#because i feel safe and comfortable here!!!

[wandaslittlebird]

Professor!Wanda Headcanons

I typically don’t write professor/student, but you’ll have to forgive me, I’m experiencing a moment of weakness.

Professor Maximoff was, by no means a well liked professor. Her class was infamously difficult, and most of her students found her cold.

You, however, grasp the subject matter surprisingly well. That never stopped you from coming by her office to “further your studies.”

She liked it when you came by, she told you. “It feels like I’m in here all the time. And no one comes to my office hours anyway. It gets a little dull in here with just me.”

Her office was simply decorated with only a single chair in the corner for students to sit, but as it started to become a regular hang out for you, a nice loveseat mysteriously appeared.

It got to the point where you were talking to her almost every day. You came in in between all your classes, lounging on her loveseat and getting some work done.

Whenever you complained of being hungry, or simply wanting a nice treat for yourself, she handed you her phone, open with DoorDash and her credit card information already loaded in.

She’s started to get very possessive of you. She sees how the other students and professors look at you. She just wants to keep you safe, she tells herself.

But whenever you have a one on one with another professor, she can’t help the way her body tenses and her blood pressure spikes. She’s always sure to stop by to inform you that after your meeting is over, she’s bought you your favorite lunch in her office. Better not wait too long. It’ll get cold.

She starts making comments when your clothes when your shirt collars hit too low and your jeans had too many rips. “I should dress code you, you know. You’re lucky I like you.” Over time, you amass a decent collection of very expensive blazers from the days you come in in something she deems too revealing.

In her office, however, you’re allowed to wear as little as you wish. Which is convenient because it’s starting to get very hot in there for some reason. She can stand the heat if it means getting to watch you do your work in an undershirt.

When she asks what you’re doing for the Thanksgiving holiday and you shrug and tell her nothing, she’s all too quick to jump on the opportunity. “You can come over to my place. It’ll just be me. We can make a turkey. Come on it’ll be fun.”

Thanksgiving break bleeds into Christmas break as well. And her guest room bleeds into her bedroom. Her bed is just so much more comfortable. And it’s a California king. The two of you are practically sleeping in different time zones.

Late one night, you hear her whisper “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” you whisper back.

“Will you still come to my office? Next semester? Even though you won’t be in my class anymore?” She asks, almost anxiously.

“Of course,” you respond. “I really enjoy being around you. Even outside of you… being my professor and everything.”

She smiles, but you couldn’t see it so well in the dark. “Good,” she said. “That’s good. I like being around you as well.”

She inches towards you nervously, but you reassure her when you start to move towards her as well. She wraps her arms around you while you curl into her chest. And you fall asleep in her arms, for the first time.

[bro-atz]

sore all over

in which: san hates seeing you miserable during your period, and he wants to help any way he can.

pair: san/afab!reader

word count: 2.2k

content: smut, pwp, nicknames (baby), established relationship, lowkey kinda self-indulgent shhh, period sex, safe sex, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: thank you @k-hotchoisan @ja3hwa @temptaetions @flurrys-creativity @mercif4l for the input (and the validation i lowkey needed to write this lol)

Not going to lie, San was a little worried when you didn't get out of bed all day. Well, you technically did get up to drag yourself to the bathroom every so often, but then you immediately went back to bed. He knew that you were in a lot of pain because of your period, but he didn't realize that you were going to be completely out of commission that day.

Usually, your periods didn't hit you that hard, but this time around, it was like you were being stabbed in the uterus over and over again. Your entire body was aching like there was no tomorrow, and you truly thought it was going to be over for you because no matter what you did, you were in a world of pain. Hot packs didn't help, painkillers didn't help— nothing was working to alleviate your pain. So, you just curled yourself up into a ball and hugged a pillow to your body while burying your face in the pillow.

"Baby?" San asked as he approached you on the bed slowly from behind you. "Are you okay?"

"No," you mumbled into the pillow. "I wanna die."

"Don't say things like that, baby," San said with a frown.

"How about I kick you in the balls, then you talk?" you couldn't help but retort. "You would wanna die, too, wouldn't you?"

San shivered at the thought of anything hurting his crotch. He shook his head to keep himself from derailing from his original thought and said, "Well, I'm here to help you, baby. Can I do anything else to help you?"

You tried turning to face him, but your back was so sore that it hurt when you moved even a millimeter. Still laying on your side, you grunted in slight pain as you pulled your shirt up slightly and asked, "Can you massage my back for me please? My lower back?"

"Of course I can," San replied.

San knelt on the bed, his knees on either side of you at first as he waited for something, although you had no idea what until he spoke again.

"Shouldn't you lay on your stomach for me to massage your back, baby?"

You huffed in frustration, but before you could even contemplate turning, San said, "Never mind. Don't move— I think I can still massage you well from the side."

"You sure?"

"Yes, baby," San said as he left a light kiss on your temple. "I want you to feel comfortable."

San ended up lying on the bed right behind you, his warm hands resting on the small of your back. He pressed his thumbs into the dimples on your back, and you groaned. It was still painful, but the pressure from his thumbs did alleviate some of the pain, so it was worth the momentary suffering.

Every time San pressed his fingers into your back, you groaned and sighed, the massage actually working better than the hot pack did. You found yourself pushing your body towards his magic touch, sighs of pleasure tumbling out of your mouth as his massage continued.

What you didn't realize, though, was that San was getting harder with every passing second because your moans were incredibly sensual. He knew that you were in pain and suffering because of your period, but he so badly wanted to fuck you in that moment because you sounded so fucking sexy to him with your constant moaning and groaning.

Now that the dull, throbbing pain in your back was slightly relieved, you felt your breasts get more sore. You dropped the pillow you were hugging to the floor and tried to massage your own breasts, but your hands were too weak to get the same level of pressure that San was using on your back. So, you asked, "Can you... Can you also massage my breasts, please?"

"Of course, baby. Whatever you want," San murmured.

San's hands slithered up your shirt, his palms resting flat on your ribs, his fingers brushing your underboob. As he hugged you from behind, he pulled you closer to him, your back flush against his chest. He then gripped your breasts gently, his fingers pressing into your sore breasts and starting to massage them. However, when you moaned in slight frustration, he immediately used more power and gripped your breasts tightly. As he did so, his fingers brushed past your nipples, making you moan loudly and erotically as hell. Embarrassed, you covered your mouth, your face heating up.

"That was so cute, baby," San teased as he buried his face in your hair. "Can you make that noise again for me? Please?"

"N-No. Shut up," you rejected.

Despite you rejecting him, San was determined to make you moan like that again.

"S-Sannie," you moaned when his fingers started pinching your nipples. "I-I'm really sensitive right now, baby..."

"Do you want me to stop, then?" he asked you, his breath tickling your neck and his low voice tickling your brain.

"God, no... Don't stop..."

San chuckled. He pinched the slightest bit harder before tugging on your nipple. You arched your back and sighed sensually as he continued to tug. You reached back for his head and ran your fingers through his hair. You gripped the roots of his hair and tugged his head back slightly whenever he rubbed your nipples in his fingers.

Your eyes began fluttering the more he massaged, and you completely closed your eyes when you felt him begin to leave small little kisses in the nook of your neck. You were thoroughly enjoying his massage and got sucked into your own little world of pleasure, only for your eyes to fly wide open when he pressed his pelvis into your ass.

"Sannie, you're turned on right now?" you couldn't help but giggle as you asked.

You managed to reach back and cup his clothed hard-on in your hand, the man moaning slightly as you did so. His breathing hitched as he replied, "How can I not be when I'm touching you like this... And while you're moaning like that...?"

Finally, thanks to his hard work, your soreness was relieved just enough for you to turn in his arms. You palmed his cock over his pants and whispered, "How about I help you with this, then? It's my turn to help you, after all."

"Actually," San said slowly before gulping nervously. "I think there's a way we can help each other out, baby..."

"What do you mean?"

You were honestly left completely shocked when San suddenly got up from the bed and disappeared from your bedroom. However, moments later, San returned with a couple of towels and a condom.

"Do you think you can get off the bed for a second, baby?" San asked you.

"W-What— You can't be serious right now, San," you said in disbelief, your eyes wide.

"I read online that having sex on your period should help with your cramps," he explained to you.

"But— Won't the blood freak you out?" you questioned.

"It's a natural thing, baby. Why would I be freaked out?"

"It'll get all over you, and it'll stain the bed sheets! Also, it's dirty—"

"That's what the condom and towels are for," he interrupted you. "Don't worry, baby. We don't have to if you don't want to, but I think we could at least try it out."

Honestly, you had read the same information online about the benefits of having sex on your period, and it did cross your mind to ask your boyfriend to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you, but you didn't think he would be open to having sex when you were bleeding; so him being so willing to have sex with you on your period without you even asking kind of freaked you out a bit, and you would've probably pushed back a little harder had it not been for your hormones turning you on earlier when he was massaging your breasts.

You agreed, and San immediately set up the bed. He laid the towels down on the bed and removed the comforter and pillows to make sure they wouldn't accidentally get stained. He had you strip down to nothing before having you lay down on the bed.

As you laid on the towels, you were already worried about bleeding onto them, and you couldn't help but fidget. Noticing the slightly stressed look on your face, San quickly removed his own clothes and rolled the condom on his twitching, hard cock before straddling you. His fingers held your chin gently, forcing you to look at him as he lowered his body onto yours.

"Baby, don't think about it as blood. Think of it as lube, only red," he said calmly. "And if you're so worried about the color, then just close your eyes, okay?"

With a soft exhale, you nodded. Your eyes fluttered shut as San got closer to you, his lips meeting yours. He kissed you softly and slowly, your mind melting as his kisses got more sensual. You didn't have a single care or worry with the way San was kissing you in that moment, and you were so out of touch from everything else that you didn't realize he was rubbing the tip of his cock along your cunt.

San pushed his cock into you slowly but easily, his cock filling you up. You moaned against his lips, your hands clutching the towels underneath you as you started unintentionally getting nervous again. As a result, you couldn't help but clench your cunt, and of course, San felt your nervousness.

"Baby," San interrupted your chain of kisses with a soft sigh. "Relax..."

His hands reached for your arms. He brought them up and laced his fingers with yours. He kissed you again, and when he felt your cunt finally relax, he started moving. His waist rolled into yours slowly, and the dull pain you felt earlier started melting away thanks to the friction from his cock. You couldn't help but sigh with relief the more he moved in and out of you.

"You feeling better, baby?" San asked you, his forehead pressing against yours.

"A little bit, yeah," you admitted softly.

"Then, can I move a little faster?"

San lifted his face so he could look into your eyes. You opened your eyes and nodded before closing your eyes again— technically, San was blocking your line of sight, but you were still worried that you were going to see red, so you closed them again. San buried his face in the nook of your neck, his breath hitting your collarbone. He started rutting into you a little faster, making you sharply inhale and moan while exhaling.

The wet sound of his waist meeting yours repetitively was honestly freaking you out a little bit. No matter how you tried to think about it, you knew that the wet sound was not your arousal or lube, but before you could spiral thinking about it, San moved his lips to your ear, and he started whispering sweet nothings into your ear, drowning out the sound of him fucking you.

Your entire body started shifting along the towels as San not only sped up but started thrusting harder. He let go of your hands to hook his arms under your legs, pushing them upwards, easing the strain on your lower back as he quite literally bent you in half. You could hear him grunting and moaning softly in your ear with every thrust; you could tell he was close, and honestly, you didn't realize you were as well until he grabbed your breasts again.

San intentionally rubbed his fingers against your nipples, the pleasure from how sore they were building rapidly within you. It was when San rammed his hips into yours as hard as he could, hitting your cervix with the tip of his cock, did you cum. You moaned loudly and pushed your head back while arching your back as you came, San's cock still buried inside you.

As you came, you clenched your cunt tightly, giving San's cock the right amount of pressure for him to cum as well. He moved up so he could hold your waist tightly and thrust a couple more times into your cunt. He groaned and sighed, meeting your same decibel as he filled the condom he had on his cock with his seed. Hs cock twitched and throbbed inside you as he finished, and he dropped his head back into the nook of your neck.

The two of you were breathing heavily at that point. You remained in a puddle on the bed as San got up to take the condom off and properly dispose of it before returning to your side. He wiped his fingers on one of the towels as you finally reopened your eyes to look right into his eyes, still afraid to see the damage done from him fucking you during your period.

"We should get cleaned up, baby," San said. "Why don't I help you?"

San tucked his arms beneath your back and legs, lifting you off the bed. You held onto his shoulders as he walked you to the bathroom.

"Besides," he continued. "We could always go for round two in the shower. Right, baby?"

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[cvpidzcvrse]

Nah, I'm Better.

divider by @cafekitsune

✦A/N: OK! this took longer than expected but LISTEN! I'm here now and probably will be dropping more frequently (hopefully). Reader is also a slut I mean she could talk me through it and I'd let her. But I tried to eat down as much as possible for this fic so the girlies and the gays wouldn't starve. Gojo is driving my dream car, a girl can only imagine.

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Synopsis: You and Satoru have been best friends since elementary school. By the time you both made it to college he’s hated every single partner you’ve ever had. Your recent ex isn’t any different, but he’s doing something about it this time.

⋆.ೃ࿔*･wc: 2,886

⋆.ೃ࿔*Warnings: best friends to lovers, praise, car sex, arguments (ish), cowgirl, choking, handjob, p in v, no protection, finishing inside (practice safe sex)

(the reader is black)

If you had a dollar for every time you and Satoru got mistaken for a couple you’d be rich, not richer than him. He loves it when people mistake him for your boyfriend. It’s the ego boost he doesn’t need. He’s liked you for a while but you always shut him down. Either for another guy or because you see him as just a “friend”. You knew that was a lie, you didn’t want to ruin the friendship between you guys. So to buried your feelings for Satoru and used other men as a distraction. Fuck buddies, friends with benefits, sugar daddies, you name it. Nothing was ever successful; it always ended in heartbreak or fights. Satoru hated that you went for men who were lower than your standard.

He hated that you didn’t go for him. That’s part of the reason why he’s parked outside a fancy restaurant waiting for you to walk out.  

You thought this guy was the one, you’d been talking for a couple weeks, going on dates, even fucked a few times. But no people always have to ruin it, it was fun while it lasted. Mahito was a guy you met off of Tinder. He was nice, sweet, and probably the realest guy you’ve ever met. That was until date number four when he brought up his love for podcasts. Specifically a podcast by the name ‘Fresh and Fit’, you know the podcast that goes around and hates on women for a check. 

What a loser…

After learning that information you left the date immediately. Leaving him with a “Get a life, nigga.” before quickly walking out of the restaurant. The cold drizzle of rain calms your nerves as you heave out a soft sigh. Your eyes meet a familiar and sleek all-black Ford Bronco. An air of comfort travels throughout your body. You haven’t been this excited to see Satoru since…ever. He’s already looking in your direction with his cheeky smile, flashing you his pearly white teeth. He’s always been handsome, your whole life was spent watching girls and even guys swoon over him. You can’t even remember if he accepted any of the advances, you don’t even think he’s had a girlfriend that you know of.

His jagged blue eyes met your dark brown ones and it’s like a firework went off in front of you. Your waist-length knotless braids, glossy plump lips, and warm brown skin have him in a chokehold. The way your honey-glazed skin complimented your outfit made him want to rip it off right there. Luckily his windows are tinted enough to hide his very noticeable lustful gaze, but you felt his eyes burning holes into your head. With a visible frown on your face, you swiftly open the car door. You come face to face with Satoru’s fuck boy grin, you almost melt on the spot.

“When I said ‘call me for emergencies.’ It didn’t include shitty dates.”

You roll your eyes before playfully punching his arm. Satoru speeds out of the parking lot before you can even put your seatbelt on. Your back hits the seat roughly before you send a glare Satoru’s way.

“Chill out, nigga damn. You didn’t even hear how the date went and you’re already mad.”

“I’m mad because you didn’t listen to me. I told you not to trust that fucking loser, now look at where we are.”

You could hear his eyes rolling before you saw it. He’s the leader of the sassy man apocalypse and he never denies it. You grimaced at the undeniable truth that he was right, and you knew it. You cross your arms over your chest and gaze out at the widow districting yourself with the scenery. 

“Hey…look at me.”

His light-hearted voice quickly melted in your ears like honey. He softly gripped your chin and turned your face to his. He analyzed your expression for a moment. Admiring your features, planning your future, imagining his cock inside of you. He’s quickly brought out of his thoughts when you playfully push his hand away. 

“Hands off, this makeup took time.”

He scuffs at your statement before looking back at the busy road. You analyze him for a while, taking in his features. Your thoughts are more innocent than his, and you hope it stays that way. 

“Listen…I’m sorry I didn’t listen. But, niggas man you don’t understand. They’re all so annoying.”

The more you think about your past rendezvous the more it turned into torture. Satoru knew about every failed date. He was always there to be a shoulder to cry on and a dick to ride if you asked him. He knows very well about your tragic love life, he doesn’t remember a successful relationship you’ve been in. He lectured you every time he picked you up from a bad date or situationship ending in ‘So, what are we?’. He wasn’t upset with you, he was more upset that you refused to see his obvious feelings for you. 

“This is just starting to get repetitive. (✧), This is just...nevermind”

He smacked his lips at the end of his statement. A habit he picked up from you after all of the years you two have spent together. His mouth opens to say something else but nothing comes out. He huffs and runs his hand through his hair, he’s frustrated by the current events.

“Don’t get an attitude with me. You think I want to date guys like this?”

Your accusatory tone makes his attention shift slightly from the road. He scans his brain for what to say. He doesn’t want to upset you anymore but he also didn’t want to sugarcoat anything. As a wannabe lover, he wants nothing but the best for you even if it means telling you a harsh reality. 

Your taste in men is shit. 

He doesn’t have enough fingers or toes to list off the amount of guys that hurt you in the past. Nanami was too formal for you, Toji was a bum that leeched off of you, Sukuna was an asshole, and Satoru would’ve killed Suguru if he even attempted to flirt with you. 

“No, you know what I mean. You deserve better than these dumbasses you go after.”

The venom in his voice is very noticeable. Satoru’s carefree nature is cracking under the stress of your love life. Your stubborn nature refuses to let you back down to him, especially when he’s like this. 

“Toru’ I can date and fuck who I want! I don’t need to be lectured by you. I understand that you care, but let me live my life.”

Your response almost sent Satoru out of the car. His eyes twitched in annoyance and his knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel. You watch the way his jaw tightened and his muscles flexed. It turned you on, a lot. As much as you hate to admit it, you looove making him mad. It was just the way his relaxed facade melted away when you threw careless sentences at him. His foot softly pressed on the brake when coming to a red light. He slowly shifted his body to face you, if looks could fuck he’d be fucking you right now. Just the thought of him bending you over the center console had your clit aching. 

“Do not say that, I will crash this car right now and kill us both.”

He glanced at you with a smirk trying to lighten the melancholy-stricken mood. You scuff at his childish antics.

“Oh my god, be for real-”

Ring…

Your phone buzzed in your purse, and your soon-to-be lecture got cut short. Your eyes widened when you saw the caller I.D. read ‘Mahito’. You let it ring for a few seconds before finally answering it. 

“Why are you calling me? I told you we were over.”

Satoru's ears perked when he heard the hostility in your voice. There was a snarky voice on the other end and they were loudly throwing a fit. His eyes analyzed your expression and the way your calmness was replaced with annoyance. 

“You don’t think I can do better than you?…You’re one goofy ass nigga, you know that?…Whatever, fuck you!”

You harshly shoved your phone into your purse and groaned. The awkward silence was almost tangible; you would have to cut it with a chainsaw. Mahito’s words circled in your head and it pissed you off more and more. Who does he think he is? You hum slightly when a very filthy idea comes to your mind. 

“Satoru, I need you to take me somewhere.”

｡.｡:∞♡*

“Why the fuck are we here? Please don’t tell me you’re about to do something stupid.”

Satoru’s tone is laced with worry and confusion. He has no clue why he was parked outside of Mahito’s house right now and he didn’t know why you wanted to come here. You give him a cheeky smile before unbuckling your seatbelt and slowly leaning over the center console. You’re incredibly close to Satoru’s face, your nose practically touching his. All you can do is stare sensually into his ice-blue eyes, but the sense of longing is undeniably visible. 

“What are you doing?”

His voice spills out lowly like silk touching your ears. You take in a breath before crashing your lips into his. He’s caught by surprise but that’s quickly replaced with lust. His veiny hands quickly trace every curve on your body and tangle his fingers in your braids. You pull away taking in the wonderful scenery that Satoru was turned into. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is messy. You both stare at each other in awe and affection. It’s like something was unlocked in the middle of this little plan of revenge. 

“Get in the back.”

You nod before watching him walk out and around as you climb in the back. He opens the back door and stares at you for a moment, taking in the way your skirt is hiked up and your shirt tousled around. He quickly gets in and closes the door, basically pouncing on you. His mouth attacks your neck quickly, leaving several bite marks and hickeys. Without breaking the kiss you roughly pushed him onto the car door behind him. He lets out a low groan and rests his hands on your waist. You reach down and fumble with his belt buckle before finally breaking the kiss and using your hands. 

“If you need help you could’ve just asked.”

“Shut up.”

He chokes out a gasp when you take his cock out of his boxers. You wrap your manicured hand around his big cock and slowly massage the length. You trace circles around his tip with your thumb. A low groan settles at the bottom of his throat as silence sighs escape his lips. He unscrewed his eyes to meet the brazen expression on your face. His chuckles and mixed moans are sending you over the edge. You reach down and caress your clit through your panties. Satoru doesn’t fall ignorant of this and quickly grabs your hand to stop the satisfying motion.

“Suck it, I want your mouth.”

He let out a low chuckle as you took his full length into your mouth. You let out a whine as the tip of his cock touched the back of your throat. Satoru’s head flew back in pleasure as his hand rested comfortably on top of your head. He can sense your greed from the way your tongue moves along his tip. He sighed out a moan and softly pushed your head down further. 

“F-fuck…you’re doing so well.”

He stifles a throaty moan with his free hand and laces his hands in your hair. You were quick to grab his wrist and yank his hand away. You trailed soft kisses up the length of his cock, from base to tip. 

“I wanna hear you, pretty boy. Let me hear you.”

Your voice was soothing and soft it probably could’ve put him to sleep if it weren’t for the current circumstances. He melted at your command and quickly left his hand to the side. You tease his leaking tip with your tongue before putting it all in your mouth again. His mouth goes agape as slutty moans spill out and his hands grip your hair tightly. The way your head is bobbing up and down on his cock has his mind going blank. His cock twitches in your mouth before he quickly shoves your head away.

“I don’t want to cum yet. C’mon get on top, ride what’s yours.”

You swiftly straddle his lap and he pushes your panties to the side. You wrap your arms around him as he slowly pushes you on his hard cock. You let a soft moan and tug at Satoru’s hair. He moans in response and pushes you down deeper.

“Shit…fuck me, c’mon.”

His mouth is hovering over your ear and his voice is low and seductive. You slowly start to rock your hips and grind on his cock. After adjusting to his size you messily start bouncing on his cock. Strings of curses spew out of his mouth and his grip on your waist gets tighter. 

“Like this baby? Mmph…you’re so big.”

The constant praise is making the blood rush to his face. He hides his blushing face in your shoulder and leaves several bite marks. The car windows turn foggy and the only thing illuminating the car is the moonlight. Satoru’s moans can probably be heard from blocks away. His hands are under your sweater groping and squeezing your plush breast. His fingers pull and twist at your nipples as your pace gets messy. 

“Give me your hand…”

His voice is carnal and vibrating in your ear. It makes your clit twitch and your tempo stagger. You untangle your hand from his hair and place your hand in his. He takes two of your fingers and places them in his mouth. He doesn’t break eye contact, he’s just looking at you like a meal waiting to be devoured. He slowly sucks them and swirls his tongue around them. The scene in front of you is so sensual and slow, you’ve never experienced something so intimate before. He slowly pulls your fingers out of his as a saliva trail is the only thing left behind.

“Play with your clit for me. I wanna watch while you bounce on my cock.”

His voice moves like velvet through your body. It’s like he’s talking right to your pussy and she’s answering very loudly. The moment your hand reaches your clit Satoru plunges his cock into you. His thrust gets more violent and his large cock attacks your cervix. Your head dips back in pleasure in the constant assault on your insides. 

He’s starting to unravel like a present. His strokes get messier, sweet liquid spilling everywhere, his moans getting louder and more frequent. His nail prints are embedded on your love handles and your thighs are a wet mess. 

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. C’mon baby you can do it.”

