.

While he’d admitted during his statement that boredom had been the thing that had been the hardest to deal with, Jon suspected loneliness had also plagued him. Cut off from everyone, no internet, no phone, and it wasn’t like he could talk to Jane Prentiss. It certainly explained why Martin felt the need to check on Jon every half hour.

Once he’d realized why Martin was acting like a concerned parent he made an effort to take more breaks so they could talk. At first it had been hard to find topics for discussion, as Jon was as good with small talk as he was with emotions, but bringing up the Admiral had certainly broken the ice. After that Jon found it easier to connect with Martin, it was still somewhat awkward, but he certainly made an effort. Jon had also ended up staying in the Archives overnight a handful of times as well, partially because he had work to do and partially to keep Martin company.

It had been those nights where they’d started to connect, going out to eat so they could both eat a decent meal, talking about random things to pass the time while they struggled to fall asleep. Jon had started to get a sense of who Martin was, underneath the jumpers and tea. He was earnest and always tried his best to do whatever task Jon set for him, no matter how absurd it was. He also had a mischievous side to him and had no problem joining Tim in his pranks, although Martin was much better at keeping the pranks a secret.

It felt strange, getting to know a person through whispered conversations, over tea breaks, or at a cafe. Jon was never good with friendships, never good at telling what people wanted from him, so he’d ended up pushing everyone away. After his encounter with Mr. Spider he only became more withdrawn, survivor’s guilt eating him up inside. Martin wasn’t like the others though. Despite the fact that Jon was horrible at communicating, horrible at deciphering what emotions anyone might be feeling at any given time, Martin didn’t seem to care. He seemed to be genuinely happy to spend time with Jon, which was just as foreign a concept.

Now, despite everything that had happened in the past few years, Martin had stayed with him. An anchor in the churning waves that threatened to wash him away from everything he knew and cared about. Jon loved him for that. “I think that’s when I started to fall for you too. I didn’t- I didn’t realize at the time...”

“Oh, I definitely didn’t realize either.” Martin’s cheeks were slightly less flushed than they had been. “I think I realized it when- this is going to sound crazy...”

“You realized it when, Martin?” Jon couldn’t help but ask, smiling at the flustered look on Martin’s face.

“It... It was when I told you about lying on my CV.” Martin sighed, not daring to meet Jon’s gaze. “You, you were so mad at first but after I told you... You just started laughing and I remember looking at you and thinking ‘really? This is the man I fell in love with?’ Thankfully Tim... Tim was too distracted by everything else going on to pay attention to my hopeless crush.”

“Not so hopeless.” Jon squeezed Martin’s hand. “I knew how much I cared about you when I woke up in the hospital after my coma. Georgie was there, and I remember being sad because it was you I wanted to see.” It felt strange to say the words aloud, as though he was only understanding what had happened. He’d been thinking about it so much over the past few weeks, since he’d realized that he loved Martin, but it took saying the words aloud for him to notice. “It was funny, the months that followed, I thought it was a fitting punishment for how I’d treated you. Wanting to be close to someone and yet unable to do so. I knew I loved you a few days after we arrived here.”

“Is that why you were acting so weird?”

“Look, I... I’m not the best with emotions. I don’t get them, I don’t understand how I feel half the time. With other people it’s even harder, trying to piece together how they’re feeling based on their expression or the tone of their voice...” Since he was still holding Martin’s hand Jon couldn’t cross his arms defensively over his chest, so he settled for putting his free hand in his pocket. “This is the first time I’ve ever... I’ve ever felt something so intensely. I didn’t know what to do, how to act, now that I knew I loved you.”

“I get it, emotions are hard. Can I help?” Martin asked, his lips quirked in a small smile.

“Sure? I guess so?”

“How did you feel when I told you that I loved you?”

Jon had to think about it, he’d been so overwhelmed by the tidal wave of emotions that he wasn’t sure what any of them had been. “I was... I think I was happy.”

“You think?”

“I was happy, alright?” Jon huffed. “I was also shocked, and confused... Mostly I was happy, because I loved you so much.”

“Alright, that’s good to know.” Martin took a step closer, still smiling. “How would you feel if I kissed you?”

The answer came easier this time. “Happy. I’d feel happy.”

“May I kiss you?”

“Absolutely.” Jon didn’t know what to expect from Martin kissing him. He’d kissed Georgie and while it hadn’t been unpleasant he hadn’t gotten anything from the experience. This time however, Jon could taste the remnants of whatever chapstick Martin had used, strawberry maybe? He felt how warm Martin’s lips were, despite the cold day, their heat bleeding into him. He wrapped his arms around Martin and pulled them closer, trying to memorize everything as it happened. Martin’s scent, the wool of his jumper, how fast both their hearts were beating. In his head Jon was panicking. He didn’t know what to do, or if what he was doing was the right thing to do. He attempted to understand what the emotions he felt were: happiness... amazement... and love. So much love. Was love even an emotion? He didn’t know, but it certainly overwhelmed his senses.

When they broke apart Martin was smiling and, more surprisingly, Jon was smiling back. “Let’s take it one day at a time, alright? We can work out what you might be feeling together.”

“I- I’d like that.”

I love you, I love you, I love you.

The words still rattled around in his mind, but for once they didn’t worry him. Jon might not understand love, or emotions, or why the characters in his books had behaved a certain way, but it didn’t matter. Martin loved him back, and that was more than enough for him.

-

I've been sitting on this fic for a year due to some personal issues, on a related note this is not betaed, I apologize for any mistakes there might be

[flightlessangelwings]

Work of Art ~ Chapter 1/2

Marcus Pike x tattooed!fem!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: fluff, pining, an asshole boss, Marcus being the bestest, reader dealing with misogynistic comments, kissing, insinuated spicy times

Notes: This idea was brought to me by @the-purity-pen​ and I got so carried away that I broke it into 2 parts lol. Thanks so much Leeann! And thank you to @we-can-be-himbos​ for beta reading! I loved writing this so much and I’m so excited to share this with y’all so I hope you like it! Moodboard made by me

~

This was not the ideal situation to walk into when you came in for work this morning. Your job as a receptionist and concierge at The Lustrio, an upscale and expensive hotel, had been fairly tame and quiet for the past five years you had been there. This was the first time there was an incident, and of course you were the one to run headfirst into it.

The Lustrio was very fancy with a rich, high-class clientele. The rooms were lavish and went for hundreds of dollars a night. Even the lobby was a sight in itself, and sometimes people walked through just to look at the exquisite art and ceramics on display. The architecture and design of the space was a work of art in and of itself. You and your coworkers were used to the usual flow of traffic throughout the day paired with people checking in and out. 

While walking in to start your shift, you noticed broken glass everywhere, a priceless piece of art was gone, and the overnight security guard was unconscious on the floor. The sun hadn’t even risen yet and you immediately rushed to the bodyguard’s side as you dialed the emergency line. In no time, the lobby was filled with police, paramedics, and FBI agents. You felt like your world was turned upside down, even if it wasn’t your personal property that was stolen.

Luckily, the security guard was just knocked out, and you had gotten there just in time for him to be alright. As you watched them wheel him away, your boss, Rodderick White, approached you with his usual scowl on his face.

“Well this is just fantastic,” was the first thing he said to you during this whole debacle, “Fix your jacket too, you look disheveled.” You didn’t expect him to ask if you were alright or anything; he seemed to have a grudge against you for some time and you were used to his comments. If you weren’t so overwhelmed, you would have commented on the fact that he didn’t even seem bothered by the theft in the first place but you were too flustered to fully notice.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking Rod,” you snipped back. But you decided not to push your luck with him today and adjusted the collar of your shirt and lined your jacket to look more presentable. The uniform wasn’t horrible: a black blazer over a white button down shirt and black vest with your choice of black dress pants or skirt with black stockings. It just got warm at times with being covered up completely, and the tightness of the shirt collar sometimes felt suffocating.

“Rodderick,” he grumbled back before he cleared his throat and put his mask of friendliness on, “The FBI wants to talk to you.”

You sighed. You knew they would want to interview you since you were the first in that morning, but you weren't looking forward to it. “Yes sir, Mr. White,” you used your fake customer service voice as you followed where the various agents gestured for you to go.

The FBI unit had set themselves up in both the larger and smaller conference rooms that were just a short walk down the hallway from the lobby. In the large one, they had laptops and equipment set up. You noticed several agents were already busy trying to get a lead on the case. The smaller room that you were led in to was set up for interviews. Once you reached the doorway, you were met with a single agent who you assumed would conduct your interview.

“Nice to meet you,” he greeted you with a warm smile and an extended hand, “I’m Marcus Pike, the agent in charge here,” you took his hand and gave him your name, “I”m sorry this happened here. I hope you’re alright. Can I get you some water or anything?”

It was nice to know that a complete stranger showed you more kindness and concern than your boss who you had known for years. You brushed off the frustration you had with your boss, along with the lingering feeling of the warmth from the agent’s soft hand in yours. He was handsome for sure, and had big soft brown eyes and a smile that lit up the room. A sprinkle of scruff lined his jaw and framed his face perfectly.

“I’m fine, thank you,” your voice was genuine when you spoke to the agent and you followed him into the room where you sat down at the conference table.

Agent Pike closed the door behind him and the two of you were alone in the room. 

Suddenly, you felt nervous, even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. He must have noticed the nerves on your face right away before he gave you another sweet smile and said your name in a calm voice, “You’re not in trouble or anything. We just need your account of what you saw.”

Just those few words from him instantly made you feel better. Normally, you wouldn’t fall for someone’s charm like this, but something about this agent just seemed so genuine. Genuine and kind were two qualities that were hard to find in a person. 

You felt yourself heat up as you gave him a nervous chuckle, “Since it’s just us in here, would you mind if I took my jacket off? I’m a little warm,” you tried to play off your jitters. When he nodded you added, “Just don’t tell my boss. We’re not supposed to be out of uniform at all when we’re here.”

Marcus laughed and looked down at the table, “Your secret is safe with me.” He looked back up when he heard your laughter, and this time it was his turn to be nervous.

With your jacket off, you were left in your short sleeve white button down shirt and vest, and you undid the top couple buttons to give yourself more room to breathe. But it wasn’t just the exposed skin that caught Marcus’ attention. He saw for the first time that you were almost completely covered in tattoos, and he couldn’t help but stare.

Marcus was absolutely a fan of art; it was what drew him to work for the art theft department in the first place. He also liked to dabble in art himself in his free time. To see how much artwork you had on your body made him stare at you in admiration. Marcus had thought that the lobby was nice to look at, but you were a work of art on a whole other level.

“Sorry,” he focused his attention to the papers in front of him to tear his gaze away, “I like your tattoos,” he added in a softer tone.

You smiled at him and Marcus thought his heart would break out of his chest. “Thank you, Agent Pike,” again, your voice was genuine. Truthfully, you thought his reaction was cute. You were used to worse anyway, and you could always tell when people stared out of interest or admiration versus disgust. Agent Pike definitely liked what he saw; you could tell already that he was not a subtle man at all.

“Marcus, please,” he met your eyes again and you both shared a moment where time seemed to stop for both of you.

“Marcus,” you repeated in a whisper and he echoed with your name.

Marcus had to bring himself back to the task at hand.  He redirected the situation back to what he originally was supposed to be talking to you about. He asked you a series of questions about your morning, what you saw, the time you arrived, if you noticed anything in the past few days, etc. You answered all of his questions honestly, and your story lined up with events perfectly. Not that Marcus was concerned it wouldn’t. 

“We have an idea of who it might be,” Marcus told you as he slid you a sheet of paper with the suspect’s photo on it, “Does he look familiar?”

You took the photo and furrowed your brows as you studied it, “Yeah,” your voice dropped, “He checked in a couple days ago. I remember I was the one who checked him in. He had a weird energy about him that gave me the creeps, but he didn’t try anything. Haven’t seen him since.”

Marcus clenched his fists involuntarily and suddenly felt the need to protect you. He wasn’t sure why; the two of you were practically strangers. Yet, even in your first meeting, he felt like there was something there. Even with his past history of failed relationships, there was something about you that just called to Marcus. Something about you told him that you were worth taking a chance on.

“Well we’re following up on him. My team is the best so we should have him soon,” Marcus turned serious as he fixed his gaze on you again. He waited for your eyes to meet his before he added in a more concerned tone, “Just stay safe until then.”

Something about his tone made your heart skip a beat and you felt your chest tighten. You could tell from the look on his face that he meant it, and his worry for you was genuine. Normally, you wouldn’t be flirtatious with a stranger, let alone an FBI agent, but you responded in a sultry tone, “I’ll be safer when you catch the guy.”

Marcus’ breath caught in his throat as he clenched his fists again; he definitely did not expect that tone from you. All he did was nod as he composed himself and slid his card across the table, “My number is on the back. If you think of anything else or need anything,” he paused as the tension in the room suddenly felt thick, “Call me.”

*

It took Marcus Pike and his team less than a week to catch the art thief, and when they did, his first thought was of you. He was pleasantly surprised that you had actually texted him the day after he interviewed you and he used the opportunity to make sure again that you were ok. He wanted to ask about your boss too, since he saw the older man berate you for seemingly nothing before Marcus and his team left. But, he decided not to push that envelope yet.

“Welcome back, Agent Pike,” your voice greeted him when he walked into the lobby. 

Marcus was thankful you were at work when he came by and he greeted you with a smile and your name, “Nice to see you again,” he looked around, “Looks like you all got everything cleaned up well.” A look around told him that Rodderick was either busy in his office or off for the day, and for that Marcus was grateful. He wanted to talk to you anyway.

You whispered something to your coworker beside you and stepped around the desk to be closer to Marcus, “Like nothing ever happened,” you tried to make a joke but your eyes told a different story.

He read the question in your eyes clearly and it gave him the biggest pleasure to tell you, “We got him.”

Your face lit up and the relief on your face was clear, “I’m glad to hear it,” you let out a heavy breath, “I can’t offer you a free night or anything… At least not without Rodderick’s approval,” you said your boss’s name with snark and disdain and Marcus couldn’t help but let out a short laugh.

“I’m ok,” he replied lightheartedly before he paused and stared at you for a moment, “Can I ask you out to dinner instead?”

For a moment, you thought you had passed out. He couldn’t have actually asked you out, could he? But when you finally caught up to yourself, you responded with a soft but enthusiastic, “Yes.”

*

You took a deep breath as you stepped out of your Uber in front of the restaurant. It was a nicer place than you usually went to, but Marcus picked the place and insisted on treating you. You picked out a nice outfit for the occasion, and made sure that it was sleeveless to show you tattoos since you remembered that he really liked them. A smile lit up your face as you thought about the look on his face when you shed your jacket the day you two met.

But Marcus’ voice shook you from your throughs, and you looked up to see him dressed nicely in front of you. In his hand, he had a single flower for you, and you wanted to tear up at the gesture. It was something small, but you could tell how meaningful it was. With a thanks, you took the flower and hooked your arm around his as he led you inside.

At dinner, conversation flowed so easily. Marcus told you all about his career and his interests, and you did the same. You even made the joke that this was much better than an interrogation, which made him laugh. Everything seemed perfect, and both you and Marcus felt happy and comfortable with each other.

“So I have to ask,” Marcus started, “Are there any stories about your tattoos?” when your face flashed a look of apprehension, he clarified, “I’m not criticizing at all. Actually, I think they’re exquisite. Really a work of art.”

You bit your lip as you grinned. No one had ever complimented your tattoos quite like that before, so you indulged his question. You told the story behind some of them, and picked out your personal favorites, “I wanted to be a tattoo artist at one point, but it just wasn’t in the cards for me,” you sighed, “Maybe in another life.”

“Maybe in that life I’ll run the flower shop across the street and admire you from there,” he quipped back and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea.

But, stares from a man at another table caught Marcus’ attention. Your back was to him, so you couldn’t see, but Marcus did not like the way the man eyed you. A soft frown came across his face as he met the man’s gaze before he turned away. Marcus couldn’t help but think how rude it was for the man to blatantly check you out while you were obviously on a date with him. Of course, he knew you were beautiful and attractive, but he didn’t like the way the man stared at you.

“Marcus?” you asked when you noticed his expression dropped, “You ok?”

