#but also he loves his friends? and i think he should make some more friends? you know?

[fairyhaos]

◈ love of my life // yoon jeonghan

jeonghan x gn!reader, 2k+ words

tags: technically requested by lots of people bc everyone wants jeonghan fluff, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, crack, mutual pining, almost-confessions

warnings: light swearing

summary: in which your relationship with jeonghan isn't exactly platonic and isn't exactly romantic... but rather, it's a secret third thing.

It has to be at least two in the morning when Jeonghan's ringtone blares throughout his bedroom, and he rolls over with a groan, grappling blindly at his nightstand before finding his phone and pressing it against his cheek. 

“Who is this and what do you want?”

“Jeonghan, let's go on a date.”

He recognises your voice in an instant, even in his half-asleep state, and he huffs a laugh, flopping back against the pillows and rubbing his eyes. 

“Gee, at least ask me when it's not ass o'clock in the morning, won't you?”

“No, no, this only works if you get up right now,” you say. “Come on, Jeonghan, just go on a date with me. Right at this very moment.”

Jeonghan rubs his eyes, before taking his phone away from his cheek and peering at the screen so he can read the time. “See, you’re not presenting a very good argument,” he says, once he’s put the phone against his ear again. It’s almost three in the morning. What are you thinking? “I don’t wanna date you that much.”

You make a sad sound on the other end of the phone. “What will it take to get you out of the house?”

“Wire me an obscene amount of money right now and I’ll think about it.”

There’s a pause.

“No. Best I can offer is a pretty please.”

Jeonghan can’t help smiling at your dry tone, and he rubs his eyes once again with a yawn. “Fine. I guess I can’t expect anything better from you, anyway.” He can almost see you biting your lip in annoyance, wanting to quip something witty back at him but also wanting to keep quiet so he’ll actually come. 

“You know me so well.”

“Yes I do,” Jeonghan teases, and groggily hauls himself out of bed. “I’ll be ready in ten. Where do you want me to go?”

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll pick you up,” you say, suddenly sounding excited. “Just wait for me and I’ll come over to take you out.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

You laugh, bright and happy, like it’s not four in the morning and you’ve asked your best friend to go on a date with you. Jeonghan can’t help but smile again, even as he grapples blindly through his dark room to find some clothes.

“Don’t worry. It’s a promise.”

───────────── 🌘

Jeonghan is, admittedly, more than a little confused when you just take him to the nearest playground.

Sure, maybe this entire thing is weird—you calling him up during ridiculous hours of the morning to “go on a date” is definitely not something you’ve done before—but that’s just the kind of friendship he and you have. 

It’s like how, last year, he spent an entire month calling you increasingly ridiculous pet names, ranging from “beloved” to “honey butter snuggles bunny bear”, and purposefully took you out to public cafes and restaurants to test them out for everyone to see and hear, preventing you from punching him as hard as he probably deserved. 

So this is, like, nothing new. Just a funny and silly thing the two of you do, because you've known each other for the whole of your lives, and when it comes to the way your relationship works, the lines separating “platonic” and “romantic” have always been curiously nonexistent. 

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s never meant to mean anything.

But sometimes, sometimes, it feels like it should.

“I think I’m going to end up alone forever,” you say abruptly, and Jeonghan looks over at you in surprise. You’re sitting on the swings next to him, dragging yourself back and forth as you look up at the sky. There’s nothing to see up there, with the clouds obscuring any moonlight, so it's obvious that you're just looking away so he can't see your face. 

It's so quiet; Jeonghan didn't realise that the world could be this quiet at 2 in the morning, and it makes your words echo extra loud into the abyss, before they're swallowed by the darkness. 

Jeonghan shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

Instantly, you're leaning over to swat him on the arm, and he laughs. 

“Asshole,” you say, but there's no venom in your voice, even as you level him with a glare. “You're really no help. I'm trying to unload all my deepest fears for you, here, practically begging you to reassure me, and yet all you can do is be mean.”

“You said one thing,” Jeonghan points out. “I don't think that counts as unloading all your deepest fears.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it's my only deepest fear.”

“Why are you unloading your deepest fear on me?” Jeonghan asks, kicking his legs out in front of him. “We're on a date. Our first date, mind you, so this hardly seems appropriate.”

“Asshole,” you say again, but like before, the word has no bite. You glance over at him, before realising that he's looking at you, and then quickly raise your gaze to the sky. “I'm being serious about this, you know.”

Jeonghan says nothing for a long moment. Watches the way the pale light from a nearby lamppost gives you an unearthly, almost otherworldly glow. 

“I'm being serious too,” he decides to say, looking up at the cloudy sky with you. “You shouldn't be saying that stuff on a first date. Kinda makes it sound like you don't think things will work out between us, you know?”

You huff a confused laugh, looking over at him again. “Jeonghan, wha—?”

“And maybe you will end up alone,” he carries on, thoughtfully, as if he's talking to himself, forgetting that you're sitting there too. “But maybe you won't. I think you probably won't. And even if you do, it's fine, because I'll still be with you.”

It's a painfully vulnerable thing to say, made doubly so by the quietness of the night. Like a love confession, almost. Except it's not, because he's not in love with you. 

He isn't. 

“That's really sweet,” you say, almost begrudgingly, as if it pains you to admit that Jeonghan actually said something nice, and he laughs. “Though wrong. If you’re with me, then I'm not alone, am I?”

“Oh, I see. When you said alone, you meant in general. I thought you meant, like, romantically.”

“Well, maybe. But maybe I also meant overall,” you shrug. “I didn't think you'd want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Jeonghan swallows, tilts back on the swings, head still raised to look at the sky. “I want to spend every life with you.”

You look away from the sky at his words, turning to face him in surprise. The echoes of what he’d just said were already fading away, muffled and pressed into the velvet dark of the night, but the surprisingly soft air that followed in its wake still remained.

 Now, he's the one avoiding your gaze, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the shapeless, misty blur of clouds above him so he doesn’t have to look at you. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you tilt your head, and smile. 

“Oh, look at you, you sap,” you say, bright and teasing. “Face it, you like being with me. Oh! I bet you're in love with me, seeing as how you agreed to date me and everything! Isn't that right, Jeonghan? You love me.”

Jeonghan pulls a face, and you burst into laughter, so ridiculously loud and happy even though it's two in the morning and the whole playground is silent, the sound of your happiness ringing against the cool air of the night. He can't help but look at you then, exasperated and fond, shaking his head as you grip the swing chains and sway back and forth, still giggling to yourself. 

He sniffs, feigning annoyance as he leans to the side, making a dramatic show of pulling his swing away from you. 

“This isn't a real date. I could never date you.” He scrunches his face in faux disgust for good measure, and you laugh again, rolling your eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And yet you still came out when I called, didn't you?” you tease, smiling widely, and Jeonghan has to admit that you're right. He's here because you asked him to be here. He’s here for you.

Hm. This was getting weirdly soul-baringly truthful for what he’d thought would be a silly little hangout in the middle of the night.

“Next time you call me at 2am, I’m blocking you forever,” he says dryly, giving you an exaggerated look of disdain just so he can revel in the laugh that it pulls out of you.

“No you won’t,” you say cheerily. “Because you looove me.”

“Um, lies.”

“No lies. You literally love me so much.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. You do, you do, you do, you’re actually genuinely in love with me and there’s nothing you can do to deny it, because it’s so obvious that I’m literally the love of your l—”

Jeonghan makes a clicking sound with his tongue and leans over to shove your arm, causing you to swing to the side as you cackle with delight at his reaction. He glares at you, again, sighing with exasperation as you continue to laugh.

“Yes, yes, I love you, just as much as you love me. Now if we’re not actually doing anything of importance, then can I go home?”

“What?” you say indignantly. “Of course not! If I can’t sleep, then that means you’re not allowed to sleep either.”

“I knew it. You called me out here because you couldn’t fall asleep.”

“Duh. Now come and push my swing, will you?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and stands up from his swing, groaning and holding his knees like he’s some kind of grumpy grandpa. You laugh, mocking him for his bad joints as he walks around to stand behind you, and he snarks back something ridiculously funny and rippling with light, twisting through the cool air.

And then his hand presses against the small of your back, soft and yet sure, and suddenly all you can focus on is that gentle, feathery point of contact that connects you to him.

Your laughter subsides as he begins to gently push your swing, and you move up, and down, and up, and down, the fleeting warmth of his hand an intermittent pressure against your back. He doesn’t say a word. Everything is quiet, in your head. Like his touch alone could silence any worries that still floated around in your brain.

It’s one of the things you adore most about Jeonghan. He makes you feel safe.

“For the record, by the way,” you say, voice quiet, “I really do love you.”

There’s no noise but the metallic creak of the swing, sounding weirdly small in the yawning abyss of the dark. Jeonghan’s hand is still steady as he pushes you, again and again.

“As a friend?” he asks, eventually.

You can’t see him, and maybe that’s for the best. His voice is tinged with a colour, an emotion, that you can’t quite name, warm and cool and fleeting and present all at once.

Yet more silence greets his words. You continue swinging, and he continues helping.

It’s hard to know what he means by that. As a friend, in a hopeful way? As a friend, in a meaningful way? Or as a friend, in a way that could maybe, maybe, signal that he thinks, or wishes, that you mean... something else.

More.

These things are difficult to tell, when it comes to Jeonghan. Who wears his heart on his sleeve and yet also hides it away where no one can see.

“Yeah,” you say, after it has been far too long since he’d asked, but it’s clear that you were both waiting for your answer anyway. The word leaves you as a sigh, threadbare and thin. “As a friend.”

Jeonghan huffs a soft laugh. Maybe because he believes you, or maybe because he doesn’t. You’re not too sure.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pale as moonlight. “In which case, I love you too.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

[starlightazriel]

bee 11

desc: modern bestfriends > lovers (femreader) (tattoo artist az)

warnings: 18+, drug/alcohol addiction/recovery, reader overthinking/insecure/depressed, jealousy, archeron sisters have entered the chat, angst, fluff, co-dependence(and all the trauma that comes with it),

wc: 4.2k

a/n: wow i'm so sorry this took so long as some of you know i been going through some things anyyyway we've come so far since the beginning myyy goodness, as much as I love sober az I already miss the az who was doing a line before a tattoo, but alas after all the drama last time I hope this makes up for it <3 kisses xoxox

other parts on my az masterlist

eleven

Sixty days.

Sixty days of loneliness.

Sixty days of an empty house.

Sixty days of overthinking.

Sixty days of gut wrenching anxiety.

Sixty days of no contact.

Sixty days of not hearing his voice.

It had been my idea, the whole no contact, and now, it felt like it had been the worst fucking idea in the world. Facing him now seemed impossible. Would he look different? Would he be different?

Fucking idiot. Do you know how much can change in sixty days? Sober Ariel won't even want you.

It had been maybe a week in when the seed of doubt had blossomed in my gut. The regret for the dumb idea that space was the best thing for our relationships, time to figure ourselves out so we could add to each others lives— instead of depending on each other. Him, needing me, me needing to be needed.

It was such a fine line between give and take and I had offered every last piece of myself to him without a hesitation. With him gone, with him healing, getting better... What would he need me for? What was I supposed to do with myself? School was hardly distracting, and finals coming up should have helped but only made it worse.

Rhys and Cass had visited him, a few times, they had also gone on another Vegas trip, without him obviously, apartment hunting. That did nothing to soothe my gut either, that was real. It was happening in mere months they were moving to Vegas. Neither did the way they all stopped talking about him when I was around, did he tell them something? Did he tell them he was going to break it off with me for good when he got home? Or did my friends really think I was that fragile? That I couldn't even handle hearing about him?

'I would let Rhys sue me for breaking contract before I would leave this city without you.' his previous words echoed in my mind, I had been so sure he meant it when he'd said that to me, so sure that I would never be alone again.

And of course I wanted him to get clean, but somehow, everything felt different now. I wasn't so sure of anything anymore. Would he still feel the same way?

I hadn't even looked into transferring schools. He had told me to, before he left... But doing that made everything more real, and what if he changed his mind when he saw me again?

He wouldn't be in a drug clouded haze anymore. He wouldn't need me anymore, not the way that I needed him.