His pleading sends shivers down your spine. You’ve never seen him so desperate before, it was empowering that your pussy brought him down a few notches. His pussy drunk stare is intoxicating to look at. The way he’s looking at you with his eyes half-lidded with nothing but lust in them. There was something about the way he looked at you; it wasn't just lust. It was like you were a necessity to him, he needed you.

“Mmph…baby I’m ‘bouta cum!”

“Cum for me, you’d make me so proud. Cum on my cock princess.”

Satoru replaced your hand with his and traced circles on your clit. With his hand working its magic and his cock peppering kisses on your cervix sends you crazy. The car is rocking very noticeably but you could care less. Your climax crashes onto you like a brick. Your juices spill all over his thick cock and coat his length in a slippery mess. His warm and sticky ropes decorate your insides, leaving his pants soaked and a wet ring around the base of his cock.

“That’s it, I’m so proud of you baby.”

 He tenderly pulls out and holds you tight to him, taking in the moment. You rest your forehead on his shoulder, you both desperately trying to catch whatever air is left in your lungs. You hear Satoru chuckle slowly while tracing kisses on your neck. 

“What’s so funny? Did my pussy make you delirious or what?” 

He shakes his head and lifts your head softly and turns it towards the window. While swallowed by lust you didn’t notice Satoru rolled the window down. Mahito is staring in awe and anger; he looks like he is about to explode. Satoru’s chuckle turns into a full-blown cackle as he glances at Mahito, sending him that cheeky smile that you love so much. You join Satoru in his joyous laughter before reaching over and rolling up the window.

“At least my plan worked. Let’s do it again but this time with handcuffs.” 

[juletheghoul]

too close

a/n: Yeah. The trailer got me again. I can't help myself!!! Also - I didn't actually want to write feelings for these two but I have no say anymore. They have feelings, they are obsessed with each other and I can't just ignore it lol. Not beta’d and barely proofread- any mistakes or errors are my own. Hopefully you enjoy! (PS I did a little research on fruits in Roman times- they had no word for orange, so any shade of orange was just called red)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus eats pussy and I don't CARE, giving him that gluckgluck3000, creampie, Marcus gets hurt (hurt comfort), hand stuff from him because he's my precious man and he likes to give his girl pleasure, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) he’s still pretty possessive, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus (for now?👀), **FEELINGS** let me know if I missed any!

This is the fic I referenced in this preview

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 5.1k (whoops!)

reblogs are appreciated

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You frowned, despite your station, the confusion and slight worry breaking through the years of training your face to remain neutral. For a moment, you forgot your place.

“But-“ he turned, head tilted in curiosity instead of anger, thankfully, “I am to stay here? You do not wish me to accompany you Dominus? To pour and serve…?” You could not keep the slight hurt from your voice, much to your dismay. 

“No Girl, you will stay here, at the villa.” He saw the confusion, the unabashed anguish on your face and his expression softened, “peace Girl, it is not a matter of not desiring your presence or your service.” You listened to him with a lump in your throat, a wild fear seizing your heart that he might have grown tired of you. 

“I will not have the luxury of a tent, the rebellion is small enough that I can squash it and be back in less than a moon’s turn.” He came close, close enough to have your face tilt up to stare into his eyes. “I would not have you waiting for me in such a meagre camp, I would not have you sleeping in the dirt.” His hand settled on your arm, a soft offering, a reassurance but it did nothing to calm you. You have grown so accustomed to having him close, to ending up in his bed of a night more often than not before heading to your own, naked and pleasantly sore; to falling asleep with his seed trickling out of your puffy little cunt.

“I am comfortable wherever you are Dominus, I could still be of use, to light your fires-“ 

“I would have you here, and safe. That is my decision, and no amount of temptation will sway me from it.” He lifted your hand, pressing his lips to your fingers in silent, but firm apology. You knew there was nothing to be said, you had already pushed the matter far more than would be allowed on a normal day. 

“Your will, Dominus.” You bowed your head, despite the hurt and worry swirling around in your belly. “I will pray to the Gods for your swift victory, and safe return home.” 

He nodded, leaving shortly after. 

Time passed, and a feeling of restlessness took firm root in your being. The house felt empty, despite the attendants and sentinels left to guard them as well as the property. The days found you listless, moving through the motions of your chores and daily duties practically numb. The days were marks on the wall of your mind, praying to the Gods to send him back to you. 

Whispers travelled swiftly through the city, through the market stalls and through the villa itself, most of them rumours and it was difficult to keep your emotions in check. 

He has advanced

He has killed the leaders of the rebellion

He is victorious, already on his way home

He has been hurt

He is dead

He is victorious - Rome's favoured son has triumphed once more

The moon turned, once, and then twice, finally a third time before he was home. The all encompassing relief was short lived however, that wash of relief turned to ashes in your mouth at the sight of him. One of the rumours had been true after all. A sword wound to the side had laid him low late into the battle, it hadn’t killed him, thank the Gods, but it had slowed him down and made his journey home nothing short of agony. 

Your heart raced to see him weakened, every fibre of your being itched to run to him, to press your lips to skin but you refrained. You stood aside, dutifully, letting his trusted soldiers practically carry him to his bed. The older women got to work, bringing fortified wine with all manner of powders and potions to aid in his recovery while you stood next to him, the little half-moon marks in your palms from your nails barely felt like anything compared to the ache in the back of your throat. 

Your eyes would not leave his face. 

He looked so tired, mud and grime still marring his skin as he lay prone on his bed. To forfend the ugly thoughts swirling around in your mind, you focused on the tasks at hand. 

He needs to be cleansed, after he eats something I will boil some water and move gently, leave him to gather his strength. An offering must be made so the Gods will hasten his healing-

“Girl.” His voice was soft, and instantly you rushed to his side. 

“Yes Dominus, I am here.” You took his hand tentatively, your heart soared to feel him squeeze it. 

“Fetch me some broth, and help me to sit up–a few pillows behind me. I would sit upright.” 

You rushed to comply, happy to focus on his instructions. With soft touch, you did your best to prop him up, biting your lip to stop your eyes from welling up when he winced. Once satisfied, you set about fetching hot water and linens, as well as his broth. He sighed at the sight of it, and drank almost all of it within a few heartbeats. 

“Shall I help you cleanse now Dominus?” You brought the basin closer, showing him the steaming water and he nodded. 

Tentatively, you removed the soiled clothes he wore, ears pricked up for any sign of discomfort. He beared it with good grace, keeping the twinges of pain to himself, you imagined for your benefit, and you were grateful. It took time, but finally, you had divested him of everything, and he half sat, half laid on his bed, not an ounce of shame for his nakedness. It was secondary, to see him bare, more alarming was the soiled linens with the dark bloom of dried blood staining it on his side like some grotesque flower. 

He was pale, weak, his injury robbing him of his normal, ruddy health. He watched you, his expression somewhere between exhaustion, and a calm content. 

With gentle hands, you dipped the clean linen into the steaming water of the basin, and methodically cleaned the dirt, and dried blood from his skin. Eventually his eyes closed, soft sighs filled the air with every pass of the warm cloth across his shoulders, down the firm muscles of his thighs, his hands, until you reached the contours of his face. The lines were more defined, this battle had taken a toll on him. 

Your thumbs smoothed over his brows, wiping dust and worry away with a bone deep gratitude that he had come back. He melted into your touch, and you tried and failed to suppress the smile. 

“I must clean the wound, Dominus.” You reached for more clean dressings, giving him a chance to steel himself but he kept his eyes closed. You thought he might have fallen asleep, but he nodded, and so you did what needed to be done. 

To his great credit, he didn’t make a sound. Even as you cleaned at the angry, but healing edges of the wound. He said nothing when you packed it with the poultice one of the women had brought, when you covered it in a clean dressing, even as he drank down the no doubt foul tasting potion to help him sleep. Instead he settled back, and sighed, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin. 

You gathered all of the soiled clothing and discarded bandages, and moved to leave him to rest but his hand snatched at your wrist. 

“Wait, Girl, stay. Stay with me–” His words were almost slurred, and he didn’t finish his thought, his hand loosened around your wrist but you stayed, taking great care to lie beside him on his bed, and watched him sleep. Your heart raced with something you couldn’t–wouldn't name, something that threaded through your ribcage like smoke, wreathing its way around your lungs and taking root in your heart. You pressed the back of your hand to his brow, thankful that no fever lurked there and once satisfied that he was indeed resting, you rested your head next to his. 

Sleep took you, swiftly and without warning. 

The world outside was dark when your eyes opened, and it took a moment for you to get your bearings. His warm skin pressed to your arm and you jolted with the memory of his injury. 

“Peace, girl, I am well.” His voice was quiet, but stronger than before, “You did well in changing my dressings.” His praise squeezed at something in your belly, robbing you of any words you might have had. “You must be hungry, go and fetch something to eat and bring it here, I will share the meal with you.” The concern in his voice brought a smile to your lips, his thoughts on you, despite the pain he must have been in. 

“Yes Dominus, shall I fetch more of the potion as well? You should rest-” He raised his hand softly to forestall you. 

“I have rested enough, I would have my wits about me just now. Go on, you may fetch whatever else you need, I would have you sleeping in my bed.” 

His words rung in your ears as you moved throughout the silent house. They shone through your eyes as you piled a serving tray with olives and cheese, with bread and ripe fruits. They camped in your belly as it rolled with something when they repeated over and over like a prayer in your mind as you filled a serving jug with the wine he favoured, they strengthened your grip as you carried it with the utmost care down the moonlit halls of the house, almost sharpening your eyesight to bring you swiftly back to him. 

You set it down between you on his bed, careful not to spill anything or jostle him too much and just in time too, the hunger rung out from your empty belly loud as thunder but you ignored it, your priority was to help him sit up.

“Eat Girl, you are starving. I will pick at my leisure.” He frowned, gesturing to the food and you were grateful beyond words. It was a quiet meal, but comfortable. He usually ate by himself, most of the time while in his study and with you, it was after chores and duties had been completed. Despite all of your trysts and time spent together, it was the first meal you’d ever shared. 

“You do not favour the olives.” He said it without judgement. You shook your head shyly, covering your mouth to speak through bites of bread and cheese. 

“My desire for them is unpredictable.” He tilted his head, “Sometimes, they are all I want. Other times, I cannot stand the sight of them.” You wrinkled your nose, confirming that this time, the latter statement was true.

He smiled, huffing out an amused laugh through his nose.

“What else do you like? I see you favour the fruit, which one do you like most of all?” It was strange to be asked about yourself, no one in your life had ever wondered about what you might of preferred, for anything.

“Figs, I think. Pomegranates too, although peeling them takes a lifetime.” He huffed again, wincing slightly, “Are you in pain? Shall I fetch–” He raised a hand. 

“I am well, continue. Why do you favour them if they are so troublesome to eat?” He shifted a tiny bit, with great effort, turning to face you better. The room was dark, save for the few candles burning and the moon shining in through his window, casting stark shadows across his lovely face. 

“They are worth the effort.” 

He smiled, and finally reaches over to help himself to the food. Something about the darkness, about the quiet seclusion made you bolder.

“What about you Dominus? Is there a fruit you favour?” Your heart raced, fear that you might have overstepped grabbing hold of you but it was for naught, he merely frowned in thought. 

“I prefer plums.” He said after a moment, “I like figs as well.” It was both exhilarating and strange to speak with him like that, in the quiet dark, almost comfortable. “Although–in my younger days we fought in Spain, and there I tasted a fruit I have never seen again, I do not know the name of it but I enjoyed it very much.” 

“What was it like?”

“It was round, a strange shade of red with a thick peel but underneath it had segments like a lemon.” He continued eating, and you were content to sit with him, only moving the tray once he had eaten his fill.

“It is good to be home.” The words came out as a sigh, “I missed it while I was away, more than any other time I must admit.” He shifted slightly and winced again, “Help me lay flat, my back aches from sitting.” He held out his hand and you rushed to oblige, moving pillows and positioning him flat on his back. “That is better, gratitude girl, let us blow out the candles and settle in.” 

“Yes Dominus.”

“Have you something to sleep in? What is most comfortable for you?” 

“I am content in this, Dominus.” You gestured to your tunic as you made your way around the room, snuffing out the candlelight.

“That is not what I asked you.” There was no bite in his words, but the expectation of truth was plain as day. 

“Most nights I sleep in the nude, it is what is most comfortable for me.” You made your way back to the bed but he did not let you get in. 

“Please, make yourself comfortable, there is no expectation from me, much as I have missed the pleasures of your body. I would have you sleep how you are accustomed.” You nodded once, undressing down to your skin before slipping into bed with him. In the dark, in the quiet, it was peaceful and the sound of his steady breathing worked it spell on you quicker than you would have thought. 

“Gratitude Girl.” He said it soft, and with a full belly and heavy lids, you questioned him. 

“For what Dominus?” The words were almost slurred, as the heavy press of sleep pushed you into the deep pool of blackness. You thought you heard him say everything, but you could not be sure, sleep had claimed you. 

-

You woke with the sun, the first few rays sliding across your skin like water and it was hard to move from your place. In the night, your body had brought you close to him, seeking out the warmth of him. He was still asleep, but his legs had tangled up with yours and it was strange to lay with him like this, both of you nude as the day you were born, yet incredibly comforting. 

You took the time to check over his wound, and were pleased to find it looking much better. The edges of it stitching together, thankfully without corruption. 

“It does not hurt as much as it did before.” His voice was sleepy, “I will be back on my feet soon enough.”

“Let me dress Dominus, and I will fetch you something to break your fast.” 

“Not just yet.” He shifted, and although you helped him, he didn’t struggle quite as much. “Come, lie with me.” He held out his arm, and you went to him, trembling like a leaf to rest your head on his shoulder. “Gods, I missed you, Girl.” He buried his nose into the mess of your hair and something inside you grew and swelled, was fed and made strong by his words and by his skin. 

“I missed you, Dominus.” Truer words had never been spoken by you, the ache for him had been unbearable.

“Did you?” There was something underneath, something desperate and had it not been so early, so peaceful, he might not have asked.

“Desperately Dominus, I feared you had abandoned me, I feared you no longer desired me.” You pressed your face into his neck, breathing him in, his scent, his warmth, him- sustenance

“Come now, Girl, you know of my desire for you, it is like a thirst I cannot quench. A hunger I cannot satisfy, despite my dark moods, despite my sour face, you are a source of joy and pleasure I have not known in some time.” His hand brought your face up, his gaze burned into yours and his words affected you so that tears welled in your eyes. He wiped them away, and the tenderness was too much, a sob clawed its way out from your throat. All of the worry, all of the fear that he might have left you alone in the world, to be sold to another bubbled up and he held you as you cried.

“Do you wish to be free of me? Is that why you cry?” Something in his voice broke your heart.

“No Dominus, no-“ you wiped at your eyes, moving to look him in the eye and the expression you saw in them was almost too much to bear. “I have never been so happy in all my life, I have never felt about anyone, the way I feel for you.” You pressed your lips to his, petal-soft. 

“Sometimes, the things I feel for you are almost too big for my body, I want to be with you always, I want to feel you always. I feared so much while you were gone that I could barely eat, barely sleep-” Your words were frantic, so many things to get out that you could barely speak and he pulled you close, shushing you softly. 

“My heart swells to hear you speak this way.” He reached down, sliding his hand towards the hinge in your knee, to pull it over his thigh. “Peace, let us just enjoy the silence.” You nodded into his neck, letting go of a great breath in your lungs. 

“If I was myself, and whole, I would be pulling every ounce of pleasure from you now.” 

You laughed at the annoyance in his tone.

“Soon enough Dominus, I would have you healthy and healed.” Your hand slid up the smooth expanse of his chest, threading through the curls at the base of his skull. “Once your wound has healed, you may have me any way you please.” 

“Any way?” His tone darkened, and your body responded, thighs clenching, heart racing, nipples hardening. “Any way I please? And what if I want you for a day and a night? What if I want you wet and spread for me in this bed until you’re so full of my gift it spills all over my linens?” The hand that had been softly stroking your back moved down and grabbed at your backside, pulling until the lips of your sex spread open. 

A moan slipped out at the feel of his hands, and he all but growled. 

“Do not make those noises Girl, not when I cannot fuck you how I wish to.” He pulled your face up, licking into your mouth with a hunger you could not satisfy, not in his current state. 

“Dominus, I beg of you not to taunt me, not when we cannot indulge.” You kissed him again, despite your words and finally he pulled away, the tremble of frustration in his grip. You shifted, and felt his manhood press against your thigh, the sight of him, leaking and hard against his belly made you sigh. 

“Do not concern yourself with that, I am ravenous for you, but my body cannot fulfill the wishes of my cock. Go and fetch something to break our fast. I will need you to change my dressing as well, if you could.” He sent you off with a kiss, and with desire dripping onto your thighs. 

“Yes Dominus.” You smiled, and rushed off to do what needed to be done. 

-

Weeks passed, and he healed beautifully. His wound knit together cleanly and with that, his strength came back. More often than not he stood and cleansed without your help, he left the safety of his bed and his chambers and sported a genuine smile as he made his rounds through his house.

You trailed behind him, your own smile in place to see him coming back into himself. 

Things were different. He was different. 

He spoke more, that was for one. Before he would keep his own council, his words were curt and his thoughts would be kept close to his chest. Some nights he reverted to his silence, but it had grown into something peaceful, something comfortable.

The biggest change though, was his attitude towards you. 

For one, he refused to sleep alone. The darkness of night found you tending to his needs and after the candles had been snuffed- he pulled your tunic off and pulled you into his bed, into his arms. 

At first, you thought it was his injury, a fear that he might suffer some setback in his sleep, but as the days passed on and he was well past the point of danger, he still refused to let you go. 

His desire had come back too, much quicker than his body could handle. Mornings would find you in the cage of his arms, with his lust pressed hard and hot at the cleft of your ass. You would pull away so as not to tease him, and he would let you at first, but as his body caught up to him, he stopped letting you pull away. 

Most mornings, he’d whisper how much he missed burying himself inside you, how he couldn’t wait to gift you with his seed while slipping his fingers between your legs and swirling them around your clit, only stopping after you’d fluttered around his fingers. Then he’d send you off to fetch food with a smile on your face and an ever-growing ache between your thighs. 

A part of you fretted as to why he hadn’t taken you yet, as the days passed it was clear that he was well enough to indulge. Another part, a hopeful, possibly quite foolish part of you thought maybe he was waiting for you to ask him. That couldn’t be, could it? You ruminated on your previous encounters, yes–he’d called you forth to warm his bed, but with every recalled memory it was clear that in his own way, he'd let you decide whether to push things or not. A luxury you knew was rare. It was an intoxicating thought though, to think that you could decide when and what you wanted him to do.

So many possibilities. 

When night came, you brought him his meal, and his wine and tried to keep the tremble of excitement out of your hands. You watched him move about his chambers, his strength back to normal as he dipped his hands into the fresh water in his basin. His hair had grown out a little, dark with silver mixed through and that thought struck you again, that he was some beautiful marble statue come to life. An emperor of old, standing before you in all his glory. 

“Dominus-” You called to him, unable to hold back any longer. His eyes raised, finding you as he dried his hands. 

“Before you take your meal, I would ask something of you.” Your voice shook, never had you openly asked him for anything before. He raised his eyebrows, more surprised than anything.

“What would you have of me Girl?” He moved towards you, eyes curious. 

“I would have you–” You stopped him, guiding him to sit on his bed, “I would have you sit here, and accept my mouth.” 

You kneeled before him, staring up at him with your lip caught between your teeth. Your hands landed on his knees, sliding up to pull his tunic up to expose his manhood. For a moment, he stared at you with wide, surprised eyes. 

“I have missed our times together, I have missed you filling me of a night and as much as I treasure your fingers in the morning, I would have you feel pleasure at my hand–or, my mouth.” He did not stop you from exposing him and heat flooded your body to see how quickly his cock responded to your words, to the soft exploration of your hand. 

“You would do this?” His palm landed on your shoulder, sliding up to cup your cheek. “You have no obligation, I would not command you to do this should you not want to.” You spit onto your palm and grasped him in hand and despite his words, he shudderred to feel the way you stroked him. 

“I dream about this Dominus, I desire you so deeply that I ache for you–” You opened your mouth and took the blunt tip of him into your mouth. He moaned, slack-jawed at the sight of you. You placed open mouthed kisses at the tip, and the sensitive underside, stroking at the base of him. His thighs spread, making room for you and you relished the warm strength of them under your arms. 

He tasted like the ocean. 

“God’s above Girl-” You pulled away, smiling as you continued to stroke him, he barely fit in the palm of your hand and with his passion dribbling out and your spit the sounds were loud and slick. Your own arousal unspooled between your legs, the ache intensifying as he tensed underneath you, hissing when you pressed soft kisses to the scar at his side, to the softness of his belly, to the firm golden thighs bracketing you to his hips. 

“Open your mouth.” His confidence resurfaced, and then his hand wrapped around yours, guiding you to stroke him the way he liked. He guided the reddened tip into your mouth. “Look at me when you take me in your mouth, open wide, I want to touch your throat.” You moaned around him, taking him deeper, breathing through your nose in an attempt to stay calm. 

“That’s it Girl, Gods be damned-” His tone was filthy as he held you there, eyes watering until you pulled away, sputtering and messy. 

“If you continue, I will spill in your mouth.” he guided your hand still, slowly stroking himself against your lips, smearing your spit and his salty arousal onto your lips. Never in your life have you felt that powerful, that beautiful, with tears spilling down your face and slick dripping down your thighs. He held himself suspended in his pleasure, awaiting your word. 

“Would you like to spill in my mouth Dominus? Or would you like to fill my cunt?” You held out your tongue, letting him rub the tip of himself against it while he decided. Your heart soared to see the conflict on his face. 

“I would fill your cunt, I have missed it terribly.” You smiled and rose with a final kiss to his cock and once you did, he ripped the tunic off your body. The loud tear of it made you squeal with a mix of shock and excitement. 

“I promise you, I will not last.” He all but tossed you onto his bed, spreading your legs wide for his gaze. “Greedy little cunt, so wet for me.” He spoke in a daze, staring at the place that ached at the mere thought of him. He slipped down and it’s with a shock that you watched him dip down to spear into you with his tongue. Never had anyone used their mouth on you and the sight of it was almost too much to bear.

It’s with a greedy, filthy groan that his lips dragged up to latch around the pert little pearl of you, his tongue stroking, stroking, stroking while his mouth suctioned around it. Your body was a taut string, legs shaking under the strong grip of his hands, holding you to him tight enough to hurt. Your breathing came in pants, the climax was already there, balancing on a knife's edge, so close you could almost taste it.

His hands moved, sliding up to pinch at your nipples and the wave crested. Your hands gripped into his curls, both holding him close, and desperately pushing him away while you fluttered into his mouth. 

You felt the strong muscle of his tongue slide down, drinking you from the source. 

He made his way back up, your slick shining on his face and on his whiskers. You’re almost too shocked, and too shy to look into his eyes. 

“I confess, I have wanted to do that for a long time.” He pulled his tunic up and off as you lay under him, boneless. “I know it’s not something commonly done, but I enjoy it. Did you enjoy it? I felt you flutter.” He raised your leg, wrapping it around his hip while his cock slipped inside you without any resistance. You let out a relieved sigh, finally, he was home. 

“Yes Dominus–” You almost whispered, half-shy as he dropped down, his arms holding himself up on either side of your skull. “No one has ever–Oh–” He snapped his hips hard, unable to hold himself back and already, the need built in your core, robbing you of any coherent thoughts. 

“No one but me ever will.” He kissed you, making you taste yourself and it was so perverse, so exhilarating you held him close, wrapping your arms and legs around him to feel as much of him as you could. His cock pushed and pulled, hitting that special place he owned and with a handful of thrusts, and a punched out groan he filled you with his gift. Finally. 

He watched himself pull out of the mess he'd made, watched in silence as his gift dripped out and onto his linens. 

Things felt different this time, there’s a vulnerability, an intimacy that is almost overwhelming. You pulled his face up, and pressed your lips to his softly, praying that you conveyed the feelings swirling in your chest. He kissed you back, his hand gliding up to wrap around your neck. When you opened your eyes, his brow was furrowed, the same feelings shining back at you through his dark eyes. 

Seconds passed, and the feeling did not disperse. Before he would have sent you away, but he held you close. Wordlessly he pressed his lips to yours over and over, he stroked at your skin, your shoulder and your thigh high on his ribs, your breast, your lips. He moved off, and went about dampening a cloth to clean himself off of you. Once he was done, he brought the food you’d served him and fed you from his own hand. 