Your voice brought his attention back to you, “Yeah,” he answered with a half smile, “Fine.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth again, a voice interrupted, “Hey,” a deep rumble called your attention and it was the man who stared at you. He hovered close to you as he stared disapprovingly, “Don’t you have enough tattoos for a woman? Disgusting.” 

Before you could even react, Marcus jumped to his feet to face him head on, “Don’t you have anything better to do? What she does with her own body is none of your business,” the anger in his voice caught you off guard, “And she is beautiful the way she is,” he added in a lower voice as he grabbed onto the man’s collar, “She’s a damn work of art.” 

It was the last thing you expected, but you appreciated how fast Marcus was to defend you. But, you noticed the man’s anger also flared so you got to your feet too, “Hey, Marcus it’s ok,” you put your arms out between the two men to try to break them up.

Marcus glanced over at you for a moment before he decided to let the man go. He knew from the look on your face that you didn’t want to cause a scene. Asmuch as he wanted to just punch the guy, he decided to let it go. The man scrambled away the second he could, and Marcus let out a heavy exhale to calm himself down as you looked at him with wide, pleading eyes.

The way he immediately defended you lit something up inside you, and you wanted to cry from the rush of emotions. If you weren’t in such a nice restaurant, you would have tackled him in the biggest hug, but you kept your cool for now, “Thank you, Marcus,” you spoke in a hushed tone. Your hand dropped down to take his and you gave him a tight squeeze. You hoped your emotions came through in your grip.

And the way he smiled at you made your heart stop for a moment. Instead of sitting back down, Marcus squeezed your hand back, “How about we get out of here?”

You nodded as he left enough money to cover your bill and tip on the table and led you outside. As much as Marcus wanted to pull out all the romantic stops for you, he decided to change his plan for the evening and led you down the street to a diner, “How about pancakes a la mode for dessert?”

“I’m good with anywhere, Marcus,” you replied with a smile, “As long as it’s with you.”

In no time, you were seated in a booth for part two of your date. Honestly, you felt much more comfortable in a more casual place, but you meant what you said: you were happy anywhere as long as you were with Marcus Pike. Conversation picked up right where you left off and things just felt so natural with him.

“Hey,” Marcus suddenly turned the conversation in a more serious direction, “I’m sorry about that guy at the restaurant. He shouldn’t have said that to you.”

A flutter in your chest rendered you speechless for a moment before you swallowed hard, “It’s alright, Marcus,” you shrugged it off, “I’ve gotten worse.” You were bothered by the guy’s insult, but over the years you’ve learned to shrug those people off. But the look of concern on Marcus’ face made your heart flip in your chest, “Thank you for what you did though,” you added with a soft smile of your own.

Marcus seemed satisfied with that and his face relaxed, “What kind of date would I be if I didn’t defend the most beautiful woman in there?” he chipped back with a wink.

When you stuttered in an attempt to find the right words, Marcus laughed at you. Clearly, it had been some time since someone treated you the way he thought you should be treated. But, Marcus was determined to never let you feel unwanted or alienated again. He took pity on you and steered the conversation back to something light and the two of you talked over a pot of coffee for hours until you both decided you should leave.

Marcus put his arm around you as he guided you outside again and you fiddled with your phone in your hand as the two of you stood on the curb, “I guess I should call an Uber,” you mumbled as you made no attempt to do so.

He just watched you in silence as he thought about how nice it felt to hold you close. And Marcus couldn’t help how badly he wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t want to cross a line so he held himself back.

However, your voice interrupted his thoughts as you turned to face him with a determined look on your face, “Listen Marcus, I don’t normally do this on a first date but,” you reached out to cup his face in your hands and slowly pulled him in close to you. You paused for a moment to give him a chance to pull away, and when he didn’t you pressed your lips together in a short, soft kiss. When you pulled back and caught his eye for a moment, you saw the fire in his eyes and you crashed your lips together again. This time, the kiss was more desperate and heated.

Marcus tightened his grip on you and held you as close as he possibly could as he deepened the kiss. The two of you let the rest of the world fall away as you got completely lost in each other. The kiss was sweet, yet fiery, and you both could feel the unspoken words in each other’s lips.

When he finally broke away, Marcus whispered breathlessly, “I don’t normally do this on a first date, but would you wanna come over to my place?” 

With your forehead pressed against his, your voice was just as hushed, “Yes.”

[angry-geese]

At Dawn’s Break III

PB!Dio Brando x Maid!Reader, Jonathan Joestar x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: none! sfw, mention of death, but nothing too graphic. Mostly plot. Not the healthiest relationship dynamic. Technically yandere Dio but its very tame

Notes: Part One- sfw, Part Two- nsfw, Part Four - nsfw

This has been in my drafts for so long I’m so sorry. I do have a friend helping me edit my ao3 stuff so there might be some grammatical differences between that and the stuff posted here but i'll try to keep it as consistent as possible- story-wise its still the same.

In the coming months, word would arrive of your father’s death.

Sad wasn’t the right word for it. The man was old, sick, and frail. He fell ill and never recovered. Things like that happen. It was expected. His passing was quiet, happening in the early hours in the morning. You had grieved his death long before it actually happened. Your love for him was more out of a sense of duty than anything else. He was never a proper parent, the harsh expectations of life were thrown upon you rather young. At nineteen you were left as the sole guardian of your siblings. Some nights you would scream about the unfairness of it all, others you would wallow in your pity. The constant "sorry for your loss"s infuriated you. It would not bring him back. It would not fix this hole you've dug for yourself. It did nothing to justify what you've gone through. The world wasn't going to stop spinning just for you to feel sorry for yourself.

So you returned to work.

Your meetings with Dio grew fewer and further apart. Your conversations were short, ending with arguments. What he could dish out, you threw right back. Often you found yourself bitter and frustrated with him, leaving much space between the two of you. It wasn’t that you loved him any less, but he wasn’t exactly understanding in this matter. Neither of his fathers- adopted or biological- could he stand. Putting it plainly: Dio was awful at comforting people. Sympathy was not one of his strong suits. Going to him for comfort was out of the question.

Your life was soon after consumed by the mundane nature of work. The repetition of it you found soothing. It was nice to have a routine. Even if Dio wasn’t there for you, it was. The head maid took notice in your sudden interest in work, and blamed Dio for your lacking efforts. You just nodded and kept your head down.

Mr. Joestar would soon fall ill. Due to his old age, it didn’t come as a surprise to many. Very few questioned it. He was older, but seemingly healthy at the time. He fell sick overnight with the flu, which soon turned to pneumonia. It was not looking like he would recover. His coughing fits could be heard from across the manor. Much of it reminded you of your own father, so you often stayed away, only coming around when it was asked of you.

It makes you wonder if Dio feels the same sense of duty to his father. Probably not. He does not understand family ties in the same way you do. He was very attentive when Mr. Joestar fell ill, often providing medicine for him. If you were called to help, he would go in your place. It feels false, like a mockery of a doting son. Yes- he's providing for his father, but it feels like an alien trying to copy a human. Like a robot trying to replicate human love. It’s not out of any kindness in his heart. What he feels isn’t love. Sometimes you don’t think he’s capable of it. But if he did love something, it was power. He’d never admit it, but it was also you. Having you so consumed with grief enraged him. It was a childish want for attention that he found hard to conceal. He never took out his anger on you, finding himself afraid of turning out to be like his birth father driving his mother into an early grave. Often he thought about how easily he could force your hand, make you chose between him and your family. Deep down he didn’t want to toss out an ultimatum. You had just as much of a bite as him; unstoppable force meets immovable object. In no way he saw that ending well. Others had noticed the growing distance between you. People talked- as they did- rumors spread.

“Y/N.” Jonathan’s voice startles you.

“Mister Joestar, how-”

“Call me Jonathan.”

You cringe at the interruption.

“Jonathan.” You say. “How can I help you?”

“Will you take a walk with me?”

He guides you out to the garden. Winter has left it scraggly and barren, washed out in cold, white light. A few wilting leaves cling to the trees. Only a handful of rooms are lit within the house. It feels personal, being dragged through the place where you spent so many of your nights with your lover. Calling him that feels strange. Lover seems like too innocent of a word.

Over your time at the Joestar estate, there isn’t much you know about Jonathan. Dio talked of him. Often. It was never good, though he had a way of exaggerating things. By now you’ve learned to take it with a grain of salt. Your meetings with the second Joestar son have been few and rather brief. He seems sweet, albeit a bit naive and too engrossed in high society to talk with the likes of you. The girls in the kitchen swoon over him, although he’s sweet on a neighbor girl. Erina- you’ve heard of her. She’s been over for dinner before.

"How are you?" He asks.

"Fine, I suppose." You say, a bit irritated with the small talk. "What is it you need of me?"

"I heard what happened," absentmindedly he picks at his nails, "and I wanted to give my condolences. I imagine this situation is... unpleasant for you."

"I manage." You say. "But I doubt that's what you brought me out here for."

He nods. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Then ask away. I'd be happy to answer."

“You’re close with Dio, aren’t you?” He asks.

“A bit. Why?”

While you’re almost certain he knows, it feels easier to lie. You were not the star-crossed lovers that Jonathan and Erina were, the type of partners that made the girls you work with swoon and wish for such a thing, the type of love people write books about but fail to recreate. Your relationship was more out of a mutual agreement than it was proper love, but you suppose it was there. The two of you were angry, scathing people who were capable of god knows what. Together you could be terrifying.

“You two seem to spend quite a lot of time together.” He says. “Have you noticed anything strange with him?”

“No.” You say. “I haven't noticed anything like that."

"He's awfully attentive with father..."

"It's bizarre." You say. He laughs.

"I'm heading to London in a few days- to the university. Father's medicine hasn't been working, and I want it to be examined." From his coat pocket he produces a small green bottle. it's familiar. Dio has one quite like it.

"Do you need anything while you're away?" You ask, wishing to get back to your work. There was laundry that needed to be done.

"No," he says, turning to you, "thank you for your time. I should get going."

Before you can leave, he stops you.

"I know it's no business of mine, but my brother is bad news. You're a sweet girl and I don't want anything to happen to you. Dio is capable of things you couldn't even imagine."

"You're right. It is no business of yours."

He gives you a quick goodbye before leaving you alone in the garden.

Over time, Dio has grown more serious about keeping you close. He has a malicious, possessive streak to him. Your recent distance has only brought that out more. There is no talk of marriage- his adoptive father would never approve- but he talks of the future. Often. For you, the future meant work. To some extent, you could live with that. You never knew what it meant for him. He jokes of world domination.

You’re not quite sure you want to rule the world, but you do want to get out of London.

You stop just under the apple tree. It’s sickly and sad looking. The last of the fruit has fallen off and rotted. A few wilting leaves cling onto the branches. Jonathan gives you a quick goodbye, before returning to the house.

The door to his room is open. A lantern is lit, though the curtains are drawn shut. There’s no need to knock, you’re the only person who will walk in.

“Sit with me, pet.” Dio says.

Maybe the nickname has grown on you. It no longer draws out the same reaction of disgust and discomfort. Time has softened your hard outer shell. He opens his arms and instinctively you go into them. His chest feels unnaturally cold, but being so close to him makes you feel safe. The smell of his cologne is familiar and comforting, you find yourself leaning in closer. You allow yourself this one moment of weakness. He rests his chin on top of your head.

“I don’t have long,” you say, “I must get back.”

He pulls you closer. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Jonathan came and talked with me earlier.” You say.

You could almost swear you heard his heart skip a beat. His grip around you loosens, allowing you to shift to face him. His expression is unreadable.

“Yes.” He says. “I figured he would.”

“Why?”

You almost ask what he’s done.

Accusing him of something would only make him shut down. You already have a guess. The entire conversation leaves a bad taste in your mouth. It’s a constant unease and discomfort, more than it is outright pain. He's scheming- as he does- but more importantly, he hasn't told you about it.

“My brother doesn't believe in my ways.” He says. "I would never do anything to hurt father. It's no fault of mine that he won't recover."

"Then tell me what was in the bottle." You say. "As of right now, Jonathan is on his way to get that 'medicine' tested."

"I never gave any of it to him."

Jonathan won't see it that way. The authorities surely won't be as kind as his brother. And if he gets caught- what then?

"So you give it to someone else- so some unassuming person is killing him."

Dio doesn’t respond. Do you really expect more of him? He’s proven to be capable of many things. You’ve long since learned he wants to be the sole heir to the Joestar estate. It was a given. Power is something he craves. As much as he jokes about world domination, there's always a serious tone behind them. In the beginning, it just seemed like his nature; he was always collected and intense. Some truth must have been behind them. He makes no attempt to hide that. But this...

Murder is a bit too cold-blooded for your tastes. Morally you don’t have the high ground. You don’t find yourself above much, but you'd like to think you're above murder. If its what you need to do to survive, you believe you'd give it a pass, but as the time comes you're less sure of it. Mr. Joestar gave Dio an opportunity that doesn’t even come once in a lifetime for many. It feels like a slap in the face, just adding insult to injury. This feels like betrayal in the purest sense of the word. While you aren’t close to his father, you have a bit of respect for the man. His death would not cause you the same grief as your own father’s, but you would be sad.

But he is old, and not all old people recover from illness.

Most of the estate would go to Jonathan upon his father’s death. Really, this seems short-sighted. As the younger son, Dio isn’t entitled to all that much. But getting rid of his brother might be easier said than done. Part of you is angry for how little he’s thought this through. Truly, you expected more from him. With as much as he schemes, you had expected a better plan.

Your reaction isn’t quite what he expected. Anything but blind love and acceptance is seen as betrayal to him. To you, everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong.

If he fails- if- there is no recovering from this. If he is caught, many signs point to you as an accomplice.

Silently he exits, leaving you alone in his dark room.

[ghoultramp]

golden [hawks x reader]

▷       bnha

↳ pairing: hawks (keigo takami) x f!reader

↳ content: injured/wingless!hawks, hurt, comfort, soft & gentle sex, (some) cunnlingus, (kinda?) cockwarming, emotional, aftercare

↳ words: 4.1k

⇢ summary: the morning after the night before. a follow up to his voice resides.

also available on ao3

⇢ note: this took me far longer than i thought, i shall spare you the gory details of it all, aha! please, i do hope you enjoy ~

It was the gentle morning light filtering into through the blinds that stirred you, rather unwillingly, from the most restful sleep you’d had in a long time—the best sleep you’d both had in a very long time. It was nice to be back in his arms, the one place you felt safest; the only true place you could call home.

You lay curled on your side, his bare chest pressed tightly against your back, his legs tucked as closely to yours as possible. The warmth of his body, and the weight of his arm on your side as it tucked around into your stomach, reassured you that last night wasn’t just some delusion brought on by your fragile state.

You gently rolled over, the arm that he’d tucked beneath the pillow, and under your head, wriggled. His soft, protesting grumbles as he tightened his hold on you made you smile.

He looked so serene with a delicate, sleepy smile across his lips, his eyes closed and his long eyelashes resting against his cheeks.

You lay a hand against his chest, tenderly tracing the scars there; in truth, they covered most of his body. When he winced, you felt the tears start to sting in your eyes. Trying to stop yourself from crying again—so many tears shed already—you buried your face into him. Upon firmly planting your cheek against his skin, you let out a relaxed sigh, allowing his warmth to envelope you. You breathed in deeply, his subtle, earthy scent was soothing. 

He let out a gentle hum, moving the arm he had clamped around you, bringing his hand up to rest on the back of your head. You responded with a purr when you felt his lips brush the top of your head, gifting you with a kiss before firmly pressing his cheek against the same spot.

"I don't wanna move," he complained, his voice was barely a rasp as he strained against his damaged throat and the overnight dehydration.

You pressed your palm harder against his chest when he coughed; his body shook violently against you.

“Sorry,” he croaked, sighing heavily.

Reluctantly, you peeled yourself away from him; an involuntary whimper escaped your lips, breaking contact with him now felt inherently wrong. You rolled over and propped yourself up on your elbow.

Keigo watched as you peered over at the bedside

table, shifting onto his back and resting a hand on his chest. He admired the way your ill-fitting shirt hung off your shoulders, the sight of your soft, pale skin made his stomach flutter.

“A-ha!” you called, struggling as you stretched over to reach a glass of water.