And I wouldn't even get any alone time with him, not immediately. Rhys was throwing a little get together for him, he was so proud, they were all so proud of him.

I hated that I wasnt as proud as everyone else when I should be the most proud, I hated that I was afraid of the new Azriel. There would be nothing for me to fix anymore.

With every waking moment that passed my anxiety and insecurity grew. Getting ready for his 'sober party' seemed surreal to me, it only created more doubts in my mind. I mean, had Azriel, my Az, really agreed to that? Even as a sober version of himself— it seemed doubtful.

-

Sixty days.

Sixty days of detoxing his mind, body, and soul.

Sixty days of boring meals.

Sixty days of therapy multiple times a week.

Sixty days of sharing his darkest side with complete strangers.

Sixty days of uncomfortable beds and scratchy sheets.

Sixty days of living in sweat pants because it was all he had packed.

Sixty days of heart stopping guilt and revelations about himself and his behavior.

Sixty days of torturous inescapable demons that seemed to be at war in his mind.

Sixty days of not hearing her voice.

The moment she had told him she didn't want to talk to him while he was in rehab, he had wanted to stay. Give up the idea entirely and quit on his own accord. He didn't though, he went. And it wasn't only for her. No, it was for him too. And he thought maybe it was valid, maybe they did need space, time away to clear their minds and have a true fresh start. He could do things right this time.

And now, with his head clear, he was happy he had gone. He felt stronger, in his mind and body. It had been a lot, a lot of facing things that had happened in his childhood that he had never dared to face before. Things he didnt have to face when drugs and alcohol had been his safety net for so many years. He realized he didnt need substances to deal with those things, his traumas didnt make him weak or vulnerable, they made him stronger.

He did recognize his problem, and he couldn't say for sure that he would never touch the bottle or snort a line ever again because that was just unrealistic. He was only human and he would do his absolute best to be a good man, for himself.

For Bee too. If she still wanted anything to do with him, the silence between them was the loudest one he'd ever felt, even miles away.

Bee.

His lover. His everything.

There was nothing that could get in the way anymore, he hadn't realized until now how much his addictions had been separating him from her. And of course he had gotten off it before but never without alcohol to help him along. He had never been so fucking deep into his addictions, had never gone that crazy. What he had done was completely unacceptable and now he could only hope for the best when he saw her. A party thrown by Rhys and his girlfriend hadn't been his ideal meeting place... But it had been completely sprung on him. Him being in rehab wasnt a secret, but that didn't mean he wanted to advertise it. Rhys had promised it was a very small get together, just something to show their support. 'No pictures.' Azriel had been sure to clear that up with him. The party was supposed to be a surprise, luckily for Az, Rhys knew him better than that.

-

Rhys and his new girlfriend had out done themselves along with the help of Mor who had told me this morning when she arrived in town that she wouldn't have missed this for the world. 'I mean, Azriel sober? I have to see it for myself and support,' she had said over coffees earlier, I had gotten quiet, I knew I could have talked to her about how I was feeling. But it felt wrong, it was embarrassing to say the least. I didnt think she would understand, either.

Rhys' place was decked out, balloons everywhere, charcuterie and little desserts lined both of the large tables, there was a mocktail station and a coffee station where she had also decorated Rhys' coffee pot, another table had a 'fill your own cone' bud bar that included a big jar full of Azriels favorite cigarettes as well. Her theme was 'Sober & Slaying' and there were banners and balloons to match. My heart had swelled the moment I had entered the apartment and part of me felt a little guilty for not getting here earlier. I hadn't been doing much of anything though, I wasn't eating right, I wasn't sleeping right, my thoughts and fears and insecurities had been practically eating me alive. They hadn't even asked me to help with set up, simply to show up on time, I at least had arrived twenty minutes early.

"Oh good! You're here, will you help me with this last mocktail?" Feyre beams after she had pulled me into a quick hug. She was very sweet although a bit reserved at first she had warmed up to me quickly. She was setting up some last minute decorations, I was early, of course, my anxious gut hadn't allowed me to sit at home a moment longer.

Part of me was hoping this new relationship would entice Rhys to stay a little bit longer, but they were already talking about going long distance until Feyre was ready to take the leap and move to Vegas. Seemed awfully soon to even be talking about it to me, but I wasn't one to judge, they did seem madly in love nearly instantly, and Rhys was, different. Nicer even.

"Yeah of course," I flashed her a grin and tasted the mocktail she was working on before I added some more of the homemade blueberry simple syrup she had made. "So good," I hummed in approval once I had tasted it again.

"So like, will this be the first time you and Az speak?" Mor tries to make it sound as casual as possible, my eyes focus intently as I transferred the mocktail to the aesthetically pleasing drink dispensers Feyre had put out.

"Um yeah, I haven't seen him or spoke to him since the night before he left," I shrugged, my eyes not lifting once. It had been quite the emotional night, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I visited him once, he looks really good," she responded and I couldn't stop the jealous pang that hit my gut. Space. We had decided space was the right thing for us, a reset to our relationship after everything we had been through. My dumb idea, but he had agreed. I only smiled in response, and was glad when Cassian arrived with a cake in hand, his loud greeting drew all the attention away from me. Bless him. I found a corner to sit in, a quiet corner with my phone and one of the mocktails Feyre had made. A few more arrived, Feyres sisters, which I had only met a handful of times. Why were they here? Az didn't know them, did he? The only way that was possible would be if Rhys had brought them for one of his visits— the mocktail felt sour in my stomach and I felt more than relieved when Kat finally arrived and joined me in my corner.

"Hi love, how you holding up?" Kat had been very supportive through this entire rehab thing, and was making my loneliness nearly bearable.

"I'm fine, really, just coping with all of— all of the emotions of all the sudden change I guess," I shrug easily, Kat was the only one I had really felt comfortable to tell my true feelings to. She was the only one I knew that wouldn't judge. She nodded in understanding, making herself comfortable in her seat.

"That's valid, it's a lot to take in girl," She begins and I'm relieved when she can't continue because Cassian is all but shouting a second later.

"He's coming up he texted me a few minutes ago," Cassians voice drowns out the chatter around the room and I feel my insides go to liquid, my throat feeling tight and constricted.

My heart stopped when I finally laid my eyes on him. Impossibly sexier. His face was more full, color in his cheeks, a sparkle in his eye I hadn't seen since we were kids, he stood straighter, making him look impossibly taller, shoulders spread, oozing with a confidence I hadn't seen in a long time. My gut twisted, my heart picking up, a steady hammer against my chest. I held my breath when our eyes met, his face fell as he scanned me from across the room and I wanted nothing more than to drop into the hole in the floor. It wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for. I knew I looked awful— but shit, we hadn't seen each other in two months.

"Azriel, it's nice to see you again," Elain is the first person in front of him she's loud enough to hear across the room, her sing song voice carrying, and I try to ignore it but my eyes are glued to his, and he has to tear his away from mine.

"So what, Rhys took Feyre and her random sisters to see Az in rehab?" I drop my voice, forcing myself to look away, to tune out their conversation to the best of my abilities. Kat bit her lip, a notable guilty blush creeping across her cheeks.

"I um.. I was there too," she admits, twirling her hair around her finger, I squint slightly. She could have at least told me that. "It was a last minute thing," she explained quickly, my expression probably throwing her off. I was jealous, I couldn't deny that— I had no one to blame but myself. If I'd never been so set on having space away from eachother... My blood heated, she was gorgeous, just the type that Azriel would go for to. "They just happened to be there and we made a group trip of it— and yeah, I didn't think you'd want to know, considering..." she trailed off and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yeah, I don't mind at all," I would have rather jumped off of the balcony than have this conversation, I shouldn't have asked. The FOMO was certainly real and I wondered if that's why they were constantly all whispers when talking about Azriel, to spare me of that feeling.

"Youre not imagining her googly eyes though," she scoffs as she glances back over at them and then to me mocking a gag, I smirked a little bit glancing back at them once more and then to Kat again. She was for sure laying it on thick with the sweet tone and all of the unnecessary blinks. I didnt remember that about the first few times I met her.

"I mean I can't even blame her— he looks..." I trailed off searching for the right word, he looked amazing, delicious, sexier than he'd ever had before. He was practically glowing with whatever newfound confidence he'd gained from facing his many demons.

"I know that's your man but he looks hot," she finishes for me and we giggle together, I ignored the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe he wasnt my man anymore.

"That he does," I sigh, twirling my straw around in my cup, suddenly I regretted not sneaking a few nips into my purse. I wouldn't get drunk at a sober party, I wouldn't, but something to take the edge off would be nice, and a joint didn't seem like the right option.

I effectively avoided Azriel for at least an hour, I hadn't been keeping track of time but it felt like it had been at least that long. I wasnt ready for a conversation, not when one look at him made my heart stop.

My stomach was growling, and I needed a snack. I was carefully piling charcuterie onto my plate when I jumped and nearly dropped the whole thing.

"Youre avoiding me, and youre doing a good job for how small the space is," his voice is the same one I remember, low and gravelly and sexy.

"Im not," I insist, just hoping he hadn't noticed the way I visibly jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I think I know when my girlfriend is avoiding me," he left a heavy emphasis on the word, looking at me expectantly as if he was daring me to challenge his claim on our relationship status. Relief washed over me, a tension that I hadn't been able to ease since the last time I saw him.

"Its just— Its been a lot I don't know, and having this conversation here... Seems like a lot too," I took a step back from the table but turned around to face him, I could feel more than one pair of eyes watching us, it only made me more uncomfortable.

"Are you eating?" its a direct question, soft but firm, his eyes scanning over every inch of me. My stomach flips, my cheeks reddening.

"Yes," I lift the small plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit as if that proved anything.

"Hm," he doesn't seem satisfied with my answer, his eyes not leaving me for a second.

"You look good Az, you look different," I chewed the inside of my lip, hoping my anxiousness didnt bleed into my words.

"Im still me baby im just better," that same confident smirk spreads across his lips, I knew it well but somehow- there was a different spark behind it. Something all those drugs had dimmed. A light I hadn't seen in a while. "For example, Im not gonna nod off on the couch anymore because Ive had a handle to myself for two days straight and Im hours off a two week coke bender," he said it so casually and leave it to Azriel to make a joke out of it. "From now on," his voice drops as if he knew they were all listening, I felt Elain's curious eyes on us and I knew she was trying to catch every word. Sorry, hes mine. "I won't fall asleep without making sure you are fed, fucked, and tucked into bed."

I blush, looking away from his stare, something in my gut eases but the anxiety is still settled there.

"And Im sorry, for each and every time I failed you. Im clear headed now and—" he cuts himself off, and maybe it was the look on my face that stopped him. "Would you feel better if we went outside?" he nods to the balcony, I quickly nod, desperate to be alone with him and not on display like some soap that they were all watching.

"Please, its. little stuffy in here," my words are a little rushed, and they were true, I felt like I could barely breathe anymore. And I was making a complete idiot out of myself when Azriel hadn't seen me in two months. I feel his hand on my back and he guides me out onto Rhys balcony, I don't look back again, I lean up against the balcony, resting my elbow on the railing and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air before popping one of the pieces of cheese into my mouth.

Azriel joins me after he had shut the door behind us, leaning up against the balcony next to me and he lit up a joint he had gotten off of the bud bar.

"Did you tell your psychiatrist you were going to smoke?" I ask casually, trying to change the subject into something else. Anything else but our relationship, I shouldn't be worried, he had already said I was still his girlfriend.

"Yes," he shrugged, taking another drag from it, I could feel his eyes on me as I set my plate down on the nearby table. I had barely touched it.

"And what did they say?" I ask, quirking a brow as I take it from him, it was annoying that I was more at ease now, normal territory, I didnt like the way sober Az could see right through me, I had thought he was able to before, and now?

He shrugged again, watching me. "Why are you trying to avoid talking about us?" he reaches out, tucking my hair behind my ear so I can't hide from him, my breath catches. He took the joint back, taking one more long drag before putting it out. I shook my head, I couldn't find the right words. He grabs my wrist gently and turns me around so my back is against the railing, his body so close, the scent of his cologne slamming into my senses. "Why?" he repeats, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light, his voice is soft and careful.