You accepted the food, smiling shyly as he watched you, something like affection, like love shining out through his eyes. 

“Thank you Dominus–” He shook his head, a small frown at your words. 

“Call me Marcus.”

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[magniloquent-raven]

Day 4: Supportive Boyfriends

and for my next (LATE, SO LATE) @bucktommypositivityweek contribution. KITTEN FIC.

(read on ao3)

**

The 118 doesn't have a baby box.

In fact there aren't any in the state of California at all. Buck looked it up, after Maddie's postpartum episode. When half his family was missing and there wasn't much he could do besides wait and... think about things.

So he thought about safe haven laws. Read up on the training seminars for first responders who want to be better equipped to deal with hand-offs. Read a bunch of other stuff he sort of wishes he hadn't. Spent the next week haunted by articles about abandoned children.

He considered talking to Bobby about it. Only partly to ask him if they should get a box for the firehouse. Partly because Buck wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, and Bobby always seemed to have answers. But he never worked up the nerve to broach the subject.

And now. Bobby's not captain anymore, and Buck really can't imagine Gerrard giving a shit about any of this.

So, they don't have a box. But.

Well, this isn't a human baby. It's not like the same rules apply.

Buck has to wonder if wires got crossed somewhere, because. Someone left a kitten. Outside the firehouse.

Buck was just going to grab something—he can't remember what—from his Jeep, when he spotted an unlabelled cardboard box on the pavement, up against the side of the building. His first thought was bomb.

Until it meowed at him. A tiny, high-pitched peep of a meow.

Kind of scared the shit out of him, if he's being honest.

There's only one. All alone in the box. A poofy grey thing wriggling around half buried in an off-white towel. Like a very ambitious dust bunny with big round blue eyes and skinny legs. It wobbles slowly over a fold in the towel with all the effort of someone scaling a mountain.

Buck crouches next to the box, and pokes a finger inside.

"Hey, buddy," he murmurs, holding very still while the kitten inches towards his hand and squeaks. It's unclear whether there are teeth in that little maw. That means it's really young, right? Too young to be left alone for very long.

Shit, how is he going to explain this to Gerrard? He's still got, like, 12 hours left on his shift, but someone has to feed this thing. How long can kittens go without food?

Oh, it does have teeth. Really teeny ones. They're ineffectively poking his knuckle.

Buck fishes his phone out of his jacket—with the hand that isn't currently being drooled on—intending to go to Google for answers. How to figure out how old a kitten is. How often do kittens need to be fed. Do cats get separation anxiety. He has a million questions.

Only he doesn't pull up his browser. He calls Tommy.

It's a whim. Barely a seed of an idea. But when he unlocked his phone the first thing he saw was their text history (he'd been complaining about Gerrard off-and-on all morning, and Tommy had been sending random updates about all the chores he'd been getting done—his last message was a picture of a mop with no context) and he just thought... Tommy will know what to do. Not in so many words, more a feeling. Comfort and certainty, just from seeing Tommy's picture in a little bubble at the top of his screen.

"Evan?" Tommy answers almost immediately, and there's a subtle undercurrent of worry in his tone. Buck winces. Right, calling out of the blue while he's at work would look. Bad.

"I'm okay!" He says quickly, all in one breath. Then pauses. The kitten squints up at him, meowing again, long and loud. Its whole fluffy face scrunches with the effort.

"...What was that?"

"Uh. That would be why I called, actually."

—

Gerrard is less of an obstacle than Buck feared he'd be. Because he's holed up in his office doing paperwork when Buck sneaks in with the kitten, and Buck's decided he has no intention of letting him know the cat was ever here.

Tommy promised he'd come get her.

Buck didn't even really ask, and wasn't planning on asking. Didn't have any plan whatsoever, in fact. He just wanted to know if Tommy knew anything about taking care of kittens, and suddenly Tommy's voluntarily sacrificing the rest of his day off to scope out vets and pet supply stores and whatever else Buck's helpless little friend might need.

He hung up hours ago and his insides still feel warm and goopy about it. He can't stop thinking about the gentle fondness that softened Tommy's voice after Buck explained the situation. Buck would wrap himself up in it like a blanket if he could.

Tommy's getting so kissed when he shows up.

In the meantime, Buck's sitting upstairs, working his way through the dozen or so tabs he opened up after googling kitten care.

He thinks the one he found might be around three weeks old (ears not quite unfurled, can't sheathe claws yet, legs unsteady but mobile). And possibly a girl. She did not care for being picked up and turned over, and the indignant squirming made it difficult to tell what's going on down there. But he's almost certain he's right.

She was shrieking up a storm about it, and he was worried if he took any longer she'd alert Gerrard. (She didn't. She did, however, draw the attention of about half the firehouse.)

"You are disgustingly cute," Chimney coos, scratching under her chin with the tip of one finger. She's lifted her head as high as she can and her eyes are squinted happily. Buck can hear her purring from across the room. "Yes you are. Hen, can you get a picture of this?"

Hen pulls out her phone. "Sure... why?" She asks, leaning over his shoulder to snap a picture and eye him with mild suspicion.

"Jee. She'll wanna see when I tell her about my day."

Her expression softens to a smile. "I'll text it to you." She taps her screen a couple times. "Just had to make sure you weren't planning on calendar campaigning again."

Chimney grins. "Nah, my calendar days are behind me. The only person who gets shirtless pictures of me now is my wife."

"Gross," Buck says without conviction. He narrows his eyes at the site he's scrolling through, swiping away a Join Our Mailing List! popup. "You guys don't think she's cold do you? Are her ears warm? It's only, like, 70 today and we don't know how long she was out there."

Hen and Chim exchange glances, and then, disturbingly in sync, look from the cat to Buck. Chim gives her ear a perfunctory poke, which she does not appreciate as much as chin scritches, "She's fine, man."

Hen waves a hand at Buck when he opens his mouth again, "We're medical professionals. And in my medically professional opinion. She's fine."

"Okay, but—"

"Hey guys, look who stopped b—uhhh. Is that a cat?" Eddie slows to a stop at the top of the stairs, blinking at the kitten on the couch. "When did we get a cat?"

"Couple hours ago," Buck says, still frowning at Hen and Chimney. "Where have you been?"

"I found him polishing the engine."

Buck shoots out of his seat. "Tommy!"

He only half-hears Eddie muttering, "Favouritism," as he scuttles around the chair to meet Tommy halfway between the stairs and the sitting area. Tommy has just enough time to smile—and it warms Buck, like it always does, with a spark caught in his chest for safekeeping—and say hi before Buck's on him, palms clapped on either side of his face, smushing their lips together.

He makes a bit of a show of it, dramatically swooping in, because he knows the big smacking MWAH will make Tommy laugh, and he likes the way that feels rumbling against his chest.

Buck taps their noses together. "Hey," he says, savouring the mirth sparkling in Tommy's eyes for a second before kissing him again, properly this time.

His brain goes sort of fuzzy when Tommy's palm cups the back of his neck.

Someone in the distance wolf-whistles.

When they finally come up for air Tommy asks, "What was that for?" a little breathlessly, which is doing things to Buck.

"Mmn...y'know. For being you."

Tommy raises his eyebrows, kiss-reddened lips curling fondly. "Okay."

"Hey, Tommy. Good to see you," Chim calls in a very pointed way.

Right, public setting. Workplace. Friends watching. Buck exhales slowly, and tries to think about anything other than how much he wants to bite that bit of clavicle peeking out of the collar of Tommy's shirt. Like the fact that Tommy's hands are warm, and he's sort of rubbing his fingertips over the short stubbly bits of hair on the back of Buck's head, and Buck's lips are still tingling a little, and—no wait, not that either.

Tommy pulls away first, which is probably for the best, but also very sad. The corner of his mouth twitches like he can see Buck thinking it. He curls his index finger and gently taps Buck's chin with the knuckle before he turns to the group.

"Howie," he says, not even pretending to be contrite in the face of Chim's mock-judgement. "Hen."

"Tommy." Hen fails to contain her smirk.

Some time during all the kissing, Eddie moved over to the couch. He's sat next to the kitten, watching her attempt to groom her paw with all the grace of a toddler who's only a little bit sure they know how to hold a brush. She keeps starting and stopping at random intervals, sometimes licking the cushion beside her, sometimes sticking her tongue out at thin air.

She's so cute it makes Buck's chest hurt. It's a little much while he's still loopy from making out with his boyfriend.

Then Tommy goes and crouches next to the couch so he can get eye-level with the kitten while she sniffs his hand, talking to her all calm and soft with smile-lines crinkling his cheeks, and. Buck might need to lie down for a bit. Like, on top of Tommy, preferably.

The kitten seems to like him too, and he really can't blame her when she crawls up Tommy's sleeve to perch on his shoulder.

She looks so much smaller cuddled up on Tommy. He reaches up to steady her, and she's almost entirely obscured by his hand.

God, is it wrong that he's getting a little hot under the collar about that? He just looks so strong and competent and at the same time, like, gentle. Buck knows how it feels to be touched tenderly by those hands, and apparently just seeing it happen does not affect him any less. In fact it's only added dimensions to his desires.

"I should probably get going," Tommy says, bringing Buck back down to Earth with a resounding splat.

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. He's right. The last thing Buck wants is for Tommy to have another run-in with Gerrard, and they don't know how long the old bastard's gonna be occupied.

"Mhm, run while you still can," Chimney pipes up. "Before our dear old captain smells an opportunity to ruin someone's day."

"He does seem to have a sixth sense for that," Eddie adds sullenly. Buck makes a note to ask him what that was about. Later.

"I'll walk you out," Buck says, trying not to sound like a pouting child. He's fairly certain he fails, because Tommy laces their fingers together and gives his hand a comforting squeeze.

He says his goodbyes, the whole time being careful not to dislodge the kitten while she crawls across his shoulders.

Buck goes through the list of kitten care basics he memorized as they make their way to the parking lot. It's...more than he thought it was, honestly. It starts to feel overwhelming as he goes on, and on, and on. He's running out of time to get it all out, and he feels like it's just now sinking in his huge this responsibility that he's dumping in Tommy's lap is.

"You're sure you don't mind taking her?" The question bursts out of Buck before they make it to Tommy's car. "W-we didn't really, I mean. We talked about it over the phone, but..."

"Yeah, now that I've seen her she does seem like a real handful."

The kitten yawns, and curls up into a tiny grey ball in the crook of Tommy's neck.

Well. Alright.

"It's just, t-they need a lot of attention when they're that young, and I kinda just, just dropped this on you."

"Evan." Tommy gives him a look. "Are you worried that you baby-trapped me?"

Okay, when he puts it like that. Maybe a little bit. But also now he's having complicated yearning feelings that he really should not be having this early in the relationship.

Buck's pretty sure he looks like a deer in the headlights right now, because Tommy's doing his damnedest to pretend he isn't laughing at him.

He tugs Buck's hand, leading him the rest of the way to his car.

The backseat is full of cat stuff. Containers of milk-replacement powders, and a shiny plastic litter box, and toys, so many toys, baggies of fake mice and feathery things, just. So much stuff. Piles of it.

"I called up a friend who used to foster kittens. She had a lot of advice. And then I got a little carried away."

"I, uh. See that," Buck laughs breathlessly.

"Over the phone, you sounded like this meant a lot to you? And I think I got really attached to the idea of...this. Taking care of her for you. With you." He sounds hesitant, like he's trying not to say too much, and Buck can't stand it—

"I love you so much," he says in a rush.

"Well, good," Tommy purses his lips around a smile, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners. He reaches up to his shoulder, like he's absent-mindedly checking to see if the kitten's still there. "Wouldn't want her to grow up in a broken home."

Buck huffs a laugh.

"And I love you too."

[sidekick-hero]

it isn’t over, it’s just begun

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember (prompts: backseat | clothes on | soft and slow | bruise) and @softsteddieseptember (prompt: Road Trip). This is super late, I'm sorry.

The biggest thank you to @firefly-party for reading over this and helping me make sense of English grammar and tenses. UGH.

6k | rated: e | warnings: (consensual) blood drinking | tags: vampire!eddie, monsterfucker!steve, dry humping, Steve takes care of Eddie

Read on AO3

“I’m dead, Harrington, not deaf! Haven’t I been through enough? Do you have to torture me with… with this? Crappy music from an even crappier movie? And here I thought we were friends!”

Eddie’s voice grew louder as he ranted, his hands flapping dramatically, his wide brown eyes sparkling under the streetlamps they passed. For someone technically dead, he was so alive—full of energy and life in every way that mattered. Even with his too-sharp teeth, translucent skin, and the absence of a pulse, he was still, well, Eddie.

Not that Eddie agreed.

That’s why they were here now, on this strange road trip to Washington D.C. to meet some friend of Owens who supposedly had a solution for him. How, Steve wasn’t sure. And if he was being honest, he didn’t entirely trust this friend—or Owens, for that matter. They’d been screwed over too many times, and Steve wasn’t about to risk Eddie’s… non-life.

Eddie seemed on edge too, fidgeting and talking too fast, too loud, confined in the tight space of Steve’s trusty BMW.

“If the movie’s so crappy, how do you know Take My Breath Away is in it, huh?” Steve countered, smirking, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

As expected, the question left Eddie sputtering, before he huffed and crossed his arms, pouting.

Steve took pity and turned the volume down, but not before belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs. He couldn’t help but enjoy the way Eddie looked at him, his attention fixed solely on Steve. If he were being honest, that’s all he’d been craving lately—Eddie’s gaze, his words, his touch.

Steve was down bad.

They’d been driving for six hours, and Steve could feel the toll it was taking on him. He still wasn’t sleeping well—nightmares keeping him awake more often than not. The only thing that brought him any real comfort was when Eddie came back from his nightly hunts. It should’ve felt strange that the only time Steve truly felt safe from the horrors of the Upside Down was when the one "monster" they hadn’t killed or sent back to the alternate dimension was taking a shower in his en suite bathroom before crawling into bed with him.

Not that Steve thought of Eddie as a monster—just because he looked a little different and needed blood to survive didn’t make him one.

The only one who saw Eddie that way was Eddie himself. It had taken weeks to convince him to let them anywhere near him, constantly reassuring him that they knew he wouldn’t hurt them, that they loved him.

Eddie had only agreed to stop hiding in the woods if Steve was there, nail bat in hand, ready to strike at the first sign of danger.

That’s why Eddie was living with him now. And that’s why Steve was the one driving him to Washington to meet this friend of Owens.

“You don’t look so hot, Stevie.”

“Geez, tell me how you really feel, Munson,” Steve shot back, only slightly annoyed. Eddie sounded more worried than anything.

Eddie raised his hands in mock surrender, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Relax, you always look hot, big boy. But right now? You look beat. Wanna take a break?”

A break didn’t sound bad at all, Steve thought. Just to rest his eyes for a bit.

“Not your worst idea,” he conceded, much to Eddie’s delight.

Eddie’s voice turned theatrical as he declared, “I only have good ideas, I’ll have you know.”

Steve’s reply came without thinking. “Sacrificing yourself to the bats wasn’t.” The weight of his words hit him the moment the silence in the car became deafening—not even the sound of Eddie’s breathing, which was more habit than necessity, broke the tension.

Shit.

“Eddie, I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine,” Eddie cut him off, his voice flat, the humor gone. “There’s a path over there, leading off the road. Take it. We can park at the edge of the woods. You can rest, and I’ll... hunt.”

Eddie’s whole demeanor screamed for him to drop it. As much as Steve hated the tense silence hanging between them, he didn’t know what to say to make it better. He was sorry for how his words had come out, but the truth was, he’d meant them. Part of him knew it wasn’t fair—he hated what Eddie had done, but he also knew that, in Eddie’s place, he would’ve done the exact same thing. Saving Dustin, buying them time. Sacrificing himself because what was his life compared to theirs, compared to the world?

If Steve was being honest with himself, he’d admit that it wasn’t Eddie he was truly angry at—it was himself. He should have been there. He should’ve been smarter, faster. Better. But he wasn’t. He let them fend for themselves, and this was the result.

The car swayed as it rumbled down the gravel path, pulling him back from his spiraling thoughts. What happened, happened. There was no changing it now. The only thing they could do was deal with the aftermath.

Steve parked the car in a secluded spot, hidden from the road to give them some privacy. The second the car stopped, Eddie swung the door open and disappeared into the woods without a word. Steve sat there, staring after him, regret settling like a weight in his chest.

With a heavy sigh, Steve pushed open his door and went around to grab his nail bat and a blanket from the trunk. He crawled into the backseat, balling up his jacket as a makeshift pillow. The bat went under the driver’s seat, just in case, and he pulled the blanket over himself. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, and with the weight of guilt in his stomach and his mind racing, he doubted he’d be able to fall asleep.

But sleep had other plans. It claimed him within seconds, and as usual, Eddie was the last thing on his mind before darkness wrapped around him like a lover.

He came back to himself slowly, like wading through thick molasses, his senses gradually returning one by one. First, there was the awareness inside his body. He was thirsty. Hungry, too. A dull headache throbbed at his temples, and his neck ached from the awkward position he’d slept in. Everything pointed to him having slept far longer than he’d intended.

Next came his hearing—dulled ever since Billy Hargrove had taken a plate to his head, but still somewhat functional. He could make out the distant hoot of an owl and, if he concentrated, the faint sound of cars speeding by on the nearby road. Then there was something else—a rustling sound, faint and close by. He had to strain to hear it, and might’ve missed it if not for how near it was.

Steve kept his eyes closed, everything feeling too heavy and far away. But now, cautiously, he cracked them open just enough to survey his surroundings without alerting any potential threats.

The car was dark; the sun had set a while ago, from the looks of it. At first glance, it seemed like he was alone, and worry crept in about Eddie. But then the rustling sound came again, and this time his eyes landed on its source. Someone was sitting in the passenger seat, trembling violently.

“Eds?” Steve’s voice came out scratchy from sleep. He swallowed and tried again, softer this time. “Are you alright?”

The figure in the front seat—who Steve hoped was Eddie, though who else could it be—shook its head but remained silent. As Steve blinked the sleep from his eyes and they adjusted to the darkness, more details came into focus. Eddie was hunched over, knees pulled tightly to his chest, his feet up on the upholstery. Normally, Steve would’ve complained, but right now all that mattered was making sure Eddie was okay.

“Eddie, please, talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

He sat up and reached out to touch Eddie’s arm, but the moment his fingers grazed the fabric of Eddie’s jacket, Eddie recoiled, scrambling as far as the small space of the car would allow.

“Don’t,” Eddie rasped, his voice raw and jagged, almost unrecognizable.

Ignoring the warning, Steve inched closer, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Eddie,” he repeated softly, using the name again because he remembered the first time they encountered this version of Eddie—feral, lost, barely recognizing them. Nancy had said to repeat his name often, to remind him of who he was. It became a habit Steve hadn’t been able to shake entirely.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. Did something happen while you were hunting?” Steve’s stomach twisted at the thought. What if Eddie had hurt someone? Lost control to the instincts he barely understood? He should’ve been worried about whoever Eddie might’ve harmed—and he was, he was—but more than anything, he worried about what that guilt would do to Eddie. That it would push him to retreat, make him decide that he couldn’t be around people anymore. That he’d leave them.

Leave Steve.

At Steve’s question, Eddie finally looked up, and their eyes met. Steve’s heart lurched. Eddie's eyes were no longer the warm, familiar brown. They were red.

A whimper escaped Steve’s lips before he could stop it, and Eddie’s face—what little Steve could make out—twisted in what looked like pain. Steve realized, too late, that his involuntary reaction had struck at Eddie’s worst fear: that they saw him as the monster he believed himself to be.

“’M sorry, Eds,” Steve stammered, rushing to correct himself. “You just surprised me, that’s all. I’m not scared of you, I swear. I’m just worried for you. Let me help, please.”

With his back pressed against the glove compartment, cowering in the cramped footwell of the passenger seat, Eddie let out a dark, humorless laugh. “You have no idea what you’re asking, Steve. You should just take that trusty bat of yours and bash my head in. That’s the only way you can help.” His voice cracked, raw with desperation. “I… I don’t want to be a monster.”

“I’m not doing that, Eddie.” Steve’s voice was steady, even as his heart hammered in his chest. “You’re not a monster. You’re our friend.”

Eddie let out a bitter sigh, his hand fumbling for the car's overhead light. When it flicked on, Steve’s breath caught in his throat. Eddie looked more monstrous than ever—the sharpness of his teeth more pronounced, his skin drawn tight and pale, dark veins spidering beneath the surface. His red eyes glowed unnaturally in the dim light, and his trembling grew worse.

“I haven’t eaten in days,” Eddie confessed, his voice low and filled with shame. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to kill any of the animals out there. And tonight, when I finally got desperate enough to try… there were hunters in the woods.” He clenched his jaw, as if disgusted with himself. “I couldn’t risk it, Steve. I had to retreat before I hurt them. Before I would have... lost control.”

Steve’s heart twisted at the sight of Eddie—so vulnerable, yet fighting desperately to stay in control. It hurt to see the raw fear in his friend’s eyes, especially when there seemed to be nothing that Steve could do to make it better. There had to be something. Anything.

Eddie’s refusal to feed explained why the monstrous side of him was becoming more pronounced, more visible. The hunger must be unbearable by now, gnawing at him from the inside out. Yet, Eddie—the stubborn idiot—was willing to suffer rather than hurt another living thing. How anyone could see a monster in someone so kind, so selfless, was beyond Steve. He knew without a doubt that Eddie would starve himself to death before ever harming anyone.

But maybe it didn’t have to come to that. Not if Steve had anything to say about it.

“Maybe…” Steve began, choosing his words carefully, “you don’t have to control it.” At Eddie’s incredulous look, he quickly added, “I mean, what if you let yourself have blood—from someone willing to give it to you? You wouldn’t have to hurt anyone if it was, you know, consensual.”

Eddie blinked, his wide, reddish-brown eyes staring at Steve in disbelief.

“Could you repeat that? Because for a second there, it sounded like you were suggesting I should be drinking blood from a person.”

“It sounded that way because that’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Steve said, keeping his tone calm. “Not just any person—someone who’d let you do it, of course.”

Eddie’s expression hardened as his voice rose, anger mixing with incredulity. “Are you out of your mind? You’re suggesting I just walk up to someone and be like, ‘Hey, can I get some consensual blood-sucking in? I can’t promise it won’t hurt, but you’d be doing me a real favor.’ Is that what you’re suggesting?”

The flare of anger in Eddie’s voice was almost a relief. It was familiar, a sign that somewhere under all that fear, the Eddie Steve knew was still there. Steve would take Eddie’s frustration over the emptiness he’d seen in him any day.

“Of course not,” Steve replied, his lips curling into a smile as Eddie’s shoulders sagged a little. “I’m suggesting you drink from me.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in that moment, even with Steve’s less-than-perfect hearing. He was certain Eddie had even stopped breathing, not that he needed to. Eddie just stared at Steve like he’d suggested they strip naked, douse themselves in glitter, and run sparkling through the streets of Hawkins.

“Did you hear me? I. Want. You. To. Drink. From. Me,” Steve repeated, enunciating each word with deliberate conviction.

Eddie was already shaking his head before Steve had even finished speaking. “No! No, no, no. Absolutely not. You’re insane. I—Steve, please, no.”

It was like Eddie was going through the stages of grief—anger, denial, and bargaining. Robin had explained those to him once, and now Steve was watching them unfold before his eyes.

He knew he couldn’t force Eddie to do it, no matter how desperately he wanted to. The truth gnawed at him: a part of Steve didn’t just want Eddie to feel better; he wanted to be the one who made Eddie feel better. And wasn’t that a messed-up thing to feel?

“Please, man. You’re dying. I can see it, and you can’t go on like this much longer.”

The look of utter defeat was painful enough, but it was the resignation in Eddie’s eyes that twisted the knife deeper into Steve’s heart.

“I’m already dead, Steve,” Eddie said quietly. “I died that night, and I shouldn’t have come back. Not like this. I don’t want to live as a monster. If I don’t feed, maybe I can at least die as a human.”

His words were calm, as though Eddie had made peace with his fate, but the sadness lurking behind them hit Steve like a truck.

It made him furious.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re seriously gonna sit there, look me in the eye, and tell me it’d be better if you were dead?” Steve’s voice shook with raw emotion. “Newsflash, asshole—if you die, it would destroy the kids. Dustin worships your scrawny ass. Mike tries to grow his hair like yours. Max would play D&D just to have you DM the game. And it’s not just them. Nancy. Robin. Me. Did you ever think about that? We need you, Eddie. So don’t you dare say it’d be better if you died, because it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t!”