He felt a gentle heat in his cheeks when you leaned over, catching a peek of your underwear as your shirt rode up. It took all his strength not to reach out and squeeze the plump flesh of your rear that was on display.

The beaming smile you wore on your face when you turned back to him with the glass was so endearing.

“Here you go,” you sang.

He grimaced as he tried to push himself into a sitting position; he groaned loudly and uncomfortably when he tried to remove his arm from beneath the pillow. You watched as he struggled moving it, eventually conceding by gripping his bicep with his working hand and tugging.

You tried not to laugh as he waved it about, more like a dead weight than an arm.

“Oh god,” he grunted. He let go of his arm and watched as it fell lifelessly to his side, he looked at you, a devilish smirk on your face.

You swore you heard a panicked squeak from him as he batted at it a few times, wincing when the tingling and prickling intensified.

Keigo narrowed his eyes as he received the glass from you. He smacked his lips together loudly, even room temperature water was better than nothing; it was satisfying enough. You scrutinized him as he chugged back the rest of the water and set the glass to rest on the table on his side of the best.

“Stop it,” Keigo narrowed his eyes at you, the smirk on his lips was unmistakable, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. “I know exactly what’s going through that evil little mind of yours.”

You feigned surprise, but not before laughing at his attempt to guard his arm.

“Me?” you gasped. “Evil? Well, I never!”

You wiggled your eyebrows as you brought your hand into view, poised and ready to poke him at any second. He raised his pointed finger in response, lurching toward you.

“Uh oh,” you squeaked.

“Uh oh, is right,” he was smirking as he wiggled his finger playfully at you, hovering around your ribs.

He distracted you with his tormenting finger while he flexed the fist of the arm by his side, he was starting to regain the feeling. His eyes narrowed, watching you intently as you fumbled back on yourself, flailing against his finger; he hadn’t even touched you, but it was the simple threat of being tickled that made you panic. He was relentless.

“Keigo, please,” you squealed, hands grasping at anywhere he might strike as he climbed over you.

You were only fixated on his finger, so when the sudden warmth of his palm embraced your cheek, you melted. Keigo laughed as he relaxed his pointing hand on the pillow next to your head, spreading his palm to hold himself steady.

Gazing up at him, bathed in the golden light of morning, it never failed to astonish you just how beautiful he was; the way he allowed himself to be so vulnerable with you made your heart swell, aside reserved only for you. Timidly, you brushed the tips of your fingers against his skin before tucking a long lock of his sandy hair behind his ear. He closed his eyes when you brushed your thumb along his brow and then stroking his cheek with the back of your hand; his body rose and fell with a soft, inaudible sigh.

His eyes fluttered open, smiling down at you.

“I really have missed you so much,” you told him for the umpteenth time since last night, you had to make sure he knew.

It was all too easy to feel overwhelmed.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, watching as the tears brimmed at the edges of your bright eyes.

You pushed your cheek into his hand as his thumb brushed away the first tear that fell.

“I missed you more than anything,” he told you before pressing his lips to the other side of your face, kissing away the tears.

A loud sob blurted out from deep within you; his affectionate, forgiving touch, his comforting words…

“I-I’m sorry,” you wept, watching as he blurred through your tears. You knew it was irrational for this to make you feel panicked and yet you lay there, feeling your chest tighten, your palms

beginning to sweat. Impulsively, Keigo pushed the hair away from your face, shushing softly as he ever so lightly brushed his thumb across your brow, around your temples, back to your brow, and up and down your nose.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, repeating the rotation of soft touches.

He hummed, quite satisfied when you tittered in response to his barrage of kisses to your nose, cheeks, and forehead.

You watched as he raised himself onto his elbows, his bright tawny eyes gazing down at you; your heat was beating uncomfortably hard against your chest. With both hands, you reached out to hold his head between them. Keigo placed a hand on yours as you pulled him into you, your lips colliding impatiently—wildly.

You inhaled sharply, breaking your kiss to rest your clammy forehead against his, feeling his warm hand brush against your hip.

You felt Keigo shudder as he palmed at your hipbone, fingers greedily kneading at your soft skin. With his head still between your hands, you locked eyes with one another.

A surprised rasp came from Keigo when you pressed your lips against his again, harder this time. You whimpered against him until he parted them, tongues frantically darting and dancing with each other.

While Keigo’s left hand was loosely pressed against your face, his fingers entwined in the hair above your ear, his right hand wasn’t quite satisfied now. At first, he only played at the elastic of your underwear, it made you gasp which was greeted by Keigo gently suckling at your bottom lip. Reuniting your lips, he inched his way further and further under your shirt.

His hands may have been damaged—like the rest of his unfortunate body—but feeling the sensation of your warm skin beneath his burned fingers was a blessing. It was his turn to fight back his tears as he mourned the loss of feeling the true softness of your skin again; his grip on your hair instinctively tightened.

It was unexpected, you let out a short yelp; Keigo sniffled.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, lifting his head a little.

“Mm-mm,” you whined, wrapping a hand around his neck and pulling him back.

It sent a needle-like shiver down your spine when he moaned—low and throaty—when you rolled his bottom lip between your teeth. Keigo shifted, allowing you to widen up your hips and raise your right knee.

He leaned his weight to his left, allowing the hand beneath your shirt to resume its needy exploration. Burying his nose against your neck, he breathed in deeply; the shuddering moan that escaped while he exhaled ignited a flutter within your core. Whimpering, you held him there, arms clamped around his neck.

You didn’t want to open your eyes to see his back, content to lose yourself in the pleasant sensations you felt beneath his touch, more than happy in your ignorance for now. But you did allow your hands to wander, ever so lightly and timidly, across the map of skin that pulled tightly across his back. You felt along the ridges where it raised—the deepest of his scar tissue—where his wings had once been; in truth, he saw them as a mere testament to his shackles.

Your hands came to meet in the middle, the tips of your fingers touching ever so slightly as they brushed over his painfully protruding spine.

Keigo felt you shudder beneath him, the way he was still so attuned to you told him it wasn’t the good kind of shudder that might occur in these situations. He pressed his lips to your beck, laying a tender kiss against your skin.

“I’m free now, Songbird,” he murmured.

His chuckle was kind as he rolled his head to rest on your shoulder; you relaxed your arms, allowing him to move, and allowing you to look at each other.

He saw your big, sad doe eyes and gave you that smile of his that, even if the world was ending, could reassure and console you with ease.

“You don’t have to worry anymore,” he told you, nudging your cheek with his nose, “all that free time? Think of the possibilities.”

You chuckled at that a light chuckle, but it made him smile.

“That’s right,” you agreed, sniffling as you wrapped a hand around his left wrist. You gave a shuddering sigh when your fingers wrapped all the way around.

“C’mon,” he told you, lifting himself up and back into position, “none of that.”

This time, when he pressed his lips to yours, your mouth was open, ready and waiting. You moaned softly as his tongue explored your mouth, the distinct twinge within your lower abdomen vibrated wildly when he moaned in response as the hand he held beneath your shirt came to life.

You whimpered, his fingers inching closer and closer to the plump flesh of your breasts while the ferocity of his kiss increased. You exposed your neck to him, throwing your head back against the pillow. It was delightful, the way the golden light glistened off the sheen of sweat against your porcelain skin.

“I love you,” he purred, his lips pressed to your neck.

Keigo reveled in the way your needy mewls fluttered behind your lips as his thumb ever so lightly brushed over the tip of your erect nipple.

“So much,” he added, signing off with a light peck to your neck.

You watched him with heavy-lidded eyes as he shifted back and up onto his knees, your body quivering as his hand brushed softly against your skin. Keigo’s fingers played idly with the hem or your shirt, his lips twitched against words he didn’t seem about to articulate.

“It’s not like you to be lost for words,” you said, a light giggle in your voice.

Keigo blushed, balling the hem of your shit in his hands. Gently, you placed your hands on top of his, smiling and nodding. You watched as he sheepishly lowered his head, pushing your shirt up and under your breasts; he chuckled when you gasped, hurrying his hands to remove your shirt.

Keigo gazed upon your naked breasts, absentmindedly nibbling at his bottom lip; hypnotized for a moment by their movement under your quivering breaths.

“You truly are breath-taking,” he whispered, lowering himself.

You whimpered as his lips teased your skin; pressing his lips against your hip, peppering his kisses along the exposed flesh above the band of your underwear, and finishing with a kiss and a light nibble on your other hipbone.

You were both breathing rather heavily when he pressed his hand against your abdomen, raising his gaze to meet your eyes.

You whimpered, shifting your hips impatiently now; Keigo chuckled as he traced his finger in a heart-shape against the fabric that concealed your sex. You wanted to curse at him for doing it above your underwear.

“I shouldn’t tease you, but…” he murmured, fiddling with the elastic, “I want to savor this. I want to savor you.”

You were so sure your cheeks were unable to get any redder or hotter, that is until he told you that; a choked squeak came from your throat.

Keigo pressed a finger down and along your concealed slit, his breath shuddered at the dampness and warmth that you produced. It was a domino effect; his quivering breaths elicited sweet, strained whines from you, only arousing him further, and you in return.

And that’s when you realized…

It wasn’t just pure lust; the need for comfort—for home—was overbearing.

He tucked his fingers beneath the band on either side of your hips and as he pulled your underwear down, you moved your hips. Keigo found it ever so adorable when you looked away from him, rosy cheeks with your sheen of sweat; he thought you were delectable.

He found it so endearing, the way you looked away from him, those rosy cheeks burning brighter and brighter. He gently lifted your legs so you wouldn’t have to move, pulling your underwear down until he held them in his hand.

“Won’t you look at me, Songbird?” he asked as he crept down, you could feel his warm breath against your sensitive sex.

You whimpered when he hooked his arms under your thighs, with his hands on either side of your hips.

“Is this okay?” he asked you, raising his head.

When you looked down at him—looking quite content between your thighs—and nodded, he flashed a grin.

"Don't you look like the cat that got the cream?" you giggled.

He pressed his lips against your sensitive inner thigh, you squirmed. Keigo growled playfully, tightening his hold on your hips; he was so tantalizingly close to your aching cunt, it wasn't fair. He planted another gentle kiss ever closer to that sweet spot but not quite, and another.

"Keigo~" you mewled, trying to coax him to where you wanted him—needed him—by gently grabbing him by the hair.

"Mm-hmm?" he murmured, planting another teasing kiss, this time on your other thigh; you bucked your hips into him, whimpering.

"Please don't tea--"

You didn't have the chance to finish your plea when his warm, wet tongue lapped at your clit; it was a strangled yelp that ended the sentence instead. 

Keigo moaned as your grip on his hair tightened, feeling the vibration against your sensitive nub. Whimpering, you lifted your hips, you were rewarded with a sensually slow lick against your quivering entrance.

It was impossible to hear Keigo’s moans over the volume of your own as his tongue slid in and out; it was agonizing how he was teasing you but, deep down, you enjoyed it.

Of course, you did.

“Please~” you begged, followed by the pathetic little whines that fell from your lips when you failed to buck your hips into him more; he was pinning you with his grip on your hips.

“Please’ what?” he implored before engulfing your already swollen clit in his mouth, creating a vacuum as he suckled.

 You wailed.

“Songbird,” his tone was low—a growl, heady with arousal—against your clit; you weren’t sure how much more you could take before you came there and then.

“P-please,” you were stuttering, pleading with him, “I n-need you, Keigo.” Throwing your head back, you gripped onto him harder when his tongue penetrated you. “I… Keigo! Please, fill me up!”

You yelped when his nails dug into your hips; he was delighted when you wriggled beneath him, his tongue savoring your taste as your walls fluttered at the intrusion. It was more than an addiction, the way his tongue roamed your velvety cunt as he hungrily drank in your sweet juices; it was comparable ambrosia to him.

Keigo raised his head, your cheeks flushed when he licked his lips; your abdomen fluttered wildly when he began to crawl up toward you.

“As you wish,” he whispered before planting a delicate kiss against your forehead.

You were a whimpering mess beneath him, whining and mewling unintelligible sounds while he busied a hand around his already throbbing erection; you felt him butt the head of his cock against your tight hole, a bolt of ecstasy shook your entire body.

He watched your body contort beneath him, smirking at the reaction he was eliciting from you. You bent your knees up, opening up your pelvis. Keigo rubbed the tip of his throbbing hard cock up and down; against your clit, against your entrance, and back again.

He stopped, hovering desperately close against your wetness, your warmth; you gave him a timid nod. You braced yourself, holding your arms around his shoulders and neck. Keigo gently pushed the pre-soaked, engorged head of his cock into you, when you winced, he lowered his body close to yours. You felt his warm chest against your naked breasts.

As he pushed further, he felt your entire body tighten until he filled you, his cock stretching you out nicely around his girth. When your walls clenched down on his cock, Keigo let out a desperate, reflexive moan in your ear; it was a domino effect, the more you tightened, the more he moaned.

With his cock nestled deep within your walls, he gently rocked back and forth against you. Feeling him twitch inside you

“Keigo~” you whined while your hands roamed through his long hair, tugging ever so slightly.

He pressed his damp forehead against yours, both of you trying hard to catch your breath. With your senses heightened, everything—everything—felt that much more intense.

He gently slipped his right forearm under your neck, supporting your shoulders, and his left hand gently stroked at the side of your head; his touch may have been soft but it was also electrifying.

Keigo’s lips collided with yours, a mess of spit and tongues. The pull between the desperation of release and the want to savor this moment was unbearable.

You felt the arms he had beneath you tense as he slowly, slowly rocked backward; he was the one whining as his cock pulled from your warmth. His hitched breaths sent a jolt down your spine and your hips arched involuntarily.

With your impatient thrust, his full length filled you to the brim. A pained cry caught in your throat as you gripped onto him tightly; Keigo whimpered and whined into your neck.

“I-I’m sorry,” you told him breathlessly.

A light chuckle broke through the noises he was making.

“N-no, d-don’t be s-sorry,” he stuttered, burying himself further into your neck, “it’s—” your hips gave another buck and he moaned loudly, he felt your slick, tight walls pulsing around him, “—too intense, I—”

As Keigo slowly began to thrust—in, out—you mirrored his movements, hips swaying in unison.

You lifted your legs, panting as you wrapped them around his waist. Keigo hungrily took to your lips again. Keigo moved his left arm move from your head—the light touch of his fingers as he trailed them down your stomach made your nerve endings flutter—he tucked it behind the small of your back.

You yelped, a tightness began to twist inside you.

Nibbling your lip as he broke the kiss, he lifted his head enough for you to see his eyes, like molten gold beneath his heavy eyelids. Using the placement of his hands, he pulled you into him, carefully as he shifted his weight to the side.

Your eyes widened, understanding a little too late what he was doing. His arms gripped you tightly as he pulled you on top of him. A lengthy, desperate moan erupted from within you while his throbbing cock hit deeper and deeper still; the weight of your body bearing down on him roused something immeasurable within you both.

You cried out, falling against his chest and Keigo’s arms were quick to hold you as close to him as possible. You whimpered, grinding and thrusting with neediness against him. Keigo’s head rolled back against the pillow, an incomprehensible grumbling moan escaping from his lolling mouth.  

The friction against your swollen clit was too much and Keigo groaned beneath you as you clenched around him; his cock convulsing. His hands quickly found purchase at your hips, holding you tightly against him. You both panted loudly between your intimate sounds.

“Ke—“ you were unable to finish his name, crying out when Keigo lifted your hips with his hands.

You panted heavily against his chest. Your body may have become limp, but you allowed him to move you as he wished. In—you whimpered—out—you cried; his bulging head brushing back and forth against your most sensitive spot.

You felt as though tiny neurons were firing off in every which direction as the tension continued to build within you; you felt like you were about to explode. You felt Keigo’s movements waver, his breaths shallow groans. You welcomed the wave of pleasure that was sending you both into a frenzy.

“Songbird~” Keigo groaned, his hips thrusting once, twice, a final time.

You sobbed, you felt electric as the pressure built, and built, and built, until that final thrust. Deep within you, the pressure of his thick, hot cum against your enlarged cervix made your vision speckled with white dots. You felt your muscles finally push against his cock, your own cum releasing at your climax.

No words were remarkable enough to describe just how much you’d missed this, this closeness, the comfort—being as one.

