#and yet it's just this panic-stricken mess?

[angeart]

hhau rescue rambles - part II

>> part I here // hhau masterpost here <<

The hermits are here to take Scar home but Grian is gone and Scar can’t leave without him, even if the others would promise to look for him. (They won’t find him, they won’t, they won’t. Scar knows how vast these forests are. He knows how many hiding spots there are tucked away if one knows where to look.) (They don’t know where to look.)

They’re not listening to him. He’s half-feral and panicked and desperate, barely making any sense. He keeps saying he needs to find Grian, but he looks half-crazed, clothes stained by a huge amount of blood and—

If it looks, a little bit, like he’s just in frenzied denial of some grief? That maybe something happened and Grian isn’t here anymore? The world is permadeath, after all. The rescue party isn’t sure what to think.

Of course they promise to look for Grian. Of course they’ll try. But first, let’s get you somewhere safe, Scar.

Scar panics and backs away and says he isn’t going anywhere until they find Grian. He’s so so afraid they’ll take him away and he’ll never find him. (He keeps imagining that wretched scream he heard that very first day he found Grian, a year ago. How close of a call that was.) (He thinks of finding him after the mimic incident, barely surviving. Wounded and bloodied and ready to collapse.) (He thinks of Grian sobbing as he begs Scar to never leave him again.)

He can’t leave him behind. He can’t.

He won’t.

He’s done everything he can up to this point and if this is his last fight? Then damn it, he’s going to go out swinging. He is going to find Grian. Even if he has to fight his saviours. (They’re enemies if they’re trying to separate him and Grian—) 

He growls and lashes out and his vex magic comes through. The hermits are stunned and a little bit afraid and a whole lot confused. They’ve never seen him like this, hair white and claws ready to tear. (Cub, especially, is terrified of this development. Knowing that if Scar pushes himself too far in his vex form, he could die.) 

They try to placate him, calm him down, reassure him. They try to get the damn teleportation bracelet on him. They keep telling him they can take him home, it’s okay, Scar, it’s okay.

It’s not okay.

He isn’t leaving without Grian, and he isn’t trusting anyone else with this.

So he runs.

He runs from his friends—from people he loves with all his heart; people he thought he’ll never see again. Runs from the promise of home and safety and this hell being finally over. 

He runs, because he can’t take the salvation if he can’t share it with Grian.

Everything’s a bit of a blur as he rushes through the forest, looking for something to tell him where Grian is. He’s fully in his vex form, senses sharp and heart panicked, calling out, desperate for Grian to reply. 

There’s no answer.

Scar sees it, then: a handful of ripped-out feathers and blood.

His heart jumps into his throat, but he laser-focuses and starts following the trail. The world feels askew around him, his steps urgent, his breaths hovering near growls that want to threaten the whole forest if anything dares to hurt Grian more. (He hopes Grian’s still out there.) (He has to be. He has to be—) (Why is he not replying to Scar’s calls, then?)

Scar’s aware that if he can follow the trail of blood, so can others. He needs to be better than them. Faster. (He needs to be a better hunter than them.) He knows that if he’s following the trail now, maybe someone already followed it. (He tries not to let that thought in. That he might be too late.) 

He’s trailed by the hermit rescue party. They scramble in his wake, trying not to lose him. They lag behind, losing sight of him, but Cub staggers to follow his vex bond with Scar, like a tether, trying to hold down the swell of warning anxiety at the fact that Scar is in his vex form. Scar looks feral, he lashed out and ran from them, clothes stained by blood and hair white—

Them following just makes Scar feel hunted. His instincts go haywire and put him more on edge. 

He keeps going.

He keeps calling out, too. Uncaring that he’s attracting every hunter in the vicinity. He can take them. He will happily attract them to himself if that means they won’t go after Grian instead. (The fact that he’s searching for Grian gets a bit tangled up in him. The fact that if he succeeds, he’ll just be bringing the hunters to Grian fails to quite register. He’s not thinking very straight.)

Hermits hear those wails, echoing through the forest. He sounds like a wandering spirit. 

Inhuman. 

Lost.

 --

Grian is hurt. Hand pressed against the spot on his side that bleeds, he sits curled up, pressing himself into some bushes for a moment of reprieve—just a moment, just a little bit, please, please.

He hears Scar’s calls from far away. He hears them, and his heart tears itself to pieces.

He is terrified and hurting, and it feels dangerously close to a despair-filled memory.

 He tries to shield himself from it. There’s a reason he ran. There’s a reason why Scar should stay away from him. He can’t— He shouldn’t— He—

Scar draws closer. Grian can hear his sobbing and heaving. His pleading, so heartrendingly desperate. “Grian please. Grian answer me.”

Grian finds himself cautiously standing up, every muscle taut. His heart is rabbity fast, fear clogging his throat. 

He doesn’t mean to answer. He really, really doesn’t mean to. (He needs to keep Scar away.) Yet a distressed chirp slips through anyway, like a terrified call, begging for Scar.

The sound of it pitches something in Scar. His sobbing changes to panic and dwindling hopefulness. “Grian…?”

There’s a tinier chirp then. Scared. Still involuntary.

Grian is so so afraid and he should know better, but a part of him is desperate for Scar.

The moment he sees Scar, though, the futility rips through him. No. He isn’t meant to— Scar shouldn’t be near him. Because Grian’s been gone so shortly and yet the hunters have already found him. He’s already gotten hurt. He is a beacon.

He can’t stay near Scar. It’ll get Scar hurt. 

It’ll get Scar killed.

(Everything good that stays near Grian dies—)

He needs to get away from him.

He backs away. Tells Scar, in a wobbly voice, not to approach.

Scar doesn’t care. He needs to get to Grian. He needs to get to him, they can go home, this can all be over. 

Running on some faulty reasoning, Grian tries to get away. It’s useless, he is in no state to outrun Scar—he can’t bring himself to fly and he’s bleeding, dizzy on panic—but he feels like he needs to try, anyway. 

His feet feel heavy beneath him, the world unsteady. Scar is behind him and Grian’s heart begs him to stop, turn around, and burrow into his arms. (He can’t he can’t he can’t—)

It takes only a couple of steps for Grian to trip over some roots, the world as cruel to him as ever, sending him plummeting harshly down in a rough tumble of leaves and limbs and feathers. A pained, fearful yelp gets punched out of him on impact.

Scar’s next to him in an instant, kneeling down and gathering him in his arms. Crying as he buries Grian in a hug, terrified he might try to run again. Frantically telling him, “Grian, it’s over, it’s over, we can go home— Please—”

Grian’s sobbing against him, held in place, unable to understand what Scar is saying. He just wants Scar to get away from him and stay safe. (Grian can’t be safe. He’s been doomed from the start. He’s been doomed this whole time.) (He’ll end up like that bird. Dead, with wings ripped off—)

The words “it’s over” mean nothing to him. All he manages to choke out is, “There is no— There’s no home anymore.” They’ve had their safety ripped away from them over and over again. They’ve been showed that they can’t have a home anymore; this world will not allow it. Nowhere is safe. Nowhere is safe, as long as Grian’s wings are bright violet and attached to his spine. 

Scar insists, a series of reassurances, words tripping over each other as he tries to keep his hold on his voice. He says they’ll be okay. He says they don’t have to run anymore. Please, Grian, we can go home.

But it’s not a concept that exists anymore for Grian; it refuses to register in his mind, words sliding right off him, incoherent.

What he knows is this: he failed to protect Scar, and they don’t have a home to go back to, and Grian is sure the hunters are about to show up, any second. He’s so tired and terrified, and he needs Scar to be shielded from this fate. He needs him to be safe.

Scar isn’t letting go of him. His grip is firm as he continues to plead with Grian. He doesn’t want to be rough, he’s never been forceful with Grian, but he can’t let go now. Even as Grian paws at him and tries to push him away. 

Grian’s crying so hard; his efforts to get free are all frantic and urgent, yet half-hearted. (He wants to give in and bury himself in the protectiveness of Scar’s arms.) (He wants all of Scar’s promises to be true.)

And yet something tips askew.

Because Scar’s never been forceful with Grian.

He was always so gentle. He’d never grab him like this, with so much force. So much insistence.

Grian is hit with a dizzying, nauseating thought. Is this a trap? Is this a mimic?

Grian starts chirping. More of those distressed, scared noises as he can't get free of Scar's grip.

It’s the first time ever that Scar won’t heed Grian’s requests to be let go. Not even if Grian says it hurts. He won’t let go he won’t he won’t. He’ll drag him home if he has to.

Grian’s scared and confused, all his thoughts are jumbled, running on rampant trauma responses and unadulterated panic. He can’t deal with any of this. He keeps trying to wrangle free and push Scar away (is it even Scar???), begging him to let go, but it’s so horribly weak. It’s almost nothing. He just chokes on sobs and hyperventilates. (He feels caught.) (He feels like Scar will get killed because of him.) (He doesn’t know what’s happening.)

It’s awful. It’s wrong. It’s— It’s not what it’s meant to be. 

This should be easy. This should be the best day ever! They can go home! 

Instead, it’s like a panicked final showdown and Scar feels like it’s him against everyone. The hermits weren’t listening to him (Grian needs him, he needs him, he needs him), and now Grian isn’t listening to him either. (He can’t comprehend what Scar’s saying at all, and isn’t that so heartbreaking?) (Scar is desperate to get through to him. To calm him down enough so that this could be anything more than Scar forcefully holding him as Grian chokes on panic.) (The kind of panic he should never feel in Scar’s arms—)

Voice breaking, Scar pleads, over and over again. Please, Grian. Please. It’s okay. It’s okay, we can go home, we’ll be alright. It’s me. It’s me, I got you, we’re gonna be safe.

It’s the kiss he presses to Grian’s hair that tips the scales a little, just enough for Grian’s chirps to mute, his sobbing drifting off into softer cries. He goes limp under the affection, still terrified, still trembling and choking on air, but now he’s pressing himself against Scar instead of trying to get free. 

“G, do you understand what I’m saying?” Scar begs in a wavering voice, unbecoming of his feral appearance. He holds onto the magic prickling along his skin, alert for any sort of danger, anything that so much as tries to approach and hurt Grian. His hands are still clawed. His hair is still white. His veins are still stuffed with unending desperation. 

Nothing is over yet. 

It should be. It should be, but it isn’t.

Not yet, not yet.

 The hunters find them before the hermits do.

-- part III here

[poomphuripan]

Joe…… Why does God have to mess with him like this?! When he was sixteen years old, he stopped in front of the cinema and saw the trailer of this movie seven to eight times. The scene of the hero’s back gracefully falling into the water left him infatuated and deeply mesmerized. Yet this person was actually Joe, actually Joe! It was not Tong, not anyone else, but was Joe, Joe! Ironically, he treated Joe as Tong’s substitute. Who is the fucking substitute for who!? This step… he had been wrong from the beginning and had continued walking on this path till it is dark. Finally, it got to the point of no return, making him lose everything. Even his prayer for a chance to remedy was unobtainable. Joe had disappeared. He has a lot of things he wanted to tell him… a lot of things he wanted to do with him… and a long life ahead he wanted to share with him. But Joe had disappeared just like that. Because of his mistakes, he had step-by-step pushed Joe onto a path that separated them. He had hurt the person he loved most. Now everything has become retribution on himself. Ming is in so much pain that he wanted to die. He really wanted to disappear on the spot. Then maybe he and Joe could appear in the same place. He was starting to lose his balance. At this time, his rationale is already on the verge of collapse. This huge blow made him feel panic-stricken and tremendous grief at the same time

MY STAND-IN (2024) | 1.07

[anantaru]

cw. cutting blade's hair, he's scared but won't admit it lmao, gn! reader

"this is nonsense."

"no it’s not."

you state yourself very clearly to blade, taking this with immense seriousness— while, with a modicum of smugness involved, you smoothly tangle your digits through his dark hair. but now, he sighs ever so slightly, it's the way you were proceeding with your actions— careful and content, as to not hurt your boyfriend.

blade cannot remember someone ever taking his feelings into consideration.

"you told me your hair bothers you!" you say and snap him out of his short lived daydream, your voice coming a little lighter than usual, you were certainly enjoying this way more than you previously thought you would. you took action and used a hair brush to pull away blade's unmanageable hair strands that were, frankly, all over the place.

be that as it may, blade's eyes remained closed, he wasn't sure if asking you to cut his hair was ultimately a good idea.

"don't cut too much." he almost whines, he couldn't be worried that you'd mess it up, or could he?

"please." and he adds a little beg at the end that barely made it out of his constricted throat. it wasn't new to you, when he acted that way, and you can feel a tight, coiling pressure located on his neck and collarbones.

"wait." you stop, "are you scared?" he's not, welp, or speaking truthfully, he very much was.

he doesn't give you a chance to add something to your words either, "no."

the continued sounds he made were silly, "nope, i‘m not." and if you didn't know any better you'd assume he's stressing himself the fuck out.

"of course not." he says again, clenching his teeth in a dissatisfied grunt, "okay, well then i'll start now!"

the first penetrative noises of your scissors cutting a few inches off his hair silvers through his ears like a razor through a tissue, turning his head a little shaky in the process.

but damn you and your ability to pacify his worries with nothing but that smile of yours. you laugh at him and his current state and in any other occasion he'd make sure to give you a taste of your own medicine yet you also rub your fingers into his scalp ever so often to lift his distress, massaging his head and playfully ruffling his hair.

"are you done already or?" wow, look at blade and his wronged sense on how time worked.

"i just started, you know." you say back wittily as you found your boyfriend growling which served as his own very response. on the contrary, maybe more like groaning out over this situation, more like what it should be, he's just not used to someone taking care of him.

"okay okay." embarrassment was only one of the words that felt painfully in tune with him right now as the dark haired pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth.

notwithstanding this, quote on quote, operation, all the panic stricken motions your boyfriend would partake in were gradually blanketed by your comforting presence so blade ultimately decided to leave his hair to you. yes, noticeably, his appearance was precious to him and he did view on it proudly, but even if you were to mess it up, he already has a vivid thought on how to pay you back.

nothing scary of sorts, he wouldn't dare to make you uncomfortable in any way and he won't cut your hair either, what he really did think about was a secret for now, until he looks at himself in the mirror that is.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[chaotic-super]

Joining The Superfriends - Chapter 28

AO3 Link

“Alex, where’s Lena?”

Alex pushes back on Kara’s shoulders, stopping her from trying to sit up and get out of bed for at least the sixth time in less than two hours. “She’s got a lot on her plate and I think she needs some time to come to terms with everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“She sat by your side for five days straight, Kara. She spent most of that time doing nothing but worrying about you and hasn’t taken the time to properly process what happened with and to Lex. Her brother just died and that will impact her life massively.”

Kara closes her eyes, trying to get the image of Lex’s corpse out of her mind. “Yeah. That’s a lot. Is she mad at me?”

Alex looks down at her sister’s panic-stricken face. “No, no, of course not. She understands, and she actually told Kelly that she’s grateful it wasn’t her that did it, even if she hates that you now have to carry that burden.”

“So she’ll be back?”

“I’m sure she will be,” Alex confirms. “I’ll text her soon and see if she has an approximate time, but hopefully she’s decided to get some proper sleep in her own bed. She’s been pushing herself to the limit to be with you while you were unconscious. I think it’s probably all just caught up with her now.”

Kara nods slowly. “I get it. I still wish she was here, but she should look after herself.”

“It’s ok to want that, Kara. There’s no shame in wanting things. It’s only when you push someone else’s feelings aside for your own that you’re being selfish. Hell, sometimes we deserve to be selfish. As much as I want to push you to do that right now, Lena needs some time. She really does.”

“Ok…just,” Kara pauses momentarily, trying to find a nice way to word her next sentence. “Can you keep everyone away from me for a while?”

“Everyone or Mon-El?” Alex raises her eyebrow at her little sister.

“Both. I don’t want to deal with Mon-El right now and I don’t want to be interrogated by Winn either. I just want to rest for a while and try to wrap my head around everything.”