His chest heaved with the effort of getting the words out, his anger mingling with desperation. But as the weight of his outburst settled, Steve felt something shift—like a festering wound finally being drained. It left him raw, but somehow… cleaner.

For a second, he thought it had worked. Eddie moved toward him slowly, his hand outstretched. Steve noticed the darkened tips of Eddie’s fingers, the sharpness of his nails, more menacing than they’d been just hours ago. But Steve didn’t flinch. He stayed exactly where he was, letting Eddie come closer.

Eddie didn’t bite him. Instead, his fingertips grazed Steve’s cheek, soft as a summer breeze. “You’re crying?” Eddie’s voice was a disbelieving whisper, like he couldn’t fathom that the thought of losing him could bring Steve to tears.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” Steve whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. He didn’t care if Eddie could see everything he was feeling now—all the love and fear, laid bare for him to witness. If it meant Eddie would accept his help, if it meant Eddie would stay, then Steve would give him everything.

“You really mean it.” The wonder in Eddie’s voice made Steve smile, because it was so unmistakably Eddie.

“For someone so smart, you can be incredibly thick. Yes, I mean it. Now would you please get over yourself and bite me already? Jeez.”

Eddie’s startled laugh told Steve he’d said the right thing. “You do know I repeated senior year three times, right?”

“Yeah, and we both know that had nothing to do with you being dumb, dumbass.”

They both grinned at each other, the kind of goofy smiles that made Steve’s chest feel light. In that moment, all Steve wanted was to lean in and kiss Eddie—just close the gap and see what it felt like to finally do it.

But before he could act on that impulse, Eddie’s face suddenly twisted in pain.

“Eddie? Are you okay? What’s happening?” Steve’s voice rose with the anxiety building in his chest.

Through clenched teeth, Eddie managed, “I’m so hungry and you—” He stopped, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You what? Come on, man, I thought we were having a moment here. Talk to me!”

Eddie groaned, clearly struggling, and finally blurted out, “You smell so fucking good, okay? Happy now? You smell good enough to eat and it hurts.”

The weight of Eddie’s words hung in the small space between them, thick with tension. Steve had been through enough—beaten, tortured, fighting interdimensional monsters while babysitting a pack of troublemakers. He’d earned something good in his life, damn it. And if that “something good” was Eddie Munson biting him and drinking his blood to stay alive, then so be it. Steve Harrington would take it.

"Almost," Steve growled, his patience finally snapping. He framed Eddie’s face with his hands, pulling him forward into a kiss that had been months in the making. And Eddie went willingly—no, eagerly—letting Steve lick into his mouth with a muffled, desperate moan.

Without breaking the kiss, Steve leaned back, pulling Eddie with him into the back seat. Eddie followed without hesitation, lips still fused to Steve’s as if they couldn’t bear to part. Maybe it was Eddie’s newfound abilities, or maybe the kiss had awakened some hidden grace, but somehow, Eddie managed to climb into the back with him without so much as a stumble.

The heat between them was electric like a thunderstorm, a shiver of pure need running through Steve’s body.

As they sank onto the cool leather, Eddie’s weight pressed down on him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, something settled in Steve’s chest too—a deep sense of peace. He had craved this closeness for so long, the feeling of Eddie with him, on him.

“Eddie,” Steve moaned, finally pulling back to gasp for air. The moment their lips parted, though, he felt Eddie tense above him, realization dawning in his eyes. The danger of being so close to Steve, so close to his pulse, his heart pounding from desire, the blood rushing beneath his skin—it obviously hit Eddie like a freight train.

Steve knew if he didn’t act fast, Eddie would pull away, put distance between them when all Steve wanted was to be even closer. So he took the leap, pushing Eddie’s face toward his neck just as he wedged his thigh between Eddie’s legs.

“Please, baby,” Steve breathed, voice low and thick with want. “I need you to bite me. I want it. I want you.”

He didn’t care that he was begging—he only cared that Eddie wouldn’t leave him.

“Steve—” Eddie’s voice was strained, pained, and Steve felt the sharp graze of a fang against the sensitive skin of his neck.

Steve didn’t give him time to second-guess. He pressed his thigh upward, right against the growing bulge in Eddie’s jeans, and the movement knocked Eddie off balance. He fell forward, right into Steve’s arms, and Steve held him tight, refusing to let him pull away.

“I know you want to, so do it,” Steve urged, breath coming in shallow bursts. When Eddie still hesitated, Steve rocked his hips up and clawed at Eddie’s back, desperation leaking into his voice. “Do it!”

And then, finally—Eddie gave in. With a groan that was half-pain, half-relief, he sank his teeth into Steve’s neck.

It hurt.

But the pain wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst was the sucking—the sensation of blood being drawn from his veins. It felt foreign, unnatural, mixing with the burning throb of the open wound on his neck. The combination made his head spin, disorienting him in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

Yet somehow, despite—or maybe because of—the intensity of those sensations, Steve was painfully hard. His cock strained against his Levi’s, which already felt tight on a normal day. Now, they were almost unbearable, constricting, and he half-wondered if they’d cut off circulation to his legs soon.

It was confusing, how his body reacted to Eddie feeding on him, but what really sent shivers down his spine were the sounds Eddie was making. Quiet, needy moans muffled by Steve’s neck, soft hums of pleasure that Eddie probably wasn’t even aware of. And it wasn’t just that—Steve could feel Eddie mindlessly rutting against his thigh, the thick, hard length of him pressing into Steve like a promise.

Steve had never been this close to another guy’s hard-on before. The closest he’d come was watching Tommy H. jerk off beside him in his bedroom during a sleepover, Tommy’s eyes dark with something that had made Steve’s skin prickle. But this? This was so much better. It wasn’t just real—it was Eddie. And Steve had been halfway in love with him ever since that day when Eddie talked about Dustin, about how much the kid worshiped him, and how maybe Steve wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

The cramped space of the car was filled with the sound of their ragged breaths and soft moans, but they weren’t just Eddie’s anymore. Steve’s own sounds were growing louder by the second, the initial sting of pain transforming into a heady mix of heat and need. Each pull on his neck sent a pulse of pleasure straight down to his groin, making his cock twitch against the too-tight denim.

He had never felt anything like this before—this blend of pain and pleasure, of intimacy and raw need. And all he could think was how right it felt. How right Eddie felt.

Steve felt like he was drifting in a dream, the world around him soft and hazy, time slipping through his fingers like sand. He couldn’t tell how long it had been since Eddie’s teeth first pierced his skin—seconds, minutes, hours? Maybe even days. It was impossible to say, lost as he was in the slow, heated grind of their bodies. The friction between them pushed him higher and higher, though he wasn’t sure if it was the pleasure or the blood loss that had his head spinning. A distant part of his mind registered alarm at how weightless he felt, how far away everything seemed.

But Steve felt so good. Safe, even, wrapped in the arms of one of the most dangerous creatures he’d ever encountered.

It was Eddie who finally pulled back with a wet, slurping sound, his mouth leaving Steve’s neck as he gasped for breath. “Steve? Shit, Steve, come on, man, look at me.” Eddie’s cool hand cupped Steve’s cheek, shaking him gently, his fingers trembling as he turned Steve’s face to meet his gaze. When their eyes finally locked, Steve was relieved to see that the red had vanished entirely from Eddie’s eyes, replaced by the familiar warm brown that he had come to love.

“’ddie?” Steve slurred, his voice sounding weak, even to his own ears. He caught the worried look on Eddie’s face, the way his brows knit together and his lips pressed into a tight line, stained with drops of blood. My blood, Steve thought vaguely. Somehow, the idea didn’t bother him. Summoning the last bit of strength he had, Steve smiled and placed his hand over Eddie’s, still resting on his cheek. “’m fine. Promise.”

“You don’t look fine, Steve,” Eddie shot back, panic edging his voice. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Goddammit, why didn’t you stop me? Shit, I could’ve killed you.”

Eddie’s voice cracked with guilt, his words thick with fear and desperation. He sounded wrecked, not in the way the still-persistent throbbing in Steve’s groin suggested they both should be, but wrecked with the weight of what had just happened. But Steve didn’t care about that. He didn’t care that he was dizzy, or that his body felt light as a feather. What mattered was making Eddie understand that Steve wanted this. He wanted everything Eddie could give him—his hunger, his desire, his love. And in return, he wanted Eddie to take everything from him — his blood, his heart, hell, even his life. It was all Eddie’s for the taking.

A gasp slipped from Eddie’s lips, sharp and incredulous. “Eddie…” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper, his gaze soft and unwavering as he stared into Eddie’s wide, unblinking eyes.

“You don’t mean that,” Eddie whispered, his voice thick with disbelief.

Steve blinked, suddenly realizing he must have said it all out loud. Oops.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? So far, Steve’s gut instincts had always guided him right, more or less. He was still alive, wasn’t he? That was good enough in his book even if the Robin in his head was rolling her eyes at him.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I know you don’t believe me, but I do. I want you. All of you—the good, the bad, the ugly.” Steve’s lips curled into a smirk, mischief lighting his eyes. “And if you haven’t noticed…” He rolled his hips deliberately, making sure Eddie could feel just how much he wanted him. “I was really enjoying myself.” To drive his point home, he shifted his thigh, pressing it against the unmistakable evidence of Eddie’s arousal. Above him, Eddie’s face contorted in pleasure, a low moan rumbling from deep in his chest.

Gotcha, Steve thought with a smug little grin.

“And I think you liked it, too,” Steve continued, his voice dipping lower. “So why don’t you stop worrying and get us both off, huh? I’m not sure I can right now, so it’s the least you could do to make it up to me, don’t you think?”

It was a bold move, pretending to be nonchalant when, in reality, Steve felt like he was hanging on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if Eddie would catch him or let him fall. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still as he watched Eddie’s face—those deep, whiskey-brown eyes wide with surprise, disbelief, and something else that made Steve’s pulse race even faster.

Then, something happened that Steve did not see coming at all.

Eddie laughed.

Not just a chuckle, either, but a real, belly-deep laugh that shook his entire body. The anxiety that had been etched into his features for so long, the haunted look he’d worn since coming back from the dead, finally melted away. In its place, there was warmth, the corners of his eyes crinkling as laughter spilled from his lips, dimples flashing in a way that made Steve’s heart clench.

Eddie was so beautiful.

Eddie’s laughter faded, the echo of it lingering in the close confines of the car like the remnants of a shared secret. His gaze softened, the humor in his eyes shifting into something far more tender, far more vulnerable. “You’re unbelievable, Harrington,” he said, shaking his head, but this time his voice was filled with awe rather than disbelief. “Here you are, barely hanging on, and somehow you’re still making me feel flustered. What kind of guy are you?”

His fingers, cool but delicate, ghosted over Steve’s cheek, the sharpness of his nails a reminder of the monster Eddie thought he was. But the touch? That was all Eddie—the boy Steve had been falling for piece by piece. “You really want me to believe you’re okay with this? With me? After what I just did to you?”

Eddie’s voice wavered, his uncertainty spilling out despite the bravado. “You’re either the bravest or the dumbest guy I’ve ever met. Maybe both.”

Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, one that matched Eddie’s in its softness, despite the tension hanging between them. “I don’t hear you telling me I’m wrong, man. We’ve been talking about me—what I want. But what about you?” He paused, his voice gentle but probing. “What do you want, Eddie?”

Eddie’s reply came without hesitation. “You.”

Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest while the butterflies in his stomach went wild. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Then have me.”

Blessedly, this time, Eddie didn’t argue. He didn’t hesitate or question whether he deserved this—deserved Steve. He just did what Steve asked.

Pushing himself up on one arm, Eddie moved his other hand from Steve’s cheek, letting it trail down to palm him through his jeans. The earlier intensity had faded slightly during their conversation, but the moment Eddie’s hand found him, it was like lighting a match to gasoline. Heat surged through Steve, reigniting everything Eddie had stirred up.

Eddie's grin widened, his sharp teeth gleaming as he looked down at Steve, the dangerous undertone of it a sharp contrast to the mischievous, boyish excitement that always pushed Steve to keep up with his contagious energy. “I knew you’d be packing, big boy,” Eddie teased, his voice full of admiration and humor. “And all this for lil’ old me?” His fingers squeezed experimentally before running along the length of him, feeling the way Steve’s body responded, hardening further under his touch.

Steve, still a little lightheaded from the blood loss—made worse now that more of his blood seemed to be rushing south—blinked up at Eddie, his thoughts scrambled. All he could do was press his hips up, seeking more friction, his body moving on instinct even if his brain was lagging behind.

His hips began to grind against Eddie’s hand, slowly at first, trying to find a rhythm as Eddie held back, teasing, not giving him the relief he craved. Words failed him, but his body knew exactly what it wanted, each roll of his hips desperate and pleading.

“Didn’t anyone ever—fuck—tell you not to play with your food?” Steve groaned, hips stuttering as Eddie’s touch continued its slow, maddening exploration. It was risky bringing up the fact Eddie had just fed from him, but the elephant in the room wasn’t going anywhere, so why not address it now, while they were both caught up in the heat of the moment?

Eddie paused for just a moment, his eyes searching Steve’s with an unreadable expression. Then, he laughed softly, the sound low and rough, sending a shiver through Steve's entire body. "Oh, sweetheart," Eddie murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing against Steve’s ear. "You have no idea how much I want to devour you."

Before Steve could even process Eddie’s words, Eddie shifted, settling between his thighs. The new position aligned their hard cocks perfectly, and they both gasped at the intense sensation. Eddie leaned down, nosing along Steve’s jaw until his breath ghosted over Steve’s ear. “Thank you, Stevie,” he whispered.

Eddie's hips rolled slowly, expressing his gratitude with each movement, though Steve wasn’t sure what Eddie was thanking him for. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the electric friction between them, the delicious drag of flesh against flesh. The weight of Eddie’s body should have made Steve feel trapped, but instead, it just amplified his need, igniting something primal within him. He was prey—and he loved it.

That thought made him cling even tighter, his legs wrapping around Eddie's waist to increase the friction. Eddie’s pace quickened, hips thrusting with more purpose, slow but insistent, like they were making love for real. Like Eddie was buried deep inside him. And suddenly, that’s all Steve wanted—Eddie inside him, closer, always closer. His teeth in Steve’s neck, his cock in his body. He needed to feel everything.

Steve’s fingers dug into Eddie’s back, nails scratching against the thin fabric of his shirt in a desperate attempt to mark him, to claim him the way Eddie had claimed Steve with his bite. Eddie didn’t complain—if anything, the scratches seemed to spur him on. His breath hitched, and he let out a string of grunts and moans, the sounds vibrating against Steve’s skin as Eddie whispered praises into his ear. He called Steve brave, kind, selfless, and so, so pretty.

Steve had experienced some incredible sex in his life, but nothing compared to this—dry-humping Eddie Munson in the backseat of his car, bodies pressed together, breathless, and needy.

A familiar tightness coiled in his groin, his whole body tensing as he teetered on the edge of release. But something was missing.

“Bite me,” Steve begged, his voice high and needy, almost desperate.

Eddie whimpered, his hips stuttering for just a moment. “Steve—”

Not willing to let Eddie pull away, Steve’s hand gripped his ass, urging him to keep moving, while his other hand pressed against Eddie’s neck, guiding him closer to his own neck. “I’m close, baby, so close. Please.”

As Eddie's teeth sank into his flesh once more, Steve's vision blurred, the rush of pleasure and pain so overwhelming it felt like his soul had left his body for a moment. He must’ve floated away for a bit, because when he came back to himself, he was no longer beneath Eddie but lying on top of him, his head resting on Eddie’s chest, while Eddie’s fingers gently combed through his hair in a soothing rhythm.

Steve must’ve made a sound, or maybe Eddie was attuned to the change in his breathing, because Eddie noticed right away.

“Hey, sweetheart, back with me?” Eddie’s voice was soft, warm, filled with affection.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, feeling content and utterly spent. His limbs felt like they weighed a ton, his body heavy but blissfully sated. “Don’t wanna move.”

“Never?” Eddie chuckled, his laughter light and fond, and Steve could feel himself falling even deeper into this perfect moment, cocooned in the warmth of post-orgasmic bliss.

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, his stomach growled loudly, breaking the quiet. Eddie snorted. “I think we have to move, darling. That sounded like a demogorgon.”

Steve groaned in protest, causing Eddie to give in with a soft smile. “Okay, fine. A few more minutes, but then we’ll get you something to eat and drink.” His hand drifted to Steve’s neck, thumb gently brushing over the already healing bite. “This took a lot out of you. Let me take care of you, okay? Like you did for me.”

Steve snuggled closer, the idea of being cared for by Eddie sounding better than anything. “Okay,” he mumbled.

Eddie pressed a lingering kiss to the top of his head, his voice barely a whisper. “Thank you, Stevie.”

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Toto's obsession p.3

Hey guyss, I hope you enjoy this part and if you've missed part 2 here it is :)

You stood frozen for a moment as George stormed off, the weight of his words sinking in. Your heart ached, torn between the love for your brother and the complex feelings you had for Toto. The sting of George’s accusations—his belief that you were being manipulated—made you question everything, even if just for a brief moment. But you couldn’t believe that about Toto. You knew he cared about you. Didn’t he?

Wiping away the tears that had gathered in the corners of your eyes, you took a deep breath and turned back to Toto’s office. As you walked, your mind was swirling with confusion and worry. You were worried for George, for the way he’d reacted, and for how this would affect everything—his career, their relationship. And, despite George’s anger, you were also worried about Toto. He’d been hit, and the tension between him and your brother felt like it could boil over at any moment.

When you stepped back into the office, Toto was still sitting at his desk, the same calm, composed demeanor on his face, though his eyes softened when they landed on you. He stood up slowly, his hand reaching out for you as you approached him, his expression unreadable but controlled.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice steady as he pulled you into his arms. You leaned into him, grateful for the comfort, though your heart still felt heavy with everything that had just happened. His hands rubbed gentle circles on your back, calming you in a way only he seemed capable of. “Come here, love.”

“I tried to talk to him,” you whispered, your voice small against his chest. “But he’s so angry, Toto. He thinks… he thinks you’re manipulating me. That you’re using me.” Your words trembled, the doubt creeping in despite yourself.

Toto’s grip tightened around you, and he sighed softly, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “I knew this would happen,” he said, his voice calm and controlled. “George is protective of you. He doesn’t understand yet. He’s young, impulsive. This is a lot for him to take in.”

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your brows furrowed with worry. “Do you think he’ll ever forgive me? He sounded so… hurt.”

Toto cupped your face, his thumb gently brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had escaped. “He’ll come around, sweetheart. Give him time,” he said softly, his gaze tender as he looked down at you. “He’s your brother. He loves you, even if he doesn’t understand this right now.”

You nodded, trying to believe his words, but there was still a part of you that couldn’t shake the tension between them. “But what about you?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. “He hit you, and I’m scared he’ll never accept us.”

Toto smiled softly, his hand slipping from your cheek to your waist, pulling you closer again. “I can handle George. This was bound to happen eventually. But for now…” He paused, his gaze darkening with that familiar possessiveness that always made your heart skip a beat. “For now, you’re here. With me. Let’s not worry about him.”

You swallowed, nodding again, but there was still a knot of worry in your chest. You cared about both of them, and the thought of them at odds because of you felt unbearable.

Toto tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You don’t need to worry about me or George right now,” he murmured. “Stay with me, Y/N. Let me take care of you.”

His words were soothing, wrapping you in the security that only he could provide. You trusted him—despite everything, despite George’s accusations. Toto had been there for you in ways no one else had. He made you feel safe, cherished. And now, more than ever, you wanted to believe that what you had with him was real.

From Toto’s perspective, however, the moment played out with a sense of satisfaction. He had anticipated George’s reaction the moment he decided to pursue you, but this confrontation—it was necessary. George’s fury, his punch, his outburst—all of it had only confirmed what Toto already knew: George would react emotionally, without thinking strategically.

And now, with George out of the way, even if only temporarily, Toto had you exactly where he wanted. His grip tightened subtly around your waist as he held you close. He looked down at you, your innocent eyes filled with concern, your worry for both him and your brother touching—but misplaced. You didn’t see the full picture. You couldn’t. And that was exactly how Toto wanted it.

He had known from the moment he met you that he couldn’t let you slip through his fingers. The sweetness in your smile, the soft way you spoke, the innocence you carried—he had seen it all and recognized the rare treasure that you were. And now, George’s anger had only solidified his resolve.

This was his chance to keep you to himself, away from prying eyes, from your brother’s influence. George didn’t understand yet, but he would. Or, at least, he would learn to stay out of the way. Toto’s lips curled into a faint smile as he kissed the top of your head, his hold on you both protective and possessive.

“Stay with me,” he repeated softly, his voice carrying a subtle command. “You don’t need to go anywhere else.”

You looked up at him, trusting, innocent to the depth of his obsession. “Okay,” you whispered, leaning into his embrace, allowing him to envelop you fully.

In this moment, you felt safe with Toto, comforted by his presence, while completely unaware of the lengths he was willing to go to keep you by his side.

Toto smiled again, a quiet victory settling in his chest. George might have had his outburst, but the outcome was inevitable. You were his now, and nothing—no one—would come between you. Not even your brother.

[wannabehockeygf]

I know it won’t work - Quinn Hughes

“And part of me wants to walk away ‘til you really listen,

I hate to look at your face and know that we’re feeling different,

‘Cause part of me wants you back but,

I know it won’t work like that?”

part 3, quinn hughes // gracie abrams fic trilogy

part 1 part 2

summary: back at home, you both feel different.

word count: 6.2k pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader warnings: cheating, characters in depressive states of mind. pls take care loves <3 notes: - it's finally here! - before anyone asks, i am not doing a part 4. i ended it this way on purpose! - check out my other work i recommend if you liked this, and i'm always open for requests! - is it clever that i did the whole "talking to a stranger on a train" thing again??? someone pls say yes - not really proofread!

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of music playing in the background. You stood at the stove, stirring the pasta sauce, your focus on the way it bubbled gently. A warm smile tugged at your lips as you felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Smells amazing,” Quinn murmured into your hair, his voice low and content. He rested his chin on your shoulder, swaying slightly with you, his chest pressed against your back in a way that made you feel safe—like nothing could touch the two of you when you were like this.

You laughed, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “You’re just saying that because you’re starving.”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted with a chuckle, “But I mean it. You know I’m not great in the kitchen, so this is like… magic to me.” He squeezed you gently, his hands warm on your stomach, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, perfectly in sync with your own.

The apartment was quiet, the kind of peaceful that only seemed to happen when it was just the two of you. It wasn’t much—just a small, humble place, with mismatched furniture and a creaky floor that always groaned when Quinn walked over it. But in moments like this, it felt perfect. The soft, yellow light from the kitchen cast a gentle glow over the room, making everything feel cozy, like you were wrapped in a blanket made of love and laughter.

“I could get used to this,” Quinn said softly, his voice full of warmth. He kissed the side of your neck, and you leaned into the touch, feeling the happiness bubble up inside you like the sauce on the stove. “Coming home to you, having dinner together. It feels right.”

You turned in his arms, your heart swelling at the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. His blue eyes were soft, filled with a quiet adoration that made your chest ache in the best way. You reached up, cupping his face, your thumb brushing against the stubble on his jaw.

“You’re pretty easy to cook for,” you teased, grinning up at him.

His lips twitched into a smile, and he leaned down to kiss you—soft and sweet, like he was savoring the moment as much as you were. It was perfect. He was perfect. And for a second, you let yourself believe that this moment would last forever, that the warmth of his embrace and the tenderness of his kisses would never fade.

But then, suddenly, the room around you seemed to dissolve, the warmth of Quinn’s arms slipping away like sand through your fingers. The comforting hum of the apartment vanished, replaced by the cold, hollow sound of your own breathing.

You woke up.

The bed was empty.

Quinn was gone.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the dream faded, the sweet memory of that night together dissolving into the harsh reality that had been haunting you ever since you found out. Your fingers trembled as they gripped the sheets, the lingering warmth of his embrace still fresh in your mind, but now it felt like a lie—like everything you had built together had been a lie.

He cheated. He cheated on you, and no amount of sweet memories or perfect nights could take that away.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing with the weight of everything that had happened. The night before, the way he’d held you at the station, the way his voice had cracked when he said he missed you—it all felt tainted now, like there was an invisible stain on every memory you had with him.

How could he do this? How could he say he loved you and then turn around and betray you like that?

You closed your eyes, the tears slipping down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. Your chest ached, the pain sharp and unrelenting, as if your heart was being squeezed by invisible hands. The trust you had in him—the bond that had felt so strong—was shattered, scattered like pieces of glass that you didn’t know how to pick up.