Truly home. Truly safe.

Truly free.

Keigo’s fragrant scent enveloped you when you buried your head into his neck, your body trembling under the weight of your sobs; overawed with this pleasure, overstimulated by his soft touch, still so overly sensitive—it was heaven, pure bliss, but it also made you incredibly emotional.

He hugged you tightly, you felt him gently kiss the top of your head.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he told you, his voice sounding so raw, “I gotcha.”

You felt yourself sniffle more, reality had hit you hard and you were suddenly so unsure how to process it. After numbing your pain for months on end, to finally have released in the arms of the one you loved, the wall you’d built finally collapsed. Nothing could take this away from you.

Keigo held onto you with his arm, trying to not move too much, while he grabbed the duvet with his other hand. He did his best at covering you both the best he could, given the circumstances; you were in no rush to remove yourself from his cock, keeping it warm within your slick, velvety pussy. The weight of the duvet added an extra layer of comfort.

He kissed your head again.

“I love you, Songbird,” he breathed, “forever and always.”

“Forever and always,” you repeated, sniffling as euphoric tears flowed freely down your cheek to drop against Keigo’s hot skin.

You lay in each other’s arms, basking in the golden light of the morning, pretty pink shades beginning to take over as the day began anew; as your lives began anew.

[angstymarauder]

Arch Enemies {M.M}

Marlene McKinnon x Female!reader ; marauders era

summary: where two long-time rivals realize how thin the line between love and hate really are after an unfortunate quidditch incident.

word count: 3.4k ish

contains: angst, fluff, a heated kiss?, side of wolfstar,

a/n: i didn’t re-read it bc I'm lazy. Also if people could drop some wlw angsty harry potter recs that would be phenomenal.

· · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene McKinnon has been your rival since as far back in your Hogwarts years as you can remember. Always at each other’s heads. Always a competition between the two of you. Always striving to be better than the other.

The two of you made just about everything a competition. Chess Matches. Pranking. Grades. Eating. Walking. Detentions (you almost got kicked out of Hogwarts that year.)

Anything that could somehow be made competitive, you two competed. And while you tended to beat her with grades, she often beat you in things that took place outside of the classroom.

The Marauders, apparently, have been placing bets and keeping track of your wins against one another. Lily even claims that one time she walked into their room unexpectedly and caught them writing on a poster on their wall that had both your names in big letters on each side and a series of tallies below each with dates and event names on the bottom, but as soon as they saw her one of them casted a spell to make it disappear.

This year was no different. You knew it was stupid to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to try out for the quidditch team without Marlene fighting you for the same spot. You have no real desire to be on the quidditch team, quite honestly, but your older siblings play quidditch, your parents played quidditch, your aunts, your uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, your great-grandparents.

You have a quidditch family and you do not want to can not disappoint them.

The hope that Marlene may leave you alone for this one was shattered, as you expected it to be, when you walk into the team's locker room, a bag of quidditch gear in your hand. “Y/L” Marlene spoke as soon as her eyes met yours. Her eyes widened more than usual, a change most people don’t notice, but then again, you’re not most people. You know Marlene better than anyone else, you’ve memorized the meaning of every look in her eyes, every curve of her lips, every flick of her hands. You know her brain, how she works, what she is thinking, for the most part at least because right now you found yourself momentarily confused by the surprise lacing her voice. Why is she so surprised? Did she not expect you to be there? Your thoughts are cut short when the blonde standing at the other side of the room clears her throat in an attempt to reactive her favorite tone of voice when speaking to you, cockiness, “you going for the beater position too?”

“Yea,” you respond, walking over to one of the lockers.

“May the best player win,” you continued unpacking your bag, putting on the final touches to your uniform, but you didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smirking as she spoke, you could hear it clear enough in her voice.

She awaited a snarky response from you, you know that, but you didn’t want to waste your energy on a catfight right now. Your anxiety is already through the roof, there is enough pressure on you at the moment that you feel like your brain physically cannot handle any more conflict, so you ignore her.

Her eyes burn holes into your body as you continue to pull your knee pads on. Eventually, the door opens and you listen to her steps as she walks out of the locker room, closing the door with a slam and leaving you all alone.

It’s not long before you’re 100% ready for tryouts. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment before leaving. Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. Calm your mind. It helps a little bit, but maybe not enough.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“Y/L! Watch out!” is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

The tryouts were going great, James was the captain this year and after stealing a glance at his little sheet, you could tell that you were going to beat Marlene out for this spot.

You should’ve been happier with that knowledge than you were, but somewhere deep down you almost wanted Marlene to beat you. This wasn't what you wanted and by the look in her eyes, you knew that this was what she wanted. A strange feeling arose in your chest each time she looked at you during tryouts, her eyes conveyed a message you hadn’t seen her wear yet and all you wanted to do was decode it. To understand why her eyes looked… sad? Almost. Like she knew you were going to beat her and she was upset about it. She’s never been upset before, always a team player. She took her losses as they came and just vowed to beat you next time. But for some reason… for some reason this was different.

· · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene’s Pov:

You looked so pretty. Flyaway hairs and a look of determination on your face as you swatted away Bludgers so effortlessly. She loved quidditch, but she wasn't as good as you. Jealous, not because you’ll win whatever competition the two of you are probably making out of this, but jealous because she knows she won’t get the position she’s been working her ass off for. Lost in thought she doesn't even notice the bludger coming towards her, luckily she hits it just in time, but then… Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Marlene watched as the bludger tumbled straight towards you, “Y/L! Watch out,” was all she could get in before it hit you right in the head.

· · · ∞ · · ·

The first thing you felt when you woke up was an intense pounding in your skill that caused an unconscious groan to leave your mouth. As you increasingly became aware your head began hurting more and more. You went to bring your hand up to rub your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up when you felt another hand on yours. Opening your eyes only increased your headache, but the desire to know whose hand was holding yours overruled the pain. Their hand was soft, warm, it felt like … like home. That's the only word you could find in this pain-forsaken state to properly describe the feeling.

The blur of a person who held your hand made you think you were crazy. You found yourself blinking a few times in attempts to clear your vision, not initially trusting your eyes and barely trusting them now as you see Marlene McKinnon's hand, holding yours.

Marlene McKinnon.

Your arch-nemesis?

The one who practically hates you?

Yea… her.

What the fuck.

Why is she holding your hand… and why do you never want her to let go?

You can feel your lips curve up into an unconscious smile as you stare at the place where her hand connects with yours before roaming your eyes up to her figure to her sleeping face being held up by her other hand, elbow resting on her armchair next to your bed. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and you wonder why you’ve never noticed how gorgeous she was before. How her lips look so soft and her skin so smooth. The way the waning gibbous moonlight shines into the room from the large infirmary windows and lights her face up in a way you’ve never seen in before and in that moment you want nothing more than to stare at her face like that forever. You don’t even notice your other hand moving up to touch her face until you hear a voice whisper from a few beds over from yours. “Oh, you’re up.” Startled, you feel like you were just caught committing a crime and immediately pull your hand back to where it was before. Marlene shifts in her sleep from your quick movements and you’re watching this moment slip through your fingers, silently begging whatever runs the universe to let you stay in this moment just a little bit longer. Thankfully, they answer and Marlene stills, returning to her peaceful sleep. “Don’t worry, Lils says she sleeps like a log.”

You giggle at these words, turning to face Remus with a smile, “yea, she does. We can never get her up in the morning.” “It’s the same with Sirius. He never wants to wake up.” The two of you giggle quietly, afraid to wake up anyone in the castle this late at night, especially the girl sitting beside you. You talk about Remus first, asking if the full moon the night before was really that bad that Pomfrey made him stay overnight again and if he's okay. He assures you that he is fine and redirects the conversation to you, “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I don’t even know what happened to me,” you tell him, “or why my head hurts so much or why M-” you pause, now looking at the girl. You’re scared of speaking the words out loud, afraid it may reveal that her presence is only a dream or a figment of your imagination and that you will sound crazy if you speak about it.

“Or why Marlene is here, holding your hand.” Remus finishes your sentence.

“Or that.” you turn your gaze back to Remus, now wishing the moon was a little darker so your close friend can’t see the blush that is surely on your face.

“Well to answer your first questions,” started Remus, “You got hit with a bludger during tryouts, Marlene and Sirius rushed u in here while I was taking a nap - thanks for that by the way”

“Sorry” you giggled

“- and then Sirius went back to practice, as for McKinnon there, she refused to leave. I think she feels bad cause she's the one that hit you. Pomfrey said you probably have a concussion which means you can’t … well you can’t play quidditch this year.” You should be focusing on the quidditch part, it was something you were working so hard for, but you can’t stop your mind from trailing off to her. Is she only here because she feels bad? Or is there more to it? You hope it's more. You’re not sure when these feelings came to fruition, but they’re there now and you’re worried about getting your hopes up because it means risking yourself getting let down.

“I think she likes you,” you take a minute to process the werewolves' words, glancing between the blonde’s head and her hand.

“You think so?” you say with a hopeful smile.

“I think she’s liked you since first year and you’re just too oblivious to realize it,” you look up with him, your confused face causing a slight chuckle to leave his lips, “I’m observant, you know that but it's not that difficult to see how in love you two are, even though you act like you hate each other. I think she knows what she feels,” you both glanced at the girl, “and I think you just figured out what you feel.”

You smile at his words. “I think you’re right,” you admit, too tired to be stubborn and reject what your heart says is a fact.

“Just wait till January to tell everyone please, I have a bet going with the boys and- “ Suddenly the door to the infirmary opens, Remus goes quiet with confusion and Marlen begins to stir from the noise. She’s really waking up this time, you immediately close your eyes, unsure of what else to do or even say to her. You can feel her eyes on your face, her hand holding yours. “Good morning sleepyhead,” remarked Remus. You curse out his name in your head as you feel Marlene’s hand immediately rip out of yours. All you want to do is look at her face, read her mind. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Your mind went to the worst.

“How’s the girlfriend?” marked a new voice, Sirius. Of course. Who else would come to the infirmary this late other than Sirius to check up on Remus?

“She’s not my girlfriend.” remarked Marlene, her tone sending a brief stab of pain through your own heart, “I don’t even like her,” another stab.

“Yea, okay, and Moonys not my werewolf boyfriend.” You would’ve laughed, hearing the noises of Remus hitting Sirius in response to his words, but your mind was stuck on the words of the girl who was still standing close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her body.

“I don’t like her,” she said, her words laced with annoyance and anger, “In fact, I hate her. We’re literally enemies.”

“Then why are you here then?” Remus rebutted, he probably meant to be helpful, but the words she spoke next only made your heart ache more.

“Because I’m not a monster! I hit her with the bludger and I felt bad. That’s it. Nothing else.” you were almost thankful when you started to hear her moving around, collecting her stuff, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes and you didn’t want her to see. “I’m tired so I’m going, goodbye.” And with that you waited, listening to the sounds of her footsteps, getting quieter with each moment. You listened to the opening and closing of the infirmary door and only dared to open your eyes again once you could no longer hear the clicking of her shoes down the hallway.

“You okay?” Remus spoke first, witnessing the silent tears now streaming down your face. You wish you stayed asleep. You wish you never looked at her. Never let yourself feel something you knew she wouldn’t reciprocate. You curse yourself for believing Remus’ hopeful words.

“Fine,” you spoke quietly before turning to your side, the back facing the two boys who get to share the kind of romance you find yourself only able to dream about.

“M’Sorry,” you heard Remus whisper, before the weight of your head and your heart lulled you into a dreamless sleep.

· · · ∞ · · ·

You woke up to Madam Pomfrey's voice urging you awake. Her soft voice reminded you of your mother and made you want to curl up into her arms and cry, Marlene's words last night still resting their weight on your chest. “How are you this morning, love?” she asks, placing a plate of food on the bedside table, you're thankful that she doesn't mention the tear stains that probably made their home on your cheeks last night.

“M’fine,” you mumble, “better.”

“Good, good,” she smiles, handing you a glass of water that you didn’t realize how much you needed until the whole glass was gone in a minute and Madam Pomfrey had to fetch you a new one. “Took a big hit yesterday, that Miss McKinnon has a good arm.” You hum in agreeance, an attempt to not be rude to the elder in front of you, but hearing her name still hurts, the wound of her words still leaving scars on your heart that haven’t even begun to scab. “Speaking of the devil,” the nurse spoke, your head raising up to see Marlene's figure entering the curtain that surrounded your bed. Her hair looked so soft, messier than you usually see it, but you liked it. You couldn’t stop your eyes from travelling down her face, taking in her beauty while she was awake. Bags plagued her beautiful brown eyes, she didn't sleep much last night. Your gaze moved to her lips, the same lips that unknowingly cut scars along your heart mere hours ago. Memories from the night before that you had allowed yourself to forget for a moment returned as fast as they left, returning the heartache that accompanies them. Suddenly, you found the hem of your shirt more interesting, keeping your gaze and your hands on that. “I’ll leave you two alone,” spoke Madam Pomfrey, ignoring the tension-filled silence that laid in the air, “I’d like to keep you here for a little while longer but you should be discharged by dinner,” and with that she left the two of you alone, your breaking heart not even strong enough to look at her.

“Hey,” she spoke first, breaking the silence, but not moving from her spot where she stood at the end of your bed. “Sorry I hit you with a bludger,” she tried to joke, but the tension was too thick that it was just awkward.

“Why are you here?” you ask, a sudden surge of bravery coming from the anger that stems from your sadness.

“Wh-What?”

“Why are you here?” “Because I feel bad? Because I'm not a total bitch and I care about you?” she remarks.

“Why do you care?” your voice grows louder, angrier than you want it, but you’re too stubborn to stop speaking now. “I can’t play anymore, you got the spot on the team, didn’t you? “I mean you said it yourself we’re enemies, right? You hate me?” you continue, repeating her words from last night. “So isn’t this what you wanted? You won. You beat me. Congratulations.”

“So you were eavesdropping?” she asks, her tone attempting to stay angry, but her eyes revealing that look you’re slowly seeing more and more often.

“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m lying right there.”

“Merlin, y/n, I don’t hate you!”

“Liar.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she yells, getting closer to your face.

“If you don’t hate me then why would you say it?” You sat up, both your voices were raising, anger surging through the air.

“Because I don’t hate you! I love you,” she yelled, and then everything went quiet. She loves me? Only now did you realize how close your faces were. Her lips were inches from yours, your ragged breaths intermingled with one another, both of you already exhausted from your previous argument. You looked up from her lips to her eyes, just to find them already staring into yours.

“You what?” you whispered so low that only she could hear it.

“ I-” her eyes were filled with fear. Fear that her feelings won’t be reciprocated. Fear to express the vulnerable emotion that has plagued her heart for how long? You don’t know. So you move forward and capture her lips in yours.

After the initial surprise, Marlene began to kiss you back, her hands finding the back of your neck and your head while yours found her hips. You broke apart too soon for your liking and she rested her forehead on yours. One of your hands moved to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before speaking. “I love you too.” You watched as her eyes lit up with joy and you couldn’t help but smile. “I get a point on the leaderboard for admitting it first,” she chuckled.

“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreeance leaning forward again so your lips brushed against hers as you spoke, “but I get one for kissing you first.”

“Dammit,” she whispered, before leaning in for another kiss.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“So Gryffindor Beater, huh?” you asked Marlene. The two of you laid together in the infirmary bed, her back pressed up against half of your chest, your arm hanging around her shoulder twirling and untwirling her hair with your one hand while both her hands played with the fingers of your other.

“Yea, James said it’s mine if I want it, but I don’t need to take it if you don’t want me to.”

“No, merlin no,” you said quickly, “I know how much you want that spot, I barely even wanted it. Was only doing it because with my family I felt like I had to.”

“Really?” She looked up at you hopefully, “you don't mind.”

“Nope.” “Promise?”

“Promise.” She gave her a peck on the lips before turning her head around again. “Plus, you’re going to look so hot in that uniform, I feel like I’ll be the real winner in this situation.” Your words earn a loud laugh from the girl in your arms and you feel like you're on cloud 9. You place a quick kiss on her temple and want nothing more than to be the one to make her laugh for the rest of your lives. Lives that you hopefully get to spend together.