Alex squeezes her hand softly. “Ok, I can do that. I’ll tell everyone you’ve gone back to sleep. You should actually do that.”

Shaking her head, Kara snuggles into her pillow. “I don’t know if I can do that. I’m pretty achy and my mind is just everywhere. “I might read for a while. Can I borrow your tablet?”

Alex grabs it and swipes away all her open windows before handing it over. “I’ll leave you to it because you’re obviously not ready to talk yet and I’d be wasting my breath trying to get you to. Shout me if you feel weird. We’re pretty sure the kryptonite is all out of your system, but you’re not fully healed yet. It’s important you do.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good. Now, I’m going to go and entertain everyone so they stay out of your hair. You owe me one.”

“I think I owe you more than one.” Kara smiles at her softly. “Thanks for taking such good care of me.”

“Always,” Alex promises, backing out of the med bay.

“Oh, and Alex?”

“Yes, Kara?” Alex sighs fondly.

Kara clutches the tablet to her chest as she peers over at her sister, her hair falling in her eyes and blocking her vision somewhat. “Are Sam and Jack coming?”

Alex shrugs. “I don’t know, why?”

“Lena should have her friends here to support her. Especially now. I know Sam works at Luthor Corp, so there’s probably a huge mess for her to clean up now Lex is gone, but surely at least Jack can come?”

“I’ll give them a call.”

“Thank you.”

“Now rest.”

“Ok,” Kara replies softly as Alex finally retreats out of the room.

With her sister gone, Kara leans back, not even turning on the tablet in her grasp, too preoccupied thinking about the mess Lena has to deal with now. Between Lex’s death, the destruction of the city, the deaths of all the civilians and dealing with Luthor Corp, Lena’s plate is so full it’s overflowing. She just hopes Lena will let her be there for her through it all.

-

Lena pulls the duvet around herself more firmly, then takes a moment to flick her damp hair out of her face. The shower was nice, but trying to reach over her shoulder to coat her healing wounds with anti-septic cream afterwards wasn’t. It’s done now though, even if it did wear her out. She really wants to be back at Kara’s side, but now that she knows she’s awake, she doesn’t feel as panicked. There’s not the same pit in her stomach or the little voice in her head telling her that Kara might not wake up. She just feels lighter. Lighter but tired.

She knew as soon as she made it back home that she would end up in bed for a while before going back to the Tower. She just needs a breather. It doesn’t help that she knows that when she does go back, she has to fight against Kara’s ex, who apparently hates her. The revelation that Kara once bitched about her family is neither here nor there. She couldn’t care less really. After all, who hasn’t bitched about her family at this point? What bothers her is that Kara’s ex decided it was alright to try and start a fight over Kara’s bed right after she just woke up from a five-day coma. That she can’t overlook.

Personally, she’s got nothing against the guy. He can say or think whatever he wants about her. What he can’t do is make Kara’s life harder or make her uncomfortable in any way. Who even comes to visit their ex after a near-death experience anyway? Someone who wants to worm their way back into her life, that’s who. Like hell is Lena going to sit back and let that happen. They might not have had the chance to make it official yet, but she’s pretty damn sure they’re at least seventy percent of the way there.

Allowing her eyes to droop closed without resisting the urge to sleep for the first time in days is a kind of bliss Lena can’t describe. It’s been long awaited just as much as she dreaded it. She doesn’t get to enjoy it for long though because she barely lasts five minutes before she’s off into the dream world.

Her mistake comes with not silencing her phone before going to bed. She should know by now that if Sam and Jack can make her life worse in any way, they’ll do it.

“What do you want?” A groggy Lena answers her phone, pissed that she’s barely slept at all and she’s already been awoken.

“That’s not very nice.”

“What’s not very nice is being awake for almost five days straight with only crappy naps between. I just got to sleep. I’ll call you back when I wake up again. Good night.”

“Oh no, the fuck you don’t.” Sam harshens her voice. “As much as I hate that you’ve barely slept, this is important.”

Lena huffs and rolls onto her back, kicking her legs against her mattress like a stroppy teen. “But Sam…” She whines.

“No, this has to do with Luthor Corp. Lex’s death certificate has been filed now. That means that legally, the company is now yours. You just have to come and sign on the dotted line. You’ll have to come to Metropolis though.”

“And you couldn’t have waited a little longer for me to sleep before asking me to come to another city in the midst of nobody being able to get anywhere due to the fact that National City’s airport literally got flattened by the weird-ass leg of Lex’s spider ship?”

Sam clicks her tongue and sighs down the line at her. “Lena, I appreciate that you’re not having a good time right now, especially knowing your brother is dead. I know you cared for him even after everything. I’m sorry for that. I’ve bought you as much time as I could with Luthor Corp, but there’s already talks of your mother trying to find a way to get her hands on the company.”

“Let her have it, Sam. I don’t want it.”

“I know you don’t, but you can’t let your mother have that power. She’s just as bad as Lex was, and look at what he did.”

Sam can practically hear Lena’s brain whirring down the phone.

“I just don’t know if I can do it, Sam?”

“Not even just for as long as it would take for you to find someone you trust to run it?”

“I trust you.”

“I can’t run it, you know that. I have Ruby.”

Lena sits up with a frown, propping her pillow up behind her haphazardly. “I know. I just…I don’t know how to run a company. I can build things, I can fix things, I can give a mean right hook. I don’t know how to run a company.”

Lena can hear the shuffle through the line as Sam shrugs. “That’s why you’ll have help. I know you’ve got a damn good team on your side back in National City, but you’ve also got a pretty good one here too. I’m with you, Jack is with you, and you’ve got a whole team of literal superheroes with you. You can change the world for the better now, Lena. Don’t waste your shot.”

There’s a brief silence on the line.

“Ok, fine. I’ll figure out how to get to Metropolis as soon as possible.”

“I’d say just use Super-air. I can say first-hand that she offers a first-class experience.”

Lena clears her throat. “I’ll ask J’onn. She’s…”

“How bad?”

“Pretty bad. She only just woke up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Lena sniffs quietly. “I’ll text you when I’m leaving.”

“Good. I love you.”

“Love you too, Sammy.”

-

Lena rubs her eyes, still awfully tired but feeling at least a little better compared to when she went to sleep.

Grabbing her phone, she sees that she managed to get almost six hours of rest, and that’s much more than she was expecting, so she is happy with that. She just has to get through her list of things to do that’s a mile long.

She squints at her notifications and sees that she has a handful of texts to answer, most of them from the Superfriends just checking in with a couple from Jack too, telling her that if she doesn’t let him know when she’s in town so they can get drunk together, he’ll throw a hissy fit.

Alex’s text sits right on top, so she figures she can answer her and she’ll let the others know. Jack takes days to answer texts so he can’t say anything about a bit of tardiness in responding. She can handle him later.

She drags herself out of bed, stretching out her stiff back and dripping her jaw to let out a yawn that makes her jaw crack. “Ok, so I just have to make sure Kara is alright, potentially fight her ex and take over an entire company before coming up with a way to help rebuild the city. That’s only four things. That’s not too bad.” Staring at her reflection in her bathroom mirror, she sighs. “Who am I kidding? This is going to be hell.”

Lena rolls her shoulders, trying to get rid of some of the stiffness there, and then she nods at herself in the mirror. She’s got work to do and moping won’t help anyone.

She gets dressed as quickly as possible before brushing her teeth and washing her face. The quicker she can get to the Tower, the faster she can get things rolling, and the quicker it’ll all be over.

As quick as she wants to get there and sort everything though, she still has a lot on her mind and she needs to take a moment to take everything in. Walking to the Tower, she stares at the damage left on the city. Damage that definitely wasn’t there when she moved here. Damage that she is partly responsible for. If she hadn’t moved here then none of this would have happened. If she hadn’t moved here, her brother would be alive. If she hadn’t moved here, Kara wouldn’t be hurt.

“Lena, I’m so glad you’re here.” Nia bumps into her as she walks out of the front door to J’onn’s P.I. firm. “Everyone is upstairs. We’ve spent the past hour or so figuring out the best way to help with the clean-up of the city. I think your big brain could do us some major favours in figuring out the best place to start.”

“Sure.” Lena nods. “Where are you going?”

“Just grabbing coffee and breakfast. You want me to grab you some too?”

Lena forces a smile onto her face. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, I won’t be long.”

“Take your time.”

Nia grimaces. “I absolutely won’t do that. Alex gave me a very colourful threat because she’s caffeine-deprived and hangry. It’s better for everyone if I hurry.”

Lena chuckles and the fake smile turns genuine, just for a second. “That’s probably for the best then. See you soon.”

“Bye.” Nia waves, the door clicking shut softly behind her.

Lena’s shoulders sag as she wanders across the room and watches the elevator appear before her, glancing behind her for a moment before she steps inside.

Peering through the elevator doors, she realizes it’s in full view of the front window. She should really tell J’onn to do something about that. Anyone could walk past at the wrong moment and see something none of them want some randomer to see.

She sinks against the back wall as the doors close, letting her eyes fall shut as the gentle motion reminds her of the sleep she missed out on. Now, she kind of wishes she’d tried to get a couple more hours of rest before coming in, but she figures there’s no rest for the sister of the wicked.

Alex and Kelly are sitting in the main area as she steps out into the space. “Hey.”

“Hey, how are you?” Kelly asks, nothing but kindness and sincerity written across her face.

“I’ve been better. I managed to get a few hours of sleep so I’ll count that as a win.”

Alex frowns at her, her arms folding. “Why am I sensing a but?”

“Because there is one.” She shrugs. “With Lex dead, Luthor Corp is now mine, as we already knew. What I didn’t realize was how little time I have to get over to Metropolis to handle it all.”

Kelly’s eyebrows lift in shock. “You have to go to Metropolis?”

“Unfortunately.” Lena sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, stressed at the very thought. “I’ll have to see if J’onn is willing to fly me over. Sam called and told me there’s already talk of my mother trying to take the company. The only way I can stop that is by going over and making the switch official. My mother might not be quite as bad as Lex, but I can assure you that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. She’s trouble and shouldn’t be in control of a multi-million dollar company.”

Alex uses her foot to nudge out the seat beside her. “Come on.”

Lena does as she’s told, plopping down gracelessly. “Sam is doing everything she can to buy me time; that’s pretty much all she’s been doing for the past few days. Luckily, she’s CFO, or else I’d have had to try and find a way to Metropolis even sooner.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

She shakes her head softly. “I doubt it. Just…take my mind off it, just for a few more hours. I saw Nia downstairs, and she said you’re trying to figure out how to handle the destruction. Let me see your plan. I can help with that.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Trading bureaucratic destruction for city-wide physical destruction doesn’t seem healthy.” Alex challenges.

“And running around the city in masks fighting bad guys with alien technology is the healthiest thing a person can do, right?”

“Touché.”

“Can you guys go ten minutes without arguing?” Kara staggers into the room, one arm wrapped protectively around her middle and the other using the doorframe to help her balance.

Alex shoots up to her feet immediately, rushing to her side, Lena not far behind. “You’re not meant to be up yet. You’re still healing.”

“But Alex—”

“No buts, you need more rest and more sunlight. You might be out of the woods kryptonite-wise, but you still have some pretty gnarly wounds that need to heal. Look at you, you can barely stand without wincing.”

Kara pouts at her, hoping to win her sister over, but all she gets is a hard stare in response. That’s not going to get her anywhere. She changes tactics, pouting over at Lena, hoping to garner her sympathy and protection. “I just want to come and sit with you guys.”

Lena shakes her head. “We won’t be long. Why don’t you head back to the med bay and we’ll come and join you soon?”

“If you’re going to be done soon, I might as well just hang out with you guys until you’re done.” Kara bats away the two sets of hands attempting to steady her and usher her back towards the med bay.

Shaking her head, Lena sighs. “Come on. We’ll be ten minutes tops, and we’re just doing boring planning anyway. We just want you to heal as quickly as possible.”

“I know.” Kara swallows harshly and lowers her voice, talking through gritted teeth. “I just don’t think I can heal very well when my ex is busy talking shit about all of our choices right outside the med bay where I have to listen to him bitching.”

Alex rolls her eyes. “Of course he is. Kara, what did you ever see in him?”

“A partner whose nose I wouldn’t accidentally break.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Lena’s eyes widen.

“It doesn’t matter.” Alex waves her off nonchalantly. “I’ll handle it, Kara. I’ll walk you back to bed and then you won’t have to worry about him, ok?”

Kara’s shoulders drop and she catches Lena’s hand. “Will you come sit with me when you’re done?”

“Of course I will. I won’t be long.”

Kara’s pout disappears, her face brightening like she’s just stepped outside on a sunny day.  “Good, see you soon.”

“See you.” Lena waves her off, worry building in her chest when she notices just how unsteady she is on her feet as Alex guides her away.

-

“Just keep your mouth shut, Mon-El. Now isn’t the time for you to come waltzing in acting like you know everything because you’ve been in the future for a whole five minutes.”

“I just happen to have read the history books, and I know that Luthors just happen to be on the wrong side of history.” Mon-El’s indignant tone cuts through the air and into the med bay, making sure that Kara won’t get any rest today.

“I’ve literally never seen you read a book before.” Winn’s confused voice at least brings a smile to Kara’s face. She’s missed the guy, even if he can be a little annoying and is terrible at keeping her secrets.

Mon-El’s offended gasp rids her of that momentary joy. “I once read Romeo and Juliet. Just ask Kara. There’s your proof, and so what if I haven’t read any history books? I still know that the Luthors aren’t good people. Why are you people acting so dense?”

A loud slap rings through the air, the sound making Kara wince. That was definitely an Alex slap, and Alex slaps are spicy, to say the least.

“What was that for?”

“For one, I know you’ve read that book, and you defiled it by writing nonsense all over the pages, and secondly, we’re not the ones acting dense. You’re the one being prejudiced against someone you don’t even know. You’d think the prince of Daxam would know that your family doesn’t define your beliefs or your morals. That is unless you’ve gone back to your slave-owning ways?”

Kara can just picture him shaking his head cartoonishly and backing away from Alex, trying to escape her harsh words. “Of course not! I would never do that.”

“But you did. Does that mean you’re still a bad person? Does that mean that because of who you are, you’ll forever be a bad person?”

“No! I’m good! I saved the world.”

“So has Lena, but you’re too busy calling her out for actions that aren’t hers that you can’t see that you’re only hurting the people around you. Kara is still healing. She got very badly hurt by Lex and Lena is the one that saved her. Lena protected her. Lena is the reason she’s still alive. You’re just the person stressing her out so badly that she keeps leaving the med bay just to get away from you and your incessant whining. Pull yourself together before I send you back to the future by whatever means necessary.”

If Kara were a betting woman, she’d put money down saying that Mon-El is quivering in a corner looking like a kicked puppy right now. She’s not entirely sure what she saw in him before. Sure, he was kind of like having an excitable border collie around. Cute at times but so energetic and chaotic, he leaves nothing but damage in his wake. Unfortunately, what she saw was his potential to serve the herd. The herd being the people of Earth.

“Let me go apologize to her.” She hears him say, sadness coating his words.

“She does deserve an apology, but you’ve kept her up long enough with your bullshit. Move into another room away from here where you’re bothering her and let her rest. She needs to sleep and recover, not listen to you acting like you know best for everyone around you.”

“But—”

“No buts, get your ass up and get out of here. I don’t care where you go, but you’re not going anywhere near either Kara or Lena unless you have my permission. Understand?”

A silence follows that makes Kara nervous, anxiety bubbling in her chest.

Alex clears her throat. “Understand?”

“I got it.”

“Good.”

Footsteps echo as the three of them filter out of the room and further away from her until she can’t hear them at all. She kind of wishes that her powers weren’t still gone. Clearly, the kryptonite caused a lot of damage if she solar flared, but she’s kind of grateful. There’s no impending crisis right now, which means she has to be on edge without them. She can just enjoy the moment without overthinking it too much. That’s something she doesn’t get to have often, and she intends on basking in the glow of not having the pressure of the world sitting heavy on her shoulders.