The room felt cold, suffocating. You could still smell his cologne faintly on the pillow beside you, and it made your stomach twist with a nauseating mix of love and anger. You hated how much you missed him, how even now, after everything, your heart still ached for him.

How had it come to this?

With a shaky breath, you sat up, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. Your chest felt tight, the weight of Quinn’s betrayal pressing down on you like a stone. Every part of you wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something—anything—to make the pain go away. But instead, you just sat there, staring blankly ahead, the silence of the room wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket.

The dream had felt so real—so perfect. You could still feel the ghost of his arms around you, the warmth of his breath on your neck. But now, all that was left was the cold, hard truth.

And no dream, no memory, could change that.

He had destroyed what you had, shattered the trust you had placed in him. And no matter how much you wanted to believe that things could still be okay, deep down, you knew they never would be. You knew it didn’t work like that.

You were awake now. And the dream… it was over.

The chill of the room seemed to seep into your very bones as you reached for your phone, the screen lighting up with the time: 5:48 AM. You hadn’t been getting much sleep these past couple weeks, so you were at least glad you got an amount–but what really stuck at you were the notifications. A few from Instagram, a text from your sister, but then… a missed call. A missed call from the United States, four hours ago. They hadn’t left a voicemail, so when you clicked on your call logs to take a better look, the name read ‘Maybe: Jack Hughes.’

What the hell was Quinn’s brother doing calling you?

It had been two weeks since Quinn dropped the bomb on you, which was when you didn’t give him any more of your time and flew back home. You hadn’t cried, not really, not until you landed in Richmond and asked your mom to pick you up for the first time since you were eighteen. And although the tears flowed, you couldn’t help but feel some nagging remorse when you saw the Canucks surrender to the Bruins in five. You didn’t care though–at least you didn’t want to.

But Jack? Why did he call you at one in the morning? Scratch that, four in the morning for him. Was he trying to get you to try to forgive his brother? Was Quinn seriously that desperate? You stared at your phone, his name mocking you.

Your finger hovered over the call button, hesitating. You didn’t know Jack that well—barely at all, really. Quinn had introduced you once, in passing, during one of those family gatherings where you tried to fit in with the chaotic but tight-knit Hughes clan. Jack had been polite, maybe a little cocky, but there hadn’t been much more to it. He was Quinn’s younger brother, and that had been enough. Now, though… now everything was different.

You took a deep breath, your thumb brushing over the edge of the phone. Why would he be calling you in the middle of the night? Was this some misguided attempt to fix things for Quinn? Your stomach twisted at the thought. The last thing you needed was another reminder of everything Quinn had shattered. But curiosity gnawed at you, pulling you toward the unknown, making you wonder if Jack’s call had been more than just a plea for his brother.

Before you could overthink it, you hit the call button.

The phone rang, and your heart pounded louder with each passing second. What if he didn’t pick up? What if this was a mistake? What if—

“Hello?” Jack’s voice, groggy and confused, came through the line, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Jack… hey, it’s me.” Your voice sounded small, like you weren’t sure of yourself anymore.

There was a pause, and you could practically hear him sitting up, becoming more alert. “Oh… hey. I didn’t think you’d call back.” His tone softened, the usual bravado gone, replaced with something quieter. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to wake you earlier. I just… I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

That caught you off guard. You sat up straighter, feeling the weight of his words settle in. He didn’t sound like someone trying to defend his brother. He sounded… lost. You hadn’t expected that.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I saw your call when I woke up. What’s going on?”

There was a long, heavy pause. You could hear the faint sound of him shifting around, maybe running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, like he was struggling with what to say. “I, uh… I know this is probably weird. I mean, we don’t really know each other that well, but…” He trailed off, the weight of the silence almost unbearable.

You waited, your pulse quickening as you wondered where this was going. The city outside was slowly waking up, cars starting to hum along the street, but inside your apartment, everything felt still, suspended in this strange limbo between you and Jack.

“I’m sorry,” Jack finally said, his voice breaking the tension. “For everything Quinn did. I know I’m not the one who should be apologizing, but… God, I feel like I need to. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you blinked, taken aback by the raw sincerity in his voice. You hadn’t expected this. Not from Jack.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you murmured, your chest tightening with a confusing mix of emotions. Anger, hurt, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

Jack let out a shaky breath. “I don’t expect you to say anything. I just wanted you to know that… I get it. I’ve been watching Quinn these last few weeks, and… he’s a mess. Not that it makes anything better, but he hates himself for what he did. And I hate him for it too, because… because you deserved better.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. The sincerity in Jack’s voice tugged at something deep inside you, but it didn’t ease the ache in your chest. “It doesn’t change anything, Jack,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I loved him. I trusted him, and he just… he threw it all away.”

“I know,” Jack replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know, and I wish I could fix it, but… I can’t. No one can.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. The weight of everything—of Quinn’s betrayal, of Jack’s unexpected apology—pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. The memory of your dream, of Quinn’s arms around you, the warmth of his presence, felt like a cruel joke now, a reminder of what you had lost. You wanted to scream, to cry, but all you could do was sit there, numb, as Jack’s words sank in.

“I don’t know why I called,” Jack said after a while, his voice quiet. “I guess… I just wanted to tell you that Quinn’s not okay. Not that it makes a difference, but… he really screwed up, and he knows it. I think he just… he didn’t know how to handle things, and he panicked.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet of your apartment. “That’s an understatement.”

Jack sighed, and you could hear the frustration in his voice. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence felt different now, less tense but still heavy with unspoken words. You leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling, your mind racing. Jack was the last person you had expected to hear from, and yet here he was, apologizing for something that wasn’t even his fault.

“I appreciate you calling,” you said softly, the words surprising even you. “I didn’t expect it, but… thank you.”

Jack let out a breath, the sound relieved. “Yeah, of course. I just… I didn’t want you to think that no one cared. Because I do. We do, at least me and Luke.”

The sincerity in his voice stirred something inside you, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, you didn’t feel so alone. You didn’t know what would come next, or if this conversation would change anything, but in that moment, it felt like a small sliver of light breaking through the darkness.

“I’m not ready to forgive him,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Jack.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Jack replied, his voice gentle. “But if you ever need someone to talk to… I’m here.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of everything finally settling on your chest. “Thanks, Jack.”

As the call ended, you sat there for a moment, staring at your phone, the words you’d exchanged still hanging in the air. You didn’t know what would happen next, but at least now… now you didn’t feel quite so lost.

Quinn did, though. 

As Quinn lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept. His mind had become a storm of regret, guilt, and shame, swirling so violently that closing his eyes only made it worse. The silence of his empty apartment felt oppressive, pressing down on his chest, making it harder to breathe.

He had never thought it would get this bad—had never imagined he’d be the kind of person to ruin the one good thing in his life. But he had. He’d destroyed it all, and now he was left with the wreckage.

Turning over in the sheets, Quinn let out a long, shaky breath. The memory of your face the last time he saw you kept replaying in his mind. The way your eyes had welled with hurt, the way your lips had trembled as you fought to keep it together. It haunted him. He had expected you to scream, to yell, to throw things—anything but that quiet, broken disappointment that cut deeper than any words could have.

He had been a coward.

Quinn scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the stubble that had started to form along his jaw–a five-o-clock shadow, pushing six. He hadn’t bothered shaving. What was the point? He could barely look at himself in the mirror.

The worst part—the part that made his stomach twist with nausea—was knowing that no apology, no amount of regret could fix this. You had trusted him, and he had shattered that trust, not with one impulsive mistake but with a series of decisions he could never take back. And for what? Some fleeting moment of confusion, some stupid impulse he hadn’t even understood at the time.

He groaned and sat up, unable to bear the suffocating weight of his thoughts any longer. The clock on his bedside table blinked back at him. Too early, too late—time had lost meaning. All he knew was that he needed to move, to escape the prison of his mind, if only for a little while.

Without thinking, Quinn swung his legs out of bed and grabbed the first pair of running shoes he could find. The cold air hit him like a slap when he stepped outside, but he welcomed it. Anything to clear his head.

The streets were empty, the city still sleeping, save for the occasional car passing by. Quinn set off at a slow jog, his breath coming out in exasperated puffs. He focused on the rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement, the steady thump of his heart in his chest. For a moment, it felt like the weight lifted—like the physical strain could drown out the emotional turmoil. But as the minutes passed, his thoughts returned, each step bringing him closer to the memories he was trying to outrun.

He had never been the best with words. Expressing how he felt was something that had always tripped him up. But with you, it had always been different. You had a way of pulling things out of him, making him feel safe, seen. And yet, he had thrown that away, too caught up in his own fear and insecurities to see what was right in front of him.

The rhythmic pounding of his feet became erratic as his mind spiraled. He pushed himself harder, faster, as if he could outrun the shame, the self-hatred that gnawed at him.

“Idiot,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement. He didn’t care if anyone heard. The streets were still deserted, just him and his regrets.

He had no idea what Jack had said to you—whether his brother had tried to make excuses for him, to smooth things over. Quinn didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve to be let off the hook. And God, he didn’t want you to think for a second that any of this had been your fault.

But the damage was done. He had messed up in ways he could never take back, and now… now he was alone with nothing but the echo of your absence.

Quinn’s hands clenched into fists, the cool air biting at his skin. He couldn’t stand himself right now. The weight of everything was suffocating. He had never wanted to be that guy—the one who hurt someone they loved. But here he was.

He glanced up at the sky, dark and endless, a sharp contrast to the chaos inside him. For a fleeting moment, he wished he could go back, that he could rewind time to before everything fell apart. But there was no going back. There was only the aftermath.

And you were gone.

Quinn swallowed hard, his chest tightening as the reality of it all settled in. He wasn’t sure what hurt more—knowing he had lost you or knowing that he was the reason why. He bent down, hands on his knees, the steady thump of his pulse in his ears as he tried to ground himself. But no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't outrun the one thing that haunted him the most: your absence. It clung to him, an ever-present ghost reminding him of every mistake he'd made.

Straightening up, Quinn glanced around. The world felt so distant, like it was moving without him. The city was slowly waking up, the quiet hum of early-morning traffic starting to build. He hadn’t realized how far he'd run, his legs carrying him on autopilot. His apartment felt like another world entirely, but the thought of returning to it—to that suffocating silence—made his stomach turn.

He exhaled, his breath shaky as he scanned the empty street. In the distance, the soft rumble of the skytrain reached his ears. Maybe that was what he needed. To just… drift for a while. Let the city move him, take him anywhere but back to the memories that gnawed at his insides.

Without thinking, Quinn jogged toward the nearest station, a beacon of escape. As he approached, he tapped his card and climbed the stairs, the rhythmic hum of the escalator filling his ears. He kept his head down, avoiding the curious glances of the few commuters on the platform. He didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to be recognized. He wanted to be invisible, just another lost soul in the early morning haze.

The train arrived with a low hiss, the doors sliding open. Quinn stepped inside, his footsteps echoing in the near-empty car. He slid into a seat by the window, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. The city outside blurred as the train began to move, and for a moment, the steady rhythm of the rails beneath him offered a strange sense of comfort.

Quinn closed his eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on him once again. He could still see your face, the way you’d looked at him that last time—like he had shattered something precious. And he had. He had taken the one good thing in his life and broken it beyond repair.

The train rumbled on, passing through station after station, the sun beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the city. Quinn didn’t move. He didn’t know where he was going, but he didn’t care. As long as he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to face the reality of what he’d done.

The memory of Jack’s words from their last conversation drifted back to him, unbidden. You’re a mess, man. You need to fix this before it’s too late.

Too late. That phrase had been circling in his mind for weeks now. He wondered if it had already been too late from the moment he’d made that first mistake. The thought gnawed at him, tightening the knots in his chest.

A quiet voice broke through his thoughts. “Hey, uh… are you Quinn Hughes?”

Quinn’s eyes snapped open, and he blinked, startled. A man, probably the same age as him, was standing a few seats away, looking at him with a mixture of excitement and hesitation.

“Yeah,” Quinn muttered, not in the mood for fan encounters. But he wasn’t rude enough to brush the guy off completely.

The man smiled, but it was more subdued than Quinn had expected. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. Just… I recognized you, and I’m a big fan.”

Quinn nodded, feeling the weight of his own misery creeping back in. He wasn’t used to people seeing him like this—disheveled, lost, broken. The Quinn Hughes fans admired was confident, composed, in control. Not… whatever this was.

The man hesitated, glancing at the empty seat across from Quinn. “Mind if I sit?”

Quinn shrugged. “Sure.”

As the guy sat down, there was an awkward silence, the train’s steady hum filling the space between them. Quinn stared out the window, watching the city blur past, but he could feel the man’s eyes on him.

“So, uh… you alright?” the guy asked, his voice soft.

Quinn stiffened, not expecting that. “What?”

“I don’t know,” the guy said with a shrug, leaning back in his seat. “You just… you don’t look okay. Sorry if that’s out of line.”

Quinn let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

The man didn’t push, which Quinn appreciated. Instead, he sat quietly, as if waiting for Quinn to say more if he wanted to. And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the loneliness that had been eating away at him, but Quinn found himself talking before he could stop.

“I screwed up,” he said, his voice low. “Really, really bad.”

The guy nodded, not looking surprised. “Relationships, right? They’re complicated as hell.”

Quinn shot him a look, narrowing his eyes slightly. “How’d you guess?”

“Lucky guess,” the guy said with a small smile. “Plus, I’ve been there. Maybe not exactly the same, but close enough.”

Quinn leaned back, staring at the ceiling of the train. “Doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

“No, it doesn’t,” the guy agreed, his tone more serious now. “But you know, people make mistakes. It’s part of being human. What matters is what you do after.”

Quinn let out a breath, his chest tight. “I don’t think it matters what I do now. I already lost her.”

The guy tilted his head, studying Quinn for a moment. “Do you love her?”

Quinn’s stomach twisted at the question. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then maybe it’s not too late,” the guy said quietly. “If she meant that much to you… maybe you owe it to both of you to try. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know you gave it everything you had.”

Quinn swallowed, his throat tight. It wasn’t that simple. Nothing about this was simple. But there was something in the guy’s words that struck a chord, something that made the weight on his chest feel a little lighter, if only for a moment.

The man smiled again, this time more brightly. “You got a picture of her?”

Quinn hesitated for a second, but before he knew it, his phone was in his hand. He scrolled through the gallery, his heart aching as he landed on a photo of the two of you, taken months ago. You were smiling, your arm around him, the sunlight casting a warm glow on your face. Quinn handed the phone over, the image making his chest tighten painfully.

The man glanced at it, nodding appreciatively. “She’s beautiful. You two look… happy.”

Quinn couldn’t hold back the bitter laugh. “We were.”

The guy handed the phone back, his expression softening. “Hey, for what it’s worth, I think you’ve still got a chance.”

Quinn sighed, pocketing the phone. “I don’t know, man. I really messed things up.”

The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a small notebook and pen. “Well, if you ever get things back on track… and even if you don’t… mind signing this? I’ll tell people I met you on a rough day, but you’re still one of the best players out there.”

Quinn blinked, the unexpected request catching him off guard. He took the pen and scribbled his name in the notebook, handing it back.

“Thanks,” the man said with a grin. “And good luck, Quinn. You’ll figure it out.”

As the man stood up to leave, Quinn watched him go, feeling a strange sense of gratitude settle over him. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed. Maybe there was still a sliver of light, buried somewhere in all the darkness.

The train rumbled on, and Quinn leaned his head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling again. He wasn’t sure what would happen next, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe… just maybe, he could find his way out of this mess.

It wasn’t much. But it was something. And he had to try, even if it made things worse.

Quinn’s heart pounded harder with every step as he approached your apartment building. His breath hitched as he stood outside the familiar entrance, his mind replaying every moment that had led him here. The conversations, the fights, the silence. And worst of all, the empty spaces in his life where you used to be.

For a moment, he hesitated, staring up at the building, the early morning light casting long shadows across the street. He could turn around. He could walk away, leave it all behind, and pretend like he hadn’t just spent the last hour convincing himself that this was the right thing to do.

But something inside him, something raw and desperate, wouldn’t let him.

With a shaky breath, Quinn crossed the threshold and made his way up the stairs. His legs felt heavy, the exhaustion from the run settling into his bones, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when he was this close.

Your door stood in front of him, an unassuming barrier between him and the possibility of fixing everything… or breaking it beyond repair.

His knuckles rapped against the wood, harder than he intended, the sound echoing in the hallway. Quinn’s chest tightened as he waited, the silence that followed feeling like an eternity. What if you didn’t answer? What if you weren’t home? Or worse—what if you were home, and you refused to see him?

His pulse quickened, panic starting to creep in, but he forced it down. He couldn’t think like that. Not now.

“Please,” he muttered under his breath, leaning his forehead against the door. “Please just let me explain.”

For a long, agonizing moment, nothing happened. Quinn squeezed his eyes shut, his heart sinking as the silence stretched on. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe Jack was right—he really was a mess.

But then, the sound of the door unlocking cut through the quiet, and Quinn’s breath hitched.

The door opened slowly, and there you were, standing in the doorway, your expression unreadable. Quinn’s heart stopped for a second, the sight of you making the air leave his lungs. You looked tired, your eyes puffy like you hadn’t slept, and Quinn’s chest ached with the realization that he had caused that.

You didn’t say anything. Just stared at him, waiting.

Quinn's heart felt like it was lodged in his throat as you stood in front of him,  your silence more suffocating than any words could have been. For a long, agonizing moment, neither of you moved. His breath came in shallow bursts, his chest constricting painfully as he struggled to find the right words—any words—that could undo the damage. But standing there, face to face with you, everything he had rehearsed in his mind vanished, like smoke in the wind.

He could see the hurt etched into the lines of your face, in the way your eyes didn’t shine the way they used to. There was a rawness there, a kind of vulnerability that made Quinn want to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. But he knew—he knew—that wouldn’t be enough.

“Hi,” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. It felt ridiculous, small. But it was all he could manage.

You didn’t respond right away. Your eyes searched his face, like you were looking for something—an answer, a reason, an explanation. Something that might make sense of the chaos he had caused. But whatever you were looking for, Quinn feared you wouldn’t find it in him.

“I…” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep talking. “I’m sorry. For everything. I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you. I… I just need you to hear me out.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe as if bracing yourself for whatever was about to come next. Your posture wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t welcoming either. Quinn felt the distance between you two like a chasm, one that he had dug with every mistake, every lie, every selfish decision.

“Quinn, I—” you started, but he cut you off, the desperation in his voice spilling over before he could stop it.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just… I need you to know that I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I—” His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists at his sides, trying to steady himself. “I can’t stop thinking about what I did. Every day, it’s like this hole inside me gets bigger, and I can’t fill it. I know it’s my fault. I know I ruined us. But I just—” He paused, his breath hitching. “I can’t let it end like this.”

The silence that followed was crushing. Quinn’s heart pounded in his ears as he waited, his pulse a steady, anxious thrum in his veins. He could feel his words hanging in the air between you, fragile and trembling, like they could shatter at any moment.

“I don’t know if you understand what you did, Quinn,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but every word cut through him like a blade. “It wasn’t just one mistake. It wasn’t just the cheating. It was everything that came with it—the lies, the way you acted like you were the only one hurting.”

Quinn flinched, the guilt gnawing at him again, the memories of those dark nights when he’d pushed you away, drowning in his own self-pity. He had been so caught up in his own spiral that he hadn’t realized he was dragging you down with him.

“I do understand,” he said, but his voice wavered, unsure. “At least, I’m starting to. I’ve been… I’ve been trying to figure out how I could do something so—”

“Cruel?” you interrupted, and your voice cracked, the first sign of emotion slipping through your stoic exterior. Your eyes glistened for a moment, but you blinked it away quickly. “You shattered me, Quinn. Do you even know what that felt like? To find out like that? To hear it after I came to fucking Boston for you?”

You lowered your gaze, your expression softening but not in the way Quinn had hoped. It wasn’t anger or even sadness—it was something worse. Resignation. A quiet acceptance that made Quinn’s chest tighten painfully.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I have it in me to keep getting hurt.”

Quinn’s stomach dropped. The words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he forced himself to nod, even though every fiber of his being wanted to protest. He knew this was coming—had known it for weeks, months even—but hearing it out loud made it real in a way that nothing else could.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I know, and I don’t blame you. I just… I thought maybe if I tried, if I showed you how much you mean to me, you’d—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. It was useless. He couldn’t make you stay. He couldn’t make you forgive him. And trying to push you would only make things worse.

Your eyes met his again, and there was a softness in them now, but it wasn’t hope. It was sorrow. “I loved you, Quinn. I really did.”

Quinn felt his heart shatter all over again, each word landing like a blow. He wanted to reach out, to touch you, to pull you close and tell you that it didn’t have to end like this. But he knew—he knew—there was nothing left to say. Nothing that could fix this. You were done, and he could feel it in the way you stood, like you were already halfway gone.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he said quietly, the admission spilling out of him like a confession. “Even if you never take me back. Even if I never see you again.”

You blinked, and for a second, Quinn thought he saw your resolve waver. But then you shook your head, the movement so small, so subtle, that it was almost imperceptible.

“I’m sorry, Quinn,” you whispered. “I just… I can’t go through this again.”

The finality in your words hit him like a brick, and Quinn felt the last shred of hope slip through his fingers, cold and unrelenting. He nodded slowly, his throat tight with the weight of everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. This was it. The end.

You glanced down at your feet, biting your lip before looking back up at him. “I hope… I hope you find peace. I really do.”

Quinn’s breath hitched in his chest, and he swallowed hard, his eyes stinging with the effort of holding back tears. He nodded again, unable to trust his voice.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, caught in the heavy silence of everything that was left unsaid. Quinn wanted to stay. He wanted to linger in your presence for as long as possible, even if it was just in this painful, heartbreaking moment. But he knew he had to let you go.

With a shaky breath, Quinn took a step back, his body feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds. He forced himself to turn around, each step away from you feeling like it was pulling him apart at the seams. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

As he reached the stairs, Quinn paused, glancing over his shoulder one last time. You were still standing there, watching him, your expression unreadable. He wanted to say something, anything that would make this less painful. But all that came out was a hoarse, broken whisper.

“Goodbye.”

And with that, Quinn turned and walked away, the cold morning air biting at his skin as he disappeared into the street. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

Outside, the city was waking up, the streets beginning to fill with people going about their lives, unaware of the devastation that had just unfolded in that small apartment. Quinn stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky, his chest tight, his heart a mess of broken pieces.

He had lost you. For good this time.

And yet, amidst the sorrow, there was something else—something he hadn’t expected. Closure.

It wasn’t the ending he had wanted. It doesn’t work like that, and he knew it.

But it was the ending he deserved.

[jmtorres]

i just saw a post about how we just have to "live with" covid and wanting more protections from our government is unreasonable because we'll never wipe it out, it jumps species and is in all sorts of animal populations (like, true ok) so why even try to

and apparently the argument was aimed at people (who I haven't seen in the wild) who are arguing we should still be in lockdown. and i have mixed feelings about the idea of extended lockdown or attenuating isolations; but my main feeling at this point is not that the government should keep us apart but that the government should be trying to make it safer for us to be together

things the government could/should be doing about covid:

we know that ventilation/air movement helps a shitton. we should be incentivizing upgrades to ventilation systems in all public buildings with shit like rebates or tax deductions, while phasing in eventual legal requirements. (and uh. it has occurred to me that the US might actually be doing this sideways by there's currently this decade enormous tax incentives in re energy efficient upgrades for slowing climate change and you know. energy efficient hvac does tend to improve ventilation. extra point to biden here.)

mandatory paid sick leave so workers aren't under social or economic pressure to work when sick

passing out RT-LAMP tests like metrix that actually work instead of the rapid antigen tests that have become less and less reliable as the virus mutates

i don't know how you'd write this law but like 95% or more of computer-based work can be done remotely and companies should not be allowed to force people to return to the office. I know there's people who want to be back in person and I'm not saying they should be forced to stay home but ffs I know of at least two people CLOSE to me who worked remotely before the pandemic and at some point their workplaces tried to tell them they weren't allowed to do that anymore despite the pre-existing contracts. stop canceling remote work for people that want, need, or prefer it.

for that matter, every college lecture that was an online class during covid should still be offered as an online class, there is no reason to force students into auditoriums in person. you got the communications infrastructure up and running, why are you tearing it down. give people the OPTION. it increases accessibility for everyone!

covid vaccine immunity lasts about four months. this should be well-publicized and everyone should be able to re-up for free every four months. "every year, like the flu vaccine" is demonstrably not often enough. actually "for free" isn't good enough start handing out $10 gift cards you will be shocked at how many people who are resistant to the idea of vaccines will fold for $10 a shot

are there already laws on the books about masks in medical settings that some medical professionals are blatantly ignoring because they forgot what best practices were before the plague and they're 'tired of masking'? if not, pass laws. if so, fucking enforce them

oh another incentives for upgrades phasing into legal requirements thing: brass doorknobs and railings over stainless steel or whatever. microbes do not survive on brass surfaces

i mean. i know this one sounds too extreme to a lot of people but. UBI.

most if not all of these measures will prevent or ameliorate other pandemics of different diseases that may arise in the future. and just. generally improve our health and quality of life for other reasons.