Meanwhile…

“Told you so,” he whispered.

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” the second boy groaned, placing coins into the other boy's outstretched hand.

“Yea, but look how cute they are, Moony the Matchmaker.”

“Oh shut up Padfoot,” he groaned, “I’m hungry, let's go to dinner.” “Whatever you say handsome,” barked the boy before looping arms with his lover and walking away from the two girls in the infirmary who looked utterly and completely infatuated with one another.

[writtenvisionary]

Rooftop Riddles

Read on Ao3

WC: 5.1k

Summary: One riddle changes everything. Dramatic identity reveal, oneshot, ladynoir/adrienette | trigger warning - depression, self-harm, abuse/neglect

The breeze was nothing short of refreshing as she sat next to her partner in crime. He was silent for the time being, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he would start saying something stupid. So she took in her surroundings while there was still silence between them.

It was dark; street lights illuminated all of Paris. Shadows bounced from wall to wall as civilians took their nightly walks, either from work or just around the block to get some fresh, cool air before they go to sleep. There are also those pathetically trudging toward their place of employment for their overnight shifts, and Marinette felt for them. Being Ladybug was all too taxing on her, and she often felt like she worked 24 hours, but in reality it was just all of the extra exercise that made her so exhausted every day.

Looking over at Chat Noir, she takes in his appearance. His hunched back, drooped cat ears, slow breaths. He’s looking straight ahead, seemingly lost in his own train of thought. Her eyebrows furrow.

She opens her mouth to speak, but her partner beats her to it.

“Wanna hear a riddle?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Okay. What do you call a sad watermelon?”

Ladybug had to think. Biting her bottom lip, she pondered an answer.

“Um... I don’t know, what?”

“Melon-choly.”

A smile lit up her face.

“Oh!” She laughed.

“Here’s another. It’s kinda long, so get ready.”

She nods, shifting in her seat.

“A single father took care of his baby, and he was rich so the baby had a lot. Food, clothes, excessive stuff. What didn’tthe baby have?”

Marinette frowns, some weird feeling rushing through her veins. She sits up, narrowing her eyes at the boy clad in a black leather suit. He sits with his legs pulled up to his chest, looking straight forward. Not even a tiny upward lift of his lips, making her worry.

Something about the way he delivered that riddle was… ominous. It didn’t seem like he was disconnected from the story he was telling. It’s almost like he could relate.

She gulps.

“A mother?”

He nods, then hangs his head for a moment before pulling it back up and flashing an obviously fake smile in her direction.

“Bingo,” he says dryly.

Her frown deepens.

Why did that riddle sound like something personal? Is he rich?

That sounds like someone she knows. And the riddle boy’s mother was gone… that sounded like him too.

No, there’s no correlation. It’s just a random riddle.

“Alright, last one.”

“Okay,” she nods.

“I am twisted from what I was, to hold the weight of others. Yet tie a knot, and my use to this world is gone.”

Her heart plummets down into her stomach. She loses her breath and has to look back at the city of Paris to think.

If it was possible, this riddle sounded scarier than the last. Chat Noir must really be in a bad mood because normally he puns, not riddles, and the jokes he tells are stupid and funny. These are just... depressing. Her concern is growing by the minute.

She needs to give an answer.

Twisted… Hold the weight of others… Tie a knot… My use to this world is gone.

Tie a knot? What?

“I—“ she licks her lips and shakes her head.

“I’m at a loss. I don’t know.”

Chat hesitates before whispering the answer.

“A noose.”

Her eyes widen and she suddenly feels like she’s been punched in the face.

“Just kidding, it’s a paperclip.”

But he didn’t seem like he was kidding. She was officially scared.

“Chat, you’re worrying me.”

“What do you call a dead pine tree?”

“Chat.”

“A never-green.”

“Minou, I —“

“What do you call a broken pencil?”

“Chat Noir.”

“Pointless,” he laughs darkly.

“Chat Noir!”

Finally, he looks over at her and her mouth falls agape.

His complexion is so pale, lips are pressed into a thin line, and his eyes are glistening.

“What?” He asks, voice breaking on the word.

Carefully, she places her hands on either side of his face. She stares directly into his eyes.

“You’re worrying me,” her voice shakes. “Please tell me whatever’s making you upset so I can help.”

“… I-I’m not upset.”

“Kitty. You just told me a riddle about a noose.”

He shakes his head, scrunching his eyebrows.

“It was a paperclip, milady. Can’t you appreciate a good joke?”

“Chat, all of the jokes you’ve cracked tonight have been nothing short of depressing.”

Frowning, he pulls away from her hold, avoiding her gaze.

“So? New to dark humor?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “But that’s not normally the humor you have, Chaton.”

He’s quiet for a couple seconds before responding.

“Just wanted to try something different—“

“I’m not going to take these bullshit excuses, you know?”

Chat Noir raises an eyebrow, not used to such language coming from his lady.

“They’re not excuses—“

“YES they are!”

She softens her voice.

“Please,” she begs. “Talk to me.”

It’s almost as if she didn’t say anything, how he continues to stare into the distance, silently appreciating the view of Paris. She follows suit, not knowing what else to say. Instead, she decides to wait it out. Hopefully he’ll talk. Eventually.

And he does.

“My mother died about a year ago.”

Her jaw slackens, but she stays silent.

“Father has always been very… strict. But lately he’s been putting a lot on me. Stuff that… stuff that a normal, average sixteen-year old shouldn’t have to put up with,” he sighs.

He calls his dad father? The only other person who does that is…

Alarms go off in her head.

“He makes me take so many lessons beyond school. Chinese, fencing, piano— and he didn’t even let me go to public school until four months ago. I was homeschooled by my father’s assistant, I mean she’s a good family friend—“

Wait.

“And the only friend that was ever allowed over was the mayor’s daughter, and she’s snobby and hangs off of me like I’m her fucking property when I’m NOT and—“

Chloé?

“Father doesn’t even have dinner with me. I mean, maybe once every two months if I get lucky—“

Her eyes widen. He couldn’t be…

“But most of the time it’s just me and the family friend, and she’s not even eating! She’s looking over my schedule to make sure it’s as jam-packed as it was the day before. I swear I never get a break.

“Sometimes it feels like Father is always disappointed in me, no matter what I do. I feel like I’m trapped in his bubble, like I can’t get out. My house is like a fortress. Or a prison. Being Chat Noir is my escape but I just… It’s getting to be too much, milady.

“I don’t know how much more I can take.”

She feels like she lost her voice. Her brain is on overdrive.

If all the pieces are adding up, my akuma-fighting partner is also my crush who is also a world famous model and—

Focus, Marinette.

“It sounds stressful, A— uh, Chat.”

He intakes a sharp breath.

“Did I say too much?”

She bites her lip. Yes.

“No?”

It comes out as a question. He must suspect that she’s lying.

He tilts his head in admission, then looks down.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Um… I’ll always be here for you. You know that, right?”

Slowly, Chat Noir—Adrien—meets her gaze once again.

His response was hesitant. “Yeah.”

She has to sigh; she doesn’t seem to be getting through to him.

“Minou, you are loved and wanted and I want to make sure you know that.”

Chat Noir chews his bottom lip.

“Thanks, bugaboo.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, just peering down at the streets of their city. She wants to ask him more questions because it seems like there’s more he’s not telling her, but decides against it. She doesn’t expect him to tell her everything, especially since opening up that much was already hard enough for him (and she really shouldn’t have been able to figure out his identity because danger! but she supposes she’ll forgive him since he’s literally the love of her life and he needs someone to be there for him either way).

A small movement in the corner of her eye catches her attention. She looks in Chat’s direction, noting how he’s holding a hand over his left wrist. Her frown deepens. It’s not like she wants him to notice that she’s staring, but she can’t look away. Warily, she watches his face twist in pain.

“Does your wrist hurt, kitty?”

He startles, but shakes his head.

“It’s good.”

“But,” she challenges, “you’re holding it. Looks like it hurts…”

Chat Noir clenches his teeth, turning to look at his lady with fire in his eyes.

“I said it’s good, Ladybug. Leave it.”

Marinette flinches at the use of her superhero name instead of one of his usual nicknames for her. His tone is uncharacteristically harsh, as well.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

The last thing she wants to do is upset him more.

She clears her throat, at a loss for words. The atmosphere had suddenly turned tense and she wasn’t fully enjoying his presence anymore. Of course, he wasn’t dangerous or anything, but she really didn’t want him to snap at her again.

Ladybug likes a happy kitten, not a bitter one.

She wishes she knew what to do.

“Well,” Chat speaks. “I gotta head out; get back home before my father’s assistant notices I’m gone and I get taken out of school.”

He stands, getting ready to extend his baton and hop from building to building for as long as possible in order to procrastinate his return to the large, lonely mansion where he resides.

Ladybug hops up so quickly that her head spins, but she ignores it in hope of saying one last thing before he leaves.

“Hey, Chaton?”

Said cat boy looks in her direction, letting her know that he’s listening.

Instead of speaking, she just leans forward to press her lips onto his cheek. When she pulls away, she offers a smile.

“You and me against the world.”

He plasters a (fake) grin onto his face, “Thanks, bugaboo. See you later.”

Then he bolts away, leaving his Lady alone on a rooftop.

Life had gone on as normal for both Adrien and Marinette. For the next two weeks, the superhero pair had not spoken about Chat’s home life or his internal struggles. She wanted to give him some space and he simply wanted to forget that he even showed so much vulnerability around her.

Granted, Adrien didn’t care that she knew. In fact, he was pretty happy that she had been willing to listen. Usually she never allowed rants from the either of them because she knew that it was easy to slip up and say something that could lead an unwarranted identity reveal.

Marinette wanted to talk to him, come to a mutual agreement, and then officially tell each other who they were. She knew it was unfair that she knew and wasn’t telling him, but in all honesty, she wasn’t even sure her suspicions are right.

(She’s ninety-nine percent sure).

Her eyes had been on Adrien for those two weeks, subtly checking to make sure that there weren’t bags under his eyes (there were), that his smiles weren’t forced (they were), and that he was eating enough (she had no way of knowing, but he hadn’t asked for a macaron in a few days and she was starting to get worried).

He was doing somewhat alright, from what she could tell. She didn’t expect to see anything different today.

Boy, was she wrong.

She had been passing out papers to the class regarding their next class trip, explaining that they needed a parent signature, as well as forty-two Euros by next Monday, in order to attend. When she reached Adrien, she paused.

He was rubbing at his left wrist — the same wrist that Chat had been holding in pain that night two weeks ago. His face was contorted painfully; familiarly. This brought about her worries.

Subtly, she placed down the papers in front of him, to which he looked up at her and sent an oh so fake smile in thanks.

As she walked away, Marinette just barely caught a glimpse of some red, scratch-like marks on his skin as he picked the paper up.

Her heart dropped.

She hadn’t realized that him holding his wrist earlier was a sign of self-harm. Apparently he was worse off than she thought. Now, it’s a whole different ball game — one that can’t have secret identities interfering with. She has no choice; she needs to stay in contact with him.

He needs to be okay.

Marinette tried to wait until patrol that night. Really, she did. But she couldn’t resist zipping over to his house and knocking at his window right after his fencing practice had ended.

He jumps at the sound, quickly ushering Plagg to hide in his shirt, before turning around to look at the super-heroine.

“Hi, Ladybug!” He greets with a smile. “Anything I can help you with today?”

She takes that as an invitation to leap into his room, then she allows her yoyo to snap close as she lands in front of him.

Her hands stay in fists as she brings them up to rest at either side of her waist. She grins brightly in his direction.

“Hi, kitty!”

It’s almost comical how his smile drops.

“What?”

In lieu of a response, she drops her arms to rest at her side. Then she takes a few steps forward so that she’s standing much closer to him.

“Your father is strict… he has an assistant… he makes you take piano, fencing, Chinese lessons…”

His eyes widen slowly as she speaks, his heart beating erratically.

Ladybug scoffs, “Honestly, Adrien? You couldn’t have been more obvious.”

He gulps in horror.

Then he narrows his eyes.

“How did you know that Adrien Agreste takes Chinese lessons? I’ve never once mentioned that in an interview…”

She stiffens.

“Uh. B-because you told me before.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“As Chat,” she supplies.

The model scoffs, “I’m not Chat Noir.”

Ladybug shrugs, beginning to stroll around his room.

“Okay. So why did I see you rub your wrist in class today, hm?”

Now it’s Adrien’s turn to stiffen.

“Y-y-you’re in my class? What?” He asks incredulously.

“Yes. I’m the class president.”

She says it so confidently that it scares her. He’s sure to figure it out by now. She can’t look at him as he comes to the realization.

“But my class president is Marinette— wait.”

He huffs, smirking.

“Are you Marinette?”

Finally she casts her gaze in his direction.

“In the flesh.”

She watches as his eyes light up. He approaches her with a smile.

“Oh my god. Wait, then I’m totally okay admitting I’m Chat Noir.”

Her eyebrow raises, “Oh yeah? And if I was, say, Chloé… would you have admitted it?”

He immediately shakes his head.

Ladybug doesn’t even try to stifle her laugh.

“Spots off.”

Adrien watches in amazement as a magical, pink light engulfs her entire body, leaving Marinette Dupain-Cheng standing in his bedroom.

When she’s out of the Miraculous, the first thing Tikki does is call Plagg.

“Plagg, get out here! I need to talk to you!”

Plagg phases through Adrien’s over-shirt and glares at his counterpart.

“Well hello to you too, Sugarcube!”

The other side of the room is then occupied by two magical creatures, allowing for Adrien and Marinette to have some time alone.

An awkward tension fills the air for the first couple moments, as the two recently-outed superheroes stare at each other, letting everything sink in.

Adrien is the first to speak.

“Wow, uh… wow.”

Marinette only nods, unable to comment on his reaction as she is overflowing with concern.

“Adrien, we have to talk.”

His eyes dim and his lips curve downwards. He nods, hanging his head.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “we do.”

He leads her over to the couch and gestures for her to sit down. Then he gets situated right next to her, positioning his hands on his knees. Marinette takes a deep breath.

“So… I saw the scars in class today.”

She shifts her eyes to his left wrist, uncovered and visibly scarred. He follows her eyes, frowning when he meets their destination.

Adrien simply hums, staring at the abused skin but not saying a word.

“Why?” Marinette whispers.

He shrugs.

“I’m fine. It’s just… Chat Noir gives me freedom, but sometimes it’s not enough. I promise I don’t do it that often.”

“The amount of times you do it doesn’t matter, kitty, it’s the fact that you do.”

“What do you care anyway?” He scoffs. “You weren’t paying me much attention before I was in a sour mood that day.”

“I’ve always cared, Adrien. Always. Just because I’m super level-headed doesn’t mean that I don’t pay attention. I notice when you’re sad. I do. This time you were really worrying me, though, so I spoke up.”

Adrien rolls his eyes, “And it didn’t occur to you that maybe I wanted you to ask how I was feeling all those other times I was sad?”

She quiets at that.

“I mean, I understand that you don’t want to get in my way, but I appreciate people caring, Marinette. It means a lot to me. I feel like, if I never gave away too much information, you would still be assuming things about me. Things like, oh he’s okay because he’s loud and cocky and cracks jokes all the time — maybe it’s just a bad day.”

He shakes his head, allowing a bitter laugh to escape his raw throat.

“Every day is a bad day, Mari. I’m just a good fucking actor.”

Marinette soaks in every word like a sponge, letting each and every one hit her right where it hurts, because it’s true. He is a good actor; she’s not good at understanding the script.

I’m sorry, she wants to say. The words dance on the tip of her tongue.

He’s not finished, though.

“I want the world to suffer some days, you know? I want everyone to feel just as pressured and exploited as I have been for basically my entire life. I want all my friends with a good family to see what it’s like to live in this large mansion, with their father closed away in his room, never to be seen again by his own son who just wants him to say I love you.”

When had he started crying?

Well, the tears are flowing and he can’t stop the river now. Not when he has more to say.

“I have the power of destruction wrapped around my finger, Marinette.”

His lip trembles.

“You should be glad that I haven’t tried to Cataclysm any houses, or street lights, or cars, or busses, or-or-or—“

He breaks.

He meant to keep going — to finish his sentence — but he breaks.