She lets her eyes slip closed, but just as she starts drifting off with the warmth of the sunlamps keeping her nice and toasty, she hears footsteps return and with those footsteps comes dread. She knows those footsteps.

“Kara?”

She keeps her eyes closed, praying he’ll get the hint and leave her alone.

“Psst, Kara.” He tries again.

Still, she makes a conscious effort to keep her face relaxed to not give away the fact that she’s awake.

Then her shoulder is grasped and she’s being shaken hard enough to make her gasp out in pain, her eyes finally popping open.

“Ah, fuck!” She grabs at her wounds, now thoroughly pissed and in pain. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I just need to talk to you.”

“Like fuck you do.” Lena’s sharp voice comes from the doorway. “I don’t know what was running through your obviously pea-sized brain, probably nothing of substance, but you’ve got some wires crossed. You just hurt her and woke her up for no good reason when I know that Alex just kicked you out of this part of the Tower.”

“With all due respect, this is between Kara and me.”

“Kara and I.”

“What?”

“It’s Kara and I, not Kara and me. If you’re going to start talking shit, at least be grammatically correct about it.”

Mon-El’s fists clench, and he turns fully towards her, standing directly between Kara and Lena. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? You’re just like him, and you’re only going to hurt her.”

Lena’s eyebrow raises, her face nothing short of icy. “Like you just did?”

“You didn’t see what happened. She’s not hurt because of me.”

“So she just yelped in pain from what? Just lying there?”

“Must have done.”

Lena shakes her head as she lets out a short laugh. This guy is a piece of work. She takes a step back and turns her head towards the door. “Alex!” She shouts at the top of her voice.

Just like that, Mon-El turns white. He might be a lot stronger than the average human, but if there’s one person he’s scared of, it’s Alex, and he just went behind her back to do exactly what he’d been told not to do.

Lena can hear Alex’s hurried footsteps getting louder and louder as she approaches, drawing closer rapidly as Mon-El gets visibly more anxious with each step, his hands gripped into tight fists. At the same time, his eyes dart around the room in an attempt to find a way to escape.

Alex storms into the room, not knowing what’s waiting for her but intuitive enough to know that whatever it is, it’s not good.

She spots Mon-El facing off with Lena and knows right then and there that this isn’t going to be a pretty fight. “Who wants to tell me what in the actual fuck is going on?”

Lena clenches her jaw, remaining silent. She wants to see what kind of shit this complete and utter asshole is about to spout.

Mon-El does something Lena wasn’t expecting. He squares up to Alex, his shoulder back, his spine straightening and his fists held firm at his sides as he glares down at the redhead. “She’s dangerous and Kara’s not safe around her. I was doing what I had to in order to keep her safe. She can’t be here if you’re allowing someone like that to be around her. Look at what her brother just did; she could kill her at any moment, and the only one to blame would be you because you let it happen.”

Alex doesn’t hesitate to react. Using her Hand of the soldier, she summons up a boxing glove lined with lead and hits him squarely in the face, knocking him back and right onto his ass.

He cries out in anguish when blood starts to pour from his nose, not broken, unfortunately. “What the fuck, Alex?”

“Stay the hell away from us, Mon-El. I told you to stay away, and yet here you are, coming back where you’re not welcome to accuse someone you don’t know of something they’re incapable of doing. You’re a mess. You’re dangerous. Get the fuck out.”

“You’re not going to ask her what happened?” He throws his hands in the air. “You don’t want to ask her what she did? You seem to like attacking me, but you haven’t even got the full story.”

Alex sighs, dematerializes the boxing glove and folds her arms before turning to Lena. “Is there more to the story, Lena?”

“Yes, he grabbed her and hurt her.”

Alex’s eyes darken instantaneously. “Brainy!”

The Coluan comes scuttling in quickly. “How can I help?”

“Get this piece of shit out of the Tower now before I kill him.”

There’s the barest hint of a nod before Brainy pulls Mon-El off the floor and ushers him to the door.

The Daxamite doesn’t go easily though, pushing back against Brainy’s hands to turn back. “I was getting her out of here because you’re not keeping her safe.”

“I suggest you leave very quickly because I estimate that the next weapon Alex materializes won’t be a boxing glove.”

Mon-El snarls before huffing his way out the door, barely turning his head to spit out one last line as he leaves. “You’re going to regret this when she turns out to be exactly like her brother, just you wait.”

Lena shakes her head at the man, infuriated by his saviour complex and need to villainize her when he doesn’t know a single thing about her other than her last name.

Her gaze meets the side of Alex’s face and she’s shocked by the amount of pure rage she sees there before she remembers that she just told her that he hurt Kara. Kara, who she needs to check on. She turns quickly, rushing to Kara’s side, panicking as she finds the woman on her side, her back to the door. She’s curled in on herself, her hands thrown over her ears protectively and her knees to her chest.

“Kara?” Lena round the bed, crouching next to her so her eyes are in line with Kara’s closed ones. They’re shut so tightly little lines are spreading across her face from the force.

She reaches out carefully, her fingertips just barely brushing against the cowering woman’s wrist. The tiniest bit of pressure causes her to rear back and pretty much fling herself off the bed, landing on the floor in a pile of useless limbs.

“Kara!” Lena cries out, rushing to get to her side. Her eyes instantly rake over Kara’s body in search of injuries. “Are you ok?”

Kara’s hands remain over her ears, but now her eyes are wide open, looking like they might pop right out of her skull at any moment.

“Kara, you’re ok. I promise you, you’re ok.” Lena creeps closer, afraid to touch her in case she reacts badly again.

Alex sprints into the room, and it takes Lena a second to realize that she must have made sure that Mon-El really left this time, or else she would have been in here with them a lot sooner.

“Alex, I don’t know what’s happening. She was on the bed, but when I touched her wrist she threw herself off the other side to get away from me. I don’t know what to do.”

Alex holds her hands out in front of Kara, moving slowly so she can clearly see her intentions. Her hands slowly descend to land on Kara’s forearms, and Lena watches with rapt attention.

Alex’s eyes flicker between Kara’s and Lena’s for a second before she addresses Lena whilst looking deeply into Kara’s eyes. “She’s alright, Lena. She’s going to be just fine. She’s just panicking and overwhelmed.”

Kara stares back at Alex, unblinking and seemingly frozen. Lena can’t help but find it a little odd. Her breathing appears normal, if not a little deeper than usual, but she’s not gasping for breath, not struggling against whatever is happening. She’s just embracing it and riding her way through it.

“What’s happening, Alex?” Lena whispers.

“She’s fine,” Alex responds in a hushed voice, carefully prying her hands down and away from her ears. “She’s just fine.”

“Alex?” Kara whimpers.

“I’m here,” Alex reassures, taking that as her cue to pull her sister into a hug. “Both me and Lena are here and we’re not going anywhere. I promise.”

Lena nods despite the fact that Kara can’t see her face. “We’re not leaving, Kara.”

Tentatively, she reaches out to press her hand to the centre of Kara’s back and lets out a heavy breath of relief when she doesn’t shy away.

They sit like that for several long minutes. Alex holds her tightly while Lena strokes her hand up and down the centre of her back in a slow, purposeful rhythm, completely predictable. Then, Kara leans back, sniffling a little and wiping her eyes before tears can fall. “Thanks.”

“Are you ok?” Lena murmurs.

Kara nods shakily. “Yeah, sorry. It just…I was…I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know,” Alex says, standing up and pulling Kara with her, urging her to get back on the bed. “Lie down. I’m going to have to check you over.”

“I’m good.”

“I’m sure you are, but I’m not going to stop worrying until I’ve seen it for myself, so just humour me, alright?”

“Ok.” Kara doesn’t put up a fight, and it’s clear that she isn’t in the right state of mind to be able to for some time yet. “That’s ok. Lena, will you stay with me?”

Lena moves to her side, taking her hand. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Kara hums. “Can you stay with me tonight? I don’t want to stay here alone, and I don’t think Alex will let me out of here yet.”

Lena had to stop herself from agreeing, guilt already building up in her chest, heavy and uncomfortable. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

A heavy silence fills the room.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Sam called and she can’t put off everything going on with Luthor Corp any longer. I have to go or else the company could fall into my mother’s hands, and she’s just as bad as my brother.”

Kara blinks slowly before tightening her grip on Lena’s hand. “You have to go then. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Just call me?”

Lena’s eyebrows pinch together in worry. “I’m sorry, Kara. If I could stay, I would. I don’t even want to go. If I could just leave it and not have anything to do with Luthor Corp or anything to do with the Luthor name at all, I would. I really would.”

“I know.” Kara forces a smile, one that both Alex and Lena can see through.

“I’ll look after her and stay with her.” Alex squeezes Lena’s arm, seeing the conflicting emotions hiding behind emerald eyes. “You do what you have to do and then come back to us, alright?”

Lena hums her agreeance and raises Kara’s hand up, kissing the back of it softly. “I promise I’ll be as quick as I can. This is my home now. National City is my home and I don’t really want to leave.”

Kara holds their joined hands on her belly, her free hand holding onto Lena’s wrist, preventing her from leaving, and Lena’s not about to pull away. Sam can wait a while longer.

Inevitably, she’ll have to go, but she’s happy to stay for as long as she can in the meantime.

Check out more chapters of JTS on my Patreon here!

[entomolog-t]

Bite Me - Chapter 9

Aedes deals with his 5 senses while June cleans her room.

Some last minute changes made this update brutal- but we made it.

I also incorporated a promptober prompt!! Sunrise

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13 @naive-bias

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 8

Next Chapter: Chapter 10

Word count: 1816

CW: Mentions of blood, Adult language, depiction of sensory overload/Panic

June Murphy blinks- the act in and of itself far more effort than it should be. Her eyes dry and sore from crying- eyelids heavier than should be physically possible, as if some invisible weight hung off them. Face raw from a tear stricken night, she stares at her wall, watching as the first light of day creeps into her room. Even her thoughts feel heavy as she stares blankly ahead. 

Had she slept? She wasn’t really sure. It certainly didn’t feel like she had- though… it certainly didn’t feel like she’d been awake either. 

Her joints groan in protest as she stands, neck stiff from the awkward position she’d held while slumped beside her bed. June tries in vain to rub the tiredness from her eyes, but all she manages to do is to further irritate the rawness of her tear stained face. 

June chews her lip- Memories of the night still fresh in her mind. Closing her eyes, she could almost feel him in her palm- the way he twitched and squirmed under her touch. The thoughts felt dirty now with the context of hindsight. He’d been terrified, and she… she had liked it. Her hands claw through her tangled mess of hair. What the fuck was wrong with her? Who likes that? Why would she ever like that? He was so small, and had been so terrified, how could she- 

June pauses. 

She had been sure it was real, but now as daylight crept around her room so did doubt creep into her mind. It was all so absurd. A tiny vampire sneaking into her house? It had to have been a dream right? She just had the strangest nightmare imaginable. That was it. Maybe it had been a bit more lucid than her typical dreams. That wasn’t that weird right? It was just abnormally lucid and..  and she just thought she’d been awake.

June swallows the dryness in her mouth- not keen on thinking about what the contents of such a bizarre and emotionally charged dream must say about her psyche. 

Her movement is stiff and tired as she drags herself to the washroom, desperately washing her face with cool water, as if temperature could somehow shock her back to fully believing in some version of reality. June winces. The sight of herself in the mirror should have come with a warning. She looked rough. Painfully red eyes stare back at her behind swollen lids- Her skin sallow and dull - looking  just as exhausted as she felt. 

As her eyes scam her reflection, her breath catches. 

Two impossibly small punctures on her neck - nearly imperceptible, if not for the slight redness and bruised halo around them. 

She watches her reflection as her lips draw into a tight line. 

It… it had happened. It had all really happened. 

The reality of the situation felt heavy- oddly enough, it was not the absurdity of the situation, but the implication that the emotions had all been real. The realization that she had gotten off on some twisted sort of psychological torment on a man she had known for what? All of twenty minutes??

June chews her lip, thoughts of his wide eyed expression filling her mind- those hushed pleas uttered between sobs. Her throat tightens. 

You’re fucking vile

The echo of his words in her mind seem to tie her stomach in knots. She was, wasn’t she? She was fucking sick to have wanted … that.

God, what was she thinking? She didn’t even know him? Hell, he wasn’t even human. His existence didn’t even seem real- yet the desire that he incited was all too real- and all too potent.  

A quiet part of her resents him. The way he’d played along- how he seemed to untangle some deeply knotted part of her- how he let her loose only to choke her with the slack. How could he make her feel that way, only to rip it away from beneath her. 

June frowned at the way her logic twisted in her mind. 

He’d been splayed out in her palm- restrained by her hand… so why did she feel like she’d been struck at her most vulnerable?

June groans. Her mind far too exhausted to try and decipher the reasons behind weird hypocritical thoughts. There was a heavy weight that seemed to reside in her chest, an impending sense of dread that loomed within her. Aedes was gone. 

Aedes was gone because of her.

Because she was sick. 

There was nothing left- no way to apologize, no way to make it right... Nothing to do except sit here and fester in her shame. She hated that it wasn’t just guilt gnawing at the edges of her mind. She was still so curious- and she resented it. 

The same curiosity that cornered him- that had led to all of this. 

And yet… she couldn’t rid herself of her nature. 

Her mind begged for answers- Why was he so small? How could vampires exist? Who else knew? Could he turn into a bat? Did they congregate in … flocks? Colonies? 

June flops to her bed- desperately wishing for the sleep that evaded her, but the soft morning light and whirring thoughts in her head make dozing off an impossible feat. 

There was nothing she could do. 

The finality of it was sickening. No apology, no reconciliation, no answers. All she was left with were questions and shame. 

June sits up. If there was nothing she could do, she might as well make herself busy. Busy hands make for a quiet mind, or something like that. 

----

Aedes leg shakes - irritation plain on his face. 

She hadn’t slept. 

She hadn’t slept one fucking minute. 

An uneasiness crept over him as the room slowly became lit with the light of day. The dark of the night offered discretion- plentiful security within its shadows. The day however, was a different beast entirely. 

The woman idles around her room, picking up various discarded items off the floor. He grimaced as she removed more and more of the potential cover leading toward the window. There was no way he’d be able to sneak off unnoticed in broad daylight. 

Aedes felt the all too familiar ache of bloodlust rising in his chest. He hadn’t drank nearly enough. With nothing to occupy his hunger other than his thoughts, a familiar clarity rolled over him as his senses sharpened, instinct trying to direct him to the meal he was all too aware of. 

Aedes swallows- mouth wet. 

The beat of her heart pounds on steadily. 

Thud after thud.

Continuous. 

Just for one second he needed silence. A moment to think- to gather his thoughts. He bounced his leg, a steady tension mounting within him. Fuck. Each beat seemed to stop his thoughts in their track- drawing his focus away from any meaningful planning and back to her. The steady thrum of her heart a sirens song, begging him to forgo hiding. Beckoning him to dive into her. To drown in her. No. The last thing he wanted was to be anywhere near her again. He’d been hungry before- he could go hungry again.

Aedes grit his teeth. 

Thump.

He would wait this out. 

Thump.

Come nightfall he would leave. 

Thump.

He would absolutely leave- 

Thump.

He just needed to- 

Thump.

To figure a way out- 

Thump.

To get to the window- 

Thump.

To feed- 

His claws dug into his scalp- his hands desperate to hold himself together as her pulse throbbed in his ears. Loud. Everything was too loud. The steady rumble of her feet on the floor grates at his nerves. She meandered around the room, never staying still for more than a moment or two before moving on to another spot. Every thundering step sends a jolt through him- The world buzzing around him. 

Why couldn’t she just fucking stand still?

He took a breath, his inhale shaky, and unfortunately deep. He caught her scent hanging thick in the air, her very essence an overwhelming caress. Like velvet, her scent thick and warm, teasing his desire- whispering promises of indulgence. She smells of sweet cream and soft spice- her skin of milk and honey. Of cardamom and comfort, of passionate glances and carnal desires. 

Carnivorous desires. 