I haven't felt safe to go to a concert since 2020. Maybe if I knew a venue was legally required to have ventilation to a certain standard and that none of the ticket takers and ushers were on the job sick to avoid risking loss of paycheck or job, and knew a larger percentage of the crowd had up to date vaccinations--maybe if any or all that, I might ever feel comfortable going to a show again.

wouldn't it be nice if those of us who have been disabled, by covid or other conditions, had accessible remote options but also occasionally felt safe enough to interact with and participate in wider society?

one of the arguments on the post I saw was how isolation was massively psychologically damaging and various strata of society were affected in all sorts of ways, from undersocialized kids to increased depression in--well across the board, I think. and here's the thing: WE KNOW. PEOPLE WITH CHRONIC HEALTH CONDITIONS, LONG COVID OR OTHERWISE, KNOW ISOLATION SUCKS REAL BAD. because we, both for our own health and due to disability ostracism, are still isolating and isolated more than most.

what are you as individuals or societies, what are our governments, doing to help make it safe and accessible to rejoin you????

[respectthepetty]

*stands on a box in town square*

I think Pin's adopted mom/aunt/whatever is a lesbian.

First rule of a QL (BL or GL) is everyone is queer until proven otherwise.

Second, she isn't married and for someone who keeps emphasizing the point that Anin and Pin will have to get married, why isn't she married?

Third, she is doing too much. She is the epitome of normalized femininity. She is pink. She is attractive. She can cook. She can clean. She can do it all . . . in heels. Is she overcompensating?

Fourth, THE COLORS!

She is a dark-ish pink, almost red, yet she has worn this peach/orange color a few times.

And I would think she's bi-colored but . . .

I think there is something else going on here.

Not only does she wear that color, but when she has business outside of the house, she gets darker.

What's the reason that she feels safe in her home, but changes her color when she has to leave it?

And, at first, I thought it was because she was in love with Anin's mom.

Because it would make sense that she wears Princess Alisa's color at times and feels most comfortable at home.

And it would make sense that she would stick right by Alisa's side.

But I'm not convinced, and it's because of the broach!

She has worn it several times, and even though Alisa has one, it's different.

And they change.

But in a show that has Pin and Anin sharing matching hair pins and gifting each other sentimental jewelry, I feel Pat's broach being consistent has to be significant.

So whichever woman Pat loves is orange/yellow colored and should have a similar broach or theme of sun or flowers, plus her poster has her in that peach color and states that she has secrets.

So which woman broke this wee little lesbian's heart?

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could you do a part 2 to the ford and Stan fic where they were childhood best friends? I loved that one so much and I need more🥰

Threats and not a happy ending. Probs not what you was expecting for a continuation.

Part 1 is here

Taglist: @bigbeebeans @doggodnoodles12 @awitchersbard @leo242564 @emtynessinmyworld

Things in gravity falls were well..weird and you weren’t talking about the townsfolk who were under the impression that you and Ford had came as a couple. Sure Ford was handsome and beautiful man but you wouldn’t go as far as to indulge in their assumptions out of respect for him as your friend.

Ford on the other hand had cheeks like ripe tomatoes as he has to remind himself to stop being so obvious with his feelings for you, all in fear that you’d soon start watching him closely for signs of romantic pining. He couldn’t help it and knew for a while that Stan also harboured similar feelings about you, given how physically affectionate he was with you and keeping you tucked into his side tightly; which was more then enough for Ford to assume that you’d favour Stanley over him.

While he maybe the more put together of the two, the one with a future ahead of him, that doesn’t mean anything when it comes to matters regarding the heart. You’d either be rich and depressed, or poor but rich in happiness, you can’t be both. So Ford decided to value to have you however he could.

Everything was fine to being with, searching the words for anomalies and jotting them down, however your relationship with Ford becomes fractured and splinters into pieces when Bill Cipher came into view. You told him that day in the cave that the paintings on the wall were warnings, cautioning you both to avoid this triangular being at all costs but Ford didn’t listen to you and summoned him regardless. Your heart broke because this was the first time Ford didn’t listen to your council, blatantly ignored it as though your words meant little to now now, which was a stark contrast to the boy who use to hang on to every word you spoke.

During this rough patch as Ford was growing closer to Bill. You on the other hand were becoming distant and reaching out to Stanley, telling him everything that has been happening since you moved to Gravity Falls in a series of letters and phone calls. You only stopped reaching out when Bill -possessing Ford- held a knife to your throat and warned you to reach out to Stanley again and see how Ford would like it upon seeing that he had gone mad from isolation, and killed his own childhood sweetheart in cold blood as a result.

You didn’t think you’d ever hear such things come out of the mouth of your beloved friend but it terrified you and ever since you stopped reaching out to Stanley, he grew worried that something had happened to you. So he made sure to come to Gravity Falls as fast as he could for you, not Stanford.

‘Y/n sweetie are you alright!’ Stanley exclaimed as he saw your frightened face and immediately opened up his arms to you to burry yourself in. ‘Hey it’s okay, just say the word and I’ll get you out of here okay sweetheart?’ He whispered again your head as you clung to his jacket tightly.

‘I’m scared.’ You told him and it broke his heart to hear you say those words as he promised to keep you safe. Stan felt like he was to blame as usual, but couldn’t help but feel anger towards Ford for making you feel unsafe and scared. So when Ford came out of the shack to find you in his brother’s arms, Stanley tightened his hold on you and glared at his brother, who reciprocated the glare. Ford knew that things haven’t been…the best as of late between the two of you ever since the cave and he felt guilty over that, but seeing you in Stan’s arms only strengthened his fear that due to his obsession with the supernatural, it has ultimately pushed you into seeking comfort from someone else. His own brother to be exact.

Ford hated it more so than anything because while he was smart, he severely lacked a social life that Stanley excelled at beyond him, he could easily comfort you without getting awkward about it unlike him, who didn’t even stop to think how his obsession was affecting you; not even once and yet he claimed to harbour romantic feelings for you, what a joke because how can he love you when he failed at even the most simplest of mundane things.

‘Y/n I-‘ he tried to take a step towards you but you were quick to burrow your head further into Stanley’s shoulder.

‘I think you’ve done enough don’t you Stanford.’ Stanley replied, ‘you’ve gone and scared them with your obsession.’

Ford pales. You? Scared of him? Oh gods what has he done. ‘ I didn’t mean to.’ He trails off, not knowing how to fully explain himself.

Stanley scoffed. ‘I trusted you to keep them safe, happy and healthy but here they are in my arms scared as anything! What did you do!’

‘I don’t-‘

‘Not a good enough excuse Stanford.’ Stan snapped as he positioned you behind him, putting his jacket over you when he noticed that you came running to him in less than weather appropriate clothes, uncaring that he got cold in the process as he kissed your forehead like he did when you were teenagers and he needed to reassure you. ‘You’ll be okay, just stay as far away from here as you can.’ He whispered before looking at his brother.

‘Just please come and help me.’ Ford cried out to his brother and you. ‘I don’t have time.’ He then looks down at his bloodied knuckles and you couldn’t help but think of the other heinous things Bill had done to Ford, but you were too scared to look him in the eyes without seeing bill threatening you.

‘Fine but keep them out of your shit.’ Stanley said as he gestured towards your frightened form and Ford agreed as you grasped Stanley’s arm.

‘Don’t.’ You whispered. ‘Stanley don’t you dare go in there please I’m begging you.’ Your cries broke Stanley’s heart as he brought you into his arms again to calm you.

‘I’ll be okay sweetpea, I’ll come back and we can leave this town and get as far away as you want.’ He promises you but deep down you knew this wasn’t going to be true and soon enough you were right, Ford was pushed into the portal and Stanley went back on his word to rebuild the portal to get him back, all the while you decided that your time in gravity falls had come to a close and left within the night.

[vervainandspritz]

UNTIL YOU COME BACK HOME

Jackson Rippner x Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warning: smut, angst, comfort

A/N: I'll get back to writing more chapters soon. For now, have this oneshot. Please Interact and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

“Oh god, Jackson!” Y/n gasped as soon as she saw him through the peephole in the door. Moving as quickly as possible, she swung the door open, pouncing forward to get a hold of him.

He stood there, his breathing shallow and rugged. White button up shirt ripped on his shoulder, revealing the bleeding wound. The material surrounding it was covered in crimson red. His hair sweaty, beads dripping down his face as he barely kept his blue, cloudy eyes open.

“Y/n” he mumbled, taking a heavy step forward as he grabbed onto her shoulders. She huffed as he put his weight on her, and with some struggle they managed to both get inside as she kicked the door shut.

Hundreds and thousands of thoughts ran through her head as she helped him to the living room where he mindlessly slumped on the couch.

“Wait here” she murmured, rushing to the bathroom for the first aid kit that was quite… advanced ever since she met him. Grabbing the necessities, Y/n quickly moved back to the living room, putting it all on the table with her shaky hands. He looked barely conscious and her heart was pounding like crazy as she took his shirt off to make sure that the visible injuries were the only ones on him.

He kept mumbling something every now and then but she didn't listen, instead she focused on stopping the bleeding from his shoulder and stitching him back up.

Breathing deeply, Y/n tried her best to get her hands more steady as she did her very best to ensure he'd be… better than whatever state she found him in.

Two hours and some tears later, Jackson was settled in her own bed, wearing only briefs and breathing heavily. She wiped her face while glancing at the clock only then realising how late it was. Jackson was completely out of it, and from the look of it, he would be for several more hours because of the medicine she gave him. The medicine he needed to ensure his wound wouldn't get infected.

Y/n was aware of his job, and it was one of the biggest factors of why she decided to never let their relationship move forward. Just sex, they said before. She couldn't afford getting her heart broken.

His lips said one thing, and his actions showed another, she thought. She wrapped her arms around his waist as she hugged his back lightly, her cheek pressing to his hot skin. Only for now, it was safe to do so. He was unconscious, so he wouldn't make a fuss about it. The closeness with lack of any sexual intentions. Intimacy. Comfort.

As expected, Jackson slept for a long time before eventually waking up, a little past 7 PM the next day.

She managed to clean up her bathroom and couch from his blood, getting her apartment to become squeaky clean because of the anxiety she was feeling. Y/n tried to be productive instead of impatiently waiting at him and biting her nails.

“Y/n” He said in a hoarse, husky voice before grimacing slightly because of the dryness and pain in his throat. Hearing him, she jumped a little, clearly startled as her book fell on the floor with a thud.

“Oh shit, you scared me.” Y/n said, with a hand on her chest as she eyed him quickly before getting up to get a glass of water for him, hearing the state of his throat. “How are you feeling?” She asked quietly after handing him the glass. Her brows slightly furrowed at his unusually pale skin.

“As wonderful as I look” He replied with a scoff after drinking the water and setting the glass aside with a groan.

“You were really hurt this time.” She started quietly, fidgeting with her fingers for a moment as she kept looking at him. “You’ve been asleep for over twenty four hours, Jackson. You—you need to tell me what happened.” She says eventually, crossing her arms over her chest as her frustration grew. She knew how unhappy he was whenever she'd ask questions, and Y/n liked his presence too much to risk losing him over that. So she wouldn't ask, not usually, but this time was different. It was too big to pretend like it didn't happen.

His pale, blue eyes avoided looking directly into hers as he let out a deep breath. His frame was tense.

“Don't act stupid, you know damn well what I do for a living, sweetheart.” He replied. “It's not always all rainbows and flowers.” The sarcasm smoothly made its way down his tongue, as always, seemed like. Y/n got used to the fact Jackson was fluent in this particular thing.

Hearing his tone her body tensed in a combative manner. Squeezing her first, she pointed at him with the other, shaking hand.

“Don't you fucking dare talk to me this way after I spent my whole night stitching you up, preventing you from bleeding out, and barely closing my eyes to make sure you were bloody alive!” Her voice shook slightly every now and then as she tried to stand her ground against him. “It's YOUR work to do… all that, but is it my work to always stitch you up afterwards? Why the hell do you come here since I don't deserve even a brief explanation?” She demanded to know, looking intently at him as she wrapped her arms around herself for some, much needed at the moment, comfort.

Jackson tilted his head slightly, raising his chin as he finally looked her in the eyes. His facial expression was impossible to read, as always.

But the one thing she was perfect at, was reading his eyes. Ever since day one, Jackson would always try to avoid eye contact in such situations. Even though his stare never failed before, and he was going through life thinking he mastered it.

Well, maybe he did. Y/n was the only one who saw more in his bright, storm and tempest filled eyes. So he'd purposely put a wall between the two of them. She knew him too well to believe in the theatrics he was so prone to use on people.

“Your apartment was the closest place I could think of at the moment. It's not that deep.” His voice was low and emotionless, husky from the lack of usage in the last twenty four hours but he managed to keep up the eye contact for just a few seconds before looking away.

Yet, it hurt her. Sighing deeply, she shook her head and made her way to the kitchen as Jackson slowly got up from her bed.

Looking around for his pants, he ran a hand through his hair with a groan. The one thing he could admit to himself was that seeing disappointment in her eyes wasn't… nice. It didn't feel good.

“So… when can I see you now?” He asked casually, trying to break the tension after a couple minutes, thinking that she just gave up asking him questions like always, after he'd shut her down.

The silence hung in the air for a longer moment, charged with unsaid words and buzzing emotions. Y/n was tired, visibly and mentally.

“Don't come here anymore, Jack. I can't do it.”

A quiet voice came from the kitchen, making his heart stop for a moment and his eyes to widen. Turning around he walked up to her, leaning on the counter.

“Come on, you're not mad at me, are you?” He asked, raising his eyebrows, not understanding the vulnerable expressions on her face, which she never hid. Y/n wasn't scared to be vulnerable with her feelings around him, which was always a source of conflicted emotions within himself.

With a resigned sigh, she put the knife and veggies down, looking up at him.

“No, it's… it's more than that. I just can't do what you're expecting of me.” She started, shaking her head a little. “Just—just fuck you, and then, then take care of you and never care enough to ask. I can't do that. It's—it's not me, I'm sorry.” The way her body language changed, the vulnerability and raw hurt in her voice made the annoyingly painful feeling gnaw at this one spot in his chest. He didn't know what to say for a moment before turning around and walking a couple steps through her living room. Anger and confusion grew in his head, as the only real emotions he knew so well. Hand tugging on his hair as he let out a humourless laugh.

“You don't mean it. We're just—just arguing again.” He said, trying to convince either her or himself, but the feeling of dread already settled between his ribs. His voice came out louder than intended, accusing even.

As the response didn't come, he turned around again facing her. Taking a couple fast steps he winced at the sharp pain in his shoulder.

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? We talked about it before, I— fucking can't tell you anything!” He said with sharp anger bubbling beneath the surface.

“Jackson, I said I get it! I just can't do what you want me to!” She exclaimed, her voice an octave higher than usually at his sudden outburst. She felt panicked with what was happening. With the idea of never seeing him again, and with what she was feeling at the moment. The feelings accompanying her were much more complex than she'd like them to be.

“Then why are you so fucking dramatic about it!” He continued pacing back and forth, not handling the situation very well, or picking up on the irony of his words.

Y/n raised her eyebrows with a scoff.

“Me? I'm just breaking it off, Jackson. You are the one yelling at me and running around my living room.” She pointed out, keeping the pain hidden away. For now.

He stopped in his tracks immediately as she called him out on the frantic behaviour.

“I wouldn't if you weren't like… this!” He spat out, his blue eyes filled with coldness and anger. The sudden motion as he swung his arm, caused the stitches to rip and blood started dripping down his arm. “Fuck!”

Y/n’s eyes widened immediately.

“Jack, calm down! Your arm!” She squealed, making him raise his eyebrows in surprise. Her hand grasped his bigger one as she pulled him to the bathroom, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. It was a fairly small room, with not much space after he'd fill it out with his wide frame, so without a second thought she slumped on his lap.

He sat here wordlessly, the combative facial expression still decorating his handsome face as she worked on the wound, cleansing it before getting to the stitching.

He didn't make a sound until the last stitch, when he suddenly let out a loud hiss at the particularly painful movement of the needle in his skin.

“Sorry” she said quietly out of habit. “You need to stop thrashing like a wild animal for the next few days.” Y/n added, concerned with his state.

Jackson scoffed, tensing as he looked in her eyes accusingly.

“Don't tell me what to do. You dumped me.” His voice was low and grumbly, still carrying some anger in it, but the way he put it made Y/n let out a giggle uncontrollably. His gaze softened slightly. He sounded like an offended child.

“As far as I know, we weren't together, Jackson.” Her voice was more playful than anything as she finished the stitching, putting the tools aside. Caressing the skin on his arm, Y/n sighed.

Jackson kept looking at her with a lump forming in his throat. After a minute he broke the silence.

“I don't know what you want me to say, but you won’t hear…” He started before clearing his throat, unsure of what words to use. Of how to explain.”—hear THAT from me, Y/n. I just can't.” He said quietly, his hands holding her hips, thumbs rubbing little circles on her soft skin. The silence settled in the air again, as she felt he wasn't finished just yet. Just needed some more time to recollect his words. “...but I don't want to not see you anymore.” He sounded weaker than ever, more… vulnerable. The trait she wanted to see in him so badly, making her heart soften in an instant.

Feeling the surge of hope rushing through her veins, she raised her hands to his face, tilting his head up so her eyes would meet his. Her eyes were– bright again, Jackson noticed subconsciously.

“You don't want to lose me.” She stated with confidence, knowing what he meant. Jackson neither denied nor confirmed, sighing deeply as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Say it.” She demanded, caressing his skin and as soon as he looked again, searching his blue eyes for anything that would show her she was wrong. She didn't find anything.

He took a deep breath, his fingers digging into her skin harder.

“I don't want to lose you.” He repeated, sounding like the words almost drowned him, but he knew it was a turning point. Jack knew she was – patient and understanding. It would be enough. They stared at each other for a longer moment before she touched his cheek with a little chuckle.

Seeing her eyes so shiny and cheeks blushed, Jackson regretted he didn't say it sooner. It took a lot, but it was worth it. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against hers.

“What's so funny?” He scoffed playfully, looking at her lips with a deep breath.

Y/n leaned in, kissing him in a way that took his breath away for a mere moment making him forget who they were. Who he was. A way that she wouldn't dare to kiss him before.

“Stubborn man” she let out with a sigh after pulling away.

Only then did she get up, pulling him back to the bedroom deciding that she'd force him to rest if he wouldn't agree right away.

***

Slowly opening her eyes, Y/n wiped her face with a yawn before she noticed he was awake. The admirably blue eyes looked at her halfway open with a smirk, and for a second she got mad at him for never staying the whole night before. The view was wonderful.

“Hi” She said with a chuckle, making him raise his eyebrow in amusement.

“Hi,” He replied, pulling her closer. Her dishevelled state made her even more attractive than usual, in a completely different way. It was a way that Jackson never looked at other women before which was a little scary, but well. He was way too sleepy to think about it now. With his own eyes barely open and vulnerable as never before, he let out a chuckle. It felt so easy at the moment, like he wasn't a killer without any actual identity. Like he had a chance for a life with the beautiful woman by his side.

Stretching with a groan he shifted to the side, being fairly careful with his injured shoulder. Jackson's hand landed on Y/n’s bare hip as her shirt shifted up, revealing her pale skin. She opened her eyes again, glancing at him as she heard the throaty purr coming from his mouth.

“Jackson” She warned with a giggle, knowing his intentions too well. “You're–” She started, but before she'd manage to finish, he flipped her on her back, hanging over her like a thundercloud. “–injured.” Her voice was defeated with an undertone of humour at his mischievous doings.

“Still healthy enough.” He replied, leaning down and grazing his nose over her neck. After two years of seeing only her, he wasn't able to prevent associating her scent with something– familiar.

Home

Pressed so tightly against her, Jackson felt the familiar stirring in his lower stomach, making him sigh deeply. His warm breath wrapped itself around her skin, making her shiver with delight. He leaned down, biting onto her neck lightly as his hands began stripping her of the pajama pants she was wearing.

She let it happen, until she didn't. Her smaller hand getting a hold of his wrist.

“In my way.” She said, turning her head to meet his eyes. “My way or not at all. Your stitches will probably burst again if I agree to do it the usual way.” She said with a voice that allowed no opposition. That was a voice he rarely heard, but the feisty look in her eyes was clear. She wouldn't bend under his will because she cared about his health.

With a loud, dramatic sigh he slumped on the bed, giving up. Seeing it, Y/n chuckled, raising her brows. Pointing at the tent in his underwear, she asked.

“So you need help with that or not?” Her voice was full of amusement and clear lighthearted mockery. Jackson's eyes immediately shifted to her face.

“Don't push it before I change my mind” he grumbled with a hidden smirk, making her laugh out louder as she got up, pulling her underwear down all the way before she straddled his hips.

Her soft hand began travelling down his chest, tracing every inch of his skin, appreciating the masculine firmness to him. The sensation of his muscles against her delicate fingers.

The air in the room immediately shifted, and Jackson's expression changed. His brows slightly furrowed, as he watched her actions. He was clearly confused, never touched with such intention before in his life. His muscles tensed beneath her fingers, almost expecting pain to come any second now.

Violence was all he knew. She understood it, but it nevertheless broke her heart a little bit.

Looking him in the eyes, she leaned forward, her lips following the path her fingers travelled. She left little kisses on each scar and imperfection she encountered.

Jackson wasn't sure what he felt. Whether he liked it or not, he was more confused than ever before. That's why when she reached the V on his lower stomach, still kissing, he rose up slightly.

“Don't” he said quietly. The atmosphere was so intimate and vulnerable, that for once in his life, he didn't feel up to being pleasured in such a way. He already let her do too much, Jackson thought.

Y/n looked up, meeting his bright eyes with her own. The tension and– fear on his face was visible for the first time since she ever met him.

Nodding lightly, she came back up, kissing him passionately as her hands worked on his underwear, pulling it down and stroking his hard length. Deep groans pushed past his lips with each move as his eyes fell shut. He looked more beautiful than ever, Y/n thought seeing him then.

Only the sensation of her warmth engulfing his manhood brought Jackson back, making him open his eyes and letting his jaw fall open.

“Fuck” he gasped, as she leaned back, supporting herself by holding onto his stomach, not forgetting about his injury.

His hands gripped onto her hips. Still sitting up, Jackson tried moving her on top of his hips to get her to move faster, but Y/n wasn't having any of it. Pushing him back, she leaned forward and captured his lips in a searing kiss while she sensually moved. She was in no rush. Y/n enjoyed every sensation the connection between them was giving her. The slow pace was making him more sensitive to their surroundings than the usual frantic rhythm. The sound of her quiet sighs and whimpers filled his ears like the most beautiful melody. The way her face gave away the all-consuming bliss she experienced from how he felt inside her, but also from how… close they were. Jackson felt like he was slipping. The situation was getting out of control as his mind started spiralling into the vulnerability, which he desperately didn't want to happen.

Looking up, he noticed Y/n watching his face intently, her mouth slightly open as she moved to her own rhythm. Her breasts swayed with each movement before she leaned down, kissing all over his neck while her hands travelled around his collarbones, caressing his skin.

Wordlessly Jackson's bigger hand slowly grabbed hers, moving it up towards his throat, wrapping it suggestively with a certain look in his eyes. Y/n knew.

Of course she did.

With a quiet sigh, she shook her head lightly, moving upwards to his cheek, the gentle touch sending shockwaves down his spine as she watched him with care and gentleness he never experienced.

Covering her hand with his own, Jackson sat up lightly, moving her closer. He didn't fight it anymore.

“You're so beautiful” He breathed out, wrapping his arm around her waist and capturing her lips in a deep, sensual dance as she caressed his hair. They both seemed to get lost in the sensations, drowning in each other's presence without any will or need to seek saving.

