#do i just want to not worry about feeling disconnected from my family and peers and act as straight passing as possible?

[aceaceace144616]

How am I supposed to be bisexual AND trans?

Someone please give me instructions

[astralis-ortus]

a little sweet fix

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— sometimes what you thought was right might not be the best way.

w.count → 0.9k genre → comfort warning → mild cussing, mention of a family member getting into an accident (not described, non fatal), chan referred to as chris, reader referred to as baby and babe a.n → based on this request! i've never really written something in this nature, but it was a good challenge! tysm for requesting♡ ⋆ see masterlist

the air in the apartment was oddly tense when chris finally got home. he knew for a fact that you’re back from work—the pair of shoes you wore earlier this morning has returned amongst your and chris’ shared shoe cabinet, and you just texted him around 20 minutes ago, asking him what you should get for dinner, before chris’ usual drive back from work.

“baby?” chris cautiously called out, footsteps treading down to your shared bedroom, and only then did he finally heard the familiar soft rustling of your slippers—along with a muffled conversation and your soft sniffles.

“gosh—are you sure you’re fine?”

your concerned voice turned clear as chris gently pushed the wooden slab ajar, revealing your anxiously pacing figure with a phone next to your ear. the questions reflected in his eyes soon turned to worry when he noticed the remnants of tears down your pale cheeks—but he kept quiet when you mouthed a quiet ‘hi’, followed by the shapes he recognizes as the name to your younger sibling while you pointed at the phone.

“my god—you still have the audacity to joke after getting mom and dad to hide this from me?” you groaned in annoyance, hand flying up to soothe the mild throb on your temple. “ugh, you’re unbelievable. fine. rest up, okay? i love you.”

you peered up as soon as the call disconnected and found your boyfriend smiling tenderly at you, arms apart as they quietly invited you into his embrace. no questions, no prying out answers, nothing—he just stood there, patiently waiting for you to come to him.

and so, you did.

his scent instantly fills you as you melt into his embrace, arms tightly wrapped around his midriff while he envelopes you in his warmth. you didn’t even know when, but tears started to begin its second race down your face, sniffles dampened by the broad of chris’ chest. you cried, and chris just stayed there, hand gently patting your back while he buries his nose between the waves of your hair.

“i feel like a terrible older sibling,” you finally croaked after what felt like a long while, sniffling away the rest of your tears while you rest against the echo of chris’ heartbeat. “how could i not notice they’ve been distancing from me? and only to find out it was because they got hospitalized after a bike crash? god­—i feel awful. how come i didn’t notice anything?”

“you’re not a terrible sibling, baby,” chris hummed, lips pressed against your forehead gently, “they just didn’t want you to worry. they know you would drop everything and do anything in your power to fly home right there and then, and i assume they didn’t want that. it’s neither your faults,” he muttered, hands now cupping your cheeks while he erases any trace of tears left on your skin.

“but still…” your lips pursed in protest, glossy eyes peering up at chris, “it’s a big deal, and i feel like crap for not being able to be there for my family. i could—i could’ve been there, you know? they’re my family. i should’ve been there.”

“i understand, baby,” chris softly exhaled as he pulled you into another hug, “but based on what i heard earlier, i can only assume they would feel guilty for making you come home. it’s only natural for you to want to be there and take care of them—i understand that, but don’t you think by not making them worry over you disregarding work just to fly home is also another form of help?”

you wanted to disagree—how could being unaware and staying thousands of miles away be of help for your family? you eyebrows furrowed, about to protest when chris continued, “think about it, babe. if it was you, wouldn’t you feel bad and worry about them instead your own recovery if your family flew all the way here? wouldn’t you tell them that calls and facetimes are enough because you have me to take care of you?”

you so wanted to disagree—but deep down, you do understand what chris meant.

“also,” pressing a light peck on the top of your head, chris then continued, “i think the only reason your parents agreed to keep you in the dark for a while is because they knew there’s nothing major you should be worried about. i’m sure they wouldn’t agree otherwise, yeah?”

and again, chris is right. you know your parents—they would never do that to you.