He remembers how she tasted on his tongue, the allure of her scent paling in comparison to her taste. She was ambrosia on his lips and transcendent on his tongue. She tasted of life-  of potential and passion- she tasted of more. 

God he wanted more. 

Needed more. 

Aedes gnashed his teeth. He felt the world around him consuming him. Picking him apart- biting into him. His breaths came quickly- air feeling numb on his lips. Never enough. Never enough air. Never enough of her. The sound around him was chaos. Her blood seemed to roar in his ears. Her heels thundering on wood. Wood that trembled beneath him. It shook- he shook. 

He shouldn’t be here. 

Every breath was sugared with her. Drowning in her. His stomach twists- hunger gnawing away at his rationality. At his resolve. Her overwhelming presence devouring him from the inside. Mouth open he gasps- though not for air- for her. His mouth drips with desperation. Longing. Need. Aedes bites into the flesh of his hand- his teeth breaking the skin as easily as wading through water. The tang of his blood foul in his mouth. Wrong. Grotesque. An insult to the memory of her on his tongue. His jaw clenches- twitching against his will. 

He bit harder. His face slick with blood and drool. 

He needed to stop this. 

To think- 

To breathe. 

He needed blood. 

Her heart beat in tandem with his own. Calling him- begging him. Each pulse was a promise- of air. Of quiet. Of life. 

A siren's song. A sweet harmony crying out between each and every pulse.

He froze.

A voice- both stunning and haunting cut through his senses. All else seems to fade- the rush of her blood, the beating of her heart, even his own desperate thoughts became white noise in the presence of her voice. Silken and opalescent- it carried air to his lungs on its warbling melody.

It beckoned him, yet nothing like the beating of her heart. This compulsion was all his own, not some ancient instinct clawing its way through his consciousness. 

Head ducked, Aedes half crawled half walked to the edge of his cover under the dresser. 

She sang of crumbling, of breaking down- stolen kisses and stolen glances.

I fall to pieces

Each time I see you again

His breath caught in his throat.

She was …. Beautiful.

Incredible in her immensity-  Her entirety more akin to a landscape than a body- her beauty that of a sunset. 

Warm. 

Vast. 

Untouchable. 

He stood in the light of her song, feeling as though he was blinded by a second sun. 

[iaus]

fucking. you stole capital letters from me. i feel wrung out in the best way possible to the point that capitalization of any kind would be wrong right now. fuck. god. amazing stunning job.

anyways ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ literally anything about epilogue or anything you want. i feel insane.

eheh glad to see the ending is hitting as intended. and oh i do have something i would like to talk about because chapter 15 jace is my ultimate beloved. wretched little man.

we're gonna look at the second scene from the last chapter because i think it gives us a glimpse of honest jace. and how he's changed.

so our second scene has jace just being like really pissed. he talks about how he's a resentful of his human mother (because he can't get to sleep), he has like an actual angry reaction when he sees the marriage certificate, and nearly falls down the stairs and is able to reflexively cast a spell! which considering his fixation on his magic, you'd think he would be focusing on that. like hey you are not a heaving sweaty mess from casting your own magic? isn't that great?

no.

he has a thought about porter because of course he does (and i mean, he's looking at the sex couch so, yea). but:

But the thought he has cuts through, sharp: What if Porter doesn’t want to return? What if Porter chooses death over Jace?

i'm gonna definitely give a shoutout to @zukkacore for this line because seeing posts of "jace chose porter over death" have like. changed me on a fundamental level. i've internalized that.

but this comes back to jace actually looking at something he's insecure at! yay! he's reflecting! wait...

A cold seeping pit of dread begins to form in the pit of his chest. His pulse rabbits into something close to panic. What if by some strange stroke of luck, His soul is unwilling? Where does that leave Jace? Or, worse: What if Porter comes back ungrateful?

and then we get to this being like... okay maybe he's going to have another grief spiral... as he's been doing... we have all the tell-tale signs: he's cold, he's panicking, he doubting if porter would choose him. (i don't think i'm ready to have the conversation of jace having meredith gray coding in my head yet. we're not ready)

but... jace has a very notable reaction. he's been so grief stricken this entire fic but... here:

The reaction is immediate—he is moving, bumping into the wall in his haste to get to the papers on the breakfast table—almost as immediate as the rushing, icy swell of disdain—spite.

he gets mad. he chooses ACTION. he storms into the kitchen and has... almost a porter-ish reaction in some ways. but it's also very distinct. but, porter is still here to him, no matter where he goes and he even imagines porter mocking him:

A damning tide of disgust. He can see it clearly—the way Porter would wrap a hand around his throat, eyes hard and distant, What took you so long, pet? You were supposed to be better than this.

the worst thing to jace isn't porter not coming back. this is a truth that shows a little peek into jace's mind: he would rather porter stay dead than porter be ungrateful. and then we cut into a scene where he thinks about him and porter in the kitchen and unlike these past chapters he actually... includes a really bad, telling memory in my opinion:

Jace’s hand trembles as he draws the marriage certificate from the folder. The rest of the documents spill out along the table—the table Porter served him breakfast at, where they had had a screaming match that caused one of Porter’s neighbors to call the landline and ask, nervously, if everything was okay. Where Porter had kissed his neck, hid his face from Jace as he said so sweetly, Come back to me, sweetheart, we’re meant to do this together.

we now know they have fought so bad, so loud that neighbors have called asking if everything is okay. this also could presumably be where porter convinced jace to go to the mountains of chaos with him. for their.... wedding. so we get a little glimpse into the not so happy marital bliss (but even then it's still softened. there's still a bit of a longing ache to it.)

and now. this is one of my favorite parts i will admit:

If he comes back ungrateful, he thinks, the ghost of Porter’s lips warm at his pulse, I’ll kill him. He pictures the blood; the way Porter would struggle—still weak from the sickness of returning to the mortal plane. The intimacy.

this is jace changed. to me this is very porter-like behavior. jace is taking pages from porter's book the day he is meant to resurrect him. he is thinking of how he is going to kill porter himself if he is not grateful and fawning.

and.... we learn what will happen if he does kill porter:

He puts his lighter against the corner of the certificate. Truly, he outdid himself. Strikes the flint. Then I’ll follow. Watches it burn.

they're in this together.

or they're buried together.

[theluckywizard]

In the Shattering of Things, Ch. 51: Riding Away from it All

Summary: Mired in ruminations, Rose hits the road to Crestwood with her companions, who, aware that some manner of romantic catastrophe has occurred, do their very best to distract her. On their way, Rose encounters her first rift since she left Redcliffe Castle and must face whether the anchor will continue to remain stable. Fic Summary: Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke. Excerpt:

The battle ends so abruptly that I wander around the field bewildered, looking for targets that have tucked themselves away. With a full complement of companions and the addition of Hawke, the demons are vanquished before I’ve gone through a quarter of my quiver.

But I was never really worried about the demons.

The tear in the veil is unusually low to the ground, so low that I find myself staring into the cloudy green depths wondering what lies beyond, wondering whether another demon will climb out. The anchor feels alive, humming in anticipation as I will myself toward it, flanked closely by Blackwall and Cassandra in case of further company. But I can’t bring myself to open the anchor and connect, instead, sinking to my knees on the ground beneath it and scrubbing my hands over my face. My fear compresses the moment and dulls my thoughts to a murmur. Or perhaps it’s just the sound of my companions talking in the background.

“Anytime now, Roses,” calls Sera. I hear a smack and an ‘ow’ somewhere behind me.

The sudden hand at my shoulder and then another on my forearm feels like Cullen for a fleeting moment. Pulling me back from panic, pulling me into the present. But it’s Solas crouching beside me, reminding me of how much I’ve accomplished and how the closure of the Breach has surely calmed the outsized reactions to rifts.

“I can feel the rift in the scars. Buzzing,” I lament. “I know it’s going to hurt.”

“But it may not,” he says, his voice as even as ever. “We’ll all be right here for you, Inquisitor. You discharged the anchor this morning, yes?”

I had. Cassandra and I had slipped out of camp when only the mess crew was up, and had searched for the most lifeless portion of surrounding forest to open the rift. My guilt over the birds and rodents that were swept into it still festers hours later.

“There’s no point in dilly dallying,” I conclude, rising to my feet and gazing up into the green. “If it’s going to hurt, it doesn’t matter if it’s now or later.” I glance behind me at my companions, all of whom stare back at me with furrowed brows and shift on their feet.

Will it tear me asunder, the scars along my arms like cracks before a collapse?

But then, I’ve been a breath away from death so many times already. What’s one more?

I pull my glove off and raise my hand, pushing the anchor open the way I’d learn to and it seizes me, jostling me as the tether between it and myself pulls taut. The marks on my hand illuminate like a pathway for the anchor's energy. I will the process along and glance to my left to assess the expressions of my friends. Cassandra’s stricken face tells me enough.

The entire length of the scar-like streaks must be glowing.

Read the rest here!

Start from the Beginning

Tagging DAFF Crew:

@warpedlegacy | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @effelants | @bluewren | @breninarthur | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @dreadfutures | @ir0n-angel | @inquisimer | @crackinglamb | @nirikeehan | @oxygenforthewicked | @mogwaei | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @melisusthewee | @blarrghe | @agentkatie

[pure-garbage]

Goddess Of Death? The Blood Of A Heretic

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Gore, Sexual Themes. Minors DNI

Zoro was alarmed that he made it back to the Merry before the girls, but he held his anxiety in check.

"Zoro! What happened?!" Usoppp demanded when he came aboard.

"He's hurt!" Chopper cried. "Oh god, someone! Please call the doctor! He's bleeding, hurry! Doctor! Doc- Oh wait, that's me!"

"Just a few scratches," Zoro grumbled. He reached back in annoyance, gauging the depth of the lash marks. "If you really wanna help, you could draw up water for a bath or three. Nami and Lana will need you to look them over when they get back too."

"On it! Can you tell me how bad they're hurt?" Chopper asked.

"Not too bad, I don't think so anyway."

"Hang on a minute!" Sanji cut in, drawn out from the cabin by the commotion. "Lana and Nami are injured? Tell me what happened!"

"Lovesick idiot cook," Zoro growled. "Ask them yourself when they get back."

"Hey! You're not off the hook yet, shitty swordsman!" Sanji called as Zoro walked away. "How could you leave them behind all by themselves? Answer me!"

"Ask them for yourself!"

Zoro settled down in the crows nest, keeping a weather eye out for the girls' return.

'Lana can take care of herself and Nami. That bastard only got the drop on her once because of his trick darts. I slaughtered the rest of his shitty crew before I left. There's nothing keeping them. They're just taking their time... but with what?'

The memory of Lana's stricken expression rose from the recesses of Zoro's mind. That mortification, her horror, the revulsion and panic he'd seen on her face...

'I messed up! If I wouldn't have been so sloppy, I wouldn't have been captured,' Zoro berated himself. 'I could have found them and freed them before that bastard had the chance to touch Lana!'

His turbulent thoughts settled as he spotted Lana and Nami approaching.

"Zoro! The water's ready!" Chopper called.

Zoro made his was down while Sanji dashed off the ship to meet the girls.

"Nami-swan! Lana swee- uhhh..." he trailed off as she came closer. Zoro soon saw what had rendered the cook speechless. This wasn't what he'd been expecting, but somehow, he wasn't surprised.

"Lana! That- that's so much BLOOD!" Usopp shrieked.

"I'm gonna pass out," Chopper moaned.

"It's not hers," Zoro assured them grimly.

"Whoa... Lana, you look like you mauled someone!" Luffy gawked as the girls boarded.

"Mauled is a great word for what happened," Nami said, looking a bit shell-shocked. "Eviscerated isn't bad either."

"Come on," Zoro sighed, reaching for Lana's dripping, scarlet hand. "There's clean water waiting."

Lana's eyes locked to his past the gore covering her. She let him pull her into the washroom while Chopper guided Nami into the cabin.

"Go ahead. Say it."

Lana's tone was completely flat, entirely dead.

"What's that?" Zoro prompted, closing the door behind them.

"I'm disgusting. I know you're thinking it. Sanji was too, I could see it in his face. Just say-"

Zoro silenced her with a sloppy, rushed kiss that he regretted almost immediately. He forced himself to stop, breath coming hard as he pulled back.

"Sorry, Lana, sorry. I should have asked first," he mumbled quickly as she shook in his arms. "After what just happened, I shouldn't-"

"Shut up!" she growled, surging up onto her toes to return the kiss, just as messy and desperate as he'd been seconds earlier. He shivered deeply when she sucked his tongue into her mouth, demanding his presence inside her like he was the cure to everything wrong she was feeling. He followed her silent command, gripping her tight as she broke in his arms a little, losing herself gratefully to the possessive fervor he devoured her with.

They only stopped to breathe when they started to feel dizzy. Zoro pressed his forehead to hers while she sank all ten of her fingers into his hair, holding onto him like a lifeline. As blood squelched loudly between them, Lana muttered, quick and quiet.

"You never need permission to kiss me. These lips belong to you, Zoro. Say you understand."

He nodded his assent with solemn enthusiasm.

"I do."

"You don't think I look gross right now?" she demanded.

"I think you look like the goddess of death herself," Zoro purred, wiping blood spatter from her cheeks to catch her blushing.

"Sweet talker," she teased. She let him peel her clothes off, sinking into the chilly water before either of them could get too excited.

"Let me see your back," he requested. She obliged, splashing her front while he wiped carefully around the whip marks on her back.

"Weakling barely broke the skin," Zoro growled. He bent to press kisses to the welts, running his tongue soothingly over any that weren't open wounds. Lana loosed a hiss that faded into a sated sigh. She took the rag from his hands, allowing him to continue his worship of her battered flesh while she went to work scrubbing blood off herself.

"Zoro?"

"Hm?"

"Clean my hair for me?"

"Mm-hmm."

He did as she asked, gentle fingers separating long violet strands and sinking down to rub her scalp indulgently.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful your hair is?" he murmured at her ear.

"Even when it's not full of blood?" Lana chuckled wryly.

"Even then."

"Thank you."

"Tip your head up."

He cupped his hands, bringing water up three, four times to clear the soap from her silky lengths. He took advantage of the angle she was at, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. The bath was solid red by now, Lana's skin shining in the dim light of the oil lamp. She rose, leaving Zoro breathless as he watched water sliding off her figure in rivulets.

'She's glorious.'

"Your turn," she informed him, tugging his shirt off while he protested.

"No, that's- I just took a bath!"

"Get in so I can clean your back," she insisted softly.

"I don't like the cold water!"

"I warmed it up for you. Go ahead."

"Just wipe me down and- Lana!"

He rose abruptly, but she kept going, tugging his pants persistently.

"C'mere Zoro."

She stepped up, balancing on the edge of the tub to tower over him. The shift in perspective was jarring. She nudged his chin up, claiming his lips from her new vantage while he held her hips to make sure she was steady.

"Your goddess commands it," she joked against his lips, running a hand through his hair.

"Don't wanna," he grumbled.

"Look down."

His eyes followed the path of her finger, eyes settling on the dark water that rocked slowly with the motion of the ship.

"The blood of a heretic," she rasped vengefully at his ear. "You're telling me you'd pass up the chance to bathe in it? Isn't that just a touch sacrilegious, Zoro?"

Zoro moaned at her words, struck through with blinding, visceral desire at the horrific, savage suggestion. He buried his face in her breasts as she pushed his pants down and he stepped out of them compliantly.

"I won't come out very clean," he managed, his will to resist her completely broken.

"Zoro?"

"Mm?"

"Shut up and get in the tub."

"Fine."

____________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[jjungkooksthighs]

“Must I repeat everything twice until you hear it? Or is your head so empty that you cannot think of anything beyond getting some cock?” He runs his lips along her jawline, his hand gliding speedily along his member as he adds, “you are so fucking desperate, omega. I can smell it.”

To prove his point, he inhales deeply, the sweet scent of her slick making him harden impossibly more under his fingers. He keeps pushing his fingers there and back between her lips as he taunts, “You want my dick so badly, you whorish creature. You don’t even care if I fill up your cunt anymore, do you?”