As Y/n squeezed her eyes, her body tensing on top of his, Jackson knew she was coming. Leaning his forehead on her collarbone, he followed right after. For the first time in his life, he realised that the way she held him felt even better than the most amazing orgasm he ever experienced.

…and just like that, Jackson knew he’d stay the night, and countless more.

Because even if he couldn't name or say it, he knew the reason why he would keep coming back.

***

Taglist: @lau219 @xsweetcatastrophe

[lostgirlmuseum]

Dancing Spies

Pairing: Bucky x gn!Reader 

Words: 900

Summary: You and Bucky are undercover at a ball and he’s not ready to let go of you.

Warnings: Reader is mentioned to have hair + height implied to be shorter than Bucky. Idc how tall you are, you're 6 feet? OK well in this universe Bucky is 7ft, etc lol. No use of y/n.

A/N: IM BACK BABY! Ok not really lmao this was 90% written since April 2022 (holy shit over a year before I even started posting here.) As always, sorry it’s short, sorry if it sucks, but also I’m not that sorry if it sucks because it’s short so it’s not like I’m wasting hours of your time. Idk if anyone is even going to read this.

Also: special thanks to @questionableratatouille00 for being so patient and kind to me. ❤️

divider cred: @saradika

“I didn’t realize you could dance,” you mumbled into his ear as you stepped in time to the soft music.

“Well, there wasn’t that much to do in the 30’s,” Bucky adjusted his grasp on your waist to be more comfortable, “with, y’know, the Great Depression and everything.”

“Ah, yes, a time of great prosperity, wasn’t it?”

“Definitely.” He gave a short chuckle, and continued to gaze around at the other couples dancing around him. He wasn’t avoiding your gaze—he was simply doing his job. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself. 

A sweet chorus of piano and violin flew through the air, enchanting the large group of people into following in time. Despite his watchful eyes lingering upon the room for the past ten minutes, he couldn’t tell you any details.

How many couples were there? What was everyone wearing? How big was the dance hall? He could only guess, as his mind was solely focused on his steps, and the person in front of him: how close you stood next to him, how he could smell the faintest scent of lavender from your hair, how your hand sat so tenderly upon his shoulder, and how he wished he could take his gloves off so he could get a better feel of your gentle hand intertwined with his right. 

“How much longer, do you think?” you whispered.

“M’ not sure. Until Steve gives the signal, which could be anywhere from now to twenty minutes.” He only allowed himself a quick glance of you as he twirled you outward and back in.

“I doubt it’ll be twenty minutes. I think ten is more reasonable.” 

“It could be twenty,” he argued.

“That would be way too long, there’s too much risk in that.”

“Twenty minutes is fine. There’s nothing wrong with twenty minutes.”

Sensing you were looking at him, he met your gaze. 

Your eyebrow was slightly arched, and you gave him a small look of confusion at his strange… passion. Nevertheless, you dropped it, deciding not to question him.

He felt a slight tug of guilt at his heart for acting weird, but truthfully, he simply hoped this moment wouldn’t end. It felt right. He didn’t want to accept that it could be over so soon.

Naturally, as if the entire room was choreographed, everyone slowed as the song ended, and another started. This song was even slower than the last, and couples pulled each other close accordingly. 

You and Bucky did the same. 

Bucky’s breath hitched at the closer proximity, and he prayed you couldn’t feel his rapid heartbeat now that you were practically chest to chest, and both your arms were wrapped around his shoulders as his rested on your waist.

“Hey Bucky,” you said so quietly, it was barely a whisper.

“Yes?”

“I get that you’re trying to be alert, but you need to stop looking behind me. It’s not natural.” 

His cheeks flushed at your comment, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Yeah, okay.” He hesitantly looked down and met your welcoming eyes.

“Better,” you softly smiled.

He curtly nodded.

They continued to slowly sway along with the music. But the tune only served as white noise for him as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Luckily, you hadn’t caught him staring, since you had placed your cheek onto his chest, nuzzling into the warmth. 

He liked that you felt safe with him. Safe enough to rest your head on him. Safe enough to let him hold you with both hands, and not cower at what those hands had once done. 

His shoulders relaxed at the sound of a soft sigh from your lips.

“Comfortable?” He leaned his head down slightly to whisper into your ear.

“Mhm.” You confirmed.

“Tired?” He breathily laughed, seeing your eyes closed.

“Only a little,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes shut. 

He was content with where he was. It wasn’t the most familiar feeling for him, but he liked it. 

His thoughts were no longer focused on the mission(not that they ever really were—the second he found out that the two of you were meant to be a couple dancing on the main floor, he was distracted by you and the possibilities of what would happen,) and he remained focused on you. Your soft and slowing exhales, the affection you spawned in his chest, and how beautiful your hair looked. 

Seeing you at peace, put him at peace.

He could feel himself smiling as he watched you. His tongue flicked over his lips like it always does when he’s about to make a decision. He started to lean his head down to rest on top of your head when he paused.

Is this a good idea?

Screw it.

He rested his chin ever so carefully on your head, and couldn’t hold back his growing smile when you made no effort to move.

“I wish this was real life,” you sighed. “No more fighting. Just dancing.”

Motion from above caught his attention. Steve tipped his hat—the signal. 

Bucky just looked back. He continued to sway with you, shielding you from the outside world with his chest. 

Steve, slightly taken aback at his friend’s lack of action, tipped his hat twice more.

Bucky subtly shook his head and returned his gaze to you.

“Have we gotten the signal yet?” You murmured, eyes still closed.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “Let’s just dance.”

If you liked it pls let me know so I know I'm not just screaming into the void.

photo credit

[aziraphales-library]

Any recommendations of fics where Crowley and Aziraphale are roommates/neighbours?

Here are some housemates and neighbours fics that I've read and loved...

Safe In Your Arms by AppleSeeds (T)

After moving out of his flat following a fire, Aziraphale moves in with Crowley, who turns out to be very lovely and seems determined to do anything he can to comfort Aziraphale when he finds out about the nightmares he's been having.

What Aziraphale Wants by mozbee (G)

“You could shower at my place, if you like,” Aziraphale says. He’s a step out of the lift before he realizes what he said. He quickly laughs, turning to face Crowley, to dismiss it as fast as it had come out, and sees he’s being stared at. “You mean that?” Crowley asks, an arm out to keep the lift doors from closing. Aziraphale fights off the threatening blush. It won’t do to have Crowley know he’s practically foaming at the mouth to have him spend more time with him. Because Crowley is his friend, his confidante. He can tell him anything. Except Crowley is also devastatingly handsome. --- Aziraphale is just being neighbourly, inviting Crowley over to use his shower while his bathroom is being remodelled. It has nothing to do with the pounding lust that fills him when he thinks of Crowley nude in his home. He's just being nice. Now if these pesky feelings would leave him alone...

Good Neighbours, Good Fences (and Other Misunderstandings) by out_there (E)

The first time Crowley meets his downstairs neighbour, Aziraphale is breaking into his flat. He's not what Crowley imagined in a burglar -- he's fussy, old-fashioned, and surprisingly adorable. Crowley is intrigued, Aziraphale is ready to share a good wine... and possibly more.

District of (un-)Certainty by jamgrl (M)

Aziraphale is a PhD student who needs a roommate so he can continue to afford his house in the U.S. capital of Washington D.C. Luckily, the family he tutors for on the side just happened to find him one! He doesn’t think he will like him much since he is in the states to work on Mr. Dowling’s senate campaign, so he’s probably a terrible person (even if he is good looking). Crowley is pretty independent and doesn’t really have a lot of what you would call “friends”. But he doesn’t mind his new roommate. He would much rather hang out with him than his coworkers, anyways. His roommate’s best friends Anathema and Newt aren’t too bad, either. It’s nice to have some friends. Maybe he likes it in D.C. --- They are millenials! But still British and still old fashioned- just a little twist on our favorite husbands.

Between Comfort And Chaos by anathxmadevice (T)

“And how long have you two been a couple?” “Oh, I—” Aziraphale panics. “Ha, well, that’s a funny… We’re not actually—” “We’re just friends.” Crowley says, their voice clear and calm and lightly amused, either because of or in spite of Aziraphale’s flailing attempts to divert the conversation. “Ah, yes, quite.” Aziraphale says, then takes a sip of his drink just for something to do, instead of focussing on the way Crowley said just friends, and how it causes a painful throb in his chest that he has never fully got used to. His memory can only scrabble at the edge of a time where being just friends with Crowley didn’t feel like a particular form of torture. * Or, Aziraphale has been desperately in love with his best friend and housemate Crowley since they were students, but is too scared to do anything about it.

Won't You be My Neighbor? by ProblematicPitch, Spiro (T)

When Mr. A. Z. Fell moves to the quiet English village of Tadfield, he expects nosy neighbors and inquiries into his eccentric, solitary life. What he doesn't anticipate is Anthony J. Crowley, the surly nuisance / next-door-neighbor, who might very well need a friend as much as he does.

And I'll just drop a quick link to the popular and oft-recommended Or Be Nice, because I know someone will mention it if I don't.

- Mod D

[jasntodds]

Penance [7]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 8,230

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, fluff, mentions of death, hurt/comfort, mentions of scars, small description of jason's autopsy scar, smut, 18+ mdni

Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: It was my birthday a few weeks ago and 2 days later I was in the ER with a bad kidney infection so that's why this is late lol I'm sorry!! lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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Jason and you patrol together and it feels like old times. You work well together just as you always have and it’s something the both of you really needed. Patrolling with Tim was different because you had to and you couldn’t really do it how you were used to because it was about training Tim and showing him the ropes. But this? This is like it always was, fighting side by side, teaming up and taking turns interrogating people. You stop at Excellent Gotham halfway through and park yourselves by Jason’s favorite gargoyle to eat.

You think tonight is healing parts of you. You felt hopeless before and now you're sitting here with your favorite person as if nothing has really changed. Maybe you don’t need to punish yourself all of the time and maybe this can be good. Maybe you can let yourself heal from everything. If Jason can, don’t you deserve to try?

“Wasn’t too boring tonight, was it?” Jason quips, the both of you back in your street clothes as you stand outside of your apartment building, Jason having rode home with you to make sure you got home safe.

“Eh.” You shrug. “It was alright I guess.” You scrunch your nose at him.

“Alright?!” Jason scoffs. “Bullshit. I’m a fucking trip.”

“You’re something.” You let out a cackle and Jason is relieved to see you look so happy. You looked lost earlier. “Can I ask you something?” You ask.

“What’s up?” Jason shifts his weight to his left leg, resting the helmet on his hip.

“When do you go see Leslie again?” You look down, tugging your sleeves over your hands before your eyes come up to Jason's.

Jason's brows raise slightly before he shrugs. “Uh…few days, why?”

“Can you, uh, a-ask her if she…ya know…maybe I need…to go.”

Jason nods his head with a warm smile. “Yeah, I’ll ask her and give her your number.”

“Thanks, Jay.” You give him a small and shy smile.

“Of course.” Jason smiles softly. “Hate fucking admitting it, but it’s been helping a bit again.”

“Good. I, uh, that’s why I wanna go. Might be for the best.”

“Good. Can’t hurt.” Jason nods his head.

“Yeah.” You smile softly. “Well, I’m gonna head in but thanks for tonight.”

“Do it again?” The corner of Jason's tugs into a hopeful smirk.

“Hell yeah.” You laugh softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You beam before spinning on your heels and entering the apartment building.

A smile is stretched across your face as you make your way up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. No part of you believes going to see Leslie is going to be easy but if she’s helping Jason who literally died, surely she can help you. And it feels really good to finally feel like you and Jason might be falling back into some sort of normal after everything.

You enter your apartment, pressing your back against the door as it shuts behind you. The TV is playing quietly from the living room, the rest of the apartment is dark. You're so stuck on how well the night went, you almost miss the sound of Molly’s voice coming from your living room.

“Molly?” You question, pushing off the door and walking the few feet into the kitchen, looking into the living room thanks to the open concept layout.

Molly is leaning against the arm of the couch holding her phone against her thighs. A wide smile splits her face as Jurassic Park is playing on the TV. Molly is still rambling on about the first time she saw the movie, completely ignoring your presence. You roll your eyes and walk over to the back of the couch, looking at her phone screen.

“Hey.” Gar chimes.

Molly jumps. “When did you get back?” Molly ask.

“Just now?” You question. “Hey, Gar?” Your brows furrow, looking between the two of them.

Nothing going on, sure.

Molly looks at the time on her phone. “Did it go okay? You’re not mad are you?” Molly questions.

“What happened?” Gar asks.

You look between the two of them and maybe nothing is going on but from where you're standing, it definitely looks like it. You aren't even upset about it, but if something is going on, you think it's weird and confusing neither one of them would just say something but you aren't going to push. It's not really your business or your place. So, you decide, you're not even gonna say anything. You'll sit back and see what happens with them.

“Nothing?” You shake your head. “We patrolled together, grabbed some food, and came back.” You shrug your shoulders. “So, I’m gonna shower and head to bed.” You reach over the couch and steal a handful of popcorn from Molly’s bowl. You glance to the TV, watching the water in the cup on the dash of the Jeep start to vibrate. “You guys are missing the best part.” You state as you start walking away. “Get it together, guys.” You make your voice cheery, making sure they know you're joking and you can hear Molly laugh quietly as you enter your room.

You grab your change of clothes before heading to the bathroom and hopping in the shower. Music plays through the bathroom until it's interrupted by a ding from a text. You peek out of the shower just in time to see your phone screen still on with Jason’s contact on your screen. He’s texted you a quick ‘made it home’. You smile to yourself and continue washing your hair while your phone chimes again. This time when you look over, it’s a second text from Jason telling you you should just meet him at his place around noon and you can go to Home Depot together. You roll your eyes but your smile is glued to your lips while you finish your shower.

You take a seat on the toilet seat with a towel draped around your body. You pick up your phone while your stomach bubbles and twists.

You: What? Don’t trust my driving?

Jaybird: No ☠️

You: Fuck you 🔪

Jaybird: I’m really shaking in my boots babe

You: You suck

Jaybird: 🤤

You: 🤮

Jaybird: 🖕

You: Ill see you tomorrow I do like to be chauffeured around

Jaybird: How many times did it take autocorrect to get that word right?

Your jaw drops before you burst out laughing. He’s such an asshole but it did take more than a few tries to get that damn word right and he would know.

You: I will walk over to your apartment and fucking stab you so fucking help me jason todd

Jaybird: You’d have to catch me first babe

You: That a dare?

Jaybird: I dare you

You: Okay

You toss your phone and immediately start getting dressed in sweats. You don’t bother with makeup or anything else. You get the bathroom tidied up before you exit the bathroom, phone in hand before you go for your backpack. Molly is still peaking over the couch on her Facetime call with Gar.

“What’re you doing?” Molly asks.

“Going to stab Jason.” You answer casually while Molly looks to her phone at Gar.

“She’s doing what?”

“He dared me, Gar!” You yell but Molly and Gar can tell by the airiness in your voice it's really not that serious.

“He dared you to stab him?” Molly asks, unsure if she really heard you correctly or if she really wants to any sort of context.

You widen your eyes at her, nodding your head quickly. “Yeah! And I’m not gonna back down. It’s a dare.” You scoff with the furrow of your brows.

“Were they always this weird?” Molly asks Gar.

“Hey!” You yell.

“Yes.” Gar answers with a nod.

“Okay, I’ll be back!” You call with a smile as you kick your shoes on and head out, locking the three locks on your way out.

Jason prepares for you to get there, knowing you take dares seriously. He unlocks the door and shuts every light off in the place. If you want to come for him, he’s not going to make it easy. That ruins the game. It’s silly and he knows but at this point, he doesn’t want to miss even a single opportunity with you. Yes, he shouldn't have wasted a month and a half and neither should you but he’s thinking maybe that was for the best. It did give you both space to start to healing. It gave you both space to start setting up your own lives and finding out who you are today. It seems to have helped and there’s nothing saying you can’t continue while trying to get back what you once had. Optimism is not something that ever came easy to Jason Todd but he’s letting himself feel optimistic about you for just a second.

You pull up to Jason's place, seeing it’s completely dark. At first, it almost scares you, thinking maybe something happened and this is a trap. That would be something that could happen. But, that thought fades quickly because you don’t have that pit in your stomach and Jason would never have played along with anything to endanger you. This is Jason being a shit.

You dig in your bag and pull out your phone, using the flashlight as you enter the building, keeping light on your toes.

“Finally.” Jason's voice rings through the speaker system. “Usual rules?”

This was something you did at the Manor when Bruce was out. You blacked out the entire house, the only light would come from the moon outside. Other than that, it was just you two and a black house trying to locate each other. The only rules were not to permanently injure the other one -- don’t shove each other down the stairs and no lethal weapons. First person to disarm the other wins.

“You’re on, Jay.” You call as you shut your flashlight off, pocketing your phone.

You have your hands at your sides as they start to warm and glow a vibrant shade of green. Your steps are careful, using the glow to guide your feet. Back at the manor, you didn’t even need the light from your hands at one point. You had the whole place memorized from doing this with Jason which did kind of defeat some of the purpose of the blacking out the building but it served enough purpose. Plus, there are more stakes. It has the same premise as Dick’s whole thing with the blindfolds but this is more fun.

Jason is positioned at the end of the hall, carefully listening. He can see the glow of your hands which he said was cheating at first, until he realized he can also find you. He doesn’t need the glowing but it’s definitely not a bad thing to have on his end. So, he stands against the wall, watching and listening to you walk closer. His eyes track you, knowing you’ll search the full hallway before attempting the stairs. A part of him wants to dodge around you and essentially play a weird game of hide and seek but instead, he keeps his feet planted. The idea is to disarm, not to find.

Your hands stop glowing the further down the hallway you get. Jason's brows furrow, still listening to your footsteps. They echo softly no matter how light on your feet you try to be. If you know anything, it’s that Jason likes to play games. He’s going to make finding him easy the first time because that’s the point. And then you’ll have to spar it out until one of you backs off and runs off. He’s done this before so you keep walking with soft feet until you reach the end of the hallway. Jason is like a radiator. He could heat up an entire room if left there long enough so as you stand right in front of him, you can feel the space between you growing warmer.

You strike first, just missing his head as Jason grabs your arm. He spins you around as you kick your leg around his, sending you both to the ground. Jason falls on top of you, barely catching his weight on his hands to not crush you and you don’t miss a beat, crawling from under him only for Jason to grab your ankle and yank you back. Jason hears your laugh through a squeal.

“That’s a fucking ego boost.” Jason laughs with you.

“You’re not scary, sorry, Jay.” You tease, yanking your ankle free.

“Lotta people'd beg to differ." Jason defends as he hears you run off down the hallway.

“Not to me!” You sing-song, your voice echoing off the walls and staircase.

A smile stretches across Jason’s face as he shakes his head. He starts walking after you, not hearing your footsteps anymore and he knows you've hidden yourself behind some sort of corner so he’s careful with his steps.

A large part of him thought the good parts of him died and the pit kept them. It kept them in exchange for his life, maybe that’s just the price he was to pay in order to live. Someone can’t come back to life without sacrificing something. Look at Ra’s. But, over the last few days, he’s learning that may not have been in the case.

His bones still ache and something still feels hauntingly different but the good parts of him are still there. Tim didn’t even blink when Jason showed up in the alley, he was so unbothered by all of Jason’s training methods that even got you to pitch a fit every once in a while. Jason had a good time training Tim and him and you are back to doing this stupid game in the middle of the night with laughter bouncing off of the walls. He’s smiled more the last few days than he has in two months. Maybe the good parts of him aren’t entirely gone. They were just covered in guilt and remorse.

You're tucked away in a corner and you always wonder how Jason manages to be so silent as he walks. You can be quiet but you can’t even tell when he’s moving until it’s almost too late. It’s for his own protection, he’s been doing this longer, but it’s always fascinating to you and it'd be a little scary if you didn't know him. One second he’s down the hall and the next, he’s standing in front of you without ever making a sound. It’s his most intimidating quality.

But you're careful anyway, listening, focusing on your surroundings and then the hairs stand up on the back of your neck with a subtle throb starting to your right. You dodge just as Jason's fist flies through the air and you grab his arm, elbowing the inside of his arm. Jason lets out a groan and you twist it around before Jason laughs.

“It’s cute you think you still stand a chance.”

“I’ve taken you before.” You quip, holding his arm behind his back.

“You’re out of practice.” Jason chuckles, pulling his arm away before he spins back around, going to grab you but you jump back.

“So are you.” You quip.

“You sure?” Jason asks making you nearly scream. He’s right in front of you now and you didn’t feel him that time. His breath is fanning over your face and without needing to see him, you can tell he’s smirking, cheeks probably that pretty shade of pink.

“Uh-huh.” Your voice catches in your throat.

“Right.” Jason gives you this chuckle that makes you want to kiss the smirk off of his face but you know you can’t very well do that now so instead, you make your move.

You quickly slide to the right before kicking his feet from under him. Jason lands on a knee and he swipes his leg across the floor, knocking you down just as you try to run off. It’s Jason’s turn to get to his feet and find a new spot.

The two of you go back and forth like this and it’s different this time. Usually, you spar hard and you both make solid efforts to disarm the other but this time, you’re spending a lot of time hiding and running. It wasn’t so much intentional at first from either of you but the more you do it, the more you realize this is just more time to spend together. Tomorrow comes eventually and tomorrow always has some sort of surprise in it. Tonight, you don’t wanna worry about that. You spend your time in the dark, finding each other and going back forth with fists and quips.

Two hours in, Jason is hiding out on the landing of the first staircase, tucked away in the corner. The window is two feet away from him, the city lights cascading through the pains and onto the wood flooring. His eyes stay trained in front of him, hearing you from downstairs walking around. You've been looking for a few minutes and Jason is wondering if you’ll give up. And then he hears a smack and a groan from down the stairs. Jason has to stifle his own laugh, far nicer than you who burst out laughing when Jason hit the doorframe. You seem to recover okay, your steps picking up a few seconds later and he can hear you ascending the staircase.

Your steps stop right at the top.

You roll your eyes and you know damn well Jason is right behind the light of the window. He’ll be able to see you before you can see him. And if you know anything about him, you know he’s standing right in the corner, right foot lifted and pressed against the wall with his arms crossed and that stupid smirk on his lips. This game was never very fair from your perspective. You've never won. Jason’s senses have always been better, Bruce trained him well. As much as you hate the thought. You let out a sigh, take two steps forward and stand directly in the light, a taunt telling Jason to get it over with.

Jason pushes off the wall with his right foot and makes his move but he’s cautious. You do not give up, especially to him when there’s a game like this in play. He strikes first, you block him in an instant, using the light to drag him from the shadows and you get him with your knee right in his side. Jason doesn’t even flinch, throwing another hit, this time hitting you on your side. The two go back and forth, breathing turning heavy as you use the city lights to your advantage. But, it’s Jason who gets the upper hand as he almost always does, grabbing both of your wrists as you use one to try to punch him and the other to block his hands. His grip is tight and unwavering.

Jason’s chest is nearly touching yours as you look up at him. There’s a devious gleam you can make out even in the low light, the corners of his mouth perked into a subtle smirk. Your heart jumps into your throat.

“Giving up so quick?” Jason questions.

“No.” You let out a soft pout but you aren’t fighting him.

Jason can feel his heartbeat on his tongue. His grip loosens on your wrists but he doesn’t let go. Instead, his thumb rubs your skin softly, not even realizing he’s doing it. It’s been hours and he’s been having a blast and he knows she is, too. For the life of him, he can’t figure out why you both let time go by. He does know why, because it all hurt but maybe it was just getting over the hump of it all. He thinks it must be just as hard for you to overcome as it is for him. But, you both always seemed to be able to cope better around each other. It’s the understanding of every action and word that leaves your lips. The feeling that you’ll both never be alone.

Jason nods once. “Not trying very hard.” Jason whispers softly.

Last night felt so good and cathartic. Maybe you just want to live in another one of those moments for a few minutes.

“You’ll just tighten your grip.” You whisper back, watching a cheeky smirk grow on his lips.

“Doesn’t seem to bother you much.” Jason quips and his eyes glance to your lips.

What if he kisses you anyway? Just one more time. Then you can do this friend thing with the game and the banter. What if he kisses you anyway?

“No.” You answer back, glancing to his lips.

What if you kiss him? Just one more time and then you can do the whole friend like you did before. What if you kiss him?

“How’re you gonna get out of this then?” Jason quips.

Fuck it.

You lunge forward, your lips connecting with Jason’s. He groans and immediately drops your wrists as his hands come to your cheeks, pulling you closer to him. Jason melts right into you, nearly exploding at the seams with the very thought you were thinking the same thing he was.