“you’re right,” you finally exhaled, pursing your lips as you snuggled closer in his warm embrace, “maybe i wasn’t thinking far enough.”

“it’s understandable, baby,” chris smiled when he felt the tension on your back slowly loosening up under his arms, “they’re your family after all. you wouldn’t want to see them got hurt.”

“besides,” the switch of tone in chris’ eye lures your eyes to look at him, and you’re greeted by your boyfriend’s sweet dimpled smile, “i know a way you could kinda be there for them. you know the hospital room number, right?” he grinned, immediately fishing out his own phone when you nodded an answer.

“what about we send them some food and hop on facetime?” chris proposed—and when he saw the glint in your eyes returning, he knew he made the right suggestion.

“bet they could use some sweets to cheer up from all those hospital foods,” he grinned. you could only imagine how your picky eater of a sibling would've groaned at the food choices they've had to deal with during their stay so far, and it made you giggle.

“oh, they sure do.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[skunkfairy]

Gaslit about covid? Me too. [RANT]

as you all can tell by my page im so new, but for context, im trying to find COVID-19 safe/conscious groups online. i started with Instagram and ive moved to here.

something thats on my mind recently is how i have been severely gaslit to just think covid isnt a thing we should worry for and that im a conspiracy theorist about covid just because i still use mitigation in my daily life and i give a shit about disabled/immunocompromised/chronically ill people in my community and in my life. i genuinely am so scared for whats happening and what will happen to our collective health.

like i had like a breakdown after all my roommates stopped masking last fall and it lead to me being triggered and disassociating for almost a whole year because i felt unsafe with people i previously felt safe with (feeling/being unsafe in my home is a major trigger for me). i was lost touch with reality, i have never felt so disconnected from my friends, mind, and body. it was so bad. And it took a lot of energy, effort, and practice to communicate my needs and boundaries with them only for them to be like "Cool you sound like you're living in fear and im not changing". in the end i decided to move to a different apartment because i coulndt deal with all of them being like that.

the past 4-5 years have made me feel a lot of things and i wrote a poem about the grief ive felt specifically around the pandemic and how it has drastically altered my late teenage and young adult years. maybe ill put it here one day lmao.

a silver lining in this is that all my way of life as i knew it is gone and dead. and that makes more room for me to find people who care for and value our lives at a basic fundamental level and furthermore are willing to act daily to show our love and care for one another. this new life makes more room for me to really question my consumerism [god forbid we stop eating indoors at restaurants and risk getting a deadly virus for shitty food] . it makes me question how i interact with the world with a COVID-safe/mindful lens. and most importantly put disability justice at the forefront of my activism.

I have grieved how life was and i have come out the other side accepting and wanting to do everything in my power to protect my community in the ongoing pandemic. i understand my responsibility and i have begun to see how disability justice connects all of our collective oppression and how disability justice/rights/activism is a key part to our collective liberation. i have seen how covid conscious or safe people [idk what to label it ive been going back and forth bc i think a lot of people have different definitions of these labels im sorry] are so kind, so caring, so compassionate, so giving, and so loving in a way that i dont see or truly feel in other activists/advocates groups. I personally feel the safest, most loved, and understood by my friends, family, and peers who are covid safe and practice community care.

much love to all of them it has made me love them in beautiful new ways. xx im so grateful to have them in my life. if u made it this far ur real asf. if u want share whatever covid related rants id like to read them or if you have thoughts on what i wrote let me know 🥺.

rn i just feel like im shouting into the tumblr void and its been cathartic.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Just want to say, I really love your yandere family! They all seem so sweet lajdkal

Ah! Thank you! I'm so glad!

I've been meaning to make more content for them

So here's a little something

🖤🖤🖤

How Sweet They Are | Yandere Family

Remalda

To Everyone else: Is as sweet as she needs to be. How can she be anything other than that when she’s going for mayor? But what’s underneath the sweet smiles and friendly disposition is a spiteful woman with a violent string of thoughts.

“Miss Remalda! If you weren’t married I’d propose to you!”

“Awww that’s so sweet! But I’m very happy in my marriage!”