Despite the fact that he’s got his fingers down to the fucking knuckle in her mouth, she knows she has to respond. It would upset him if she didn’t. And she doesn’t want that. Not at all.

“N…no, alpha.” Her voice cracks when he twists his fingers, their pads drawn along the roof of her mouth in a come-hither motion. Gods, did that feel similar to the soft walls of her cunt when she was wrapped around him.

The action almost has her squeal out then and there. She knows that motion. It was his signature move when he had his fingers inches deep inside her cunt and ravaged her with them.

The thought has her thighs rubbing together yet again in search of friction, but he doesn’t give her long to simmer in the heat afire in her core. He rolls her nipple between his fingers, not gentle in the way he squeezes it betwixt them as she squirms beneath him.

“You wonder if I’m doing this to tease you, omega.”

It’s not an inquiry. It’s an observation.

“You would be correct. I am fucking with you right now. I know how badly you want to suck my cock.” He retrieves his soddened digits from her mouth to leave it an empty, drooling mess, “I know you want me to feed you some of my cum, and because of that, you will not get it.” She stares dumbly at his spit-soaked hand as he wraps it to his throbbing member before he sits back in his cushioned chair. “You, omega, will watch.”

Her heart drops to her stomach, and before she can even think of the consequences, she wails out. "N-no! A-alpha!!" panic-stricken, she shakes her head as convincingly as she can, shifting her weight between each of her legs to try and lessen the soreness in her knees. She cannot fucking take that! Please.. no.. Her lips tremble, and a soft cry leaves her. "P-please.. no! I c-can't take it, alpha.." she begs, a whining mess on the floor, her throat hoarse from the lack of air his fingers had caused her moments earlier. His attention isn't on her, however. His eyes are now closed, head tilted back as he takes in a deep breath, a satisfied growl leaves him at the stroke of his own hand at the tip of his bulging cock. "Fuck, omega-" his voice is husky, coated with utter satisfaction that leaves her whimpering pettily. The fingers he'd had in her mouth just moments ago now work their way up and down his impressive length, her saliva and slick coating his cock now. The sight of him so lost in his own pleasure has possessiveness raging through her like a fucking wildfire. If she could do something to stop him, she would. But, there isn't anything she can do but try and beg. "P-please, alpha! Y-you're being.. mean. Alpha.. don't be mean, please.." she begs, her whispers loud in the otherwise quiet room, the only sounds now heard being his heavy breaths and the sloppy, wetness that coats his hardened length. "D-don't.. don't do this, alpha.."

The very word has anger flickering in his heart.

“How dare you say that to me,” his irises freeze over, his tone icy when his hand going rigid on his cock. “You have been nothing but callous and cruel to me for past several moons and suns.”

To punish her, the hand he’d been using to grope her breasts ascends to close around her neck. His grip is unforgiving this time as he pushes the pads of his fingers into her veins, his words brumal and bitter when he fulminates, “You do not get to say that to me after everything you have done to defy me. Do you fucking understand that? This is the consequence you have earned for your disrespect.” His grip tightens, her mind going hazy as she tries to gulp down air. “You were the one who chose to disobey me and fuck yourself with your own hands.” He spits, the glob of it landing right along the apex between her thighs. “You were the one who rejected me and made me look a fool in front of all the alphas in this fucking pack.” He makes the skin of her throat go white with how unrelenting his grasp is, and soon, there are spots dotting her vision as she tries to swallow down air as he snaps, “You chose to be insolent. And now? I’m going to do the same to you. You’re going to feel as I felt. See as I saw. Hear what I heard.”

He presses in more on her neck to the point that he sees the whites of her eyes, a broken cry leaving her as her fingers twitch and her hands slacken against his thighs.

She can’t speak anymore. Not with her chest.

I-I’m sorry, alpha. So, so sorry….

Her eyes reflect her words, the glassiness of them showing him her sentiments.

“It’s too late for that, whore.” He shakes his head as he mocks with derision, “Those apologies are empty just like your cunt. Empty it shall remain until you’ve earned the right to have it filled once again.”

[bts-bay-bee]

coffee shop

Pairing: park jimin x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 1872

Warnings: *unedited work*, they’re baristas, they do things that they probably shouldn’t do at a coffee shop, unprotected sex, theyre both going through dry spells, rough sex, cum swallowing, choking, biting, hickies, vaginal fingering, panties do get ripped and stolen, spit play (a tiny bit),

Prompts: 5 (“Deeper? Harder? Think your little pussy can take it?”), 8 (“Stop trying to run from my dick”), and 12 (“Choke me, bite me, use me”)

Request:

A/N: hi anonie! I answered this so late that we already hit 2k and so i apologise! Also, I did prompt 11 in my yoongi drabble, so I won’t include it here. Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy it!!!

“It’s not my fault finals kicked my ass!” Was the first thing you heard when you entered the on-campus coffee shop, cringing at the volume, which was so loud that your entrance was barely noticeable, allowing your shift partner to continue speaking to a ‘customer’. “I made the executive decision to choose passing over pussy, excuse me if I’m going through a bit of a dry spell –”

 “Hi, Jimin,” You interrupted, amused at his panic-stricken face. “Hey, Taehyung.”

 Giggling over his steaming hot chocolate, Taehyung greeted you, ignoring his best friend’s red cheeks as he waved goodbye and exited the coffee shop.

 “Y/N, I, er, sorry you had to hear that –”

 “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one going through issues.” You cut him off, saving him from embarrassing himself with his rambling. Pausing, he cocked his head to the side.

 “You’re going through a dry spell? What about that guy who always comes in and gets that God awful Frappuccino shit –”

 ��He wants me, I never said I wanted him.” You retorted, dryly. Jimin suppressed a laugh, levelling you with a gaze and a raised eyebrow.

 “Well then who do you want?”

 “A bit forward, don’t you think?” You teased, eyeing his biceps as he crossed his arms over his chest.

 “Not as forward as you eye-fucking me, I can tell you that.” He muttered, probably not meant for your ears.

  “So, Jimin,” You began, watching him turn the sign to show that you had officially closed, your chin laying on your open palm. It had been weeks since you had walked in on him complaining to Taehyung about his dry spell, weeks since you had started dropping subtle hints about him fucking you, yet nothing was done about it.

 “So, Y/N,” He mimicked, a small smirk on his face as he dropped the blinds for the front windows, blocking out any moonlight from entering.

 “How much more obvious do you want me to be?”

 Pausing his walk back to the counter, he looked lost. “Obvious? About what?”

 “Fucking me.”

 Jimin rolled his eyes, scoffing at you. “Y/N, I’m not in the mood for your games.”

 “I’m being serious!” You insisted, in disbelief at his blatant disregard for your seduction skills. Well, maybe they were a little lacklustre, but you could not have been more obvious. “I’ve been flirting with you for weeks.”

 “We’ve always flirted.” He sighed, tugging on his blond hair in irritation. “It’s nothing new. You never want to take it further than flirting. It’s always just been a joke between us.”

 “Well, this time, I mean it.” You snapped. “What more do you want me to do? Get on my knees and beg?”

 With the clench in his jaw, you knew you either succeeded in getting what you want, or in pissing him off. Truthfully, you don’t know which one held more appeal in the moment.

 “That does sound appealing,” He laughed, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes. “It would sound better if you weren’t messing with me.”

 “Oh, for fuck sake, Jimin. Choke me, bite me, use me. I don’t care, just do something –”

 He cut you off by wrapping a hand around your neck, squeezing the sides firmly. He was so close to you that all your senses screamed Jimin, everything about him enticing you to the point you felt your knees weaken.

 “You don’t know what you’re asking for, do you?” He murmured, backing you up the counter, crowding you in so that you felt trapped. There should be shame in the way your panties dampened, your thighs clenching to alleviate some of the ache, but he shoved his knee in between your legs, preventing that.

 “I do,” You mumbled, already blissed out by having his hands on you that you felt kind of already felt satiated. “I’m asking for you to fuck me.”

 “Here?” He breathed, grip loosening on your neck so that he could kiss your jaw. “Where we work?”

 “I don’t think I can stand the wait to make it back to either of our apartments.” You admitted, trying to breathe evenly as he sucked on your sensitive skin, the skin already tender from his ministrations. You rocked your hips against his and held in a gasp when you felt how hard he was. “By the looks of it, neither can you.”

 “I’ve been fucking my fist every other day because of you, what do you expect?” He complained, sucking your skin harder, ending with a bite, making you yelp. “You’ve been wearing the prettiest little things, makes my imagination run wild.”

 You chose to ignore him, pulling him away so you could unbutton your jeans, shimmying the fabric down your thighs as quickly as you could before you froze in horror at the loud rip that made Jimin wince.

 “… I’m sorry?” He tried, the remains of one of your cutest pairs of panties in his hand. “I didn’t realise it would be so easy to tear!”

 “You’re buying me new ones.” You sighed, rolling your eyes when he immediately kissed you in apology, his reddened, swollen lips already giving way to his tongue. Kissing him was better than you thought it would be; he controlled the pace easily, not faltering or hesitating for a moment, while you focused on unbuttoning his jeans, palming his painfully hard bulge through his boxers.

 Jimin pulled away from you reluctantly, spitting on his fingers before easing them into your core. Feeling you open up on his fingers made him grin, teasing words about to leave his mouth until you pulled his cock free, using his precum to ease the glide of your fist.

 “Opening up so well for me, angel.” He sighed, forehead knocking against yours, curling his fingers so that you were stretched out. Biting your lip so that you didn’t let out an embarrassingly loud moan, you swallowed hard.

 “I can’t wait anymore,” You admitted, breathing uneven. “Please fuck me. I’ve been waiting for you.”

 “Have you, now?” He laughed, spinning you around so that you were squashed against him and the countertop (which you realised that you would have to clean again… You can’t really be serving coffee on a surface which probably had precum and pussy dust on it.)

 “Yes, and you’re always teasing.” You complained, trying not to pout while he cooed at you.

 His chest was hard against your back, only moving away when he lined himself up to your entrance, tip prodding against your pulsing muscles. Bringing a hand to cup your cheek, he guided your lips to his, barely resulting in a kiss. Every time you tried kissing him properly, he would move away slightly, making it impossible to actually feel his lips on yours. At the same time, he pushed his cock in a tiny bit, before pulling out completely, never giving you the entire tip, never stretching you out on his cock.

 “Don’t be a tease!” You whined, desperate for any form which you could get him. “I thought you wanted to fuck – oh, fuck, Jimin.”

 Thrusting into you shallowly, he finally kissed you properly, but still didn’t let his entire length fill you up. Even without the entirety of his cock pumping into you, waves of pleasure pulsed up and down your being, being touched everywhere by Jimin leaving you feeling unbelievable. But one thing about you, is that you were greedy for everything and anything when it came to Park Jimin.

 “Jiminie?” You breathed out, eyes half open. He hummed in response, hands tangling in your own. “Want more, please. I know you want to go deeper. You can go harder. Want you to use me, remember?”

 “Deeper? Harder? Think your little pussy can take it?” Jimin asked, grip on your hands almost unbearably tight.

 He barely let a second pass after he saw you nod before he began fucking into you harder, his skin slapping yours hard enough to echo throughout the entire shop. Now utterly blissed out, you struggled staying upright, your knees weak, basically useless in supporting you.

 “Fuck, you’re so much better than my fist, Jesus, Y/N.” He groaned, eyes furrowed, as you cried out and clenched around him, staving off your orgasm, not wanting it to be over so soon. “Going to – damn, fuck – going to fuck you every shift. Your pussy is so addictive, I could don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

 His words made you feel like you were overheating, quickly feeling your orgasm rear its head, desperation to stave it off making you move away from his thrusts.

 “Stop trying to run from my dick, you wanted it to be deep and hard, so you’re going to be a good girl and take it.” He hissed, holding both your wrists in one hand as he used the other to push your face down into the corner, forcing you to arch your back, making his cock hit even deeper.

 Obscene, wet sounds made you want to burrow your head in shame, sobs and moans being drawn out of you at an alarming pace if it was anyone other than Jimin. Speaking of, it's not like he was faring any better; he kept groaning into your ear, curses way too creative for someone as polite as him sneaking their way out.

 "Jimin, so close, I'm so close." You whined, thighs trembling.

 Somehow thrusting faster, sweat dripped down his temples, his efforts not needed much longer to have you coming around his dick hard, your walls engulfing him in the most addictive ways.

 Throughout your entire orgasm, he never stopped thrusting, the suddenly impossible tightness only resulting in him having to pull out of your dripping hole, tugging your neck so that you could swallow down his cum happily.

 A few moments passed, not really enough time to actually catch your breath, but he tugged you to him, swollen lips suckling on your tongue, almost as if he was trying to taste himself there, to make sure the encounter had been real.

 "Jiminie?" You mumbled, head resting against his chest. You pretended you didn't hear how fast his heart was beating as he hummed in response to his name. "We're going to have to wipe down the counter again."

 Clicking the image, expecting a stupid meme or maybe even your work schedules, you froze when you saw it.

 Sitting down cross-legged after getting railed like that was probably a mistake, but you didn't realize it until you were halfway there. Ignoring the dull ache in your pelvis and hips, you unlocked your phone after seeing a text from Jimin with an image attached.

Your ruined pair of panties (that you suddenly realized definitely didn't come home with you) were somehow even more ruined by the globs of cum on them.

 jiminie:

*image attached*

okay so my hand definitely isn't as good as your pussy but your panties helped a lot :)

btw, if I just keep ripping your panties, will you eventually stop wearing any?

 yn:

keep ripping my panties and you'll never get to fuck me again

now send me a video of you using them to cum, I know you have one

[justalonelybitch]

hiii can i request a winter oneshot with heavy angst with a fluffy ending? like a break up prank, i don’t really have anything specific in mind. thank you!

I hope you don't mind, I changed the plot a little. You'll have to read to find out... enjoy! Also, I made reader a 5th member.

I Promise

Winter x GN!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Marking, Implied Cheating, Hitting

Word Count: 1.2k

Buy me a coffee :)

Minjeong waited patiently for you to come home from your schedule, sat atop your bed, playing with the strings of her white hoodie. To say she was anxious about what she was going to do would be an understatement. In retrospect, she knew it was a terrible idea, but her friends had managed to convince her. Unfortunately, it was now too late for her to turn back, as she heard footsteps approaching.

The door opened to reveal your deflated self, Minjeong already knew she'd made a grave mistake. “Baby?” You asked, surprised to see her waiting in your room. The way your eyes sparkled when you looked at her made her heart ache. As soon as you noticed she was doomed, stupidly she hoped you might not even detect anything in your tired state.

You fell into her arms, eyes closing in relief, all the pent up tension leaving your body. A sigh left your lips, Minjeong rubbed your back in comfort. Her body moved automatically, while her thoughts wandered elsewhere. Lifting your head, you pinched your eyebrows together at her guilt stricken face.

When you leaned up to peck her lips, she dodged you, instead letting you kiss her cheek. “Babe?” You asked, uncertainty clear in your voice. Minjeong squeezed her eyes tightly shut, letting her head fall back. She tried desperately to rid herself of the horrid scenarios running through her head, running her hands through her hair in distress.

Feeling your hand come up to caress her neck, she tensed. “Y/n,” she started, opening her eyes, they were now wide in shock. “Don’t,” you silenced her, tears forming in your eyes. “How could you?” Your hands shaky as they hovered over the purple marks on her neck. “I-I didn’t,” she tried to speak once more, but you weren’t having any of it.

“Well I know it wasn’t me. I can’t do that because we’re idols and yet you let someone else,” the pain in your voice was unmistakable. “They’re not real,” she started to panic, not wanting to go through with this any longer. “You know about my past,” you said, voice cracking.

All of her words fell deaf in your ears, pain blocking out things you were sure you wouldn’t want to hear. “I can't,” you whispered, a sob getting trapped in your throat. You refused to break in front of her, she didn’t deserve that satisfaction after what she’d done. Not wasting another second you rushed out your room door, tears instantly flowing from your eyes as soon as you turned away from her. Minjeong was hot on your tail though, “Y/n wait!” She called out desperately.