"I— I don't know Az," I breathe out, my heart felt like it would pound out of my chest. "It's just I—" I look away, unable to meet his gaze when I feel the word vomit coming. "Im afraid, Azriel. I am. And I know it's fucked up because I shouldn't be. I feel sick, sick with myself that I have been more worried about whether or not you would still want me when you got back than I have about you and your actual recovery. Ive been worried about you being different and not needing me and I know Im so fucked up for that there's something wrong with me and Im sorry—"

"Hey, hey, stop, breathe for a second," he interrupts me, a small sigh leaving his lips as he places both of his hands on my cheeks, lifting my face to look at him and he gently wipes away my shameful tears with his rough thumbs, the feeling makes my spine tingle. "Don't feel bad for anything that you feel or have felt in these past weeks," he assures me, one of his thumbs still gently rubbing against my cheek, his eyes burning into mine. "I— I created that for you, that whole thinking you need to be needed by me. I created this... Trauma bond, I know that now, I know that I made our relationship toxic. It's not your fault, I hadn't dealt with any of my shit and I basically put it on to you. Im sorry, Im sorry you felt like that at all and I wish..." he sighed softly, one of his hands fell to my waist. "I wish I had the courage to call you, because I wanted to so many times, but I didnt think you'd want to talk to me. You needed space and I had to respect that but seeing you now, seeing you haven't been taking care of yourself like you should have. I should have been there for you," he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I know where I fucked up, I know what kind of damage Ive done, this only proves it," he brushed his finger over the dark circle underneath my eye. "I love you, I love you so much, maybe too much sometimes," he sighs again, I fight the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"Az I love you too," I breathe out because Im stunned into silence. Everything hes said, his accountability, his words, they felt like they were crashing into me.

"Im not going to leave you like that ever again," he promised, and took a step closer, pressing his body into mine. He felt stronger, more solid. It was almost like he had left a boy and returned a man. "You are going to be my wife some day, you are the fucking definition of ride or die Bee, I swear, for the last two months the more clear my head got I just realized one thing over and fucking over," he wasnt afraid, he had absolutely no hesitations, every single word felt like a promise, and I felt like my heart was palpitating. "I hit the fucking jack pot with you, and I fear the smartest thing that Ive ever done in my life was share my favorite candy with the girl across the street."

My cheeks are burning, tears streaming, but they aren't sad, just emotional. I don't know what else to do, my words are caught in my throat so I kissed him. I pulled him down, my fingers tugging in the hairs at the nap of his neck, our tongues tangling perfectly like they always had. He was mine, still my Az, better, better like he had said. He was right. A soft groan escaped his lips, my stomach flipped at the sound, the thought of how he would have his way with me later after so many days apart. My body melted into his at the thought, our hungry kiss only escalating. Our desperate need for each other matching perfectly, our emotions pouring into the heated kiss. I tilted my head his lips traveling down my jaw and across my neck, settling behind my ear and gently sucking. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, I moaned his name softly, my body feeling like a hot puddle.

"Hmm?" he hummed against my skin, his hand had slipped under my dress where he was rubbing soft circles on the least sensitive part of my thigh, somehow it was still driving me mad.

"We, we should go in now... They are going to be wondering whats taking us so long," I breathed out, I couldn't even see past Azriel into the house, I was sure they could see us though, or at least see Azriel pinning me against the railing.

"They should have known better than to throw me a party when I haven't seen my baby in sixty whole days, and they definitely should have known better than to let you wear this dress," he tugs lightly at the fabric. "They should have known Id need alone time with you," his eyes glimmered with mischief. "I have a lot of making up to do," he added, tracing his scarred finger over my jawline.

"I hated this idea more than you Im sure," I admitted guiltily, biting down on my lip. "But they worked really hard Az," I tried to peek around him to see inside again, he only shifted to block my view.

"Fine, but five more minutes," he smirked, tilting my chin up again.

"Five more minutes," I whispered breathlessly before he crashed his lips onto mine again, and I felt all of my anxiety melt away, as if he was pulling it from me.

And I felt safe.

Home.

Safe.

-

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[winchesterwild78]

A Twist of Fate

Characters: Dean x Reader, Billy x Reader

Warnings: Nothing too extreme, just some angst, language, and fluff

A/N: Got this idea from a picture I was tagged in by @jackles010378. Sorry it took me so long to write this. Dean and the reader were dating and broke up. Dean sees the reader with her new boyfriend and things unravel. 

This is a work of fiction, all work is my own, do not take it or copy it. 

Minors DNI 18+

The crisp autumn air nipped at my nose as Billy and I strolled down Main Street. The leaves were a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, and yellows, a beautiful contrast to the gray sky. I couldn't help but think about how much my life had changed since I'd last seen Dean.

Three years. That's how long we'd been together. Three years of laughter, love, and a shared passion for the supernatural. And then, just like that, he was gone. A letter, a simple explanation that he couldn't be with me anymore. The pain had been unbearable, a wound that had slowly healed, leaving a scar that I would always carry.

That morning I woke up and found the letter on his pillow. It was the day my world broke. Tears fell on the letter as I read his simple words. 

Dear Y/N,

These past three years have been great. We’ve shared so much and done even more together. I know you love me. You’ve said it so many times, and showed me every day. I just can’t lie to you anymore. I don’t feel the same. That’s not fair to you, to make you think we have a future together. One where we get married and have kids. I can’t do the apple pie life. I’m sorry, Y/N. I do hope you find the love you deserve.

Goodbye,

D

It didn’t make sense to me. We had just shared a night of love and passion, tangled in each other’s embrace. Whispering words of love and affection. We talked of the future and he said he’d love to be a dad one day. He was the love of my life, then he was gone. 

Now, here I was, two years later with Billy. He was kind, considerate, and everything a good man should be. But a part of me couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

We met through a mutual friend and had an instant connection. I wouldn’t call it love, but I was grateful for the companionship. I hadn’t even spoken the words to him. Billy was quick to say “I love you”, but I couldn’t say it because I didn’t mean it, nor did I feel it. 

Billy spent all of his free time with me. At times it felt suffocating. Dean and I spent a lot of time together too, but we also had our time apart. I’d bake and he’d work in the garage, it was a perfect balance.

Walking hand in hand through Main Street my mind kept comparing him to Dean. When Dean and I would walk, his arm was around me in a protective way. Billy just held my hand. Dean would lace his fingers in mine, Billy just cupped my hand. 

When Billy kissed me, it was hard and fast. When Dean kissed me it was soft and full of passion. Every step I took my mind kept comparing Billy to Dean. I couldn’t figure out why Dean was in the forefront of my thoughts.

And then I saw him. Leaning against the Impala, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. Dean. My heart pounded in my chest as our eyes met. A flash of something crossed his face - regret? Jealousy? I couldn't be sure.

As we continued walking, I glanced back. He was still watching, his gaze fixed on me. A wave of emotions washed over me. I stumbled as I looked back. I saw him gasp and jump off the car. Billy grabbed my arm trying to steady me. “You okay?” I nodded. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Dean. Billy followed my gaze. Clearing his throat I turned and met his eyes. “Who’s that?” He asked, his voice laced with hurt and something else, anger maybe. I looked at Dean then back at Billy, “he’s my ex.” 

Billy wasn’t happy. I could feel the tension between us. As we walked into the quiet cafe he shot me a look that sent a chill through me. The cashier offered a soft smile. “How can I help you two today?” She said with a sweet voice. Billy looked at her and said “We will both have a coffee with 2 creams and 1 sugar.” She nodded as she started to put in the order. I spoke up, “Um, excuse me. I’ll have a vanilla latte please.” Billy shot me a look and grabbed my hand, “No, you’ll have what I ordered you. You’re my girlfriend and you’ll have what I order.” 

The cashier stood shocked. My mouth was on the floor. He’d never acted like this before. I touched his bicep softly, “Billy, I am your girlfriend, but I can order what I want.” Billy huffed and mumbled something. The cashier told Billy the total and she went about making the order. 

When we had our order Billy directed me to a booth at the back of the restaurant. I sat across from him and looked at him, shocked by his behavior. “You want to tell me what the hell that was about, Billy? Since when do you order for me and grab me?” Billy just stared at me, anger flashing in his eyes. It honestly scared me. 

“I didn’t like how you kept staring at pretty boy out there. It’s like you’re in love with him or something.” I bit my lip, not knowing what to say to him. I was in love with him. I never stopped loving him, but how could I tell him that? 

I swallowed hard. Touching Billy’s hand I started to speak, “Billy, I was in love with him when I was with him. He broke my heart and I’m with you now. That’s all that matters.” 

Billy pulled his hand away from me. “So you can love him but not me? You know what, screw this. Why don’t you go back to him and be his little whore again.” I gasped, “Billy! What the hell. Please calm down. I don’t want to be with him, I’m with you.”

Before I could say anything else, Billy stood up and told me to have a nice life and left. I sat at the table in shock. What the hell just happened? How did one little thing set him off like that? 

I sat at the table thinking about the past few years, how my love for Dean slipped away, and how Billy reacted to me seeing Dean. I was lost in thought and didn’t hear the bell above the door. 

The sound of a deep husky voice pulled me from my thoughts, “Hello, sweetheart.” My eyes flicked up and they met the piercing green eyes of my favorite hunter. My breath caught in my throat, “D…Dean, what are you doing here?” “Sammy and I were in town on a hunt, I heard you moved here. I’m so glad I ran into you. Can I sit?” 

“Sure.” I said without hesitation. Dean sat across from me. His hands instinctively grabbed mine. My head is screaming at me to pull away, but the rest of my body is holding on for dear life. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I was foolish and a complete jackass for leaving and for leaving you the way I did. I was scared. I had finally found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, have children with, and I got scared. Scared you would be taken away from me. Scared because I don’t deserve the love you had for me. I’ve never deserved love or to be loved. I’m broken, Y/N. 

As I sat across from him, hearing him say how he didn’t deserve love my heart broke for him. “Dean, you deserve so much.You, Dean Winchester, deserve all the love in the world. You were four years old when you saved your brother from the fire, you raised him. Dean, you had to be mom and dad to Sam. Dean Winchester, the man who willingly went to hell to save his baby brother, the man who was willing to die for so many people. Dean Winchester, the man who took on the Mark of Cain to help save the world. You deserve all the love this world has to offer. You deserve so much more than I can give you. I NEVER stopped loving you, Dean, and I know I never will.”

Dean stood and walked over to me. He reached out his hand and took my hand in his, pulling me up and flush to his body. He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, and his hand cupped my face, “You are even more beautiful now than you were two years ago. I was a fool to let you go, and I intend to spend the rest of my life making that up to you. That is if you’ll have me again.” 

I leaned into his hand that cupped my face. My heart hammered in my chest. His touch ignited that fire, that love I had buried deep inside me. Without another word I leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It was soft and Dean hesitated for a moment. Then something changed. His hands went into my hair and pulled me in. The kiss became more passionate and full of need. 

The hurt from the past two years was fading with each kiss. When we finally parted, I looked at Dean and smiled. His eyes are full of love and desire. “Dean, take me home.” I said as I leaned into his embrace.

Dean took my hand and led me out of the coffee shop and to the Impala. He opened the car door and I climbed in. When he got in the driver’s seat, he looked over, smiled and took my hand. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He stepped on the gas and we headed back home. Home, where we both belonged, together and in each other’s arms. 

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[johnwickb1tsch]

Donnie US Marshall revenge 🤭

Well gaddam, my babes! So many of you asked for it that I've decided to just give you what I've got. 😆 Thank you @discoscoob , @scarlettspectra , and the lovely Nonnie who asked!

warnings: mention past underage abuse, domestic abuse, mention police violence (this is a donnie fic, i assume you're not faint of heart here) Not a pro-Donnie fic.

You have to go back to your small town for the first time since you graduated high school, to bury your mother. 

The first time Donnie Barksdale grabbed your ass, you were just 15. It was the first time he hit you too, because you were so startled you dumped hot fried chicken in his lap. He was your mom’s boyfriend, and he seemed to think that meant you came in the deal too.

There were times back then when you hated Donnie, and other times not so much. Like when he was kinda sweet, and would bring you a candy bar from the gas station, and you wished he wasn't so good looking because you knew what he was really like when he started drinking. 