‘If you had found me 14 years earlier I would have skinned you for even thinking you could replace my love with yourself. Disgusting Pig!’

To You: She’s sweeter than sugar. Anything you ask for you can have even if it comes with detriment to someone else. She just can’t resist it when you look up at her with those adorable (e/c) eyes. It's just too much! Too perfect! That’s her beloved baby alright!

“Awww you reached so nicely for it, you can have all the cake you want!”

“Mom! They can’t even digest solid food!”

“But they asked so adorably how can i refuse?*Mwah*”

Spencer 

To Everyone else: He’s as cordial as he needs to be. He’s been keeping people at a distance for quite a long time so this is nothing new. He doesn’t often waste any time thinking about those he meets or what he can do for them because he’s too busy thinking about his own family. 

“Thank you for your patronage.”

“You’re really pretty for a man in your work!”

“Hmmm.”

‘Did I leave the dishwasher running? If I did (Y/n)’s sippy cup should be in there. That’ll be good. Oh, and Yulia has a skating competition this week…’

He’s so disconnected sometimes he forgets the...consequences that spring from his own actions or lack thereof.

“So darling who was that tramp?”

“What tramp?”

To You: He tries to be as sweet as any parent should be. Your chubby body, your gleeful squeals, and your tiny grip on him–are always reminders to him about how much he cherishes you. He’s aware that Remalda is inclined to spoil you and he doubts that will ever change so he has to take initiative and be the adult. But he didn’t have to worry about it now, not when you were so young and it was normal anyway to act on your whims. You have no other way to communicate so it's okay!

“Baby, be careful waving that toy in the air! You might hit a bird!”

You’ll babble and ultimately end up flinging the toy in the air wacking a bird off its perch.

“Oh s-dear! Okay okay, you can have it back just don’t do that again. Okay?”

Michael 

To Everyone Else: Only if you pay for it. He’s a businessman after all and he doesn’t get the results he does by being “sweet.” He’ll make his peers pay a fee if they want to see his pearly whites and even then it's never the real thing. It’s safe to say he takes after his Mother and Father when it comes to being sweet…it covers his real thoughts that are either completely unrelated or especially violent.

“Geez Michael you could’ve at least acted like you care! I’m paying for the experience, right?”

“You right, I don’t care. But if you want the experience with a friendly disposition you’ll have to pay the fee.” 

“What!? Seriously this is a lot more than I imagined…”

‘Of course I do I need to have enough to support my baby and little sister…I wonder if I would get more if I just stabbed him.’

To You: He’s sweet t in the way that he always holds you with care and reprimands your wrong-doings. While he’s not too different from his father he still feels like it's his duty to ‘properly raise you’. He thinks-no he knows you're the precious baby that needs his loving hand to guide you in this messed up family. And since you're his sweet baby he will be the sweetest to you and Yulia.

“Alright (Y/n)...give me your hand.”

“(Y/n). (Y/n), listen to big brother. Give me your hand.”

He’s trying his hardest to be sweet with you, it's not typically in his nature to choose kindness over violence but he tries. He loves you after all so he’s willing to try anything to see your gummy smile and hear the bells of your laughter.

“Good job, (Y/n). Next, you’ll have to learn to give me one of your toys.”

Yulia

To Everyone Else: Of course, she is sweet to everyone! Why not be? Everyone’s usually so nice to her–always complimenting her ice skating and how good of a big sister she is. Sometimes when she talks to those who know her brother they seemed surprised she is so nice. 

“Huh, Michael? Oh well, he’s quite curt but I wouldn’t say he’s mean.”

So where her beloved brother slips up she carries the weight, hoping to dissuade others from building too much aggression towards him. Because she knows him and he’s the kindest big brother; yes, he may mysteriously be ridding her of any and all problems she speaks about.

“Threatened you? He’s just…doing his own thing. Yeah, sorry about that…”

To You: Yes! Why wouldn’t she?! Her darling baby sibling is just so cute and when Michael’s busy and the parents are fighting+ you always seem to reach out for her. Always seem to remember her. So she gives you kisses and risks her mother’s wrath to sneak into your nursery for a sleepover.