His mouth moves with yours and you push forward until Jason’s back hits the wall. Jason grabs your hips, turning you both around so your back is pinned against the wall. He kisses down your neck, nipping and biting at the flesh. Your heartbeat skyrockets as your hand tangles into his messy hair. Your eyes are closed as a soft moan escapes your lips. Jason bites down, sucking a mark into your skin.

You pull his head back to your lips, the kiss turning sloppy and wet. Jason slides his hands under your thighs, picking you up to pin you against the wall as his knee slots into between your legs. His thigh hits just the right spot making you let out a moan into his mouth immediately followed by a groan.

You pull his hair back, getting a pretty groan from Jason before you go to his neck, leaving your own purple mark. Jason holds your hips helping you grind down against his thigh. The sound of your desperate gasps makes him want to lose his mind. He wants to surrender all control he has ever had and forget anything bad ever happened. His head is lust drunk and all he wants is you. His bulge is growing and throbbing through his sweatpants, desperately wanting free.

You feel yourself growing closer and wetter but more desperate. There’s not quite enough friction and he knows it. He knows this only ever gets you teetering on the edge but it’s never quite enough. He knows exactly what he’s doing and you want to bite him. Your pussy throbs and aches for something to fill you up.

“Jay.” You pant desperately into his mouth.

He fucking snickers.

And stills your hips.

“Jay.” Your brows pinch together as if you're in pain.

“What’s that?”Jason teases.

“Fuck. You.” You nod your head, trying to move your hips but his grip keeps you steady.

Jason leans forward, nipping up your neck making you whine. He can feel your pulse against his lips as he kisses his way up to your cheek. You feel him grin against your skin and you think your skin might set the both of you on fire.

“Say please.” Jason mocks you, whispering in your ear, his voice deep and graveled.

You think you've melted into the palms of his hands.

Jason loosens his grip slightly, allowing you to get some friction for just a few seconds before stilling your hips.

“Didn't hear ya, babe?” Jason’s eyes lock on yours with the quick raise of his brows, using all of his self-control not to cave himself.

There's a sliver of you that wants to push him, see who can actually outlast the other because you know it'll be him begging for you in about ten minutes. But, your head is swimming and your body is erupting in goosebumps. The desperation of wanting him all over you makes you lose every other thought that was once there.

You kiss him, keeping your lips close to his, pulling away just enough to speak. “Please.”

Jason doesn’t waste a single second to dropping his knee as his lips connect back with yours.

Jason pulls you with him, his back towards the second set of stairs as you both walk up them, unsteadily with your lips connected. Once you’re up the stairs, Jason is grabbing the hem of your hoodie, tugging it over you and tossing it on the floor. Jason’s hoodie is next, tossed somewhere in the dark hallway. By the time you reach Jason’s room, he’s tugging your top off and tossing it to the floor.

It’s all hasty and hot, desperate and needy as Jason pulls you to his bed. He lands on top of you, catching you to mind your fall and your hands are under his shirt. They’re warm and soft. They make him feel whole again.

The words ‘i need you’ circle his brain but never quite make it out. He needs you like he needs air. You're the breath of fresh air on the first day of spring. It’s the first day the air doesn’t hurt his lungs. You taste how the word cathartic sounds. He needs you like he needs the oxygen in his lungs.

You scratch up his back and Jason arches his back right into you. His head spins. His lips trail down to your cheek and then your neck. He leaves a second mark in his wake and your head falls fuzzy. You aren’t even entirely sure you're even here anymore. All you know is that you want him and your skin is on fire. You can’t form a single coherent thought as Jason makes his way down to your collarbone, leaving yet another mark. All you can think about his him. His mouth and his the way his teeth graze over your skin, how warm his hand is as it trails up to your breast. All you can think about is the pretty moans and groans that leave his lips as you claw his back again. You've turned to mush all over again.

He presses some kisses around where your braw cuts off, just enough to tease you before he comes back up, kissing your lips. And all you know for certain is how badly you need him. You need him today and tomorrow and every day after. Every moment with him is worth every bit of pain and agony. Every moment without him is boring and lackluster. Jason walks into a room and it’s like a color bomb explodes through the room. His laugh could light up the darkest of hallways and his eyes are the prettiest shade of green, they could convert anyway to love the color. Breathing is easier whenever he's around.

Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and try to tug it off of his head but Jason stops you, shooting up immediately. Your high immediately vanishes seeing the look of panic spread over his feature. Jason’s head comes back, still spinning but down in panic and his chest heaves. What’s he supposed to do?

“I-I’m sorry.” You shake your head, leaning up on your elbows. “I-, uh, I thought…well…I…I should have asked--”

“No.” Jason shakes his head, looking down then back to you. “It’s not…that.” Jason nearly chokes on his own words.

“What’s wrong, Jay?” Your brows tug together and even though you're the one half-naked, he’s the one feeling exposed.

Jason’s teeth grind together and he didn’t really think this far ahead. His mind was clouded with the thought of you and the desire to just have one more fucking night. His mind was clouded with the idea of chasing the feeling you shared just a few months ago. He didn’t think about this step. This part of the whole sex thing. You don’t care. You never care about scars but it hurts him.

Jason clears his throat as he brings his hands back to your hips, watching your chest quickly rise and fall with every breath. He's running through everything he could say. How is he supposed to tell you he has a thick, protruding scar from his collarbones all the way down his abdomen? That can't possibly be some sort of turn on and if anything, he's almost certain it'll send you into a spiral because it nearly does to him every damn day he looks at it. What's he supposed to say? What's he supposed to say without making you feel worse or feel like you need to push to make sure he's okay?

What's he supposed to say in order to keep this moment intact without it being just another moment tainted by painful memories?

“We can just keep doing this. Um…I-I don’t mind…if you don’t.” You try to pull in a breath. The guilt chews at your stomach. “I, uh, I don’t—“

“Y/n.” Jason cuts you off, not wanting you to spiral. “It's not that, I fucking swear.” Jason squeezes your hips and his brows twitch up with reassurance. He's just not sure if he's ready to reveal that part to you. It makes him feel guilty. He's supposed to be able to share everything with you but the shame eats at him. “I want to.” He clarifies, earning a nod from you. “It’s just…” His eyes go distant for a second before coming back to yours. “Stays on.”

You offer him a large nod and you thought it was odd he turned around before to change. Jason has never been very modest about anything ever. He has worked very hard for his chest and abs and he doesn’t mind showing off a bit, especially in front of you because he’s still a shithead. But, last night he didn’t and sitting here now, you're putting the pieces together while a piece of your heart breaks for him.

“I, uh…I know.” You nod softly, pushing yourself up to sit up fully.

Jason sits on his knees, his knees on either side of your legs.

You can't know.

“What?” Jason’s brows tug together.

“The night Crane kidnapped you, you, uh, you couldn’t get out of your gear so I had to help you.” You offer him a soft shrug. “So, uh…I just want you to know that I already know. It’s completely fine, I get it, but I wanted you to know that I already knew.”

Jason can feel his throat wanting to close and his world feels like it's closing in on him. It feels like a nightmare. He doesn't want you to know. It's embarrassing.

“You saw it?!” Jason’s voice cracks as his cheeks burn a vibrant red as he bites his own tongue to try and hide and his shame.

You nod again. “Yeah. You, uh, you were really high and I figured it would not be something you would want brought up.”

Jason shakes his head looking down. He feels tainted, ruined, a mess of broken and damaged pieces piled on the floor to be discarded and forgotten about. He's not even sure what's worse. The fact you knew and then never said anything or the fact he didn't even get a chance to make peace with it before he told you. He hates it so fucking much and it just makes him feel like the biggest failure there is. What more proof does anyone really need? He failed at being Robin, failed at taking down the Joker, failed at being a good son, failed at being a good boyfriend, he even failed at staying dead. It's just embarrassing and shameful.

You can see the gears in his head working overtime. He's going to spiral and the scar doesn't mean shit to you. Your entire back is riddled with them. Any one of those could have caused massive bleeding and killed you. The way you see it, his scars were better because most of them were just part of the job. He got them putting himself in danger for the greater good.

"I don't care, ya know?" You state with the raise of your brows and all Jason does is shake his head. "I don't fucking care about it, Jay. I know you do. Whatever the fuck you're thinking about it, you're wrong." You rest a hand on his cheek. "You don't have to take your shirt off around me if you don't want to. I get it."

"I fucking hate it." Jason states, taking your hand in his, his fingers delicate over your skin. He uses both hands to rub circles into your palm, massaging the muscles.

"For what it's worth," You let out a breath. "I don't. I don't care and I don't mind. That shit doesn't matter to me, Jay."

"I know." Jason nods his head because he knows you don't. It's something in his own head. It's just really difficult to move on from.

"So, whatever you wanna do, I don't mind." You offer him a tender smile.

Jason lets out a breath. “Thank you.” Jason says back. “Did you know? That Bruce had it done?”

“Yeah.” You pull in a breath, biting back your bitterness for Bruce. “He didn’t say why though I was screaming at him when I found out so he didn’t have much chance, I guess.”

Jason lets out a quiet but sad chuckle because even in death, you will fight tooth and nail for him. “You were screaming at him for it?”

“Well, yeah, I thought it was pointless. I figure it’s just legal reasons, maybe.” You shrug. “But I didn’t wanna hear it then.” You chuckle softly. “So, yeah, I uh, I knew he did and I knew the Pit didn’t take it away.”

It's something he's going to need to find a way to make terms with but at least, you're understanding about it. He wishes he had the opportunity to tell you himself but...he's thinking maybe this was easier. You've known and never batted an eye or said a word about it. Maybe he doesn't have to feel all that shame and embarrassment around you.

“White hair, kept all of my scars, and got the one my chest.” Jason lets out a scoff.

“Least it fixed your face.” You quip back with a cheeky smile in hopes it'll help cheer him up a bit.

You see the flash of something kind and cheeky cross over his face.

Jason drops your hand, leaning in. “What’s wrong with my face, huh?” The corner of his mouth perks into a grin and you always have a way to make him feel better about anything and everything.

Your name might as well be synonymous with catharsis.

“Did you want a list?” You raise with a smirk as you tilt your head to the right.

Jason lets out a laugh. “Fuck you.” Jason shakes his head at you and his eyes go to your lips before traveling back up to your eyes.

“Say please.” You lean in closer to him, brushing your nose against his.

Jason shakes his head, bursting at the seams with a devilish grin. His hand comes up to your cheek before he kisses you, pushing the both of you down to the bed.

“Please.” Jason nearly growls into your mouth.

Jason leans up and tugs his shirt off quickly before coming right back to your lips. Your hands tangle in his hair and give the strands a light tug. You push on his shoulder, signaling for him to roll over. You get on top before you trail down and press kisses to his cheek and then to his neck, leaving your second mark of the night.

The words ‘i love you’ bounce around Jason’s head like a pinball in a pinball machine. He’s so in love with you he thinks he might have lost all of his sanity. He did not know it was possible to feel so strongly for another person but he does. And he wants to live here forever. You make him better and he is so certain of that if not for everything that has happened but the reason that Jason doesn’t want to self-sabotage with you. It’s not worth it. You’ll fight and make up and it’ll have been for nothing. All it would do is hurt the both of you and haven’t you both been hurt enough?

You can feel Jason's hardening bulge beneath you. Without breaking the kiss, you slide your fingers into the waistband of his pants, helping him tug them down. Jason sits up, helping you get the rest of his clothes off before he flips the two of you so you're back on your back. You let out a laugh just as you always did and Jason thinks he'd never grow tired of it.

Your hands are in his hair and he can feel you smiling against his lips despite the haste of your kiss. Jason slides his hand under your back, undoing your bra before he helps you get off. His hand goes right to your right breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and finger. You moan into his mouth as your head starts to go fuzzy all over again. You squirm under him and a grin comes to Jason's lips.

You snake your hand to his cock, wrapping your fingers around the shaft before you start pumping him slowly. Jason's mouth opens against you as his hips stutter for just a second. You start moving your arm faster and Jason's mouth trails back down to your neck. His teeth graze the skin and you think you'd let him mark every part of your body without ever putting a thought into it.

He sucks a mark into your neck.

And then another.

And another leading down the scar on your shoulder from the bullet wound.

He stops there, switching to a kiss and your stomach twists while your brain starts to turn to goo. He presses kisses back up to your lips and you're squirming under his touch as you can feel yourself growing wetter by the second. 

"Condom." You mutter against his lips before removing your hand from his cock, precum leaking from the tip.

Jason wastes no time in reaching for his nightstand to tug out a condom. You're already stripping the rest of your clothes by the time Jason has the package in his hand. 

Jason smirks down at you. "Not wasting any time, huh?"

You shrug, almost taunting him as you keep your eyes locked on his, careful not to look down at the scar. "Been a while."

Jason chuckles as heat runs over his neck. "Having withdrawal?"

"I could just do it myself." You quip back.

"Can I watch?" Jason questions and a part of you thinks he's serious.

You roll your eyes. "Maybe next time."

Jason has to clear his throat as his cock twitches with the remark. "Hold you to it." Jason mutters as he finally gets the wrapper open.

"Then I get to watch you."

Jason's eyes flash over to you as his stomach drops and spins. "Whatever you want, princess." Jason finally gets the condom on and you pull him back down to you.

His lips connect with yours, hot and fast at first, hungry as if he hasn't eaten in a month. His cock is lined up with your soaking pussy but the kiss slows and deepens. Jason's hand trails down your right thigh, delicate fingers running over your skin as goosebumps erupt over your body. You run a hand down his shoulder and to his arm, his bicep twitches under your touch.

Jason is warm and sturdy, an unwavering force that you find yourself so intertwined with, you really aren't sure how you've managed to live so much of your life without him. It always feels like he's meant to be around you like someone out there made him just for you and you were made just for him. In some ways, that's scary and feels like a big responsibility, but in others, it's comforting. It's the reassurance that it's just you and him in the end of it all. You'll get there one day. That's how it's supposed to be.

Jason pulls away, resting his forehead against yours before he starts sliding his cock into your aching pussy. The pit in your stomach grows as you start to see stars. Jason's eyes are shut and he's thinking he's left this whole plane of existence. He sinks into you slow and steady until he bottoms out.

His eyes open, locking on yours. Your fingers are lightly running up his arm and the words of 'i love you' almost spill from his lips like an overflowing cup of water. His nose brushes yours and he almost says it. He doesn't want to scare you away with piling too much on you at once. Last night and the scar tonight, he knows you're worried the Titans.

He'll tell you later.

Instead, Jason settles for something with the same meaning.

Your eyes close and the words of 'i love you' almost escape your lips like an easy breath. You brush your nose with his and you almost say it. Jason has been through a lot. You don't want to add to it, not right now. You don't want to add more pressure if he can't say it back yet. You don't want to scare him off.

You'll tell him later.

Instead, you settle for something with the same meaning.

"You and me." Jason whispers to you as he goes to kiss your cheek.

A tender smile pulls at your lips as your heart stutters in your chest. "You and me."

A smile rips through Jason's lips as his heart feels like it's just burst through his ribcage.

Jason pulls out and pushes back in, just as slow this time before he starts picking up the pace. Your mind starts swimming with his quick movements. His mouth is on yours again and you can barely keep up. Your mind is flooded with how full he's making you as your pussy clenches around him.

You try to form words, anything to tell him to keep going but nothing can form quite right, giving Jason the ego boost he doesn't exactly need. He gets the idea and doesn't lighten up. His hand grips your thigh, tugging your leg up near his hip. With the new angle, he's tapping the patch of nerves inside of you. You gasp against him, your nails digging into his back.

"J-Jay." You nearly whine into his mouth and Jason nearly finishes right there with the first word you're able to get out being his name.

"Hmm?" He hums, trying to hold his composure. "Gotta speak up, babe." Jason teases.

"H-harder." You get out.

Jason grins wickedly against your lips, doing as you asked but only for a few thrusts before he stops entirely. "Like that?"

Your eyes shoot open, pupils blow with desperation and lust. "Please."

You don't have to ask again.

Jason thrusts his hips harder and faster than before. You groan louder below him almost immediately. Your pussy is clenching around him more and more and he can tell you're getting close. He slides a hand between you, rubbing tight circles around your clit. You nearly scream with the new sensation.

You grip his hair and pull his neck closer to you just as Jason gets you to reach your high. You let out a mixed whine and moan of his name before you bite down where his shoulder meets his neck, desperately trying not to scream. Tears prick your eyes as your stomach tightens and your whole body shakes and twitches beneath Jason.

It takes everything in him not to lose himself until you're finally finished, panting below him. His hips stall against you as his head hangs in the cook of your neck, his cock twitching as he shoots his load into the condom.

Jason leans up, chest heaving and he places a kiss to your cheek and then your forehead before he rolls off of you to dispose of the condom in his bathroom.

You sit up, wrapping the blanket around you with your chest still heaving and you give Jason a tender smile as he walks back towards the bed. He grabs his clothes as you watch him and you're getting your first full view of the scar. It doesn't bother you but you understand why it bothers him. Seeing it in full, it's a harsh scar, not something that looks like it'll even fade. You think if it were you, it'd bother you, too.

Jason makes his way back to the bed, plopping back down before he leans against the pillow. His eyes are still lustblown as he gives you a soft and tired smile, and you think his eyes are filled with something you became so accustomed to. Your hand goes to his hair, brushing the white streaks away from his face. Jason’s hand grabs your hand before bringing your palm to his lips and he presses tender kisses over your hand.

“For the record,” You start as Jsaon places your hand back down. “I don’t care what scars you come home with.” You say so easily and your word choice doesn’t go unnoticed by Jason. “I know you do but I don’t…” You pause, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Just as long as you come home.” You nod a few times as your brows pinch together.

Jason sits up, his face coming just a few inches from yours. “I’m sorry I didn’t.” His voice is rough and this is a different apology than the one you got on the roof. The one you got at his safe house. There are no stakes in the apology.

“It’s not your fault.” You place a hand on his cheek and Jason leans into it. "I forgive you anyway, though."

He still wonders how you were ever able to bear it. Despite his general feeling of self-doubt and self-loathing, he knows your feelings have always been very real for him. You didn’t cope, that he knows for certain and he’s not entirely sure if you ever will. It’s something you have to make peace with just as much as he does. And he thinks about how maybe that’s an important part of you both moving forward. You forgive him for some reason but Jason doesn’t think you've accepted it yet. A part of him has, it happened to him and he’s alive. He went through it. One second, your world is moving at a steady pace and the next it’s halted, suddenly stopped with no warning and then it’s thrown in the other direction. It sounds more like whiplash. So, Jason wonders if you’ll ever hit the acceptance stage. He wonders how you were ever able to bear any of it. He knows for certain if it were him, he’d never be able to.

Your eyes are soft and tired and there’s the tiniest, adoring smile on your lips. A look Jason is privileged enough to be the only one to receive. And he thinks about he’d never be able to bear the loss of you. It rips him to shreds. It would take all of the remaining good parts of him and shatter them. He’d never recover if something happened to you. Even if it's beyond his control. It’s terrifying feeling that way about another person.

Jason nods against you before he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. “Yeah…” He lets out a breath. “Thanks for sticking around.”

“Thanks for letting me.” You smile softly. "You and me?"

Jason offers the same smile back. "You and me." Jason confirms. “You still gonna talk to Leslie?” Jason asks as you pull your hand away.

You nod softly. “Yeah. If she has anything open.”

Jason gives you a soft smile. “Good.” He nods softly. He sits back up all the way, looking to his doorway. “Gonna grab your clothes.” Jason chuckles softly, tossing his shirt over his head before he gets up.

You watch Jason disappear through the doorway and you're quick to grab his pillow, checking to see if he’s replaced the knife with a gun. Your chest warms with the sight of your blue switchblade still locked and lying under his pillow. It’s a relief he hasn’t put the gun back. Your thoughts are jolted as fabric hits your face.

“Hey!” You yell through a laugh, your clothes falling into your lap.

“Fucking nosey ass.” Jason nods his head at you, making his way back to the bed with his hoodie in hand.

“You’re an interesting person to be nosey about.” You shrug as you get the blanket off of your shoulders. You can feel the tiredness weighing on your bones and you know if you don't head home soon, you'll end up staying here. As much as you really want to, you do not want to overstay your welcome. “Well,” You sigh as you tug your shirt over your head. “I should probably head home.” You laugh softly, seeing the orange light of sunrise seeping through Jason’s window.

“Guess so.” Jason nearly pouts at the thought. He never wants you to leave but he doesn't want you to feel obligated to always stay just because you're here late. You'll be back here later anyway. “Still gonna help me today?” Jason’s eyes are hopeful and big.

“Of course.” You laugh softly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I’ll just sleep for a few hours and how about we like one?” You ask. “We’ll both be out of it if we don’t get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Jason says in agreement. “Want an escort home?” He asks but you can tell by the way he raises of his brows and the way he's already moving to get up, it's not really an offer. He's going to do it anyway.

“Thank you.” You stand up, putting the rest of your clothes on. "Just get some sleep when you get back, okay?"

Jason nods with a grin. "Of course. Gotta be well-rested hanging out with you."

"I can not help you." You quip as you grab your bag.

"Sorry." Jason lets out a chuckle.

"Let's just go." Your eyes widen at him to tease him before Jason gestures towards the door for you to lead the way.

prev. chapter

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[merwgue]

The idea of Nyx and Tamlin becoming mates in a platonic, parental sense is an incredibly profound and heartwarming twist. It redefines what it means to be a mate—showing that the deepest connections aren’t always romantic but can also be based on trust, care, and the unconditional love found in parental relationships.

Imagine Nyx, the child of two deeply traumatized and distracted parents—Feyre and Rhysand. Despite their best efforts, they rush into parenthood for all the wrong reasons, feeling the pressure of impending danger and the belief that time is running out. They're powerful, yes, but so burdened by their past that they can’t give Nyx the love and attention he needs to thrive. They try to be present, but emotional neglect slowly seeps in, leaving Nyx feeling alone, unloved, and desperate for connection. They compensate with material things, but it’s not enough. Nyx is still just a boy, craving someone who will truly see him.

At around ten years old, in an attempt to make his parents notice him, Nyx starts sneaking off to the Spring Court. What begins as an act of rebellion turns into something entirely unexpected. Tamlin—who has been broken, hollow, and struggling to rebuild his life—finds this small, vulnerable boy suddenly seeking him out. At first, Tamlin is hesitant. He’s never been good with children. He doesn’t know how to connect, especially not after all the devastation he’s been through. But slowly, Nyx keeps coming back, visiting him again and again. Tamlin begins to open up, maybe not in grand gestures, but in small acts of kindness—offering Nyx a safe space, listening when he speaks, giving him attention that’s not laced with expectation or distraction.

As the months pass, something shifts. Nyx starts to see Tamlin not as the feared High Lord of the Spring Court, but as someone who cares for him in a way that his own parents cannot. He finds solace in Tamlin’s presence, and Tamlin, in turn, finds a sense of purpose in looking after Nyx. It’s not about power or obligation—it’s simply about being there for this boy who so clearly needs a father figure. Tamlin never asked to be a father, but he can’t ignore the bond that’s quietly forming between them.

Then one day, after countless visits, Nyx accidentally calls Tamlin “papa.” It slips out in a moment of vulnerability, perhaps after a particularly rough day back at home. Immediately, Nyx freezes, terrified of how Tamlin might react. He starts to apologize, stumbling over his words, thinking he’s crossed a line. But instead of pulling away, Tamlin wraps him in a hug, a genuine, comforting embrace, and quietly says, “If you want me to, I will.” And in that moment, everything shifts.

The world seems to stop for both of them. The bond that snaps into place isn’t the romantic mating bond we’re used to seeing—it’s something entirely different. It’s a bond built on trust, on care, on the love of a protector for a child who needs him. It’s a parental bond, the kind that says, I will be here for you, always. I will keep you safe. I will love you like my own.

Nyx finally feels seen, finally feels loved in a way that’s not forced or transactional. And Tamlin, who has been so lost and broken, finds a new sense of purpose. He never expected to be anyone’s father, but in that moment, he becomes one—not because of blood or obligation, but because of the bond that has formed between him and this boy. Nyx starts calling him "papa," and Tamlin, despite all his fears, accepts it with open arms.

This is why Sarah J. Maas should expand the idea of mates beyond just romantic connections. Mates should be about completing each other’s souls, in whatever form that takes. For Nyx and Tamlin, it’s not about romantic love—it’s about the love between a father and a child, a love that grows naturally and beautifully out of shared understanding, trust, and care. And in the end, it’s this bond that brings healing to both of them.