It was hard to understand why your mama put up with him, the way he whooped on her. He didn’t have a job and didn’t do anything around the house. You supposed Donnie’s knowledge of the location of the clitoris put him in high demand in your small town. It also didn't hurt that he was good looking as the devil himself, with a silver tongue to match.

After the funeral, you find that night being alone in the house where you grew up unsettles you. You decide to put on jeans and an oversize flannel– to hide the Glock at the small of your back. You put your badge in your pocket, not on your belt, and head to the local watering hole. 

You sit by yourself for half an hour, nursing a vodka cranberry and watching the room out the corner of your eye, when he walks in. Tall and handsome as ever, shaggy in that mountain man way that still does not fail to make your treacherous pussy flutter, even while your head absolutely screams ‘danger!’ 

The sight of him just does something to you. Something unholy.

You’re not fifteen anymore, you have to remind yourself. He can’t bully you anymore, the way he’s bullied every woman in this town. 

He glances your way, that sly sideways look that always reminded you of a lion on the plain. You know he recognizes you, from the way he pauses, but he goes to join his friends by the pool table who are already 3 sheets to the wind.

It takes about half an hour for him to strut over to you, taking the bar stool on your left like you’re old friends, and you don't remember what it was like to take his fist to the side of your face when you were still practically a child. “Well, well. As I live and breathe. Y/n’s finally come home.” 

“Just here to bury Mama.” 

“Heard about that. Sorry.” 

You look him over. Your mother wasn’t much older than him, but drugs and alcohol had practically withered her to a husk until the last fix took her. Somehow, he looks fine as ever. Maybe he made a deal with the devil. 

Maybe he is the devil.

“Thanks.” 

You know he doesn’t mean it a lick. He was always more interested in her government draw check than your mother herself. Having a teenage girl at home didn’t hurt either. 

You’d just turned sixteen, when he took your virginity in his truck at the county fair. He’d been on the edge of thirty. 

You can hardly believe the balls on this man, when he pulls you in close with those long legs tangled in your barstool. 

“How long you gonna be in town?” 

“Just till tomorrow.” 

“Aww, that ain’t no time at all. You should stick around, sugar. Remember the fun we used to have?” 

It’s almost amusing to banter with him here, where you’re safe in a crowded room–and you’re armed. 

“I was a child then, Donnie. I’m a woman now.” 

He looks you up and down with those dark eyes that always could light a fire in your loins. 

“Honey, I noticed. So what you been doin’ with yourself out in the big world? Heard you run off to join the army or some shit.” 

He takes a sip of beer, and you clench your jaw. 

“Marines, actually.” 

He whistles at that. “Damn girl. You always were a tough cookie.” He leans in a little closer. “You ever think about me on a lonely night?” 

“I dream about you all the time,” you admit, and your heart has started pounding in your chest. You do not mention that he is the star of your nightmares. 

He gets that sly look that makes him look like a handsome snake. “Baby girl, do tell.” 

“I dream about giving you a set of bracelets.”

He looks puzzled at that, and you suppress the urge to laugh. “Huh?”

“Steel ones.” 

The look on his face is worth his weight in gold, when you take your badge from your pocket and set it on the bar between you. The silver star gleams in the low light, the embossed text proclaiming in a circle, UNITED STATES MARSHAL. 

You’ve never seen Donnie Barksdale look scared before. You never knew it could feel this good. 

“Are you threatening me?” 

“Not yet. But what’s the sentence for statutory rape in Georgia? 20 years? You should probably leave me the fuck alone now.” 

It’s possible this is the first time in his life that he’s been dismissed by a woman, and you can see in his eyes that he does not like it. 

“Go on,” you egg him further, wiggling your fingers. “Shoo.” 

He’s had enough to drink that he thinks it’s a good idea to grab you. But you’ve paid attention this whole time to the way he’s sitting on the edge of his stool, and it takes one good kick to send it out from under him, and Donnie sprawling on his back on the floor. Before he’s even pushed up on his elbows with murder in his eyes you are on your feet, and the Glock has materialized in your hand. 

“You crazy bitch!”

“Motherfucker, did you think we were going to arm wrestle?” He juts those bottom teeth, grinding them back and forth the way he does when he’s really seeing red. You remember that look, and you realize a part of you hopes he’ll do something stupid. 

“Second in my class at Glencoe, Donnie. You wanna try it?” 

Though you know it kills him to do so, he lays back down, his head thunking on the wooden floor. “No ma’am,” he growls.

“Good.” 

The whole room has gone quiet, staring at the two of you. The only sound is Waylon over the sound system, belting out about how there ain’t no good in an evil hearted woman. 

You have a theory now that most every bad woman has had a worse man that drove them to it.    

You lower your voice, even though you’re sure most everyone is straining to hear. “You wanna know what I learned out in the big world, Donnie?” You pause, but he gives no answer. “I learned there’s a whole ocean out there, and you are just one fucked up little fish in a tiny fucked up pond. Go to hell.” 

You throw some cash on the bar, and you leave, knowing you’ll be seeing him sooner than later. The whole town will have heard about this by noon tomorrow, and a man with an ego like Donnie Barksdale’s can’t let it slide. 

You’ll be ready. No man was ever more worth the paperwork for a justified homicide, than Donnie Barksdale.

[metranart]

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 11)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert, slight! Megumi x reader.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship (everyone is an adult).

-

It was Suguru’s lips colliding with his that brought him out of that toxic trance, Suguru used his last weapon, the most lethal he had. Gojo melted against him, unable to hold that track of selfish thoughts, instead giving all his attention to his husband's lips, his hand ended up sliding from the knob and Geto smiled against his mouth, pecking those pouting lips a couple of times before smashing a hard kiss on his forehead and sending him a disapproving look. The white-haired man shrugged like a scolded child. He almost ruined it... almost.

“I’m not sure if we are there yet, Gumi…” You mewled timidly. But he needed to fight for his right to have you, Megumi was burning to be yours, literally burning, he could not think straight anymore, you were all he thought about nowadays, you and him, just that. 

You'd only been together for a two month, and you hadn't been intimate yet, maybe some fooling around, here and there, some make out and touching— you'd jerked him off and he'd fingered your pussy after a stressful mission but that was as far as you two had gone... you couldn't find it in you to end the transaction, not when you were terrified of confusing his name with one of his parents. Not when Gojo and Geto had given you an ultimatum. Not when even now they were likely listening in from the other side of the door, if you judged by the shadows you had seen under the door, discreet enough to go unnoticed by your distracted boyfriend who prioritized his attention on you, but undoubtedly blatantly indiscreet enough for you to know and strive to keep your promise.

Nor Gojo nor Geto had been happy about your new relationship with their son but when you explained Sukuna's sudden appearance and your inability to go any other way, they understood, reluctantly… but they understood.

"Not under our roof." Suguru had spat severely, "NEVER under our roof, (Y/N) ... or I'm not responsible for my actions." With that, he spined on his heels with more sharpness that it was necessary and walked away to smoke a cigarette in solitude. His silhouette, the clear posture of an annoyed, irritated and highly conflicted, man.

Leaving behind a very guilty sorceress and a very shaken husband. You sucked in a shaky breath and the lone tear that ebbed the corner of your eye was quickly whipped away before it could even roll down your cheek. 

"Oh, my sweet pup, don’t cry,” Gojo spelled sweetly, burying you in a bear hug “this is all my fault, I should never have—”

“Don’t!” you squealed, “don’t even think about it. I wanted to!... I still DO.”

You felt his lips press a kiss on the crown of your head, to then hear the sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he chuckled, “I feel lighter already. Thank you.”

You opted to stay inside his warmness, the silence was comfortable, nevertheless, was also brief.

“I know you didn't have a choice and the last thing I want is for you to hurt Megumi," Gojo wanted the best for his son, but also for himself. He wanted you so bad, it physically hurt him. His knuckles sliding down the softness of your cheek, slowly, so slowly, felt more like if he was sewing the texture of your skin to his brain. That blue, shiny gaze firm on yours. Searching your stare insistently. Stare that refused to meet his, out of embarrassment. 

"Look at me, (Y/N).” Gojo demanded in a calm tone which quickly grew sharp. “You owe me that much-"

"Y-You have no idea how hard this is for me as well!"

Your outburst was cancelled by his arm getting tighter around you, burying you deeper into his chest, your nose dug hard against his shirt to inhale his fragrance, smelling Gojo always calmed you down, it was one of his many gifts. He smelled safe, if that was even possible, everything about Gojo Satoru made you feel safe. You melted on him, and he smiled against your hair.

"You miss us?" It wasn’t a question, it sounded like one, but it wasn’t.

Your head nodded against his broad chest, and his hug tightened even more. Tight, so tight it should hurt but it didn’t. Gojo’s fingers began to make circles on your back. Massaging the tension away with tender motions, melting the anguish in you with his tireless compression.

"We miss you so damn much, that's why Suguru is so-" his eyes shifted to the aforementioned, who was already on his third cigarette, "-is so upset."

"With me?"

You felt how deep his sigh were, when his chest rose against your cheek.

"I'm afraid, he doesn't know how to be upset with Megumi, pretty. He adores him way too much-…So, you'll have to put up with his bad mood for a while," he laughed but not the merry sound you loved. Then, he kissed each request against your forehead, soft and warm kisses filled with tender pleading, "...please, please don't judge him for his behavior. Suguru isn't good at sharing-"

Your head whipped up to look at him, and he chuckled. "He's not good at sharing with anyone but me."

You giggled, returning to your original position. No! a little close, if that was possible. "Now what?" your lips asked, afraid of the answer.

"We’ll figure it out and while we do it..." Gojo felt conflicted, even so, there was one thing he already knew he wanted from you. Warm palms dug thick thumbs under the curve of your jaw to help him tilt your head up for some needed eye contact. Once your eyes met, Gojo’s understanding look faded away and his reverent grin turned icy "...don't let Megumi fuck you." All tenderness melted away, and he repeated, "... promise me, (Y/N), you won't sleep with him until we know how to handle this."

You promised.

"I'm afraid that's NOT enough." 

It startled you. Suguru Geto, standing behind you, he dropped the last of his cigarette to the ground and step on it, those onyx orbs he called eyes, black and devoid of any kind emotion, were kinda shocking but what shocked you the most was what ended up coming out of his mouth. 

"Let's do a binding bow-"

"Suguru—" 

Gojo started but was quickly stopped by his husband with hard squeeze to his shoulder, it carried a hidden message, something only Gojo could appreciate: ‘let me be the irrational for once’- Gojo fell silent. 

“I already promised to-”

Geto denying his head cut you short.

"It doesn't really make any difference-…but the binding bow, that will actually make you keep your promise."

"Don't you trust me anymore, Suguru?" It was easy to detect the touch of indignation in your voice. Abruptly, you pulled yourself out of Gojo's arms to stare at Suguru with a hint of defiance. "Don't you-"

"I'm not going to let Megumi get hurt, DAMN IT!" The special grade sorcerer bellowed, rushing to you until were face to face. “Over my death body,” he threatened, your mouth scrunched up, a complaint about to come out before being cut off by him. “No, it’s not what you think either,” Geto added, quickly. “I don’t plan on losing you either. You are not going anywhere…”

You had never seen him so visceral, so emotional. Gojo was the creature full of fragile feelings, not Suguru, but apparently you had gotten under his skin, deeper than he had even anticipated. 

“You are mine-...Ours,” he corrected and Gojo chuckled, shaking his head, amused “...if you and Megumi start getting intimate it will only complicate everything.” The raven-haired insisted, grabbing you by the wrist to pull you closer to him, “the binding bow will prevent this.”

“How? I don’t see how-”

“Just grant me this, (Y/N).” He pleaded, grabbing you by the forearms, desperate, crazed, "...I'm dying here, just grant me this, I trust you...but even though I love my Megumi more than my own life," now, you felt your cheeks being wrap in his warm, big hands, "I don't trust him, at least not with you. I know how he feels and after all, he is our son."

Suguru didn't have to explain any further, Gojo supported him, and you ended up, accepting. How right he was, how much Megumi resembled his adoptive parents. Because right now, he refused to accept a negative.