There’s not much more that Marinette can do, other than pull him into her arms and whisper soothing words of reassurance as he sobs uncontrollably.

She rubs his back, softly shh-ing him as he lets it all out of his system. She allows him to drown for the time being, all while reassuring that she’ll be there to pull him back to shore.

Each one of his sniffles was a subtle reminder that she was there for him; that no matter if his father comes around to finally paying him some attention, or not, he will always have her shoulder to cry on. Simultaneously, though, her heart twists at how unhealthily he’s been dealing with the trauma.

She had heard stories upon stories of teenagers resorting to self-harm because they had no other outlet, and she had been so thankful that no one she knew had taken those measures. Now, a statistic has become personal. She would be lying if she said that she knew how to handle it.

But she knew that no matter the circumstance, it had to be dealt with.

That meant getting her crush some professional help. A therapist, some medication, and plenty of cuddles. (Cuddles arescientifically proven to relieve anxiety, right? It’s a professional technique).

A quiet sniffle breaks her out of her thoughts. She glances down at Adrien as he slightly pulls away from her hold, eyes red and puffy.

Maybe that can all be dealt with later.

She ruffles his hair.

“Let’s go get some ice cream, yeah?”

Adrien peers up at her in confusion.

She just smiles and wriggles out of their position on his couch, then stands up with her hands on her hips.

“Ice cream always cheers me up. We definitely have to talk more about this later, among other things, but I can’t bear to see you sad any longer. So let’s go!”

The left corner of his mouth perks up, albeit only for a mere second.

“My father—“

“To hell with you father,” Marinette reaches down to grab his hand and hoists him up from the couch.

“We are going to get ice cream whether he likes it or not. You need to do what makes YOU happy, ‘kay?”

He concedes.

After ice cream, they return to the bakery and consult with Tom and Sabine. It had taken a lot of convincing on Marinette’s part to get Adrien to agree, but from there began the journey of his recovery.

They explained his home situation and mental health struggles in full, only leaving out the part about them fighting akumas. Both adults had immediately started searching for a good therapist (and lawyer) that would help Adrien get on the right track.

In the end, Adrien was glad that they had told her parents. Their concern for him and dedication to his cause filled his heart with long lost hope and parental love. It had been so long since he felt cared for. And now that he’s felt it once again, he’s not ready to let it go.

Thank goodness the Dupain-Chengs’ weren’t going to let him go so easily.

It was a unanimous decision that, until he feels comfortable going back to the mansion, he would stay. He didn’t want to burden them, but they insisted. So he had no choice but to accept the offer.

Before he even knew it, another two weeks had passed. A new routine was broken in by the members of the D.C. household — Marinette was getting real annoyed with Adrien’s constant comparisons of her last name initials to Marvel (her father had taken a liking to his puns, however, so now she just lived in constant pain) — and suddenly it was like he had always been there.

His first therapy session wasn’t great. He was riddled with anxiety (no pun intended) and Doctor Benson was too nice for his liking. Well, it wasn’t that he didn’t like it. It was just so off-putting, considering he wasn’t used to being treated with such kindness even by his own father.

Doctor Benson told him that a lot of the things he’s been experiencing aren’t normal, but his response to that trauma is. At first he had been confused when he was told that his father was emotionally neglectful and verbally abusive. He didn’t understand what his father was doing wrong. Once Doctor Benson explained that, “Abuse is a violent, repetitive behavior that has a negative mental, emotional, and/or physical impact on the victim,” it became more clear.

It’s still a concept that he’s getting used to — that he’s a victim of abuse. The thought makes his skin crawl and a shiver run up his spine because he never considered himself to be part of a statistic. Now that he knows he is, he’s not sure what to do.

Marinette keeps telling him, “Even agreeing to go to therapy is a huge step in the right direction, and I’m so proud of you.” Then she goes on to tell him just how special he is to her and how important him and his life is and all of this crap about how he’s worth more than he thinks.

He has to believe her, too, because she’s the one that found him at his worst and instead of judging him, picked him off the ground and took initiative. She’s the one that brought him to her parents, helped him hide from his father, and even got him a part-time job at the bakery. It’s only temporary until he is able to access his earnings, but he will admit that he likes it way better than modeling; that had just been because his father wanted him to, anyways.

Everyone tells him time and time again that he should not be living for his father. He wants to disagree, because that’s what he’s been conditioned to do for so long, but he ultimately chooses not to. Because they’re right; he’s a young adult who should have the freedom to make his own decisions.

In the end, if he’s not happy, there’s always more opportunities. He knows that now.

And there’s no better way to figure out what he wants than to explore, and reach out for help.

A black cat and a ladybug sat atop a roof.

Marinette has her head tucked into the crook of her partner’s neck, eyes closed as she feels the wind blow past her. Adrien’s head lays on top of hers’ and eyes are trained on the full moon above them.

It had been a long day; one akuma attack and three tests, plus their friends wanted to hang out. Exhaustion had taken over hours before, and sleep was creeping up on them. They cherish the view of Paris at night while it lasts, before they have to go home and do it all again the next day.

When she lifts her head to look at her favorite kitty, she’s relieved to see a soft smile resting on his features.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

He glances at her before turning back to the stars, then hesitates.

“Can I tell you a riddle?”

Her face pales and stomach plummets.

“N-no, I don’t want to play this game again.”

“I promise its a good one, nothing too sad.”

They lock eyes. She can tell there is sincerity within those dark green orbs, so she reluctantly nods.

Adrien licks his lips, not breaking his gaze.

“I visit you every night, even if you don’t call me. I’m lost every day. What am I?”

Jokingly, she wants to say “Chat Noir” but their identities are known now, and she sees him every day (so, admittedly, it wouldn’t be that good of a joke). Then she looks up at the sky and she has her answer.

“The stars,” she whispers.

She’s not looking at him, but she can almost hear his smile widen. So she looks back to him, because she loves to see her kitty happy.

Sure enough, a grin — genuine, not forced — is playing on his lips. It’s human nature to copy social expressions, so she lets her mouth curve into a matching grin.

Then she leans in.

Their smiles fade as they inch closer, focused on the next task at hand. His gaze drops to her pink lips, and she stares into his eyes. She can see the thirst, the want, but she can also see his hesitance.

Experimentally, she pauses to see if he’ll close the gap, but he simply stops in accordance with her. She wants this so bad, but he’s very shy when it comes to romance; despite being so outwardly confident as Chat Noir.

He had told her that it was a mask to hide how scared he truly was. His advances towards her were genuine, although deep down, he was afraid of rejection (to which she will forever feel guilty for putting him through). He wanted to break his façade sometimes, but he chose not to for the sake of not worrying her. The media might have noticed his change in behavior, too; granted, he never cared what the public thought of him anyways.

So, to save them both the trouble, she takes the leap and closes the gap, capturing his lips in a fluid movement.

It’s pure ecstasy; electricity pulses through his veins, but at the same time… he’s calm. He’s not sure how to describe the feeling, in all honesty. It’s just perfect.

Well, not perfect, he corrects himself. Enjoyable, but not perfect.

They don’t move in perfect sync and his lips are chapped so she’s probably wondering why the heck are his lips so dry?and her mouth keeps opening and he isn’t sure if it’s a mistake or if he should do something but he’s not ready for the tongue yet, and so their heads are tilting at an awkward angle trying to make sense of the situation —

— but she smells like pastries and her lips are so soft and he can’t help but crack his eyes open because she is so beautiful in every single way oh my god I love her and nothing makes this better than cupping her face with his right hand and feeling just how smooth her skin is which calms him immensely and he just doesn’t want this to end.

When they finally pull away, with heavy breaths and big smiles, little giggles and red cheeks… he’s happy.

Maybe he’s not perfect. Neither is she. Nobody is, and Adrien is just starting to understand that.

Years of conditioning is hard to unlearn, but he is so grateful to have a support system he can count on. Marinette’s parents honorarily adopting him as one of their own, Doctor Benson offering coping mechanisms he hadn’t even known existed, his bodyguard protecting him from the  father  sperm donor he’s still afraid to talk to (one day soon, he’ll have to, but he’s planning on crossing that bridge when he gets there), Ms. Bustier’s unwavering faith in his abilities, and his friends’ insistence that he is more than enough — all of this support is overwhelming, to say the least, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Most importantly, there’s Marinette. She has been his rock for the past three years and it’s more true now than it ever was. She is family, in every sense of the word.

“Hey, Mari?” He says quietly, breaking the silence.

“Yes, Chaton?”

The nickname rolls off her tongue in a teasing manner, and he has to laugh.

“Thank you.”

“Always.”

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

The Warehouse

Can I request like maybe a Halloweeny smut (??) with Wonwoo in like an abandoned factory (like the gose ep with the ghosts) or escape room but reader is not a fan of scary stories and terrified of clowns but she accepts the adventure anyways because detective!mode Wonwoo is such a turn onnnn thank you so much and please if you decide to write something like this don't feel pressured to post around Halloween 🎃 I always enjoy reading your stories! Thank you for your time and hard work! 😽

AN: Sorry this took me so long to write! I tried to get it done by Halloween and failed to do so :/ but I hope you still find it enjoyable! 

Warnings for: Sex, sex in a public abandoned warehouse, mentions of clowns and dolls, being a slightly terror fic, also no condoms, and creampies.

-

“So... We have to stay here all night?”

“If we want to prove that this place isn’t haunted, that’s what we have to do.”

“And... We’re sure it’s not haunted... Right?”

Wonwoo didn’t respond to you as he thumbed through the contents of his bag, seeming to go back through his mental list of things you two would need for the night. You watched him for a few moments in silence, but eventually your anxiety was making you just a tad too distracted. You sighed and looked down to your feet, kicking up the dirt beneath them.

Finally Wonwoo let out a content sound and resecured his bag over his shoulder.

“A place can’t be haunted if ghosts aren’t real,” Wonwoo said assuredly. He looked over at you and hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t look so sure however. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

When Kwon Soonyoung had come to Wonwoo about an abandoned factory he wanted to repurpose, Wonwoo said yes to the job of proving it wasn’t haunted before Soonyoung had even finished what he was saying.

You weren’t sure why Wonwoo was always eager for the overnight jobs- always trying to stay up late in strange places that people swore up and down held cold spots and scary creatures. It certainly wasn’t those projects of his that you looked forward to. Personally, you were a very easily frightened person.

Just someone closing a book too loud in the library could make you shriek in surprise. So, normally, when it came to Wonwoo’s spookier adventures you tended to busy yourself playing video games safely indoors with Kim Mingyu.

But recently with Halloween being just around the corner, Wonwoo was busy with debunking so many places that he didn’t really have the time for you. It wasn’t anything he had said or done but... You knew that if you wanted to actually spend some time with Wonwoo you would have to suck it up and go on this one trip with him.

So you packed up for a overnight trip and begged him to let you come watch him work. It took a little bit of persuading, but he decided that he would let it slide if you assured him you would be okay.

“So... I just know that I’m going to regret asking this but... What exactly is supposed to be the problem with this place anyways?” You asked Wonwoo. He glanced back at you, his eyebrows high in surprise at the question.

“Oh you don’t know?”

He turned his attention back to the camera and hummed.

“Story has it that this used to be a factory for this really popular toy in the late 80s called Q-Tee. They had the whole management set up here. Like they oversaw the process of everything, including marketing. The toys weren’t doing great here... On account of them scaring children at night, so they decided to give the brand a mascot to help them sell better.”

“The mascot was supposed to be kind of like a Santa Claus, but the kids were scared of him too, and turned out the guy had a few screws loose. He ended up kidnapping a bunch of children- and almost killed them all. But before he could cops busted in. He didn’t want to go to jail so he got a gun and shot himself and now supposedly he haunts the place, still trying to get people to buy the toy.”

Wonwoo shrugged.

“Honestly, it’s not creative, but I guess it’s enough to freak out people who want to buy the place.”

You shifted uncomfortably but tried your best not to worry too much. Out of all the things that you were scared of ghosts certainly weren’t the worst thing that could be haunting this place.

“What was the toy anyways?” You asked him lightly, trying to make yourself sound brave.”

He once again shrugged.

“Clowns would you believe it.” Your heart stopped. If there was one thing that you absolutely could not handle it was a ghost clown. A clown doll- scary but can be destroyed. A clown itself- simply avoidable despite those terrifying painted eyes. But a clown ghost? Unavoidable. Avenging and- probably your number one biggest nightmare.

You grabbed on to Wonwoo’s wrist, holding him a little tighter as he switched on the camera.

“But don’t you worry,” Wonwoo continued, clearly not noticing your sudden change in attitude. “We’re here to prove that the ghosts here aren’t real. And no one has been to this factory in years. So, this job will be a piece of cake.”

Hours passed and nothing.

The room got darker, the clock kept ticking, Wonwoo turned another page in his book.

You sighed. You couldn’t believe that on top of being in a place right out of your nightmares you were bored. And desperate for something to do.

You got to your feet and began to look around on some of the shelves in the room that you were in. You could see something small in the back corner of one of them, so you reached forward for it curiously. You wrapped your fingers softly around it, and turned it around.

The item itself was soft in your hand, and had on a purple and silver diamond outfit. It was covered slightly in dust, but that wasn’t what bothered you. The pattern gave you a bad pinch of nostalgia, that made you hesitantly drag your eyes up to the face of the doll.

You screamed and threw the doll back towards the shelf when you saw the painted face of a clown.

It was hideous, with large white diamonds making its eyes look even bigger, a bright red nose, and dark skin that made the chipping white paint even more off putting. You raced back over to Wonwoo, burying your face into his chest

“I saw one,” you screeched.

Wonwoo laughed and peeled you off of him.

“It was just a doll,” he said lightly, patting your head in- frankly- an awful attempt to calm you down. “Don’t tell me you were scared of a doll?”

“It was not a doll it was a clown doll,” you stated back pointedly. “And I’m not scared of dolls... Well not that doll, I’m just... Scared of clowns.”

Wonwoo laughed softly at you, his fingers taking you by your shoulders carefully.

“There aren’t any clowns here,” he assured you softly. “And there haven’t been for many many years.”

The look in his eyes made you want to believe that what he was saying was true. You felt yourself ease down a little, your fingers lightly brushing against his.

“You promise?” You asked. He nodded.

“I promise.” He assured. “In fact... I’m so confident that you will be fine, that why don’t we do a little something to pass the time hm?”

At first you completely missed the implication in Wonwoo’s voice. Assuming that he was talking about maybe reading a book together or playing a round of Among Us on his phone. But instead of that you suddenly felt a cool hand slip under your shirt. You wiggled under the touch.

“You want to do that...” You looked around the warehouse nervously. “Here?”

Wonwoo hummed, his other hand chilling the skin beneath it as he rested it against your stomach.

“Why not? There’s no one around?” Wonwoo’s voice was comforting despite the location and honestly, where your heart should be racing due to environment, your heart was racing because Wonwoo’s hands on you were completely intoxicating.

You let out a long whine.

“We still shouldn’t do it,” you whispered quietly. Wonwoo gave you a smile.

“Oh, and is that a no?” He asked softly as he lifted you up, placing you gingerly on the table. You wrapped your legs around his torso and rolled your hips against him.

“I guess I’m not really one to say no to sex with you,” you said with a grin.

Wonwoo smiled back at that, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Hm, then I guess here is the perfect place to do it.” Wonwoo dipped his head down at that, his lips brushing against the nape of your neck. You whined softly and tilted your chin upwards so that he had better access to you as he began to kiss at the warm skin there, his teeth nipping at you every once in a while.

With each little touch a shock ran through your body, sending heat right down to your core.

You whined and wrapped your arms tightly around Wonwoo’s body. Your eyes started to drift down his body, trailing over first his broad shoulders, down his chest. As you were looking at him Wonwoo smiled and took the bottom edge of his shirt, pulling it over his shirt and tossing it over onto the floor. You groaned at that, throwing your head back.

“Wonwoo we just washed that shirt,” you whined. Wonwoo just grinned at you as he discarded the rest of his clothes.

“We can wash it again.”

He leaned forward and began to kiss your neck again, effectively shutting you up. You whined and squirmed under him, but he soon grew tired of your movement and placed his hands on your hips as he kissed you to still you. You were pretty happy with just letting Wonwoo explore your body with his lips, each kiss sending a small shiver through your body- but after a while you got eager for more...