As you dashed through the living room your members looked at you, concern painting their features. You stumbled past, walking right into Jimin, who steadied you. “What’s wrong Y/n?” She asked, concerned. The only thing that left your lips was a broken sob, you brushed past your leader. Making a bee-line for the bathroom, you slammed the door behind you, locking it quickly.

Minjeong was just short, missing her chance by a mere millisecond. Hearing you attempt to muffle your sobs through the door made her heart ache, pressing her head to the door in regret. She knew she’d messed up badly, that being a kinder way to put it. On the other side of the door, you slid down the wall, tucking your knees into your chest.

Your hand slapped over your mouth, just in time as another sob tried to escape your lips. The members watched helplessly as Minjeong called out to you, begging you to open the door. No one seemed to know what to do, the others were still unsure of what happened.

Jimin had attempted to pull Minjeong from the door, telling her that you would come out in your own time. Your girlfriend shook her head at the leader, staying in her place, refusing to leave until you talked to her. “Y/n please let me in,” she pleaded. Tears fell from her own eyes, which she quickly wiped. ‘I don’t deserve to cry,’ she reprimanded herself in her head.

It was around three in the morning when you finally cracked the door open, peaking into the dorm. The members were splayed out on the couch, they slept peacefully in a tangle of limbs. Meanwhile Minjeong was sitting in front of you, leaning on the wall with her eyes shut, soft snores coming from her.

She looked so beautiful, relaxed compared to how you’d seen her before. Your eyes trailed back down to her neck, remembering the night's previous events. Eyes widening when you notice that they now look smudged, different shapes than before. When you looked closer, you made out the faint purple smudges that were on her neck, matching with the ones that were on her hoodie.

The wheels in your head started to turn, piecing together everything. You chuckled in disbelief, all of this for a prank. Still mad at Minjeong, you considered leaving her to sleep on the floor. Huffing, you walked towards her hunched over figure, leaning down and smacking the back of her head.

Her head jolted forward, eyes snapping open, as she looked around in confusion. When her eyes met yours, a glimmer of hope shone in them. A frown etched its way onto her face when she saw your puffy eyes, she reached out to caress.

Minjeong’s eyes widened comically when she realised that you weren’t pulling away, letting her touch you. “Aren’t you mad at me?” She asked confusedly, biting her lip. “Oh I am definitely still mad at you,” you said seriously. “I figured out it was a prank. Plus I can’t sleep without you,” you said, holding your hand out for her to take.

She hesitated slightly, reaching up to interlace your fingers. It was a feeling she had missed way too much, even though it had only been a few hours. “Should we wake them?” You asked, pointing your free hand towards your members. “I think it will be funny to leave them,” she smiled at you mischievously.

“Haven’t you done enough pranks today?” You asked, watching the way her smile faded. “I’m sorry, I should’ve never let my friends convince me to do that. Especially because of your past,” Minjeong spoke sincerely. “Your forgiven,” you said, wrapping your arms around her neck. “But please, promise me you won’t do that ever again.” You held up your pinky, smiling when she hooked hers around it. “I promise,” she whispered, pressing a sweet kiss to your hand.

“I’m glad to see you guys made up,” Jimin’s voice startled you. “Jesus Christ lady, have you ever heard of knocking?” You asked, leaning into Minjeong’s side. “This is literally the living room,” your leader deadpanned. “Shut up,” you said, tugging your girlfriend away to your room.

Jimin watched the two of you with a fond smile on her lips, glad to know that everything was resolved and things would be going back to normal in the dorms. Hearing a groan from the couch, she whipped her head around. “Right, the other children,” she muttered to herself, moving to wake them before they got seriously hurt.

[imagineshuitsukieveryday]

Hey, I was wondering if I could request Shu with an s/o who's like slowly falling out of love with him. They're not aware of it (yet) but Shu absolutely is.

I'm curious how'd you think he'd react or what he would do. Also you can decide whether or not this relationship is salvageable cause I would say no instantly since I'm evil like that (I'm not)

Oh, anon you got me in SUCH a good time. I was FILLED with angst motivation that I wanted to write angst but was UNFORTUNATELY too lazy until you can along~

This ACTIVATED something in me so I had quite a lot of fun writing it <3

I had a friend help me with this as well so it could be EXTRA good, give a big round of applause for nameless friend.

Also this had like "two parts" that are just the context in a way and the actual main part.

I hope you enjoy this anon!

I

Work has been his priority over all else, and it’s putting a strain on your relationship.

You had always been supportive, encouraging him to pursue his goals and achieve his dreams.

But as time went on, it gets harder and harder to see him, he’s buried in his work.

When was the last time the two of you had done something together?

You don't remember anymore.

You used to leave him cute little notes on his things, as to not disturb him during his work.

As time went on, Shu didn’t realize it at first, but those small tokens of affection became rarer.

By the time he noticed something was wrong, he ignored it.

Admittedly he hasn’t been the best partner, when you voiced your concerns, he brushed it off. It was always some variation of “Let’s talk about it tomorrow, I’m tired now.”

II

It is not a crushing weight, but a suffocating smoldering feeling.

Shu realized you were falling out of love with him. He was not surprised, he would too, if he was in your shoes. Deep down, he knew he had been running away from the issues in your relationship. He was fully aware of what was going on, and yet he chose to turn a blind eye.

One night, when Shu went to sleep super late like he has done other times, he noticed your tear-stricken face. He stayed still, this moment of silence in which he realized you had been crying again, and yet he stayed still, silent, as hopelessness filled him.

How many times had it been? He lost count. No, that’s a lie. He never kept count, since he thought to himself he’ll make it up to you the following day.

It was always “tomorrow”.

Consumed by guilt, he thought of waking you up but then he thought to himself that at that point, he didn't know what to say anymore as the words were stuck in his throat

Now your roles are reversed. Shu is desperately trying to save what little is left of your relationship, but at that point, it was much too late.

One of those days, he came home late, once again, but he wasn’t greeted by you. Rather, there was this deafening silence.

Worry went through Shu’s body as he searched the place you shared.

Looking around only to find the place empty, and to see that some of your belongings were gone.

Did something happen to you? Shu thought as panic went through his body until suddenly he entered the bedroom.

On the bedside table of your shared room, he found a small envelope, addressed to him.

To Shu dearest. It read on the cover.

Dread filled his mind, his throat going dry as he slowly read the words contained on the paper.

Realization goes through his mind, the denial finally cleared, as the gravity of the situation had settled in.

Shu falls to his knees, the words clinging into his mind, his body wouldn’t stop shaking. It was hard to breathe. The regret was eating him alive. He saw you as his only chance, the only one who gave him that chance for all of this.

It was his only chance and he managed to mess it up.

He let out a choked sob as silent tears ran through his face.

He hadn’t expected all of this to happen, all of it to crash so soon.

If only he could turn back time.

[kuroowo]

Undeserving

- Osamu x GN!Reader

Summary - Half a heart and wandering eyes — it’s not what you deserve.

Genre - Hurt/NO Comfort, Angst

Note - Inspired by that garden walk scene with Fray & Nicol in My Next Life as a Villainess 2 + that one scene in Little Women with Laurie & Amy! Not sure how I feel about this, but I did like writing it!

WC - 0.6K

Masterlist

“Be with me.”

Words you’ve been dreaming of hearing. Words you’ve been yearning to receive. Words you’ve been wishing upon shooting stars and menial myths for. You should be elated. It should be a joyous occasion, calling for a celebration so grand that it could rival banquets held by gods. Should be, and yet, these words serve to do nothing but fill you with acid and toxin. It burns at your flesh and corrodes at the stronghold of your heart. All because one, simple truth prevails over every letter from his tongue.

It’s not you he’s thinking of. It’s not you his heart is calling for. It’s not you he wants.

It’s not you he truly loves.

“Half your heart and wandering eyes…”, your whisper carries heavily with the biting breeze, eyes desolate as you face him, “Is that what you think I want?”

Osamu looks stricken with guilt. The lump in his throat and the shame in his eyes make him turn away, unable to bear the burden of what he tried to do to you. What he may find past your watering eyes. What he haphazardly offered with coarse, calloused hands to the one person who has done nothing but consistently shelter him with kindness and support.

“Is that what you think I deserve?”

He hears the way your voice trembles under its own weight, and that has his chest reverberating with pin-prick hurt. Yet, it amounts to only a fraction of what yours is carelessly put through by the very man before you — one you’ve spent years being in love with.

The quietude of the night suffocates your very soul. It cuts you deep and lays you raw, exposed, agonised. Under a moonlight as hazy as it comes, nebulous clouds finally part and your eyes are forced open — even in his own pain, he pities you, and that sets your rotting chains free of a decade-long pining. It breaks away the rusted bond tethered to your heart. It snaps the fated string you’ve tied onto your own finger.

Such a fool, you are.

Such a fool, you were.

“No! I’m sor—”, frantically, Osamu tries to apologise. He tries to do damage control and to bandage over the stab wounds he’s inflicted on your giving heart. He didn’t mean to. He knows he can’t give you his all, but he just wanted to see you happy, to give you what he can, to be with someone who loves him with such faithful earnestness — just as he loves her.

Thoughtless.

Selfish.

Cruel.

“Stop.”

Tears fall freely from your dimming eyes. The devotion you’ve been holding onto melts away with crystalline droplets, slipping past your quivering chin, smeared on asphalt and by your own hands. If this is how Osamu wants to love you, if this is what he sees you as worthy of, then you suppose you’re at the end of this bittersweet journey. There’s nothing left for you to give. There’s nothing left of him to have hope in.

There was nothing to begin with, you think, derision stale on your palate.

“Enough.”, steel in your spine forges right before his eyes and in a fit of panic, he tries to reach out to you. Although, what for exactly? For his friend? For the person he’s hurt? For someone who’s so sweetly precious to him, but not entirely enough to care for with gentle hands? Osamu doesn’t know. He doesn’t dare to unravel the mangled fractures of his emotions. He doesn’t want to unearth the glass of his core.

Regardless, it doesn’t matter anymore. No, not when you’ve finally found your worth in the mess he failed to drown you in. Not when he’s undeserving of your love.

Not when you’re undeserving of his.

[wendy130]

tiny avian tommy and human wilbur noms?

// More hurt than comfort ooghg,,, hope you enjoy :]

// Warnings: vore, soft vore, safe vore, mentions of digestion (none happen)

// Unedited

----

A shrill sound erupted from around Tommy, and it took him a minute to realize it was coming from him.

He was screaming.

He clamped his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, biting down on his hand, but it was too late. It was too late, even before he started screaming.

A human saw him.

They dazedly stared at his shaking form, making no moves towards him yet.

That was good. That meant he could've escaped. Could've. If his wings weren't tangled in some stupid plastic wrapping. If he wasn't stupid enough to crash into a pile of trash and get his stupid wings stuck in some stu-

He cut his bleak thoughts off with another yell of fear as the brunet human finally broke out of their shocked state and took a step towards him. That seemed to stop them for a moment as they took a step backward at his screams.

He scrambled back, crying out in pain as a sharp sensation scrapped against his wings. He felt pain and a small trickle of something wet drip down his wings. He didn't dare look, too scared that the human would take that moment to sneak up on him.

They didn't seem to care that he was still screaming or that he was still looking at them, though, as the brunet took at least ten steps forward in succession, easily encroaching on him.

He tried moving away from them again, wincing in pain as the sensation pushed further into his soft feathers and cut deeper. The human quickly reached out for him, making hushed cooing noises as their hands wrapped around him.

He yelped, upping his squirming tenfold, ignoring the pain in his wings to find some way of escaping the human's grip. The loose grip around him tightened slightly into a more firm hold, and he felt a tug on his wings.

No, no, no- They- they were- they were going to pull his wings off. Tear- they- no- NO- NO-

He shrilly chirped in terror, feeling them pull something from his wings. He whined as the scrapping sensation increased for a second before it was released. His wings instinctively fluttered in panic as the thing wrapped around them was gone.

Wait...He... He could move his wings..?

He glanced up at the human, only to see them still focused on his wings. They prodded at the white, fluffy feather, messing with them. He frightenedly flapped his wings at the motion, letting out another stressed chirp.

They stopped messing with his wings after they saw a red stain on one of them, and part of him hoped that they'd just let him go, injured and all.

That hope was crushed when they cooed something in their strange language again, and he could pick up only a few words.

"Poor thing, I'll..take...you...... suppose.. eat."

His fluttering wings picked up in speed as he started struggling in their grip again as he heard them speak. He flailed his arms around, aggressively hitting the human's fingers.

Oh Primes. He was going- he was going to be eaten, wasn't he? He was going to be killed. The human only 'helped' him to- to gain an easy snack.

He paused his struggles.

Or.. Or maybe they were offering him food...? That.. would probably be the more logical answer, but... he could never be too sure.

He warily stared at the human, who still easily loomed over him. That was quick to change, though, as he was lifted up, up, and up to the human's face. A chirp laid stuck in his throat, forgotten as he helplessly stared at the brunet's mouth in cautious dread.

Primes, he hoped that they were offering him fo-

He softly gasped as their lips parted away to show sharp, white teeth and an awaiting tongue.

A much more terror-stricken shriek broke from his throat, and his struggles became anew with strangled vigor, his wings beating with rapid speed, even though they couldn't do much to help him now that the brunet literally had him in their grasp.

The human tried speaking in their hushed tone again, but he didn't pay attention, too focused on trying to escape.

They seemed to have given up on trying to talk to him since, after a moment, they sighed and slipped his kicking legs into their wet mouth. He frantically chirped, hitting the roof of their mouth.

That must have hurt them a little as they were quick to pin his legs against their palate and plush tongue. He quivered in uncontrollable terror as he was dragged further into the mouth, his body getting squished in between the damp muscle and the hard roof.

He wailed out in horror as the brunet grabbed onto his wings, pushing them against his back in an uncomfortable position to stop him from flapping them around. They shoved his wings into their mouth. Their tongue easily started to lap at his wings, and it almost seemed like more saliva started to pool around his form.

He got a faceful of the thick liquid as he was fully stuffed into the humid mouth. He had to hold back a chirp of sheer dread so that he didn't get a mouthful of the saliva too.

He flipped himself around, puffing out his wings to try to make the human gag. His endeavors didn't seem to work as they didn't gag at all. They only focused on licking his wings, slathering them up with the sticky wetness before the muscle moved onto his legs, torso, and face.

He sputtered out helpless cries, pushing the tongue away with his limbs and wings in vain. The muscle only came back with more saliva and energy, knocking him against their teeth. He trembled, feeling the cool, smooth molars press against the side of his wings, but they only stayed shut.

He almost let out a sigh of relief; at least he wasn't going to be chomped up into bloodied pieces.... though, he realized with sickening panic, that only meant a worse fate down below.

He shrieks as he feels himself get tossed around in the mouth before he's tilting forwards to meet the entrance to the throat. He wails again as the human swallows him whole.

A tugging sensation starts. It kneads at his form, easily cramming his squirming form down it. His wings don't stand a chance against powerful muscles that quickly push and shove against the puffed-up feathers.

He screams again, and, at this point, he feels like he's going to lose his voice, but what does it matter? He's heading to the belly of the beast, and he's not going to get out.

The forced upon 'massage' only lasts a few seconds, being replaced with a more open yet still cramped area. He takes in a shuddering breath when it dawns on him.

He's in their stomach.

He puffs his wings out much more than before, stretching out the muscles surrounding him, and he pounds at the walls with petrified fury. His chirps have become painfully dry with the overuse of his voice, the sounds easily breaking every few seconds.

His squirming only lasts for a few seconds before a weight from outside harshly presses down on him, compressing his figure into a ball, and his wings flattened against his back.

The human says something, but he's too panicked to focus on their words- not that he'd be able to understand much anyways- before the pressure starts rotating in a circle and a rumble vibrates around him.