"Is that a, no? you don’t want us to—” he asked, a taciturn emotion kidnapping his features, and the hurt in his eyes made you feel sick to your stomach, you were weak for this entire family, to some more than other, even so, they all have a part of your heart.  

“I do-”

“You do?”

Megumi's eyes sparkled, filled with renewed hope and his parents felt a lump in their throats. Fushiguro climbed on top of you, slow and cat-like, you crawled back until your head hit the headboard of his bed and he laughed amused, excited, hands equally excited sliding down the length of your legs, you could almost hear him purr.

If there was one thing you loved about him, it was the difference that did exist between him and his parents. His shy essence was unbreakable, making him a tender and dedicated creature even in movements predestined to be abrupt. He accommodated you under him prioritizing your comfort over his own, he would have to put more tension on his body, but it was worth it if you were happy.

"Gumi-" you mewled, and he swallowed your next complaint with thirsty lips and slippery tongue. "Just let me show you, (Y/N)," you heard him mumble against your neck, "I know I can also make you happy."

Also?... you didn't dare to delve into that comment, it sounded too desperate, coming from a place deep inside Megumi, a secret and intimate place.

It was just a whisper, but it sounded like a scream to Gojo and Geto, like a bullet going through their selfish hearts, really, they wouldn't give this pleasure to Megumi? Were they really that self-absorbed? They both turned to look at each other and after a few seconds, you saw the shadow under the door disappear completely.

"Is something wrong?" the brunette asked when he noticed you distracted, and you shook your head. Yes, there was a problem, but it wasn't Megumi's problem.

“Nop, babe.” 

Megumi tugged you forward-or maybe he'd lunged toward you of his own accord, he loved when you tagged him as you ‘babe’—and just like that, you were kissing with the fervor and passion of touch-starved souls all pent-up repression and stress, released in a single instant. The force of the collision, lips on lips, tongue against tongue, was deliciously bruising, enough to knock the breath out of you. 

Megumi gasped your name, smearing each syllable in saliva and praises, overly excited, wondering if only him was feeling that cord of electricity running through his veins, fiery adrenaline coursing through his body, blood pounding in his ears as a shiver ran down his spine, so powerful that he thought he might collapse on top of you.

Each effort of Megumi making you let yourself go more, letting you mind fly free, maybe too free to your own good. Your hands tangled in his hair in an instant, pulling him even closer, even harder against your lips as your excitement soaked your panties.

“…. May I have a taste, (Y/N)?”

You had half a second to entertain the request of your boyfriend, before he asked again, just sweeter. 

“One lick or two,” those were the last words you thought you'd hear coming from Megumi, "I just want to put my mouth down there for a minute, please, my love-... may I?" 

His lips quickly came in aid to his goal, eating your neck in sloppy but awfully well-planned kisses, bites and licks, a joint effort to weaken your reason. It was slowly working. Pressing back with his tongue even as a moan began to well up in his chest, “P-Please?

You squealed, a sign of your upcoming defeat. He used that weakness to pull your bodies together for an instant of pressure that sent fireworks off all across your skin. A sensation that you had only experienced with Gojo and Geto, confusing your mind with sparks of recognition, men who were not there felt present in each caress that their son executed without fail.

You surrender to his wholehearted efforts, it was too much, too vivid. Megumi had shown his claws, and they were sharp, going deep, deeper than you ever expected. Sharp in need, tearing you apart like a ragged doll. Your lips parted and the affirmative he so craved was about to pour out-

Knock! Knock! Knock!

COMING SOON PART 12....

➡️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS STORY

[changingplumbob]

Foster Household: Chapter 9, Part 9

CW: Mental Health Struggles - Guide to content warnings

Even Sulani was not immune from rain. Carson got out of bed at the cry of his alarm and headed to his bathroom. He liked that there was more space, and it had a nice view even with the downpour, but it didn’t make having to shave before school any easier. When he was clean and dressed and finished breakfast he decided to call his older sister, just to check about sharks.

Carson: I know it’s early but can you please tell me if sharks can break through my floor

Marta: Hola Carson, Keira is in the shower

Carson: Oh, sorry, I didn't even think about you answering her phone

Marta: It’s bueno. She told me on honeymoon sharks are pretty safe. Most attacks are from thinking a human is a fish. They will not break through your floor

Carson: Are you sure

Marta: Si, I promise. She said from underneath surfboards look like seals *laughs* isn’t that cute? But your house will not look like a big seal

Kayleigh had the day off and spent it doing what she loved most, painting! After finishing a particularly excellent painting she got a call from her regular gallery. News around the town was that Kayleigh Foster was now a global superstar! They hoped she would remember them in her future works and they had recommended her for a star of fame in Del Sol Valley! Once she got a call from the council she couldn’t contain her excitement and called around her family to let them know.

Charlie: You’re really going to get a star?

Kayleigh: That’s the rumor. You’ll all come right? I couldn’t have done it without my family. And after maybe everyone can stay for a couple of days, this house has enough room

Charlie: Of course but don’t you want to celebrate like... without your kids

Kayleigh: Your dad suggested a dinner party for my friends tonight which will be nice. He’s going to ring around on his afternoon break

When Carson got home he congratulated his mum and sat down to do his homework where he could talk to her and his eldest sister.

Carson: So everyone will be invited to stay? Even Reece?

Kayleigh: *sighs* You’ll be at school a lot of the time, don’t worry about Reece

Charlie: Besides, he’s less snarky with you when Samir is around. It’s like he tries to be well behaved or something

Carson: Charlie you know he tried convincing me Samir is a werewolf! As if I'd fall for that

Kayleigh: Actually that is true

Charlie: Mum... have you been inhaling the paint fumes for to long?

Kayleigh: No! Samir told me. Your dad and I have discussed it at length. It’s strange but true

Charlie: When were you going to tell us?

Kayleigh: I wasn’t but clearly Reece doesn’t mind you knowing

Carson: Great, another thing he can make fun of me for not knowing

Kayleigh: I know you two fight but he loves you really

Charlie: Have you told him about the OCD yet

Carson: No. Do you think I should?

Kayleigh: It’s always your choice darling

Carson: Maybe. I’ll think about it since he’s willing to open up about Samir

Kayleigh: Do you want to invite some friends over? Me and your dad will be out here with our guests so the living room will be empty

Carson: Yeah I’ll see if the guys and Onyx are free, thanks Mum

Charlie: Mum that picture is gorgeous, is that Ariel? Can I have it? Please please please

Kayleigh: *laughs* Okay firstborn, it’s yours

Charlie: YES

Harvey greeted the guests as they arrived to celebrate his wife. Most of them were from back when they lived in Willow Creek but Kayleigh had also asked him to invite two he’d never met before, Suzanna and Adam Kightstone.

Harvey: Nice to meet you. I’m glad you could make the trip from Chestnut Ridge

Suzanna: Of course! She deserves a celebration

Adam: Oh wow, look at all her art! This is so much more than the gallery pieces

Harvey: Yes if she paints masterpieces she likes to keep them at home

Kayleigh: Food everyone! We’ve made a gorgeous salad for starters

Suzanna: Now remember we’re here for my friend, not to fly off the handle if the food isn’t right

Adam: Alexander is the food critic, I just do art

Suzanna: Adam I’m serious. She’s never judged us for being aliens, it’s important

Adam: Don’t worry starlight, I can keep a level head for a night for you. Let’s go see what humans choose to put in their salads, how many fruits do you think we'll find?

Bob: You must be proud

Harvey: Oh I am! How a fisherman like me managed to catch her I’ve no idea. Anyway we’ll be celebrating your success soon. Bob is a chef see

Adam: Oh yes I’ve read the reviews, everyone seems to love your food. Any plans of opening your own place?

Bob: Eventually but I know Eliza would like me to have a stable well paying job for a while first, especially now we have Tiana. She’s our youngest, we adopted her

Suzanna: I would have loved a girl but we have two boys

Bob: Well just wait until they grow up, Onyx surprised me, and Aaron's Artemisia. You may have a daughter under your roof and just not know it yet

Calista: If Emisia ever crosses a line just tell us and we’ll talk to her about her manners

Kayleigh: From what I can tell Carson isn’t too bothered by her. He was a bit stressed after prom but I think he has girl on the brain for now

Aaron: It’s a relief there’s some kids that are unbothered

Eliza: Fergus is also unbothered worse luck

Aaron: I know you think Emisia is a bad influence but-

Eliza: Oh they have always been thick as thieves. I don’t think I could pry their friendship apart with a crowbar. It helps that she has a lawyer for a dad though, hopefully that'll stop them getting up to anything illegal

Previous ... Next

[monstersandmaw]

Monthly story - male bat-like forest monster x male character (nsfw)

This one was a really sweet one to write, though as ever, it's about 10k words longer than I intended. I hope you enjoy these two and the autumnal forest vibes. There are also a couple of tiny little Gabe & Odessa easter eggs in there, if you spot them...

Summary: a heartsick author books a remote fire lookout tower for some solitude after a messy breakup, and for the chance to finish his latest novel, only to fall slowly in love with a voice over the radio.

Content (light spoilers): stormy conditions, then lost while hiking, forest entity attacks with constricting vines (not romantic interest). Nsfw includes oral, no penetrative, messy sex, come marking(?), and there's some purring too.

Wordcount: 13,238

(for the tower lookout vibes, this reddit link should help)

Preview:

“You’re renting a what?” Lavinia snorted, setting down her coffee cup with a clunk and gawping at Bowen like he’d just grown another head. Or maybe like he’d lost the one he’d had to begin with.

“I’m renting an old fire lookout in the Pinewatch Range for a month.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” she blurted. “Seriously, I know the breakup with Mike fucked with your head, and with good fucking reason because the man is a complete —”

“— it’s not about the breakup, Lav,” Bowen interjected heavily, taking a sip of his own drink and wincing. Instead of his usual coffee, he’d opted for a remarkably bland chamomile tea, and was regretting it enormously. “It’s just… I’ve been wanting to work on my novel. I think a place with no electricity other than a solar panel to charge my phone and radio, and no running water, is going to suit me just fine.”

“No running water?” Lavinia looked truly horrified at that. “Seriously? How are you gonna shower? And, like… flush the toilet? Oh my god, don’t tell me you have to shit in the woods…”

At that, Bowen bit back a rare, true laugh. “There’s a composting toilet in an outhouse. It’s not like I’m turning into a bear.”

She eyed Bowen’s gut, which was just a little softer than it had once been, and raised one eyebrow. “Sweetheart, if you put on a red flannel shirt and grew that thick scruff out into a proper beard, you’d be the definition of a bear.”

He rolled his cocoa-brown eyes at her and leaned back in the farmhouse style chair, gazing around at the new coffee shop that had opened up on North Street. Lavinia looked out of place in the cutesy, rustic tea room, but as usual, she paid her surroundings little mind. Instead, she regarded him from under her heavy, Goth makeup, with a back-combed bird’s nest of box dyed, black hair piled atop her head. Behind the dramatic makeup and the false eyelashes that looked like the kind of spiders Bowen only found in the deepest recesses of his basement, he could see real concern in her features,and his heart squeezed. He’d isolated himself too much from his friend in the past six months, and now he was running away to the wilderness.

He leaned forwards, just catching the creak of the rattan beneath his jeans above the clatter of the cafe as the chair shifted and groaned a little, and he rested his weight on his forearms. “Honestly, this will be good for me, Lav. I need to unplug for a while.”

“I’m just worried you’re not gonna be able to plug back in afterwards,” she muttered darkly. “I take it you don’t get phone reception out there?”

He shook his head. “Nope. There’s a radio that connects you to the forest service in an emergency, and there are a few other old lookout towers in the area, but unless there’s a very lost hiker, I won’t see another soul for the whole month.”

“Jesus,” she hissed. “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing. And if I come across Mike in the meantime, I’ll hex his bollocks off and make him rue the day he dumped you.”

“You already did that.”

Something flashed in her eyes. “I made him rue the day he dumped you, but it was sweet little ‘butter-wouldn’t-melt’ Hazel that hexed him.”