You wriggled a little under his grip again until he loosened his hands and then you brought your hand down blindly until your fingers had wrapped around his thick member. You smiled and began to slowly struck it, feeling pleasantly surprised by how turned on Wonwoo clearly was by the little moans leaving his lips with every twist of your wrist.

“Hmm, how does that feel?” You teased lightly. Wonwoo didn’t respond, instead he grunted and in one swift motion, pulled your button-up open, and threw your pants and underwear to the side.

You whined as cold air hit your body, and you wrapped your legs around Wonwoo’s waist to try and warm up. Wonwoo chuckled.

“How does that feel?” He parroted back to you. You tried to send him a glare for the reaction but before it could really hit it’s mark, you felt a finger slide into you.

Wonwoo��s fingers were cold and big and yo felt your whole body jolt a little bit when yo felt his digit slide knuckle deep into you and then curl at the end.

“I can’t believe I’m going to let you-” The finger slid out of your body before you could finish speaking about it made you whine lowly, your thighs quivering. Wonwoo didn’t think twice before slowly beginning to ease his finger in and out of you, watching in amazement as your pussy took his digit.

He made quick work, working one- two- three fingers into your pussy, until his fingers were a dripping mess and you were literally begging for his cock.

“Fine, fine, but next time be a little more patient.”

Wonwoo slid his cock deep inside of you, and at first he just sat there- HIs cock throbbing inside your dripping pussy while his chest heaved up and down with breath after breath.

And then, finally he began to slowly slide out. You groaned in pleasure, your fingers curling into his back at the friction the action caused- Only to yelp when Wonwoo suddenly pushed himself hard back into you.

He sat there again for a few moments, just listening to your whine’s and half-hearted pleas for him to continue, before slowly sliding out again and pushing himself back in.

If nothing else, Wonwoo was a bit of a sadist in that way when he fucked you. He liked to find his own pace and fuck you at it no matter how you felt about the pace. If he found pleasure in the sounds you made while he was fucking you- that was all that mattered.

And he always found pleasure in the sounds you made when he was fucking you.

Every thrust made your toes curl, and made you want to cry out as complete and utter pleasure washed over you.

You could feel yourself approaching an orgasm, and Wonwoo seemed to notice too. He opened his mouth- surely to comment on it when suddenly his eyebrows furrowed. He began to quicken his pace fucking you- he was getting closer to an orgasm as well- but he kept glancing up.

“What?” You asked. “What’s wrong?” “It’s nothing...”

His eyes flickered upwards again.

“Wonwoo-” “I just... I could have sworn I saw something.”

You twisted your body around to see, but the movement just made Wonwoo’s’ cock slam right into the spot that made you moan even louder. Your eyes slammed shut and you wrapped your arms tightly around Wonwoo’s neck.

“Wooo-”

“Oh I know what I see now,” Wonwoo said, a hitch of horror in his voice as he spoke. You looked back up at him, eyes wide in fear.

“What? What do you see?”

“A ghost,” Wonwoo responded, his voice barely above a whisper. Then, without warning his hands jumped to your sides, making your whole body lurch. You screamed and as you did, you felt yourself beginning to cum.

Wonwoo felt it too as he pinned you down by your stomach and fucked you hard through your orgasm, unloading his cum into you with a loud moan of his own. Once he had finally collapsed on top of you, you grunted and shoved him over.

“You... You fucking sadist.” Wonwoo bit out a laugh.

“Come on,” he insisted. “It was fun wasn’t it?”

You didn’t tell him it was.

“We are never doing this again.” But it was kind of fun.

And you two did do it again.

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Don't Leave Me This Way

Warnings- angst, marital spats, language, a hint of spice

A/N- After a decade together, Honey and Leon have come undone. But on the anniversary of the day their lives changed, Leon decides to mend that. For @forenschik

Part One:

Honey was, in a word, incensed. That Leon would even think about the two of them going out on a weekday bothered her. Then again, at this point in their busy lives going out on ANY day bothered her. But that, Leon told her, was the problem. It was eat, sleep, work, kids, eat, sleep, work, OCCASIONALLY have sex. Throw in Sunny’s growing powers and the odd alternate universe traveller for good measure. That was the rhythm of married life she responded rather dismissively.

Leon took the club scheduling book out of Honey’s hand and held it high above his head where he knew Honey couldn’t fathom reaching it. “How about fuck off with this rhythm of life.”

“LEON!” Honey both whined and raised her voice at her husband as she scrambled to her feet and attempted to climb him. When that didn’t work, and he simply laughed at her and held the book higher, she stood on the desk chair. “How about you go fuck yourself?”

Leon threw the date book. Honey jumped to go after it, but he blocked her move. He held her tight in his arms so she was made to stand still. “Fuck’s sake, I was asking for a date. Now I’m telling you. You’re gonna go upstairs and get ready and put on that sexy purple dress. I’ve packed up The Littles. We’re taking them to your parents, and then we are going to that Italian restaurant you love on Mulberry Street. Then we’re coming home, and you’re getting a right good seeing to.” Before she could protest Leon clamped his hand over her mouth, “Now.”

Honey shockingly obeyed her husband. Her face crimson with anger as she held her chin in the air, arms crossed in front of her chest before throwing up the double finger. In the shower she realized something. It had been so long, and their lives were so busy, that Honey couldn’t discern being mad from being turned on. A lump formed in her throat because she was ashamed. Or disappointed? When was she ever NOT enamored by Leon? Maybe this date was exactly what they needed.

---

“I don't know, I think we should maybe homeschool Sunny. He's not going to have a handle on anything until he's come to the end of what he can do. Maybe we can communally teach him? Selina is fine, she always will be. She could use other normal kids. I think she and Sun are too dependent on each other. They're only six and seven. Usually that level of codependency comes later in life. Like you and Jonathan. I don't know, what do you think?”

Leon watched as his wife took her first breath since their dinners arrived. She swallowed most of her wine before chasing a tortellini around her plate. Her head in one hand like an insolent child instead of a woman in her thirties. Honey looked at Leon expectedly. He took a breath of his own, but she interjected just as he was about to speak.

“They might resent us if we separate though. Sunny needs to feel as normal as possible. They're in Montessori school, so all those kids are bound to be a little strange too. I guess if they were homeschooled you would have to cut back on your classes, and we would have to scale back on bookings.”

Leon clenched his jaw between sips of his bourbon. He stabbed at his dinner, chewed and swallowed while simmering. He sat back with the expectancy that Honey would continue, uninterrupted the same way she had for the last decade. He could feel the simmer start to boil just below the surface while, sure enough, she kept on.

“Punk is just taking off. I know CBGB is where it's at, but Hilly’s been a mensch sending us Patti, Debbie and The Ramones. I know we're still stuck in folk, but I REALLY think it can turn around into rock. There's this outrageous glam or metal or whatever band from LA. Oh! Did you get to hear that demo from the Irish band? Klaus said they're like, one of the biggest bands in the world. I don't know if that would be in our timeline too, but he's onto something. Get in while we can. But who wears sunglass-”

“αρκετά!!” Leon yelled. ENOUGH!

He banged a fist on the table which drew attention from nearby diners. His nostrils flared with anger and embarrassment. While the outburst mortified Leon, he also wouldn't take it back. It was his only means of getting Honey’s attention. And it did.

She sat back with her arms crossed. One eyebrow arched in challenge. Honey was no shrinking violet. She did tend to her grudges like a little garden. If she had to add Leon to it for a little while, so mote it be.

Leon’s face softened, his shoulders sank while he bit into his lip. Then he sat up straight, an air of defiance about him. Before she knew what was happening, Leon slid Honey around the booth with ease so that they sat side by side. He made a bold move when his wife turned away from him.

Leon snuck a hand inside of Honey’s bare thighs. He knew her. Knew she wouldn't be wearing any panties. It wasn't even meant as a tease. She just couldn't with this particular dress. He took advantage of that.

Letting two of his fingers delve inside of his wife, Leon slid them as painfully slow as possible. Her body reacted. It became instantaneously wet allowing him to slip in with ease. He continued in Italian.

“Tesoro mio, non stai zitto da dieci anni. Hai chiesto la mia opinione e io ne ho una.” His fingers pumped faster. One found her clit for a brief moment before abandoning it “Ora sii una brava moglie e lasciami dire la mia.”

My sweet, you haven't shut the fuck up in ten years. You asked for my opinion, and I have one. Now be a good wife and let me have my say.

Honey swallowed oxygen and choked on it. Her heart pounded in places she forgot carried a beat for the man beside her. Her hips shifted forward while she spread her legs to accommodate Leon.

“I'm.. sorry..” her breath came out choppy. “What.. what do you think?”

Leon removed his fingers and draped his arm along Honey’s shoulders. It curled around her neck but with a gentleness. All of the anger dissipated seeing his wife submit to him so easily. That sexual reminder he had as much agency in this marriage as she did.

“I think,” Leon lifted Honey’s chin so her face drew closer. Instead of her lips he kissed her forehead and caught her gaze, “It's time to send the Littles away without us.”

Honey inhaled ready to release a protest. Leon clamped a hand over her mouth. “For longer than a few days at the lake. Or a weekend down at the shore with your sister's kids. Or overnight at your parents place. It's time Yía Yía takes them to Greece.”

Leon felt his wife’s body start to tense. He knew she was processing what he had to say but was prepared to fight him every step of the way. He kept on, “We can take the kids to London, stay a day or two. Then the two of us are going away together for the first time. Not a weekend here. Or a day there. PROPER vacationing just us.”

“We-”

He cut Honey off with a kiss this time. “We can afford to close the club for a while. I love you, and I bloody love our kids. The three of you are my whole fucking world. Don’t you think we’ve gotten a bit lost? It hasn’t been just us since the 60s. You don’t even know what day it is, do you?”

Honey blanked. Her eyebrows knit together as her brain searched back through time to what she may have missed. Why a random day at the end of August was so important. Leon stared at his wife, willing her to remember. He knew she maybe just took it for granted that this instance had always been there. Neither could remember a time when it wasn’t.

Honey’s body deflated. “Oh, Leon.” Hot tears sprang to her eyes which she angrily wiped away. “When HAVEN’T I loved you? I don’t think I was ever able to boil it down to our last time away together. Has it really been ten years? I always thought the moment I saw you was the moment I fell in love. I held you at bay didn’t I?”

Leon used his thumbs to brush the tears away from her cheeks. One traced along her bottom lip before he pushed her hair off her shoulder to kiss it.

"Gracie, look at me." He lifted her chin again so their eyes met. She sniffled. "I think you know that little bits of me and you could scatter across the cosmos, and we would always find one another. It's why we need to get away, the two of us. C'mon, wanna go for a walk?

He stood, laid more money down than necessary, and reached for Honey's hand. She took it but rebuffed the rest, "Leon, it's midnight. It's the hottest summer on record. And someone is murdering women with dark hair and their lovers."

"So?!" She frowned. "Oh bugger off!" he teased. "Klaus said his name's David Berkowitz, and he never goes outside of Queens. I just want to hold my missus's hand and walk beside her a little while. That's all."

How could Honey resist?

Part 2 coming next week 💋

@elliethesuperfruitlover @magic-multicolored-miracle @maerenee930 @nightmonsters @neuroticpuppy @firstpersonnarrator @frogs--are--bitches @rob-private @bisexualnathanyoung @super-unpredictable98 @messengeronthemoon @a-ghoulish-tale @love-is-dirty-baby @vonkimmeren @duck-noises @feed-davis-and-steve @ghouls-buddy

[elspethc22]

Best Road Trip Ever

Sciles Week Day 3: Road Trip

Pairing: Scott/Stiles

Word Count: 4416

‘Come on Scott!’ Stiles yelled up the stairs, resisting the urge to tap his foot in impatience. The jeep was packed, except for Scott’s belongings, and they were meant to be on the road nearly an hour ago.

Of course, that was before Liam had called Scott in a panic about… something. Stiles had his suspicions that nothing had actually been wrong other than Liam’s fear of something happening while Scott and Stiles were gone.

‘Scotty!’ He yelled again, and was about to start up the stairs when he heard footsteps.

‘I’m coming, I’m coming. Geez, calm down.’

Scott came hurrying down the stairs, full bag slung over his shoulder and a wide grin on his face. Stiles answered it with his own grin.

‘Road trip Scotty!’ Stiles greeted with a yell when Scott reached the bottom of the stairs.

‘Road trip!!’ Scott yelled right back, still grinning. Stiles spun on his foot and headed for the front door, Scott following behind. When Scott paused to lock up the house behind him, Stiles took the bag off him, heading to the jeep to stash the bag with his right in the back.

Slightly closer to the front were the bags with snack and drinks for the drive, well the first part of the drive anyway – Stiles wasn’t under the impression this lot of snacks would last all that long with both him and Scott in the car.

Scott hopped into the passenger seat just as Stiles was sliding behind the wheel, turning the keys in the ignition and listening with a smile as Roscoe started up with no fuss.

‘It’s so weird.’ Scott said, looking at him, and Stiles raised an eyebrow in question. ‘Seeing you just start the jeep with no issues every time after so many years of having to fight to start it, and constantly having to check under the hood.’

Stiles nodded, but kept grinning. It had taken a lot of time and money, but once high school had ended, and the threats to their town and their lives had started to die down, Stiles had been able to shift his focus to getting a job and attending college. In the end both Scott and Stiles had chosen to attend the local college, allowing them to stay home and both save money on rent if they’d gone to an expensive city and been around to help out with any supernatural issues that came up.

Scott had increased his hours with Deaton and had initially poured the extra income into helping his mum with getting the house fixed up (although Argent had helped with that too – he wasn’t just handy with multiple weapons, who knew?). Stiles on the other hand had used his new found income to help first with medical bills then finally, finally getting Roscoe a proper mechanic.

Their last year of college they had both been saving for this. The road trip they had talked about for years, that they had originally planned for right after high school but had had to put on the backburner as other things took precedence (and they really lacked the funds for it). But now, four years later they both finally felt it would be safe enough for them to leave for a few weeks and were finally in a position to be able to afford to do it.

The plans for this road trip had been set mostly back when they were pre-teens but they hadn’t changed much since then. They would be gone for a little over five weeks, heading down through California stopping at first at Yosemite, then heading across to the coast to San Francisco and making their way south along the coast until they hit LA. They were spending just over a week in LA then heading into Arizona to see the grand canyon and finally hitting Vegas.

Honestly, Stiles wasn’t sure which part he was most excited about. He knew which part he was least excited about.

‘Are you sure I can’t talk you out of the whole camping in Yosemite thing?’ He asked as they got on the road out of Beacon Hills. Scott just laughed at him.

‘Come on man, it was your idea.’ He reminded Stiles, who just huffed.

‘Yeah, when I was twelve! I think I’m allowed to change my mind.’ He glanced over at Scott who was shaking his head.

‘Well, too bad. I’ve been looking forward to camping in Yosemite for the last ten years and you’re not gonna change my mind.’ Stiles grumbled under his breath, but didn’t continue arguing – he knew Scott was looking forward to being able to spend some time out in nature that wasn’t the preserve with all its history and bad memories. Stiles was also looking forward to it, just not the camping bit.

***************************************************************************

The first night of their road trip, they realised that they had both severely underestimated how cold it would get overnight in Yosemite. Although it wasn’t really an issue for Scott, with his core temperature running higher than an average human’s since the bite, it was definitely an issue for Stiles who still, even after nearly five years after the Nogitsune, had periods of time where he struggled to get warm.

When they had first slipped into the tent and their sleeping bags, Stiles had been ok – it had been a warm day, and they spent nearly two hours exploring Yosemite before setting up camp and making their fire. But now, nearly an hour after lying down to sleep, Stiles was still awake and was starting to shiver. He’d already gotten up to pull on a second pair of socks and a jumper but to no avail.

‘Stiles?’ Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Scott’s voice – he’d been so sure he was asleep. As he rolled over, Scott flicked on one of their torches.

‘Um, yeah?’ He responded, trying to be casual about it, hoping Scott hadn’t noticed the shaking.