“Come on (Y/n), how about we stay up and I tell you all about everything1”

[cloudinterlude]

I think the anti Howard anon is going off on hypotheticals in terms what Howard’s intentions were when collaborating in those projects! But I am interested to know your take on Howard and social issues. Your analysis has been spot on!

You and I have the same mind lol! Exactly. I think there was just a disconnect/disagreement on what we both think Howard's intentions/motivations are. Or if they're an acceptable reason. When talking about canon characterization, I really don't like to get into speculation that isn't based on canon. Or if it just doesn't seem to add up with the character. But who knows!

I'd be happy to tell you what I think Howard's thoughts are on social politics! Sorry in advance if I jump from point to point. My interpretation is pretty simple tbh - based on what we see in Agent Carter, he's obviously aware of social injustices and how they impact minorities/an oppressed class - so he isn't like, an oppression denier. He is, however, pretty blasé about it and I think that's where it ends for him.

I've already said I don't think Howard is some kinda altruist, nor is he a humanitarian. I think he's in a high valued position in society and doesn't need to worry about things that don't directly impact him, and he simply doesn't. He definitely isn't going to sit down slinging slurs with his peers but he isn't going to give them a lecture on, let's say, the wage gap lol. The most I could see him doing at the time is getting annoyed with the pure stupidity rather than the hate speech itself and sarcastically or slyly telling them off - not because he's an ally, but because he doesn't like dumb people.

Now, the only reason I haven't said that Howard is completely apathetic to it is because he would like to help if it involves someone within his own circle. Remember how I said Howard's actions/motivations are deeply personal and not for some abstract or overall good? I think that applies here as well. He helped Wilkes because he was now a friend-ish type (Howard doesn't have friends besides Peggy and Jarvis it seems) and because he was smart and because he was getting fucked over/scapegoated because he was a black man available.

Wait - I actually just remembered what I wanted to touch on - like what I was thinking when I first mentioned 'Howard vs social issues'. About homophobia - what I think in regards to AC Howard and gay people I actually don't think he's super homophobic. I wanted to touch on this specifically cause he's portrayed as the Patron Saint of Homophobia. I think he just doesn't care you know I think he is more likely to be like "man poor bastard" than "what a degenerate". He'd meet a gay person and think "that sucks lol" and then go about his business. I truly think that's as far as his thought process extends to. Now, this is definitely liable to change when it comes to his own family. Especially since post-AC Howard definitely lost the plot somewhere along the way, but even that Howard isn't burning the rainbow flag.

Okay I kind of changed my mind in the middle of writing this post. AC Howard is never gonna be a social justice advocate but I don't think he would be letting things lie down. He isn't prone to inaction but I maintain that he wouldn't be doing any grand gestures or doing anything that doesn't directly benefit him and his inner circle.

Oh and btw, I totally believe Howard engages in more subtle forms of bigotry. I think I've already said this. He probably made like, gay jokes for example. He definitely made misogynistic jokes (canon). Things like that.

I don't know if I can go on without being redundant, but that sums up what I think about Howard vs social issues. He's not a "I don't see color/gender/sexuality" type (like, canonically he acknowledges these things) but he isn't gonna fund your social rights rally because he feels strongly about the cause (maybe if you were a close friend he'd give some money or security but not unprompted).

[aoifereal]

As a woman, and especially I think as a trans woman, there's this immense pressure to be engaging fully with femininity at all times. I felt this pressure before I even realised I was transgender, and it stopped me from transitioning for several years - I had no idea that you could be a trans woman without being entirely feminine, and I did not want that so I couldn't be transgender. In fact, it turned out that despite being transfem, I largely did not want to be feminine and have managed to find a large amount of joy in rediscovering masculinity as a choice rather than the default.

(more of a similar kind of gender posting under the cut)

This disconnect between who I am and what I am expected to be makes me want to rally against those expectations, and it pushes me away from expressing even the amounts of femininity that are genuinely a part of my identity. I resent the expectation of femininity and try to make sure that people around me (particularly younger transfems) know that there are ways to be transfeminine and a trans woman outside of that. I felt very cut off from the vast majority of my trans woman peers when I was working out who I was and I don't want other people to have that same experience.