Bowen rolled his eyes and chuckled fondly. “You and all that witchy shit, Lav. Ever since you watched The Craft in high school…”

Easy-going Bowen had always respectfully humoured his best friend’s interest and belief in the Occult, but he’d never subscribed to anything spooky himself. The spookiest thing that had ever happened to him was a traffic light going from red to green as he approached it. Hardly cause to call the Ghostbusters in, after all.

At first, he’d thought Lav had been joking, or just using some affectionate name for the group of people who had all met after class and at the weekends, calling them ‘her coven’, but over the course of their university degree, and the subsequent years of employment, he’d come to discover they all actually believed in the supernatural. Then again, Mike’s apartment had flooded the week after he’d ditched Bowen, and his had been the only one to suffer any damage. There was now some lingering problem with a particularly stubborn and rather toxic mould all over the ceilings, according to Lavinia’s mystical sources…

“Just promise me you’ll take good care of yourself, and you’ll fucking phone me the second you get back to civilisation,” she growled, and he solemnly promised with hand on heart to keep her updated when he could.

A week later, Bowen’s pickup bounced up the rutted track to the fire lookout station, with a fortnight’s worth of water and camping supplies lashed down in the bed. The nearest town of Pinewatch was a jolting, twenty mile trip down dirt roads before even reaching the main, tarmac road to get there, so he’d be using the truck for a resupply run in a couple of weeks, but until then, he figured he had everything he needed. At least, he hoped he did.

Read the whole thing on Patreon, plus gain access to every monthly story so far and join our chilled out Discord server here!

[creatingblackcharacters]

One of my other favorite Black characters is Jax Amboy from 5 Worlds, a sci-fi/fantasy graphic novel series!

He's a robot and a sweetheart who cares about his friends a lot, but struggles with social situations, which I relate to. In this world, it's illegal to make robots that look too human, so he has to keep the fact that he's a robot a secret. His friends, the other two protagonists of the series, know he's a robot, but it's a pretty close kept secret.

I'm also a fan of his design (except for the blue eyes), teal and gold just look really good on dark skin.

He's also a sports star! I think it's really fun that the robot character is also the sporty one, it's not something I've seen before. We don't see a lot of him and his old teammates, but we do get some scenes of them interacting and his teammates seem like they like him and see him as a friend. Jax is like, really popular among sports fans too, because he's a very skilled player. He uses that popularity to help him and his friends on their mission (saving the worlds. All five of them).

The company in charge of his sports team tries to stop him from going on his worlds-saving adventure, but he fights back and always tries to do what's right no matter what. I don't think he's a good person "in spite of" being a robot, I think it's more just a part of who he is. Being a robot comes in handy a lot for him, and it's a big part of who he is, but it doesn't make him any less of a person.

There's more about him but I don't wanna give spoilers. I'll just say that his arc is about connecting with his humanity and accepting himself. And show another image because he's precious.

In conclusion everyone should like him as much as me because he's awesome.

I'm actually a big fan of his design! He reminds me of Astro Boy, if Astro Boy had Black people in it (idk, I never watched it). Teal and gold are absolutely bangers on brown skin. They don't miss. He's so adorable too, oh I love this!

I just realized his name is Jax Amboy, like "am boy not robot" 🤣🤣🤣 that's silly and clever.

[g1rld1ary]

hope your requests r open! lockwood x reader where lockwood think reader likes george (but she doesnt) and reader thinks lockwood likes lucy (he doesnt). basically just a whole bunch of misunderstandings with angst and a happy ending please <3

miscommunications - anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wc: 6316

cw: swearing, angstish, series typical injuries

i am SO sorry this took so long lovie i had the biggest writers block but i loved loved loved this request so thank u for sending it in i hope i did it justice!!!! love u xoxo

Lockwood and Co was absolutely the weirdest psychical detective agency you’d ever been a part of. Not only were the actual case methods… unusual, but you were a bunch of kids. You didn’t know anything about running a company; the logistics of managing four teenagers and trying to be responsible whilst also experiencing hormones and teen dramas, all while living in the same house with no adult supervision. But it was great, most of the time at least.

However, even teen psychical detectives weren’t immune to the trap of cliques and you often ended up spending much more time with some members than others. For example, it often ended up being Lockwood and Lucy, and you and George.

It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision or something that happened because you didn’t like the other two members of the agency, it just tended to be the easiest decision. Lockwood and Lucy were undeniably in perfect sync on the field, and you and George worked better in the research department, so it only made sense that those pairs spent more time together.

The only problem? You were totally in love with Lockwood. And you were pretty sure he was basically fucking married to Lucy Carlyle. They were the dream team on and off the field, you were half convinced they could actually read each other's minds. Plus, they were both genuinely amazing people. Lucy was your best friend and roommate at Portland Row, and you loved her with all your heart. And Lockwood? Well, there were a million and one good things to say about Anthony Lockwood. So who could blame you if you spent more time with George? It hurt less than watching the love story unfolding in front of you, and George was good company anyhow.

You couldn’t avoid them though, nor did you really want to, so life was testing your limits as to how much Locklyle you could handle at once.

You and George had been cooped up in the library most of the day looking through archives and research for the agency’s next case, so you’d been glad to get home and have a long warm shower in the evening. Lockwood and Lucy were off on a smaller case together so you’d had the bathroom all to yourself while George was cooking; a small luxury when living with three other teenagers.

Your hair was still wet as you sat down at the dining table in the kitchen, droplets sinking into the paper of the thinking cloth. It was a lovely dinner with George, he’d made your favourite meal upon request, the most glorious dish of butter chicken you thought might’ve ever been made. Everything should have been perfect, except that it was just the two of you. Again. It seemed like you never had family dinners as a four anymore, you and George stuck eating across from each other amongst empty chairs and untouched plates.

“So, anything new?” You made conversation in decent humour, picking at the chicken you weren’t quite as pleased to be eating anymore.

“Anything new in the twenty minutes we’ve been apart all day?” George replied in his characteristic dry tone. You rolled your eyes, trying to stay playful.

“Just checking.”

You took the cleanup after George did all the cooking, switching on the radio as you stood in front of the sink and washing the dishes in peaceful quiet. It was past midnight when the door jingled and creaked open and you could hear Lockwood and Lucy’s tired chatter floating through the old house. Even their damn voices belonged together, making the perfect cadence. You calculated whether you could get away with running up the stairs and pretending to be asleep before they really made it inside, however, agents are known for their speed, and you could hear boots hitting the floor before you could move.

“You’re still up?” Lucy asked as a greeting, stretching out her arms with a sigh. You smiled, shrugging as you began pouring hot water into the mugs you’d prepared earlier, making you all tea how you liked it. Lucy took hers gratefully, adding in the sugar as she pleased, but you were still yet to see Lockwood, taking the initiative to prepare it for him.

He came in a few minutes later, smiling softly as he looked at you.

“You’re a godsend.” He took the mug gratefully, visibly relaxing as the heat penetrated his body. You just smiled, turning back to the dishes.

“Thanks for the tea, I’ll head up to the shower,” Lucy said, patting you gratefully on the arm as she passed. That left you and Lockwood in the kitchen in careful silence.

You talked about nothing for a while, Lockwood filling you in on the tabloids he’d read the night before, and you told him all about the music and news you’d been listening to on the radio.

“How was the research, how’s George?” Lockwood was beside you now, taking a few of the plates you’d finished drying. His tone sounded almost bitter, but you figured it was his exhaustion taking hold.

“It was fine, I think we’re pretty much good to go for this weekend. Oh, you should have seen it! George absolutely stacked it on the steps of the library earlier. He’s fine, of course, but I nearly pissed my pants laughing, it was so funny.” Lockwood managed an unenthused chuckle, turning away to put the cutlery away in the drawer. “How was the case?” Lockwood made a noise of affirmation, coming back next to you, your shoulders brushing lightly.

“As well as cases can go,” He said, smile back on his face. You listened to him tell the bloody details of the case, illustrating his own heroic moves with a full production of actions and impressions, drawing giggles from you as he fought around the room. “And of course, Luce was brilliant as always, saved my arse for the millionth time.”

Fuck. Of course Lockwood was singing Lucy’s praises again, right in front of you! You couldn’t catch a break. You finally got a moment alone with the boy you had a massive embarrassing crush on and he was talking about your best friend! You could feel your smile fading fast, jealousy bubbling in your chest as you imagined them out on a case together, all quick banter and soft touches while you were at home. With George.

You tried to stay obliging, giving him a small smile and finishing up the drying quickly.

“Well, I should be off to bed. Goodnight, Lockwood.”

“You’re not gonna read with me?” You could have sworn that Lockwood had disappeared and been replaced with a kicked puppy the way his eyes were making your insides twist with guilt. You often sat up in the library with Lockwood; he could never sleep and you often made up for the late nights in the mornings, starting your days hours after everyone else. You held eye contact for a moment, willing yourself to be strong.

It didn’t work, and you found yourself back in your familiar spot in front of the fire, digging into your novel as he flipped through a magazine. When your eyes began to strain in the low lamplight you closed it softly, chancing a glance over at Lockwood. He looked almost perfect in the moment, yellow light illuminating the highlights in his face, his eyes glinting as he found humour in the dramatised tabloids.

He looked up suddenly, his senses evidently alerting him to your staring. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, curiosity seeping from his features. You smiled softly, unable to give him any explanation, so you were glad when he returned it in a way that made his whole face light up. You looked away first, studying your hands intently as you heard Lockwood breathe a subtle laugh.

Another case later, you were going crazy. You’d hit an obstacle (of course) and the case had started going awry. A few relicmen interfering with the site threw you all off your game, the original case put aside in favour of your lives. You and Lucy had been together when the ambush happened, both fighting as a team to protect yourselves. Admittedly you weren’t as fluid as her and Lockwood, but you blamed that on the lack of opportunity. You were doing pretty well for yourselves, all things considered. Still, you were grateful for the two boys to come bursting in like heroes, rapiers at the ready. What you didn’t appreciate was the way Lockwood immediately leapt to Lucy’s side, falling into their familiar rhythm. That left George to help you, the both of you sharing the quickest of looks, your eye roll lost to the fight.

You’d all made it out alive but were severely battered and disheartened. You’d all sustained a few cuts and bruises, you knew you were bleeding from somewhere in your midsection, but the adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet so you pushed through.

You also weren’t particularly glad to see Lockwood looking at Lucy like she’d hung all the stars in the sky in the cab on the way back. He hadn’t spared you a glance.

“I know this wasn’t exactly what we planned,” He said, still not making eye contact with you, “But we’re all okay so I think that’s a win. Luce, good job on the defence and keeping the relicmen at bay. George, brilliant catch with the source, mate, you saved us all. And, uh, good work.” He looked over briefly, but you thought he was looking slightly above you still. He didn’t even care enough to look at you on the case! It was absolutely maddening.

Sometimes, like now, you wondered why you even liked him. He was obsessed with another girl, barely paid you attention and had you begging for crumbs of affection. And yet, sometimes you were sure he liked you back. The soft smiles, the time together in the dead of night, the moments he showed you such gentle care. Lockwood was a puzzle you just couldn’t solve, but you were really, really trying.

You weren’t in the best mood when you all arrived home. Your case had been compromised, you were injured, and Lockwood was basically ignoring you. The night was not looking good. And, on top of all that, George called the first shower so it was unlikely there’d be any hot water left by the time you got in. Silently, you peeled off your overcoat, hanging it on your designated hook before discarding your rapier in the umbrella bin. The cut on your side was beginning to sting, the adrenaline having worn off in the cab, but you powered through, figuring you’d take care of it when you had privacy in the bathroom. Instead, you followed Lucy into the kitchen, chatting away as she made some toast.

She’d already left when you got up from the dining table, motivating yourself to make some tea and something to eat. Your body was starting to ache though, and you really didn’t want to be moving much longer. It was all mostly fine, though uncomfortable, until you were reaching up for the sugar for the tea. It was a little out of your reach up on one of the higher cupboards which usually wasn’t so much of an issue — you were a high jumper — but raising your arm above your head was making it feel like your cut was splitting open, pulling a strangled hiss from you.

“What is that?” Lockwood’s voice made you jump, the harshness unfamiliar. You turned slowly, folding your arms across your stomach in vain.