Placing his hands over his ears, he lets out a few more broken, distressed chirps, shying away from the rubbing. The rumbli- the purring- he realizes with horror- softens at his movements. But the rubbing sensation doesn't go away. It seems to be focusing only on his wings, gently stroking them through the wall of flesh.

He whimpers, trying to ignore everything around him to just fall asleep and skip the bad part of the... process. The purring helps a little, if only to act as a poor lullaby, and he falls into a light, distressful rest.

...When he wakes up, later on, he finds that he's no longer in the human's stomach but safely cocooned in their arms.

[tomurasprincess]

A Caged Dove Finale (Shouto Todoroki x Reader)

Summary: You are a princess from a smaller territory within the kingdom, summoned to the castle to meet with the heir of the throne in the absence of your parents. You think it will simply be a routine trip, until you realize that Prince Shouto has his own plans for you. Whether you agree with them or not.

Pairing: Prince Shouto Todoroki x Reader Rating: Explicit + Word Count: 4.8k Chapter Warnings: Dubcon, forced pregnancy, pregnant sex, praise kink, lactation kink, yandere Series Warnings: Dubcon, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, breeding, pregnant sex, praise kink, lactation kink, stalking, yandere. Some vague descriptions of pregnancy stuff, including morning sickness. Note: Fairy Tale AU. (More Grimm than Disney). Well this is extremely bittersweet. The final part of my very first series (that I swore I would never do.) Despite cussing this story occasionally, I really loved writing it and I’m rather proud of the end result. I hope everyone else likes it just as much! Thanks: To @hisoknen​, for reassuring me that the sex scene was indeed hot. And to @burnedbyshoto​ for being there to listen to me scream about attempting to write all of the Todorokis in one scene. And also for encouraging my deviant lactation kink.

One || Two || Three || Four || Finale 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

You let out a pained groan as you roll over in bed for what feels like the hundredth time in an hour, trying to find a more comfortable position. Something that was near impossible, considering the reason for your discomfort.

Despite your best hopes, you had gotten pregnant shortly after the wedding. You suppose it wasn’t so surprising, with how insatiable Shouto is. He was determined to have a child quickly, and refused to finish anywhere but inside you. He would take you multiple times a day, until you were so sore that you could barely walk. He was an attentive lover, at least, always making sure you finished as well. That you thoroughly enjoyed yourself, was nothing but a satisfied, boneless mess, sweaty and exhausted and more than ready to curl up with him and sleep.

There was one big positive to your pregnancy, however. You were able to leverage your condition to get Shouto to release your parents from their confinement. You convinced him that not knowing where they were and what was going on with them would only stress you further and harm the baby. It was not even much of a lie, as you were beginning to worry he had already had them killed and was hiding the truth from you. But you were proven wrong when he finally allowed you to see them.

They were not in as bad a condition as you assumed they would be, and were ecstatic to see you. Although they were horrified by what had happened to their daughter, the forced marriage and pregnancy, you reassured them that it was not so bad. Partly because it was the truth, as much as you hated to admit it, and partly because you were terrified they would do something stupid in order to rescue you.

It was this concern that led Shouto to accuse them of treason, but he merely had them stripped of their titles and lands, banished to another country with no political power. He made even this positive publicity, standing in front of a gathering to announce the news with a stricken look on his face, talking about how his beloved wife had begged for her parents’ lives. How he loved his wife too much to harm her in such a way, and had chosen the way of mercy, provided they left the country forever.

The kingdom loves him more than ever now. They whisper about what a beautiful love story it is, how Shouto went below his class to marry his true love. How he risked looking weak by allowing traitors to live, all because the love of his life begged for mercy. How the princess herself was so benevolent, forgiving the people who had hurt her.

You had asked Shouto for one last favor on the day of their banishment. You wanted to speak to your parents privately before they left, as you knew it was the last time you would ever see them. He relented after some pleading on your part, but warned you that his mercy would not extend to allowing them to live if they moved against him.  

You agreed, of course. Even if you wanted to be rescued, there was no way you would risk their lives for it. So when you saw them off, you were the ones reassuring them as they sobbed. They told you to only say the word, and they would come for you, and would rescue you. You placed your hand gently on your stomach, reassuring them that you would be okay. That it wasn’t so bad to be married to Prince Shouto, that he took good care of you. What shocked you is the realization that you weren’t lying, that you were becoming more comfortable as his wife.

You think it started on the day that changed everything. The day you realized you were pregnant.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

You rush to the bathroom, barely making it before you violently throw up yet again. This had been happening for over a week now, and you couldn’t figure out why you were so sick. You thought at first that you may have gotten food poisoning, but that was unlikely with the palace chefs making sure you and the royal family had nothing but the best. And besides, when you made sure to eat different foods, the sickness still continued.

Your head swims with dizziness as another intense wave of nausea overtakes you. And that was when your sister-in-law poked her head into the bathroom, apparently having heard you rush to the bathroom in a panic.. “Are you okay in here?” She asks with concern in her voice.

“I’m fine,” you manage to choke out before turning back to heave. You have been so sick that there is really nothing left in your stomach, and you find yourself simply gagging instead. “Okay, maybe I’m not fine. I can’t stop throwing up.”

You see Fuyumi’s expression turn contemplative, before asking the question that turns your world on its axis. “Sweetie, when was the last time you had your period?”

Your eyes widen, your hand coming to clamp over your mouth to hold the gasp that was bubbling up inside of you. “I - oh god - I don’t know,” you whisper.  “I don’t remember. A few months, maybe?”

Fuyumi goes from hopeful to pure joy within seconds of your confession. “Sweetheart, you’re pregnant!” She practically jumps up and down from the excitement, not even noticing your look of shock and despair. Or perhaps she is choosing to simply ignore it. “I’m going to be an aunt! And oh, Shouto is going to be over the moon when you tell him!”

“I didn’t think it would happen so quickly,” you whisper. In fact, you had secretly hoped it would not happen at all. A fact that you will never reveal to anyone. It’s not that you don’t want to be a mother. You always have, had even dreamed of it. But in this situation, it only drove home the true reality of your situation. You had no control over any aspect of your life anymore.

“You have to tell him immediately! Actually, let me go grab him for you. You can tell him now,” Fuyumi practically squeals as she turns around to leave the room. Before you can open your mouth to tell her that it can wait, the excited woman has already ran out the door. You let out a sigh, supposing that there is no use in delaying the inevitable as you pick yourself up from the floor.

By the time your husband enters the room, you’ve been able to freshen yourself up a bit. “Fuyumi said you had something to tell me?” Shouto’s face is a mask of concern as he sits beside you in the bed, pulling you close into his arms.

“I do,” you say hesitantly, not really sure how to begin this talk. But you figure that the best way is to just come right out and say it and not beat around the bush. “Shouto, I’m pregnant.”

It takes a second for the news to truly sink in, but when it does, the smile that takes over is truly radiant. The laughter that slips out is so pure that you find yourself smiling despite yourself. And when he pushes you down on the bed to put one hand over your stomach, you can’t stop your own laughter from spilling out.

“Do you think I can feel the baby kick,” he murmurs as he gently pushes on your stomach. You laugh a bit harder as you shake your head. “Honey, I’m pretty sure it’s way too early for that.”

It isn’t until he gives you a soft smile that you realize you called him honey.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the door opening, and you glance up to see your husband walk in. He smiles at you as he takes his jacket and shoes off, looking happier than usual. His whole demeanor screams excitement, and something else you can’t put your finger on.

As he begins to get into night clothes, you decide to simply ask him. “You seem happier than you usually do after meeting with the nobility,” you note. “Did something happen?”

“Oh, something amazing happened,” his smile twists up into a smirk as he changes the subject, a sure sign that he’s done talking about this particular topic. You decide not to push for now, and mentally remind yourself to ask him about it later.

“How are you feeling, love?” He climbs into bed as he wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you tightly into his embrace. He nuzzles at your neck, causing you to giggle.

“I feel like I’m about to pop, I’m so big. My feet are swollen and hurt, and my breasts are sore and leaking. But other than that, I’m fine,” you snark at him.

“My beautiful, hormonal wife,” he chuckles as he rolls you over, climbing on top of you but being careful not to put too much weight on your stomach. He plants kisses down your neck, sucking gently at your pulse point as his hands run smoothly up and down your sides.

“Shouto, I - you need to stop,” you whisper, not because you really want him to but because of how self conscious you feel about yourself as you are now.

“Is it because of this,” he murmurs as he touches your swollen stomach. You try to look away as he traces his fingertips across your belly, but he simply turns your face back towards him. You give him a quick nod in affirmation, and are surprised when he chuckles.

“Love, you have never looked more beautiful to me, all big and swollen with my child.” You can’t stop the way your heart pounds at his words, your face growing hot as he smiles at your reaction.

He begins to trail down your body, stopping to gently squeeze one of your breasts. You grab at his hand to try and pull it away, but he quickly stops you. “I told you, I’m -” you pause for a second, embarrassed to finish your sentence, before changing your mind and simply saying, “they hurt.”

“Hmm, I do believe I can help with that,” he smirks as his grip around your breast tightens. You let out a surprised gasp as milk leaks out, causing the front of your nightgown to develop a wet spot on the material. But the sound isn’t one of pain, but of pleasure at some of the pressure being relieved.

“Oh you like that, do you?” Shouto’s voice goes low and husky as he rips your shirt over your head. He leans down to knead a nipple between two fingers, licking his lips as more milk comes out. “Would hate to waste this, wouldn’t you?”

“Shouto, what are you - ahh!” You let out a moan as he latches around one of your nipples and begins to suckle. You make a move to stop him, to try and push him away. But you quickly realize you don’t actually want him to stop as the pain of being too full ebbs with every gulp he takes. So you simply trail your fingers through his hair and let him continue. “Oh god, that feels so good,” you moan out, throwing your head back against the pillow.

He pulls away just long enough to pull his pants down, letting his already painfully hard cock loose. You can see the red, swollen head already leaking precum, and he grips it in his fist as he moves to take your other nipple into his mouth. “You taste so fucking good.”

His grunts and groans as he strokes himself while drinking your milk has your pussy clenching around nothing, juices gushing out and making a mess of the bedsheets below you. You didn’t think this would feel so good, but the throbbing of your core tells you just how much you’re enjoying yourself. And if Shouto’s pace as he rubs himself is anything to go by, he is enjoying himself just as much.

“Dirty girl, I bet you could cum just from me drinking your milk. Do you like it that much?”

You reach down to thread your fingers around the back of his head, pulling him down to your aching nipple. “Please, don’t stop,” you whimper in a needy tone. He chuckles as he reaches down to rub your throbbing clit. “Cum for me, then. Cum while I’m sucking on these beautiful tits.”

You let out a sharp gasp as a wave of pleasure runs through your body. Shouto moves down to take a nipple into his mouth, licking the stray droplets of milk that leaked out. He groans as he continues to stroke himself in time with the tight circles across your clit.

Your face contorts in pleasure, toes curling as you find yourself tipping over the edge into a powerful orgasm. Shouto coaxes you through it, not letting up until you’re squirming from overstimulation, breath coming in harsh gasps.

“God, I have to be inside you right now,” he growls, pulling away almost entirely as he rips off your soaked panties with one quick movement and spreads your folds apart as he prepares to enter you.

You whine as his cock spreads you open, inch by inch. You’re so wet from your previous orgasm that he slips in without resistance, and so sensitive that you can feel every vein on his cock.

“Still so tight for me,” he groans as he finally bottoms out inside you, heavy balls resting against your backside. He puts his hands under your ass, lifting your hips off the bed as he begins to thrust inside your soaked pussy.

You can tell he’s trying to hold back, to be gentle with you. But when you reach up to fondle your breast, squeezing just enough for milk to dribble down towards your stomach, you know he’s reached his limit.

He growls as he begins slamming inside of you, leaning down to lick up the trail of milk before latching back onto the nipple. You clench down hard around his cock as you see his throat working as he sucks down your milk like a man starved.

His thrusts are so deep, so powerful that your breasts and round belly are bouncing and you’re unable to do anything but lay back and take it. He releases your nipple with a wet pop, rubbing his hand along your swollen stomach. “You look so good like this that I should keep you pregnant all the time,” he groans, “would you like that?”

You don’t answer, choosing to reach between your bodies to find your clit, but Shouto snarls and smacks your hand away before pinning both arms above your head with one hand. “I said, would you like that?” He pulls all the way to the entrance of your pussy before slamming back in with one powerful thrust. “Would you like to be bred constantly, all round with my children so I can pin you down like this and milk these tits?”

You whimper when his thrusts get more savage as he finds a sensitive spot inside of you and deliberately aims for it. You can feel your stomach begin to tighten, all of your nerves feeling like they’re on fire as you get closer to that edge. Your pussy won’t stop clamping down on Shouto’s cock as he pounds you into the mattress. But just as you reach the edge, you feel him begin to slow down. Your orgasm is suddenly pulled away from you as you hear a dark chuckle.

“Answer me, princess,” he whispers to you. Your lust addled mind can’t seem to comprehend what question he means. “Shouto, please,” you try to move your hips, push back on his cock to reach the orgasm that was denied. But he simply holds your hips firmly in place, preventing you from moving as he waits for his answer.

He makes an impatient noise when you still won’t answer, moving his fingers in between your soaked folds as he grazes your clit. His thumb grinds down on the sensitive bead, and he groans as he feels you clench around him. “Come on,” he coaxes, “tell me how much you want my cum, how much you want me to breed you again.”

You let out a choked sob at the pleasure running through you, body so oversensitive from hormones and your previous orgasm. You want nothing more than to cum again, to feel Shouto cum with you and fill you up. “Shouto, please breed me again,” you finally start to beg with no shame in your tone. “I need to feel you cum inside me again, please -”

He lets out a low growl as he abandons all sense of rhythm, pounding into your pussy like a man possessed. His hips pick up speed, wet noises of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with your combined grunts and moans. He deliberately hits your g-spot with every thrust, wanting you to come undone around his cock.

The pressure is building back up inside of you quickly, muscles in your stomach tightening and toes curling as your orgasm hits you hard, causing your pussy to flutter wildly around his cock and more milk to dribble out of your sore nipples. Shouto’s pace stutters at the sight, forcing his cock all the way inside of you as he leans over to lick your nipples clean. Just the taste is enough to send him over the edge of his orgasm, thick ropes of hot cum filling your pussy as he continues to drain you dry.

You both stay there for what feels like forever, but was probably only a few minutes, until Shouto gently lowers himself behind you. He pulls you carefully towards his body, nuzzling you as he kisses a wet line down the column of your neck. “I love you, you know,” he murmurs into your ear. “I’m so glad you’re mine now.”

You pause for a few seconds as you consider his words. It’s not the first time he’s used them, and it won’t be the last. Despite everything he’s done, you do believe him. It’s a possessive, all consuming love that will allow nothing else but you and your children together. But you believe it’s still love.

At your silence, Shouto lets out a disappointed sigh. That is one thing he has not been pushy about, told you that he was waiting for you to realize the truth and say the words yourself. You open your mouth to respond to him, although you’re not sure how, when someone comes barging through the door. Whatever words you were about to say die in your throat as you take in the appearance of the one who dared to intrude on Prince Shouto and his heavily pregnant wife.

You barely recognize Fuyumi, with her clothes being put on haphazardly and eyes bloodshot. Her face is splotchy and red, as if she’s been crying for a long time. And then you realize with a start that’s exactly what’s happening, as you see more tears run down her face. “Shouto, it’s - oh god, it’s Dad, he -”

Her words run over each other in a blur as she tries to finish her sentence. “Fuyumi, calm down and speak clearly. What’s going on with our dear old dad?” His voice comes out so cold that you almost don’t recognize it, and you can’t even begin to interpret the look on his face.

“He’s dead,” Fuyumi barely manages to get out before she begins to sob brokenly. “How can he be dead, I don’t understand -”

Shouto’s bearing changes immediately at her words as he begins to take over the situation. He orders Fuyumi to leave the room so he can get changed, instructing her on various procedures for what to do when the King of the realm dies. A nagging thought occurs to you at how odd it is that he knows all this information off the top of his head, before you try to mark it down as meaningless. Of course he would be trained in such things as the heir to the throne. But you’ve learned to trust your instincts, and right now they’re screaming at you.