With all this being said - there is a part of me that does enjoy some amount of femininity, I just don't feel comfortable expressing it. There's this feeling that if I do it will begin to be expected of me somehow even more than it already is. So it's quite special to me that when I'm with my girlfriend I can express it and not feel like it'll be expected of me all the time and also that I can allow myself to be referred to femininely and not feel like it comes with an expectation that I be any different to how I am.

I think all this thinking about it is brought on by worries about my gender dysphoria diagnosis appointment next Wednesday (because god knows thats one place your femininity is held up to intense scrutiny) and like, the general bad gender vibes of being on a family holiday and not having seen a queer person and known it for like, 9 days aside from my sibling. Also by a song I was listening to today - I never wanted to be a princess I never wanted to braid my hair. Now I do occasionally, and I'm still me :).

THIS REFLECTS MY EXPERIENCES DON'T BE STUPID ABOUT IT PEACE & LOVE <3

[that-darn-clown]

Hi can I be insane about phantom limb by the shins for a little bit okay cool we're goin verse by verse basically

Foals in winter coats white girls of the north refers to girls that are new to the social dating scene, they're foals meaning that they're awkward. The fabled lambs of Sunday ham brings in a suburban christian undertone that will be present for the whole song. EHS is just a Shins reference lol.

File past one five and one is my personal favorite line from this verse. There's a group of five people splitting up the two girls that the song talks about, both literally (in that they are physically separated by the group) and figuratively (in that the popular cliques make it hard for the two girls to be together, both via bullying and social pressure to be 'normal')

This whole verse is the speaker of the song, one of the girls I was talking about before, saying that she just can't fit in. So these girls that do fit in feel like they have some sort of magical power, as if they could levitate. And she feels that she's so different that she could never even try to fit in.

The two girls in a relationship just stay out of the way. One girl feels like a phantom, she's invisible and no one pays attention to her. The other is a fly, she's so small that no one would want to pay attention. This line also references the phantom limb that the song is about, that society thinks one of these girls should be a guy, the phantom under a fly is a dick is what I'm getting at. They both follow these lines in high school and feel so disconnected from their peers.

A week of school passes and for the weekend they go to their friend's house, maybe the only friend they have (since it says "again" it makes me feel this is their only weekend plan and they do it all the time.) Nemarca is another Shins reference so don't worry about it. They sit on the porch and listen to heavy metal and drink alcohol. Sounds like a bangin time I wish I was there with them.

MY FAVORITE VERSE YIPPEE. The "mama" means that there are zero men referenced in this song at all. The milk from the window lights is also traditionally feminine and brings up an idea of tradition being foreign. The family portrait and the sprayed on tans of suburban life, it's all foreign to the girls the song is about.

Silk or slime is something I'm conflicted on. On one hand it's an allusion to lesbian sex, the silk of their underwear and the slime of well ya know. On the other hand it's saying that it's all gonna be okay, whether it's nice and pretty (silk) or gross nasty (slime.) Either way that line feels real good to sing.

On Monday when they get back to school, they've become zombies. They don't give a shit anymore, this tiny town just isn't worth it. They step over what towers to the sky, they've given up on the Christian undertones in their life and they're stepping over them. They have no connection to it anymore.

On Sunday when they head to church they don't give a shit, they don't want to memorize the hymns and the lords prayer or any of it. It's just not worth it.

This song drives me insane I love it.

[stope07]

Pain (Void Stiles/Issac’s Sister reader)

Aurther-eratothemuse

Cash App- https://cash.app/$Luvtoldu

Pairing- Void Stiles / Reader

Warning- You find out and read it 

You had always been good at hiding your pain. You hid it from your father, who would abuse you, and you hid it from your brother, who went through it with you.

The only difference between you and Isaac was the fact that he wasn’t left with the immense self-loathing that weighed on your shoulders after your father was killed by the kanima.

You’d hated yourself ever since you could remember. Your body curved in all the wrong places, your grades were always lacking in school, and it didn’t help any when your father solidified any insecurity you ever had about yourself. When he died, you had hated yourself for being happy he was gone.