“It’s nothing, I was gonna look after it in a bit.” It was the first time you’d made proper eye contact with Lockwood all night, and he looked pissed.

“Bullshit,” He argued, gaining proximity, “Sit down.” You weren’t typically in the habit of being bossed around by a man, but you could tell Lockwood was serious so took a seat. He stomped around the kitchen rather dramatically, tossing you an ice pack from the freezer. You placed it tentatively over the cut, groaning and throwing your head back when it stung. Your breathing was shallow, erratic as you waited for the icepack to do its job and start numbing the pain.

When you unscrewed your eyes Lockwood was standing at the kitchen bench, aggressively buttering your toast. You watched him put together the meal you’d started, all with deep furrowed eyebrows, ending with him placing it in front of you, looking at you expectantly. You smiled at him despite the pain in your side, pulling the mug of tea closer. He’d made it just as you liked it, too much sugar and a bit of honey. You sipped it pathetically, tension bubbling between you and the boy in front of you.

“What’s new?” You asked in what you hoped was a lighthearted tone. Lockwood wasn’t impressed.

“Eat,” He urged, “You’ll already be weak from blood loss, don’t let yourself get dizzy from hunger too.” You took an exaggerated bite of the toast to appease him, melting into a moan when the food hit your mouth. Somehow, it tasted better than all the millions of times you’d made your own. Lockwood had found the perfect balance of butter and bread, soft in the middle but the crusts were still crunchy and satisfying. The corner of his mouth flicked into the smallest smile seeing you enjoy the food he’d made you, but it was clear he still wasn’t happy with you.

You continued to eat as he got up from his seat, disappearing out into the hallway for a moment. He returned with the first aid kit and you groaned. This was going to suck. Lockwood, ever the gentleman, asked for your permission to start helping you, lifting your already cherry red case shirt up to tuck under your bra, out of his way as he examined the cut. It wasn’t too deep, you didn’t think you’d need stitches or anything, but it was long, wrapping halfway across your stomach.

“This is going to hurt,” He said simply, but you could have sworn there was some gentleness there. Lightly, Lockwood began to clean your wound. Initially, it wasn’t so bad as he cleaned what had already spread and dried away from the cut which lulled you into a false sense of security. You cried out as he touched the wound itself for the first time, grabbing onto Lockwood’s shoulder for stability, though you were already seated.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick. Promise,” He hushed you, offering his hand for you to grab instead. You clutched onto it for dear life, squeezing until both your fingers were turning white. Lockwood never uttered a complaint, working away at cleaning and treating the wound one-handed until it was done, stopping every so often for breaks when he thought you needed them.

When he was done he looked up at you from his position on his knees and it suddenly felt like the world around you was quiet. Lockwood’s eyes were so pretty. You’d always thought so, but it was particularly relevant when he was only inches away from you, sparkling in the amber light of the kitchen. Neither of you spoke, staring into each other’s eyes. You weren’t sure what to do, you didn’t want to end this moment between you but you didn’t know how to make it last. Well, you did, but that was highly inappropriate given Lockwood was in love with another girl.

“Thanks,” You settled on awkwardly, cringing as Lockwood seemed to realise where he was and what was happening.

“Any time,” He jumped up, backing up towards the sink and busying himself with pouring his own cup of tea.

You left the kitchen shortly after, unwilling to sit in the awkwardness any longer. The first step was to get out of the soiled clothes and clean yourself up a bit, the second was to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling of the attic.

“I’m going to die alone,” You said to the roof, catching the attention of your roommate.

“Don’t be stupid,” Lucy said simply, “You’re hot, anyone would be lucky to have you.” That pulled a smile from you, tilting your head back to look over at Lucy on her bed.

“Thanks, Luce. You know what I mean though.” Lucy rolled her eyes with a soft smile.

“If Lockwood can’t see all your brilliant, attractive qualities then he’s a prat.”

“I’m sure he sees many of my great qualities — he hired me. The issue is that he’s blinded by your brilliance.” It was a conversation you’d had countless times before; you decreeing Lockwood’s love for Lucy and Lucy being disgusted by it.

“You know that I have zero interest in Lockwood. Like, zero. Honestly, I’d sooner get with you than him.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. I have terrible taste in men,” You laughed, mostly cheered up.

Lucy flicked off the lamp, putting you to sleep with a story from before you’d joined the agency.

Lockwood had a similar conversation with George a few weeks later. It was after another case, all had gone well and the four of you were strewn about the house, tending to various chores that needed to get done. Lucy was mopping the floors, you were organising and putting away the mountain of books that had been used over the case, and Lockwood and George were both in the basement, tidying the store room and going over paperwork.

Lockwood looked at George, hunched over the form he was filling in, and wondered how to broach the subject. He thought you might’ve been avoiding him lately, which wasn’t exactly wrong, and thought it might be because you were trying to make your feelings for George known. In fact, it had nothing to do with George and everything to do with Lockwood. You figured if Lockwood hadn’t noticed by now that you liked him he never would, so you’d started the mountainous task of getting over him. It was unsurprisingly extremely difficult, given you lived and worked with the man. Still, you were doing the best you could.

“So, gone on any, uh, dates recently?” The sentence was awkward and Lockwood cringed. It was so unlike him and George to talk about anything emotional, especially romance.

“What are you on about?” George didn’t even bother looking up, figuring it was just one of Lockwood’s moments that he’d move on from soon enough.

“It’s just, you’ve never really dated anyone, at least while living here, so I was just asking. Um, maybe there’s someone in the house you’d like to take out?” George looked up, turning his wheelie chair to face Lockwood, resigning himself to the conversation he knew would follow.

“Yes, Lockwood. Can’t you hear Lucy and I having loud, passionate sex every night?” Both boys rolled their eyes.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lockwood grumbled.

“Then say what you mean. You’re trying to figure out if I like her because you do and you’re too scared to say anything about it.” Lockwood was silenced, caught out with his true intentions. “Let’s face it, you’re about as subtle as a car horn; you moon over her. She’s the only one who hasn’t noticed.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Lockwood mumbled, “She likes you.” George burst out into uncharacteristic laughter, wheezing and gripping his stomach.

“God, you’re daft!” He laughed, “The two of you are perfect for each other, you’re hopeless.”

Lockwood made an excuse to leave, something about folding his laundry. George watched him go, rolling his eyes before turning back to his paperwork. If the two of you weren’t going to get his exceedingly obvious hints, you were going to have to work it out between yourselves.

Your angst was bleeding into the company. You were trying (and failing) to get over Lockwood which was not only making you generally miserable, but it was impeding your ability to be a good agent.

You were on a relatively easy case, and for some reason you’d been paired with Lockwood, a rarity. Lucy and George were on the second floor of the house scoping out where the source may be whilst you and Lockwood were on the ground floor, preparing your defences and putting on the tea kettle. It was extremely awkward. Lockwood was trying to make conversation and you were trying to keep it as short as possible. If you fell into conversation you’d be reminded of Lockwood’s many wonderful qualities, and it would just get harder to get over him.

“Did you end up finishing that book?” He asked as you pulled the chains out of their duffel bags. You perked up for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. You had finished the novel and absolutely loved it, you wanted nothing more than to talk about it. Still, you controlled yourself, shrugging off the question with a “Yeah, it was pretty good.” Lockwood hesitated, caught off guard by your answer. Usually you were keen to discuss what you’d been reading, especially if you liked it.

“Are you alright?” He asked, softness in his voice and eyes. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn’t want to worry him.

“I’m fine, Lockwood, promise.” You busied yourself with arranging the salt bombs but you could still feel his eyes on you.

The case progressed, all four of you ending up on the second level of the house to confront the visitor, each splitting up to cover the different rooms. You were in the master bedroom when the en suite bathroom caught your eye. You could have sworn you saw movement near the shower and crept towards it, trying to stay focused and address the urgency on hand.

You were immediately distracted by the similarities between the en suite and the bathroom in Portland Row. Set out almost identically, it was almost scary how similar they were; George’s soap (fancy and way more expensive than the one the rest of you bought) was on the ledge of the shower, and Lucy’s blue hairbrush sat by the basin.

It wasn’t necessarily surprising that either of those items were there, they were both bought for cheap at a grocery store so ought to have been common, but it surprised you nonetheless. You’d been so distracted by the weird similarities that you didn’t notice the figure floating through the shower curtain until its translucent hand was beside your face. You panicked, the only thing you shouldn’t have been doing, and flailed about in the tiny room, rapier knocking bottles off shelves and creating a general racket that was not pleasing the ghost.

You stumbled on the tiles trying to get your footing and get the fuck out but slid on a slippery substance — probably conditioner from the bottle you’d sent flying to the ground. It was a comedy of errors you would have quoted as impossible in an old slapstick comedy, but there you were, and the consequences were infinitely more dire than those faced by Charlie Chaplin.

The proceeding moments vanished from your memory; a violent fall, a sickening crack and an overwhelming darkness. Three more moments of light where you caught visions of the ghost, Lockwood, and aggressive flashing lights.

You woke up in hospital. You wished it was the hazy, unsure innocence that you saw in movies, but the incessant beeping and sanitised smell had you groaning as you gained consciousness. Lockwood was slumped over in the chair next to your bed, breathing uncharacteristically calm as he slept.

You watched him sleep in the least creepy way you could manage, admiring his features when they weren’t scrunched up in worry or stress. He must’ve felt you watching him as his eyes fluttered open, doe eyes overflowing with relief as he saw you awake.

“You’re up, thank god,” He said, pulling his chair up even closer to you.

“Why am I here?” You asked, examining the various wires and machines you were plugged into.

“What aren’t you here for?” Lockwood joked and you tried for a smile. He straightened himself out and continued, “Linear skull fracture, concussion, scary-looking cut on your forehead. We think you slipped and bashed your head on the countertop.” You grimaced, the pain of the fall manifesting in your head.

“That would be right,” You agreed sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in your hospital gown, “And the hand?” Your left hand was bandaged up so thick it looked more like an oven mitt than a hand.

“Ghost touch.” Lockwood didn’t sound so happy and casual now.

“Oh.”

“What happened? It’s not like you to put yourself in danger like that; it was stupid and reckless.” You didn’t understand why Lockwood was getting so angry. Clearly, you didn’t intend to get injured, it was an unfortunate accident that you would have avoided if you could.

“As opposed to you, who never gets injured and always sticks to the plan?” You couldn’t help the venom seeping into your voice but you detested being criticised by Lockwood when he was just as bad, usually worse.

“This isn’t about me,” He said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep his cool while you were vulnerable. You were angry though and didn’t want to back down.

“Of course this is about you, Lockwood! You wouldn’t blink an eye if it was you who’d ended up here, or George or Lucy. It was an honest mistake, why are you being such a dick about it?” You were raising your voice but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, the tension that had been bubbling for weeks coming to the surface.

“Because you could have died —”

“So could any of us, that’s the job! I still see you jumping head-first into danger.”

Lockwood groaned your name, hands in his hair and pulling in frustration. “You’re misunderstanding me, I just don’t want to watch you get hurt—”

“Then close your fucking eyes, Lockwood. I fell and I got injured. It happens and I resent having you treat me differently than the others. Fuck this, I want Lucy here instead, or George.”

“Of course you want George here, why wouldn’t you?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” If you could stand you would be shoving past him and out the door, but you were at a significant disadvantage being hooked up to so many machines, stuck in your place.

“You know what I mean, you and George are such a close pair, aren’t you? Always working together and laughing about your own inside jokes,” He spat and the burning anger only got hotter.

“Are you fucking crazy right now? Or are you forgetting that you’re the head of this company and therefore you’re the one pairing us together in every case? Or are you so fucking busy making heart eyes at Lucy that you don’t even notice that we’re actually getting work done? Forgive us for trying to make ten hours of research bearable!”

“Heart eyes at Luce? You’re the crazy one, she and I are just friends, I swear. But you and George will make a great couple, I’m sure.”

“George and I couldn’t be less interested in each other! And if you could see past your own nose for once maybe you’d see why!” You all but yelled, surely alerting the whole floor of your argument, “Leave me alone, Lockwood, I don’t want you here anymore.”