‘You’re freezing, aren’t you?’ Scott asked, right to the point. Stiles briefly considered lying to him, but then he knew Scott would be able to tell. Even before becoming a werewolf Scott had almost always been able to tell when Stiles was lying.

‘Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up or – ’

‘Shut up, Stiles. Ok, just unzip your sleeping bag.’ Scott told him, already crawling out of his own sleeping bag and opening it up. Stiles stared at him for a moment then moved to do the same. When he was done, Scott simply held out his hand for it, so Stiles passed it over. It took him a few tries, but eventually Scott got the sleeping bags zipped together, grinning triumphantly at Stiles, who just stared at him.

‘Come on, in you get.’ Stiles sighed and moved across to where Scott held up the sleeping bag. He crawled in quickly, and curled up on one side to leave room for Scott, who crawled in behind him then flicked the torch back off.

Stiles tried to keep himself curled up on one side of the sleeping bag, but after a few minutes and more shivering, Scott just let out a huff and slid up behind Stiles, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him in close.

‘Just, stop being stupid. You need to get warm, and I want to sleep so no complaining.’ Scott told him, and Stiles sighed, then let his body relax. As the shivers started to subside and Stiles felt himself start to warm, he gave in and actively snuggled back into Scott’s warmth, felt Scott tighten his hold and shift slightly to a more comfortable position.

‘Thanks Scott.’ He whispered and he swore he could feel Scott’s eye roll.

‘Any time Stiles. Get some sleep, we’ve got a lot of hiking to do tomorrow.’

***************************************************************************

The next two nights in the tent were spent the same way – Stiles had tried to separate the sleeping bags before bed on the second night before Scott came in, took one look at the scene and just stared at Stiles until he stopped.

They both changed into their comfy sleep clothes – Stiles even left off the second pair of socks and jumper as the first night had ended with him waking up sweating from the combination of the layers and Scott’s body heat.

Again, Stiles crawled into the sleeping bag first, followed by Scott. Instead of turning the torches straight off, however, Scott left them on, poking Stiles on the shoulder till he rolled over.

‘So, we hit the giant sequoias today, you still up for Yosemite Valley in the morning?’ Scott asked, and Stiles nodded.

‘Yeah, of course. It’s really nice – reminds me of when we were really into camping back in elementary school.’ Stiles said, thinking back. Of course, most of their camping had happened in their backyards, but Stiles’ dad had taken them hiking a few times in the preserve and a few other areas just outside of Beacon Hills.

‘I love it here.’ Scott admitted. ‘It’s nice to just walk through the forest and not be waiting for something to jump out or remembering that’s where the hunters almost got me, or that’s where I was bitten.’

‘I get it. And I mean, I totally have my limits on how long I could spend out here, but it’s nice being here. I’m really glad you insisted on keeping Yosemite on the road trip.’ Stiles admitted.

‘Even with the camping?’ Scott asked teasingly, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

‘Even with the camping. It’s… not as bad as I thought it would be.’ Stiles averted his gaze as he said this, and Scott was about to shoot out a teasing remark when something about Stiles’ face had him hesitating. Stiles was rarely shy or hesitant around him – in fact, the only time Stiles wasn’t completely up front with him was if he was embarrassed by something, and that something usually had something to do with Scott himself.

The last time he’d been like this had been… when he’d admitted to Scott he was bisexual, their first year of college. Not that Scott had been completely surprised (there were only so many comments or jokes Stiles could make before Scott started thinking there was something behind them). But that hadn’t been the cause of the embarrassment – it had been the fact that he had, at one point, had a crush on Scott. Now, given Stiles’ hesitation in sharing the sleeping bags last night and again tonight…

The possibility had Scott pausing, and a fluttering sensation occurring in his stomach. Over the last year of college Scott had started to realise that he might not necessarily be quite as straight as he’d always thought, although he’d never really found a guy that did more than just catch his eye in a fleeting, he’s cute kind of way. Thinking about Stiles that way, for the first time, well that was different. That was more than a fleeting kind of feeling. But it was one that he wasn’t going to just act on rashly – more than anything, Stiles was his best friend and Scott was never going to do anything to put that in jeopardy, so this would take some consideration.

‘Well I’m glad that my need to – how did you put it? Commune with nature? – isn’t ruining the road trip for you.’ He said softly, giving Stiles a small smile when he finally looked back up. Stiles smiled in return, and rolled his eyes.

‘Yeah, yeah. I still say that you’ll be agreeing with me when we hit San Francisco and a real bed in a nice, warm hotel with indoor plumbing and a roof.’ Stiles told him, and Scott laughed.

‘Big baby.’ Scott teased and Stiles huffed and rolled over to show Scott his back. Scott just laughed, reached out to flick off the torches then settled in, reaching out an arm to wrap around Stiles’ waist and pulling him in close to keep him warm.

***************************************************************************

Two days later, they reached San Francisco in the early afternoon and Stiles was incredibly thankful he’d had Roscoe fixed up properly because the Roscoe of high school would neverhave survived the hills.

‘So, it’s too early to check in to the hotel, and we’re booked for Alcatraz tomorrow, any preference for what we do today?’ Stiles asked as he tried to navigate his way into the city.

‘Let’s go see the Golden Gate Bridge and the Presidio.’ Scott said, looking at their list of places on his phone. He knew that Stiles was desperate to see the Yoda fountain and the other Star Wars stuff that was supposed to be in the nearby building, plus it was a great day for seeing the bridge weather wise.

‘You sure?’ Stiles asked, but Scott could already see that he was practically vibrating with excitement. Their top two places to visit – Alcatraz and the Presidio – were Stiles’ choices and after Yosemite Scott was more than willing to let Stiles lead this part of the trip.

‘Yeah. Come on, I’m sure you like memorised the best way to get there and where to park so let’s go.’ Stiles shot him a grin, double checked what street they were on and, as he continued to drive, started humming the Star Wars theme under his breath. Scott rolled his eyes at the lack of subtlety but smiled.

When they finally made it to the Presidio, the first thing they did, of course, was head straight for the Yoda fountain, Stiles practically dragging Scott along in his enthusiasm.

‘Oh my god Scott!! There it is, look at it.’ Scott tried to hide his wince at the high pitched tone of Stiles’ voice caused by his excitement.

‘It sure is buddy.’ He responded.

‘Ok, can you try to show at least a little more enthusiasm and respect for the awesomeness that is the Yoda fountain?’ Stiles asked, giving Scott a small glare. ‘I know you fail to appreciate the amazing work of George Lucas and the brilliance of this franchise but I will not have you disrespecting Yoda like that.’

‘Woah, ok calm down. No disrespect, I promise. Hey, you’re getting a photo with the fountain right?’ Scott asked and smiled when the diversion tactic worked. Stiles nodded and as soon as a family moved away from the fountain he bounded over, turning to face Scott with a massive grin on his face. Scott took a couple of photos, and was about to put his phone away when Stiles held out his hand to stop him.

‘Excuse me, do you mind taking a photo of us?’ He asked a couple who looked to be waiting to take photos themselves. The girl nodded and Stiles smiled, gesturing for Scott to hand over the phone, then come and stand next to him.

‘Come on Scotty, I know you don’t care but I need proof you were here too. Kira will never believe me.’ Stiles told him and Scott just shook his head, handing over his phone and making his way over to Stiles.

Stiles threw his arm around his shoulder, shuffling them when the girl indicated they were in front of the fountain. Scott just let Stiles move him around, grinning at him the whole time.

‘You two make a really cute couple.’ The girl told him when she handed back his phone. Scott felt a blush rise up his cheeks and he shifted his gaze quickly over towards Stiles to see if he’d heard. Stiles and her boyfriend were currently standing at the fountain geeking out at it, and Stiles seemed completely oblivious to the comment.

‘Uh, thanks. And thanks for the photos.’ He said, and she just smiled at him, giving him a nod.

‘Sally! Come on, our turn!’ Scott and the girl turned at the voice, and Scott saw Sally’s boyfriend gesturing for her as Stiles made his way over to Scott. He held out a phone to Scott who took it with a questioning look.

‘I told Jake we’d take their photos for them, but you’re usually better so you do it.’ Stiles said with a shrug, so Scott pocketed his phone and then took their photos for them.

Once they were done, Scott handed back the camera and after another round of thanks they went their separate ways. As they walked, Stiles chatting on about Star Wars trivia and the fountain, Scott wondered why he hadn’t corrected Sally when she’d referred to them as a couple. When she’d said it, he’d had a fleeting moment of panic then a warm feeling in his chest. He looked over at Stiles who was waving his hands as he spoke and Scott reached out to pull Stiles close to him just before he walked into a bench.

‘What… oh, thanks dude.’ Stiles said, smiling at Scott before continuing his one-sided discussion. Scott continued listening as they walked, keeping his eye on their path and

occasionally reaching out to steer Stiles out of the way of obstacles until they reached the area of the Presidio that provided them with an amazing view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

He wanted to talk to Stiles about the assumption the girl had made, the moment in the tent the other night, but he needed to sort through his own feelings and thoughts first to make sure he wouldn’t end up doing something that hurt Stiles or damaged their friendship.

***************************************************************************

Nearly a week later the boys were once again on the road, heading down the coast towards LA. They had spent three days exploring San Francisco, followed by a couple of lazy days in a small coastal town with nice beaches. Scott had had a great time in San Francisco, mostly just letting Stiles take the lead, letting his happiness and enthusiasm buoy Scott’s spirits. And the beach had been amazing – it was a quiet town without many tourists so the boys had been able to enjoy the beach without have to fight with crowds of people.

His thoughts kept slipping back to Sally’s comment and thoughts of him and Stiles however, and now that they were in the car, just the two of them for a few hours, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop Stiles from noticing something was up.

Sure enough, nearly an hour into the drive, Stiles pulled over to a rest stop, turned off the engine and shifted to look at Scott.

‘Ok, what’s up?’ Stiles asked, straight to the point.

‘What do you mean?’ Scott asked trying to deflect – from the narrowing of Stiles’ eyes it didn’t work.

‘You’ve been acting weird since the day we got to San Francisco. I figured you’d talk when you were ready but it’s been like three days already so what gives?’

‘I… you know in freshman year of college, when you told me you were bi?’ Scott started, watched as Stiles’ face became wary. He nodded slowly.

‘Yeah.’

‘Well… The second night in the tent in Yosemite I was thinking about that, when you said you… that you had feelings for me at some point – ’

‘Yeah, but you know that I wasn’t like faking being cold or anything to just get you to share – ’

‘No, Stiles of course I know that! That’s not what I meant. I mean – ’ Scott cut himself off, took a deep breath and then let it out. ‘Ok. So, that night I wasn’t thinking about what you’d told me in a bad way, I was thinking about it like, like I was thinkingabout it. And then when we were at the fountain, the Yoda fountain, that girl, Sally, she told me we were a cute couple and I couldn’t – I couldn’t stop thinking about it.’

‘Couldn’t stop thinking about…’ Stiles trailed off, looking at him.

‘About us. As a couple.’ They sat in silence for nearly two minutes after that statement, just staring at each other.

‘And what have you been thinking? I mean, Scott, you’re straight. Aren’t you? ’

‘I don’t… I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve never been really attracted to a guy before but I’m starting to think that’s because I was looking in the wrong places.’ Scott said softly.

‘And now?’ Stiles asked, just as soft.

‘Now, I know I’m definitely not one hundred percent straight. There’s one guy in particular that’s finally caught my eye and I think… I think it’s taken me long enough to realise it.’ Scott told him, and after a moment’s hesitation, he reached out a hand to Stiles.

Stiles looked at it, then back up at Scott and after his own momentary hesitation he reached out with his own hand to take it.

‘Are you… are you serious about this, Scott? Cause I can’t – ’

‘That’s why I’ve been, how did you put it? Weird. I’ve been thinking about it, just trying to make sure that what I was feeling was real, that I was really sure about it before I said anything.’ Scott told him, giving his hand a squeeze.

‘So are you? Sure?’ Stiles asked, sounding like he was afraid to hear the answer. Scott looked down at their joined hands, thought for a moment and then looked back up.

‘Yeah, yeah I am sure. I want this Stiles. Us. And I’m sorry if it’s – ’ Whatever Scott was about to say was cut off as Stiles leant across the centre console and pressed his lips against Scott’s.

Scott was shocked for about five seconds, then responded. And he had to admit, there may have been a tiny bit of him still in doubt before, but now, kissing Stiles – he knew this is what he wanted. Nothing had felt this right, and no kiss had ever gone straight to his head (or other areas) like that.

When Stiles pulled back, Scott just smiled at him.

‘Still one hundred percent sure.’ Scott told him, and Stiles grinned back.

***************************************************************************

Four days later they stood in the middle of a crowd, looking for the most likely suspect to take their photo for them. Then, Stiles spotted someone.

‘Oh my god, Jake!’ He called out, waving his hand in the air frantically and Scott looked around, laughing when he spotted Sally and Jake.

‘Stiles?’ Jake called out, pulling Sally in their direction. ‘Man, what are the chances?’

‘I know, right? Man I can’t believe the star wars area isn’t open yet, it’s gonna be so cool! But we did Star Tours and the Jedi Training – I wish Space Mountain was still themed’ Stiles said, and Scott smiled and rolled his eyes, catching Sally’s eye and laughing with her.

‘Well this could take a while.’ She said, nodding at their boyfriends – and wow, that was amazing to think.

‘Yeah. Stiles is still not over the fact that I didn’t find the movies as amazing as he does when he finally got me to sit down at watch them.’

‘Jake’s the same – I honestly did wonder early on if Jake was going to break it off with me because of it.’

‘Stiles has threatened to end our friendship I don’t even know how many times because of Star Wars.’

‘Your friendship? I thought you two – oh my god, I’m sorry!’ Sally said, looking horrified and Scott laughed.

‘No, no – I mean, when you said we were a cute couple last week at the Presidio, we weren’t, but now – actually, if you hadn’t said that we might not have talked about it so, thank you.’ Scott told her, and she looked at him, puzzled, then smiled.

‘Wow. I mean, you’re welcome? You really do make a cute couple.’ She repeated.

‘We do, don’t we?’ Stiles said, coming up behind them with Jake, nearly making Sally jump in surprise. ‘Scotty, guess what? Jake said a cast member told him Chewbacca is gonna be out for a meet and greet in like an hour, we have to go. Oh, and they’re going to comic con too!’

Scott grinned at his boyfriend, then shared a smile of exasperated fondness with Sally. The rest of their day was spent with Sally and Jake – after their obligatory couple shots in front of the castle, and a group shot once Sally spotted a nice looking lady who agreed to take some photos for them all.

After the evening fireworks, they went their separate ways as they headed back to their hotels, promising to meet up at comic con in a few days since Sally and Jake were on their last day at Disneyland.

Scott and Stiles walked back up to their hotel – it was about a twenty minute walk, but Scott enjoyed it, semi-quiet after the noise of Disneyland all day.

‘I can’t believe we just ran into them again like that.’ Stiles commented, leaning his head on Scott’s shoulder for a second as they walked.

‘Yeah, it was pretty unlikely. But hey, you got to talk Star Wars with Jake, and we’ll see them again in a few days. And I was talking to Sally – I thanked her.’ Scott said, and Stiles looked at him.

‘Thanked her?’ He asked, and Scott nodded.

‘Yeah. If it wasn’t for her mistaking us for a couple, I might have let things go as just me being, I don’t know, caught up in the moment – I wouldn’t have been overthinking things and you wouldn’t have pushed me to talk. I mean, it still might have happened eventually, but her comment is why it happened now. So…’

‘So, you thanked her.’ Stiles repeated, and Scott nodded again. ‘I’m really glad she called us a couple then.’

‘Me too.’ Scott said, then pulled Stiles in for a kiss. He wondered if the amazed feeling he got from doing that would ever wear off – he hoped it wouldn’t.

***************************************************************************

A few weeks later, they were headed home. They’d seen Alcatraz, Disneyland, the Hollywood sign, the Grand Canyon, the strip in Vegas and still – when people asked them what the best part of the trip was, their favourite spot they both answered with ‘I-5, heading south.’

It got them some strange looks, but they would just share a look and smile. And when asked about how the road trip went, they would sometimes give lots of details about what they did, who they met, what they saw.

But most often? They would just smile and say ‘best road trip ever.’