Isaac had been the only one keeping you going. You’d been in the thick of it together, and he would take the brunt of the abuse to keep you from getting it. He was your big brother, after all.

You hated yourself for getting him into trouble.

When he became a werewolf, he had more to worry about than just you. With the threat of your father no longer there, you found yourself spending more and more time alone. It never felt right to tag along after Isaac and the rest of the pack.

You’d just get in the way.

The scars on your thighs increased the longer you were alone with yourself. Alone with your thoughts. Alone with the hatred. The more problems that arose in Beacon Hills, the worse it got.

You hit your lowest point around the time Stiles got possessed by the Nogitsune.

Looking back now, you’d say it was the unintentional turning point in your life.

That was the day you’d decided to end it. The day you were finally going to let Isaac go. Let him be happy and not have to worry about you ever again. He had Allison now. He had the pack. He had a family. He didn’t need an awkward, dysfunctional sister to ruin that for him.

You were going to make his life easier.

You’d decided to do it in the bathtub. You honestly hadn’t wanted to do it in the McCall’s house at all. You didn’t want to make a mess. You couldn’t do it in the woods, though, because then they’d waste time searching for you.

So the bathtub it was.

When you’d lowered yourself into the tub and rolled up your sleeves, razor at the ready, you heard it. A small chuckle coming from the shadows of the adjoining bedroom. You froze, peering into the darkness to meet a dark pair of familiar eyes.

“Don’t stop on my account, my dear,” he called, leaning on the wall in an almost nonchalant manner.

You flushed in shame, attempting to hide the razor behind the barrier the tub provided before answering, “Stiles? What are you doing here?”

“I could smell your misery since the moment I took control of this boy,” Stiles pushed himself off the wall and made his way to the door adjoining the two rooms. “Your pain,” he spat as he came to stand in the threshold, “Your hatred.”

“S-Stiles?” you whispered, but you knew the thing standing before you was no longer your friend.

“You’re the perfect picture of chaos,” a smirk crossed Stiles’ lips before he quickly advanced on you. Your scream died in your throat as he gripped your neck, pulling you up from the tub. You dropped the razor in place of grabbing the hand that had soon pressed you against cold tile, making it difficult to breathe.

“Those idiots couldn’t sense it. They couldn’t see how broken you are behind those half-hearted smiles you give them. How much you just want to disappear. Well,” he steps into the tub, pressing the length of Stiles’ body against yours, “I noticed.”

You shiver as he nestles his nose into your neck, inhaling deeply, “I can smell it on you.” You feel tears brimming at your eyes and let go of the hand at your neck. This wasn’t the way you’d planned on going, but if he wanted to do the job for you, you weren’t going to stop him.

“Do it,” you feel him pull back and meet his sickly eyes with your own, “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.”

The Nogitsune laughs; a full, hearty laugh that reminds you of how Stiles would laugh whenever he was genuinely happy, “Kill you? You think I’m here to kill you?”

Your brow furrows, “Aren’t you?”

“Why would I kill the perfect source of pain?” his hand loosens from around your neck, moving to cup your jaw. “Now, take all of that pain,” his lips are just a breath away, “and give it to me.”

You gasp as his mouth connects with yours, and you go lightheaded as it feels like he’s draining the life out of you. You brace yourself on his shoulders and feel him press his full body against you to keep you propped between him and the wall. His knee goes between your legs, locking you both there.

You hear a breathy groan pass between his lips, muffling against your own. His lips crash against yours in what seems like a desperate effort to get more. More of you. More of your pain. Whatever he was taking from you, you found yourself giving it freely as the kiss went on.

He wrenches himself away from you, panting as he wipes his mouth. He keeps one hand entangled in your hair as you look at him in a daze. Your heart is beating ferociously and you’re gasping for air nearly twice as hard as he is. Before you can even think a coherent sentence, he seems to have regained enough composure to grip the back of your head by your hair and roughly pull you to focus on him.