Lockwood looked as if he was going to dispute that statement as well but a nurse came to your rescue, clearly hearing the disagreement from outside. She ushered him out, claiming it wasn’t good for your vitals to be getting angry and that you could continue the fight when you were discharged in a few day's time.

Alone in the sterile hospital room, you felt yourself beginning to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and landing on your embarrassing patterned hospital gown. In a perfect world, that conversation would have gone completely differently. In a perfect world, Lockwood’s eyes would have softened when he saw you were awake. He would have confessed how worried he was about you and how much he truly cared for you. He would have brushed his lips across your hand that he was holding, then pressed them again against your own as he admitted how he’d always been in love with you. You didn’t know that it was your own defensive nature that had stopped that from happening.

But it wasn’t a perfect world and you were alone, overwhelmed by the various noises and movements going on around you. You did eventually fall back asleep, a fitful, unsatisfying nap that had you groaning and exhausted when you woke up. You weren’t alone though, which did make you feel better. George and Lucy were sitting next to your bed, deep in a whispered conversation.

“Hey,” You said, shimmying up to a sitting position. They both stopped talking immediately, turning to face you with small smiles on both their faces.

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked, pulling her chair up to be right next to your bed.

“I’m alright now, just tired and worn down.”

“You scared us,” George added, characteristically stiff but clearly trying to be sensitive.

“I’m sorry,” You admitted, “I really didn’t mean to. And believe me, Lockwood’s already yelled at me enough for it, please just forgive me.” They looked at each other, communicating non-verbally.

“We heard,” George said, “He basically punched a hole in the wall trying to recount it.” He let out a clipped laugh before Lucy shoved him, signature glare working its magic.

“You should really apologise, he’s cut up about it.” Your mouth dropped open as you stared at Lucy. How was this your fault?

“I’m not apologising, he was the one who got angry. Right, George?” You pleaded with him, praying he wouldn’t let you down now.

“I… I don’t think it has to be right now, but you two should get over it after you’ve cooled down a bit.” Ok, it wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped he’d say, but it was better than nothing. And better than the moral lesson you knew Lucy would try and impose — what a hypocrite.

“But he was so mean!” You whined, “I seriously just had an unfortunate fall, I didn’t die.”

“But you could have,” George quipped and you rolled your eyes.

“You know it’s because he really cares about you, right? He’d never forgive himself if something happened to you and he couldn’t save you.” You couldn’t tell if Lucy’s statement was making you feel better or worse.

“Yeah, really felt like it when he was yelling at me,” You grumbled, fidgeting with the hem of the scratchy blanket.

“Well, you know Lockwood is emotionally constipated,” George added and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter — what a statement to come from George.

“OK,” You agreed finally, “I’ll apologise when we get home. As long as he stops being a massive prick.”

You were discharged a few days later, healing nicely. It would have been sooner, but the head injury worried your nurses and kept you there, not trusting you would stay on bed rest. Lucy came to your rescue, posing as a very concerned caretaker who would ensure your safety.

In fact, it wasn’t Lucy who was enforcing your bedrest. It was George who was cooking every meal and Lockwood doing all the other motherly fussing. You hadn’t discussed your fight yet, both too exhausted and too awkward to broach the subject. You hoped your six-to-eight-week recovery time wouldn’t consist of the same heavy tiredness, but you figured it would improve once the concussion had faded.

The rest of the company had started doing two-man cases so that someone was always home to supervise you. It was a little stifling but you appreciated the effort. It also shook up the status quo of the company, Lockwood and Lucy’s perfect partnership being disrupted by no one wanting to be left at home each time, which was both a blessing and a curse.

In your first few days of being back home at Portland Row, Lockwood was home with you, helping wash your hair. You’d whined so much about how gross it felt, still blood-stained where you cracked your skull open that Lockwood gave up and told you he’d wash it for you. Of course, you’d protested, saying it went way beyond what you could expect of a friend or coworker, but Lockwood would not take no for an answer, justifying that it would be more dangerous to let you do it yourself since you could mess with the stitches since you couldn’t see the back of your own head.

You sat awkwardly in the bath, dressed in an old t-shirt and bikini bottoms to preserve what dignity you could. Lockwood stood outside the bath behind you, preparing the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to his side. The anticipation was destroying you, becoming fidgety and uncomfortable even in the perfectly warm water. The second Lockwood’s slender fingers threaded through your greasy hair you felt your body soften, relaxing into the feeling with no opposition. The feeling was heavenly, the careful but thorough massaging of your scalp could have sent you to sleep in three seconds if you weren’t simultaneously on edge at the proximity.

You sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head lolling back subconsciously against Lockwood’s forearms, drawing a small chuckle from him.

“I’m sorry for arguing with you the other day,” You said out of the blue, your voice cutting through the radio that was sitting next to the basin.

“It’s no worries, just forget about it,” Lockwood replied instantly, continuing his labours.

“No, I want to take this seriously. I said some terrible things I didn’t mean and I want you to know that I’m sorry for it. And, as I understand it you think I have some big crush on George which I would just like to disprove. I don’t. Like him like that, I mean.” Lockwood paused for a moment, hands going still in your hair.

“Oh,” He said after some time, “Well thank you for the apology but it is completely unnecessary. I started the argument and I was way out of line, I didn’t mean a word of it. What I meant to convey was that I was worried about you getting hurt because I… care about you. A lot.” You knew that was hard for Lockwood to say, vulnerability never coming easy to him. You turned to face him in the tub, knees pulled up to your chest as your just-rinsed hair dripped down onto your t-shirt.

“I care about you a lot too, Lockwood,” You smiled sweetly, glad you were finally getting over the weird tension that had been between you. Lockwood didn’t look as satisfied.

“No, it’s, fuck. I care about you in a different way than the others. I really like you, like, romantically.”

“Shut up,” You said quickly, not wanting to wake up from a sick dream. There was no way that Anthony Lockwood, after all these years, was telling you that he liked you. Lockwood looked lost for words. Obviously it wasn’t the impassioned reciprocation he hoped for, but it also wasn’t exactly a rejection. What was he supposed to do?

“I, uh, understand if you don’t—”

“Shut up,” You affirmed again. “I have been madly, foolishly in love with you since I started here, and you’re telling me this now? After we’ve screamed at each other and been moping around?” After a moment of him processing your statement, he began to laugh, mouth breaking into one of his light-up-the-room smiles.

“I guess so.” You joined in his laughter, admiring the way his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched as he did it.

“So what now?” You asked once your giggles had died down, leaving you two looking at each other across the edge of the bath.

“Well,” Lockwood inched closer, “We could try this?” He leant in for a soft kiss, pressing his mouth against yours lightly. You subconsciously followed his mouth as he pulled away, unwilling to open your eyes just yet.

“Mmh, maybe we could try that one again?” Lockwood laughed at your daze and happily obliged, swooping back in for a longer, deeper kiss that set your nerves on fire.

And if Lucy and George returned from their case to find the two of you still in the bath fully clothed, that was none of your business — and neither was the ten pounds that George reluctantly handed Lucy.

[crushedsweets]

ej x nurse ann but in a will they won't they flirty friendship kinda way🤭 they are always trying to one up the other when it comes to medical work too so it's like lowkey flirty rivals.. do u see what I'm putting down Sweets?! Long story short I'd let them both operate on me

wait omg i was gonna draw smth for this but its been so long n im tired so i should jsut type.

also it feels so weird to go back to talking abt creeped lore cuz i feel like i have so much information but idk how/if anyone could emember it cuz its been sooo longgggg LOL so if anything is like "??? this isnt canon ???" its cuz my AU is very specific and changed etc etc. CREEPED DISCLAIMER WE ARE SO BACK

OKAY SOOOO. in my au specifically, nurse ann is a fake nurse! she was a red-room sorta cam girl (killed ppl for donos), and used a sexy-nurse-persona to draw in more views!

meanwhile, jack only got a few internships in at hospitals during his masters program before the sacrifice.

i could see jack meeting ann because he's close to Lulu and feels really protective over her. so he'd be guiding lulu back to the hospital one day, holding her hand and being all soft spoken while Lulu goes on her little ghostly rants.

and of course, Ann pops up !!! and she's so beyond horribly annoying!! quickly peering over Lulu's shoulder and being like "hi handsome, youre so tall, whats your name, your voice is so deep" whatever. i think it would embarrass the hell out of jack and he'd just be pretty stiff n awkward. polite, but awkward.

eventually he'd scamper off and ann would tell lulu to "get your little tall friend over here". and maybe it would work, HOWEVER, in my creeped canon, it wouldnt go anywhere beyond jack being like T_T and ann eventually giving up . she wont tim too bad.

HOWEVERRRR, if we diverged from creeped canon(which already diverges from creepypasta canon...) for the sake of ann x EJ...

i think it would be cute if she kept flirting, and he was kinda like Jesus Christ you are beautiful . LMFAOOO. and she picks his brain about college life and just him in general, out of curiosity, while he picks her on....well... being some sort of zombie demon vampire thing.

and she'd love him quietly pulling her apart at the stitches. making quiet little observations and scribbling notes and i think EVENTUALLY, he'd get to the point where he is just being snarky with her. theyll be sassing eachother and bickering and she'll be like "well if you keep talking to me that way im not gonna let you make a single note on me ever again" and he's like "you know that isnt true."

LOL.

WAIT. IM KIND INTO THEM RN WAAAIIIIIITTTTTTT

[skiespaintedblue]

If ur romantic f/o has any siblings, they're ur in law(s) now!!! How do you feel about them? How do they feel about you? What does your f/o think about you guys? Do you hate eachother, or are you friends?

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Teruko and Yosano should've faced off. I think Yosano should've been posed that question that Atsushi was; that reveal of the "future war" - Teruko went along with Fukuchi out of a mix of indebtedness and being at a loss for what to do. War is all she's known; of course she doesn't know. But Yosano has been to the depths of despair and come back out of it again. She might've faltered at this horrific reminder of her trauma, but when it comes down to it, she saves the lives before her. She fought for a way back to light and life. I just think there could've been a really interesting conflict there. And it would've made Teruko's role much more tragic if she wanted desperately for there to be a third option but just didn't have enough time to sit with it and process what that third option might be before Fyodor made it all go to hell.

Also a fight between them would've been interesting, because Teruko is much physically stronger than Yosano, but Yosano can heal from any physical injury inflicted. However, since we now know Teruko can alter mental age, she could inflict psychological wounds by de-aging her, which would've been a good callback to the horrors of war in her backstory, and also been a nice bit of foreshadowing for Teruko actually being a child.

Teruko eventually allowing Yosano to leave out that door after seeing her resolve would've been a deeply bittersweet and powerful moment, I think, especially in hindsight after her backstory reveal.

[allmyandroids]

Raymond Reddington

In Season 4 Episode 2 - Mato

[possamble]

realizing im kind of a weirdo about laios and marcille

[hecksupremechips]

Shinjiham is cute when it’s romantic but tbh I think i vastly prefer the idea of them being best friends instead. Like, neither of them really saw it coming and weren’t really looking to get another best friend (Shinji has Akihiko, Kotone has Junpei and Yukari respectively) but it happens anyway. Kotone takes a liking to Shinji much faster than she does anyone else and I’d say a big reason is just the fact that he’s so reserved that it allows Kotone to do most of the talking while he just listens and they love this arrangement cuz Kotone doesn’t get to talk about her own interests very much. Though I think some of her needs to talk to Shinji stems from this insecurity that he isn’t happy in the group and she has this people pleasing problem and wants everyone to be happy so she makes a much bigger effort to talk to Shinji. And it’s very unfortunate because Shinji intentionally acts cold and distant because he doesn’t want to form any attachments because he wants to die soon, but aaaaaaaagh dammit this girl just keeps talking to him and being sweet and encouraging him to engage in his interests and share them with the others and he just can’t seem to say no when she’s got those damn puppy eyes. And Kotone is just able to get him out of his shell by being persistent but not in an overwhelming way, she’s very cheerful and supportive of him. And Shinji is able to offer her support by encouraging her to talk about herself and by making sure she’s taking care of herself. They just click really well and make such a positive dent in each other’s lives and it’s all about basic acts of kindness going a long way you know?

[daily-hanamura]