“You need to get dressed, love,” he says as he kisses your forehead. “Until we know what’s going on, you need to stay close to me.” You quickly nod as you pull yourself reluctantly from the bed and begin to hunt for your clothes.

You’re both ready within 20 minutes, and you head to the Great Hall where everyone is gathered. You glance around and see the rest of the Todoroki family all gathered together, and you breathe a small sigh of relief that they’re okay. Queen Rei looks like she’s in shock, barely holding it together. Fuyumi has an arm around her as she tries to comfort her, but utterly fails due to how much she herself is crying.

What’s concerning is Prince Natsuo and Prince Touya, who simply look amused by the whole spectacle. Prince Touya’s face splits into a huge grin as he sees you and Shouto walk up to him, clapping his back with one hand. “Well then, I suppose congratulations are in order.”

Fuyumi comes out of her stupor long enough to glare at him. “Congratulations? Our dad is dead and you’re congratulating him?”

“Why wouldn’t I? He’s the King now,” Prince Touya chuckles. “Isn’t that right, brother? You do intend to take your rightful throne now, don’t you?”

Prince Natsuo has stayed quiet through this exchange, but you notice he is staring at Shouto with grim determination. As if he’s already decided something, and is merely waiting for the right moment to mention it.

“Of course I do,” Shouto nods. “I’ve prepared for this moment my whole life.” He glances over at you with a tender look in his eyes as he pulls you into his arms. “And now I have a beautiful wife and an heir,” he murmurs, running his hand over your stomach.

“Now you just need the spare,” Prince Touya snorts. “You ready for that, princess?” He snickers as he sees you turn away in embarrassment, but before he can continue to tease you, you’re interrupted by one of King Enji’s advisors. The man leans in to whisper something into your husband’s ear, and your husband simply nods and waves the man away.

Shouto motions for the rest of the family to come closer as he reveals what the advisor had told him. “It seems dear old dad was assassinated.” He breaks the news with no fanfare, no buildup, no emotion of any kind. But this information sends shockwaves through the rest of the family.

Queen Rei’s face goes completely blank, as if unable to process it. Fuyumi’s hand flies to her mom to contain her gasp. Touya simply starts laughing, looking at Shouto with what almost appears to be pride. And Natsuo remains completely silent, continuing to study Shouto as if he’s trying to figure something out.

“The kingdom will see unrest when the truth of this gets out,” Shouto continues as if he didn’t just drop a bomb through his family. “We’ll need to have the coronation quickly, so that there’s no panic. Ideally tomorrow, if we can get it set up.”

Fuyumi rushes towards Shouto, a look of pure fury on her face. “Dad’s dead and you’re already talking about taking over? Do you have any emotion over this at all?”

“Oh, I think our brother has a lot of emotions right now,” Touya gives a darkly amused laugh. “Don’t think it’s the same ones you’re having, though.”

Choosing to ignore his older brother, Shouto instead addresses his sister. “There’s nothing you or Mom can do tonight. Take her to your room. I’ll station guards outside just in case, and I’ll handle whatever planning needs to be done.”

Fuyumi looks like she’s going to demand to stay, but Queen Rei lays her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “He’s right. There’s nothing we can do,” her voice comes out a reedy whisper, so quiet that you have to strain to hear her. But you notice the way she looks at Shouto before finally turning to leave. As if she’s never truly seen him before.

“Same for you, love,” Shouto pulls you into his arms to kiss your forehead. “You especially need to rest. I’ll walk you back to our room.”

You’re too tired to even think of protesting, and your feet and ankles already hurt from standing. So you nod and allow yourself to be taken away from the crowd and back into your room. “I’m going to be busy for a while taking care of everything, but I’ll make sure to check in on you.”

He places his hand on the side of your face, tracing a finger down your jawline before leaning in to give you a gentle kiss. And then he drops to his knees, gently lifting your shirt to plant another kiss on your round stomach. “Everything is going to be fine, I promise,” he murmurs. “I love you both.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Despite protests from Fuyumi and Rei herself, the coronation is being held the very next day, even before the king’s funeral. But if anybody else had any issues with the order of events, nobody spoke out about it.

You just finished getting helped into the floor length ball gown you would be wearing for the event when your husband walks in to see you. You see the look of appreciation on his face at your dress, designed to be flattering while also not concealing your pregnancy completely. “Are you nervous, my beautiful Queen?”

The full force of the word Queen hits you all at once. The former King Enji is dead, and your husband will take his place. You will be Queen, and your baby, whether son or daughter, will be the heir to the throne of the Todoroki Empire.

“Yes, I’m very nervous,” you admit quietly. “I didn’t expect this to happen so quickly. You inheriting the throne, I mean.”

Oh? I certainly expected it.” Shouto gives a deep chuckle that turns dark when he utters the next words. “Nobody else did, however. I made sure of that.”

A cold rush of emotion hits you all at once. You don’t want to believe it, you truly don’t. But it confirms what you already know, deep in your heart. Shouto is the one who orchestrated the king’s death. His own father’s death. Your understanding must be written plain as day across your face, because he’s smirking at you when you glance over.

“You know, he intended to pass a law that stated he could annul a marriage, if it were proven to be illegitimate,” he says conversationally. “I couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let his hatred blind him into ruining the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you so much, and our baby.”

It feels like your heart jumps up into your throat, beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. You should feel horrified, as this means that it’s your fault the king is dead. But as you look into his eyes, you don’t just see the man who killed his father to inherit the throne. You also see the man who wanted to make the love of his life his Queen, and his child the heir.

You can’t bring yourself to hate him for it. Despite everything that he’s done, you love him too, and you love the child still growing inside you.

So when Shouto reaches his hand out to you in order to lead you into the throne room, you take it without hesitation. “Are you ready to become my Queen, love?”

“Yes, I’m ready. I love you too, Shouto.” And as you say those words and begin to walk into the coronation hand in hand, you finally feel the cage fully close behind you, trapping you forever.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Tags: @burnedbyshoto, @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re-blog, @ttamaki​, @lildreamer93, @marlowewrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash​, @hisoknen, @chou-maitresse, @shoutogepi, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder, @league-of-thots, @shigaraki-is-my-master,  @hoefortodo​, @mhafanfics19, @daringbanshee, @otaku-explosion, @hellomary16, @vanillaicebaby, @theravencawsatmidnight, @universaltys, @simixchan, @crackhead1-800​, @acehyacinth, @ererokii, @la-lay, @hadesnewpersephone, @engel-hageshii     

[clairenatural]

destiel, 1.9k, post-series human!cas. this isn’t fully angst but it is me addressing castiel’s trauma since the writers never will. hurt/comfort-esque. cw for the stuff he went through at the beginning of s9. also: stargazing.

Castiel’s grace burns up when they pull him out of the Empty, but he doesn’t care—he doesn’t even notice, really, not when Dean is clinging to him, and kissing him like he needs him to breathe, and filling the gap his grace left with a love that feels even more holy.

It hits him halfway back to the bunker, when he’s riding shotgun and Sam is asleep in the backset and a passing streetlight bathes Dean’s freckles in yellow-gold. He’s been in love with Dean Winchester as a human before, and it was overwhelming, all mixed up in guilt and panic and a bone-deep betrayal he’s been trying to forget. But this time—this time is different, right? This time…it’s okay. It has to be. He’s not quite sure what he’s allowed, just yet, but he takes the risk anyway and reaches out for Dean across the bench seat. Dean meets him half way, catching his hand with his own, and it calms Castiel’s newly-human heart.

He wakes up the next morning, in Dean’s bed, and he’s forgotten how nice sleep is. Real, human sleep, on an actual mattress—memory foam, he remembers Dean proclaiming, excited. It’ll remember you now, too. He tries not to remember the concrete floor of the gas station, and his cold, thin sleeping bag, because now—now, he’s warm. He reaches out for Dean, who is still asleep but moves on instinct, lifting an arm so Castiel can curl up against him. He lets his bones sink into the warmth of Dean, the comfort of the mattress. He tries to remind himself he’ll never sleep on a storage room floor again.

He stays in bed even longer than Dean, which Dean calls impressive when he returns to the bedroom with coffee. Castiel plays it off as being exhausted, which is true, but he’s also trying to commit the feeling of the mattress to memory.

When he drains his coffee and finally decides to go brush his teeth, he stares for a long time at the toothpaste tube. Long enough that Dean comes looking. He leans against the bathroom door with a smile, raising an eyebrow at the sight. “It’s not gonna bite you,” he starts, and pushes off the doorframe to walk closer. “You have done this before, right? You know—last time?”

Castiel blinks and then nods. It’s just toothpaste. “You know, the first time I did this, I—” he pauses to smile, attempting levity. “I squeezed the tube directly into my mouth,” he chuckles then, trying to joke at his helplessness, and he thinks Dean will too—and he does smile, eventually, but not before a look halfway between guilt and grief crosses his face. Castiel isn’t meant to catch it, but he does—he sees all of Dean. He knows every expression better than he knows his own.

Dean doesn’t respond to his toothpaste comment, but he does wrap his arms around Castiel’s middle from behind, more securely than the situation demands, and he hooks his chin over Castiel’s shoulder with a hum. Castiel stares at the whole picture in the mirror, himself and Dean and his toothbrush, and he can’t help but smile when Dean brings a hand up to brush his thumb across his cheek. “You’re already gettin’ peach fuzz,” he murmurs. “Remind me to teach you to shave sometime.”

The smile falls as something thick settles in the pit of Castiel’s stomach. He remembers stumbling his way through a razor. “Oh. I, um. I taught myself.” The last time is unsaid.

“Oh.” Dean’s arms loosen around his waist, and the stricken look is back. “That’s—awesome.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Castiel turns his head to try and look at him, but Dean is already stepping away. “I’ll let you get to it,” he mumbles, and claps Castiel on the shoulder as he leaves the bathroom.

He watches Dean leave, then stares at the empty doorway for a few long seconds before turning back to his toothbrush. His hands are shaking as he squeezes out the toothpaste.

When he wanders into the kitchen a few minutes later Dean is waiting for him, armed with more coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, and he grabs Castiel by the shoulder and guides him into a seat at the table before sliding in across from him. He’s smiling—he’s eager—and it’s such a tone shift that Castiel briefly wonders if a witch snuck into the bunker while he was brushing his teeth.

But he knows this. He’s seen it before, with Sam—how Dean will set a meal down in front of him in the library and won’t leave until he takes a bite, waiting for approval. It’s love.

“Dean, you didn’t have to—”

“Yeah, I did,” he cuts him off in a tone that’s not unkind, but is final. “Wanna take care of you,” he shrugs and covers up the intimacy of that statement by reaching over to steal a slice of bacon, and Castiel hears the I love you buried under all the layers, so he smiles and eats. Predictably, it’s delicious.

“This is much better than molecules,” he commends, because he knows Dean’s waiting for it, and Dean grins and it’s beautiful and all the weirdness of the morning is forgotten.

They talk, and they eat, and they laugh, but when Dean clears the dishes he sits back at the table with a much more serious expression. “Alright, come on. What do you want to know?”

Castiel raises his eyebrows. “About…?”

“Being human.”

Oh.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s already stumbled through all the basic human functions, albeit clumsily, and he’s trying to figure out a way to explain to Dean that being homeless gives you a painful crash course on how to survive without putting that sad expression back on his face when he realizes Dean is still talking.

“Listen, Cas. I know I fucked up last time, alright? Big time. I should’ve been there to teach you to brush your teeth, and shave, and—and tie your freakin’ shoelaces, and I can’t take that back now, okay? But maybe I can��I don’t know. Do it better, this time. I know you already got most of it figured out, but I could—”

“Dean, it’s alright.” He reaches out to place his hand over one of Dean’s, which he’s been fidgeting on the table. “I forgive you.” Dean looks up, then, and they make eye contact, and Castiel does forgive him. Of course he does. There was never another option.

Dean breaks the eye contact but he moves his other hand on top of Castiel’s and squeezes. “Yeah, well. Doesn’t mean it’s okay,” he grumbles, and Castiel loves him for that.

“You can teach me to cook,” He offers, after a moment, and Dean looks up at him with a genuine smile. “I never got much further than PB&J.”

“Hell yeah,” Dean is already standing. “Come on, let’s go.”

Castiel blinks up at him. “Go?”

“To the store,” Dean rolls his eyes, as if this was obvious. “I ain’t gonna teach you to cook with whatever we have lying around.”

He’s already off before Castiel can clarify he just wants to start with grilled cheese. Dean buys the fanciest cheddar in the store anyway.

Castiel manages to burn it on both sides.

“I’m sorry,” he stares down at the mess, mournfully, and manages to look pitiful enough that Dean picks up the blackened sandwich to take a bite anyway. He grimaces when Dean chokes on it, but he’s trying so hard to not visibly react that it makes Castiel’s heart warm, and by the time Dean finally gets the lump washed down with beer, he’s staring at him with a wry smile.

“I've fed Sam worse,” is his only comment, and Castiel can’t help but huff out a laugh, and then Dean is grinning back, setting the plate down, and reaching out to pull him close. “Tomorrow we’ll tackle spaghetti.”

Castiel scoffs. “Do you enjoy burnt tomato sauce?”

“Sure do.” Dean tilts his head down, and Castiel meets him in the middle. He tastes like burnt toast, but Castiel smiles against his lips and grins into the space between them when they separate to lean their foreheads together. “What’s next, Cas?”

“Teach me how to drive.”

Dean pulls back farther, surprised. “You can drive.”

“Not well.”

Dean snorts, then sighs. “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow though, alright? It’s getting dark.”

Castiel considers him for a moment, then nods. “Then drive me somewhere. I want to see the stars like this. Human.”

Dean hums and presses a kiss to his forehead. “That we can do.”

He misses the contact as soon as Dean steps back, but then Dean takes his hand and leads him into the garage, only letting go long enough to climb into the car. They drive through the sunset until the stars are peeking out, and Dean pulls onto the shoulder by a field far enough outside town to avoid all light pollution. He climbs onto the hood and Castiel follows, sitting close enough that their shoulders brush.

Castiel can feel Dean staring at him but doesn’t look back, not yet—he’s staring straight up, at the stars. He misses them, aches for them like he aches for his wings, but he also feels warm in their presence. The stars are solid. They are unyielding. They are trustworthy.

“How you feeling, Cas?” Dean asks after a moment, quietly, not loud enough to disturb the silence. Castiel hums before responding.

“Small.” He feels Dean shift, leaning into his shoulder.

“Small?” He questions, and he can hear that Dean’s worried. He shouldn’t be.

“Small,” Castiel confirms, tearing his gaze from the night sky to smile warmly back at Dean. “Back then—” last time  “—it was terrifying, being this small. I thought I was going to drown. The stars were out of reach. I longed for them.”

“And now?” Dean has shifted, angling himself so he’s facing Castiel.

“The stars are out of reach, but they’re still there. And you are also still here,” this time, “and you are not out of reach.” Anymore. Ever again. He reaches out for Dean’s face, stroking his thumb along his cheekbone. “I’m small. But we’re small together. And that makes it alright.”

Dean stares at him like he does sometimes, like if he blinks Castiel might disappear, and then he leans forward and kisses him like that first time, like if he stops he’ll forget how to breathe. He pushes Castiel down onto the hood of the car and doesn’t break for air until the metal groans under the pressure. When he backs off, then, it’s still not far—not out of reach.

“What’s next, Cas?” he asks, and Castiel knows what he’s asking. And that’s the thing—the biggest thing—he wants to forget about last time. 

He looks up at Dean, who looks like he’s holding his breath. He thinks maybe he can still let Dean teach him that, too, if he wants him to. He thinks he does want him to. 

“Let’s go home,” he replies, finally, and Dean breaks into a grin before the words are fully out of his mouth, “and you can show me.”