“More,” passes through his kiss-swollen lips as he attacks your neck. You feel that same lightheadedness as he latches onto your pulse, his free hand sliding up the hem of your shirt. As he takes more from you, you find it to be an almost ecstatic feeling. You’re unable to stop the moan that rips from your throat as he bites down, taking blood with the pain.

You feel your hands move on their own accord. They go to his messy hair, gripping him in an effort to just grab onto something. You felt so lost in this moment, as if the only thing keeping you sane were his lips on your body.

“More,” the word comes from your own parted lips this time. What are you asking for? For him to take more of the pain? For him to take more of you? You honestly didn’t know. All you knew was that this was the most alive you’ve felt in years, and you wanted to keep feeling this way.

If this demon was going to give that to you, you’d let him take whatever he wanted.

The Nogitsune seemed to know what you were asking for as his lips disconnected from your neck with a smack and he ripped your shirt off your body in one fluid movement. His hands traveled behind your back, your bra soon following your shirt. Every touch he made seemed to linger, and it wasn’t until he was between your knees, gripping your scarred thighs, that you noticed the black veins that appeared whenever he touched you.

You were still gripping his hair for dear life as he smirked up at you, sliding a hand up your skirt before ripping your panties down to your ankles, “Even now, you’re still in chaos. You’re torn between wanting to feel again, and knowing that you’re supposed to hate me.”

You were about to retaliate when he dragged his index finger along your sex, “After all,” his smirk never faltered as he pushed the skirt up higher, “I am the enemy.” You nearly scream as his tongue darts out over your clit, working its way over your core. You can feel the fox’s grin as he works you over relentlessly, gasps and moans involuntarily ripping from your throat. You know your grip in his hair must be almost painful at this point, but it doesn’t slow him down one bit.

You don’t know whose name to scream out when you go over the edge, panting and writhing against the wall of the bath.

The aftermath of your orgasm is pushed forward by his tongue as he greedily takes all you can give. He detangles your fingers from his brown hair; that damned smirk is the first thing that comes into your vision as he stands upright again.

He leaves you there, in a daze and shivering against the cold tile at your back as he steps out of the tub. He looks back only once as he reaches the door, a Cheshire grin playing at the lips which were only moments before at your most intimate of places.

“Don’t do anything we’ll both regret, my dear. That was the best meal I’ve had in the last five hundred years.”

[afeb]

Bucky Barnes - Salvation

long and kinda slow-burn :)

“Stay safe you,” Matt said as I walked out of the small bookshop.

“Always try.” I smiled back as I skipped down the steps.

I scanned over the books I’d bought on my short walk home, turning the first few pages and already sinking into the stories within. The streets were quiet, sun setting as I hurried home to avoid dark.

I finally stepped foot inside my apartment and immediately went around and turned on all the lamps. I detested the dark, an old habit I found hard to break, as I swiftly checked from room to room. I did this to make sure no one was inside, but in the back of my mind I only looked for one man. Books placed on the side, I was about to sit down when a heavy knock sounded from the door.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered as I walked over. I swung open the door.

Fuck.

Slamming it shut quickly my heart raced and face paled. I could throw up, or faint, and I considered doing both. How did he know where I lived? What was he planning on doing? I bargained that I’d never go to police, and I didn’t for that matter, so why is he here?

“Y/N?” The Winter Solider said through the door.

“I-I haven’t told anyone.” I said.

“That isn’t why I’m here.” His voice was softer than I remembered, he sounded...normal.

“P-Please just go.” I begged, hand still tightly holding the doorknob.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “I won’t even come into the apartment, I just need to say something.”

I peeped through the spy hole, making sure he was alone. He usually was, however, on one occasion he brought back up. That was the worst of times.

“Step away from the door.” I ordered, to which he readily complied and took two large steps back. I opened the door a crack, waiting for him to pounce. But he remained firmly planted in his spot.

Warily, I creaked the door open. He was dressed in black jeans, a navy top and a black leather jacket. His hair was cut short, his beard was growing out and he no longer donned the muzzle he used to in public. Gloves covered his hand. He looked completely normal.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, and I am no longer the Winter Solider,” he said. “Apologising to you is my way of making amends with my past.”

I furrowed my brows. “What?”

He gulped. “I...I did awful things to you, and I’m sorry.”

“Is this...is this a joke?” I asked, peeping my head out a little and looking down the hallway.

He shook his head. “I’m trying to be a better person, and apologising to you is part of that. I could also, do things for you?”

My eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“No!” He said. “No, I meant like...jobs or, I dunno...anything.”

“I’m so confused.” I whined as I rubbed my eyes. “Are you going to kill me?”

He shook his head. “No.”

His eyes looked pleadingly at me. He was alone, he looked normal and I could feel the truth drip off his words. After a long pause, I sighed deeply.

“Do you want to come in?” I stepped aside.

“If that’s okay.” He stiffly smiled and walked past me.

I shut the door and watched him. He looked around the small space, standing in the hallway. I had photos lining the walls, all of friends and family, and he took care to look at some of them.

“You can take off your coat and gloves.” He nodded and shrugged of his jacket, however, chose to leave the gloves on.

“Nice place.” He complimented.

“Thanks,” I had no clue how to act around him. He followed behind me as I led him into the kitchen, turning to face him as he lingered in the doorway. “I was going to cook some dinner.”

He nodded. “Anything special?”

I shook my head. “You could...join, we could talk.”

“That would be...nice.” He smiled.

I cooked in near silence. James took a seat at the small table by the window and watched me as I mulled around the kitchen. Chicken in, salad made, I turned to face him.

“It’ll be about half an hour.” I said as I sat opposite him.

“You’re being very kind.” He said.

“So, what is this?” I gestured between us.

He leant back. “The US Government has pardoned me, and part of that agreement is that I have to go to therapy. My Doc came up with a plan to help me...move on from my past. I have to go around and make amends with the people I hurt, or helped, and that means you.”

I nodded. “How many have you done?” I asked.

“A few,” he said. “I was...I was putting off doing you.”

I frowned. “Why?”

His eyes cast over to me as he took a shaky breath. “I...hurt you. In life changing ways, even if you forgave me, I could never forgive myself.”

I pursed my lips for a moment and didn’t speak. His eyes looked down at his lap, a sad expression coming over his face.

“I hated you,” I whispered. “I always thought in my head that if I ever got the chance, I’d kill you. But then I spent a while researching you, your past. What they did to you, how they treated you, what they made you do. And I realised, it wasn’t really you who hurt me, it was them.”

He gazed at me through his lashes. “Y/N...”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” I smiled, reaching over and taking his hand. “Water under the bridge.”

His hands flexed, squeezing mine. “Water under the bridge.” He repeated.

The gloves were soft against my hands as I peered down at them. “Can I see?”

His face grew uneasy as he shifted in his seat. “Um...yeah, sure.”

He peeled the gloves of slowly, almost waiting to me to stop him. The metal had changed. Instead of the bright silver I was used to, it instead was sleek black with gold details. He rolled his sleeve up as high as it would go, the infamous star now gone. It suited him better, I thought, complimented him more.

“It looks nice,” I smiled. “Better than the old one.”

“Thank you.”

“Could I?” He gave me a nod as I ran my ran over the cool metal.

It was really a work of art. Oddly, this one didn’t scare me. The other had felt my skin, brought me to the edge of death so many times, but this one? This one had only gently squeezed me hands.

We both jumped as the oven beeped, giggling a little as I stood and plated up our meal. We ate quietly, James complimenting my cooking one too many times. The evening drew on and soon James was shrugging on his jacket and lingering by the door.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Dinner was amazing.”

I laughed. “I’ll have to cook it again.”

His eyes glistened with happiness at the chance of us seeing each other again. “I’d like that.”

I opened the door for him. “It was nice seeing you, the real you.”

He nodded. “I meant it you know, need a boiler fixing, walls painted, I’ll do it.”

He quickly scribbled his number in a small notebook and ripped out the page and handed it to me. “I’ll keep that in mind,”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” He danced around me for a moment before enveloping me in a short, tight hug.

Weeks passed and I didn’t contact him. I thought I’d be a painful reminder of his past and thus didn’t want to keep contact with him. That was, until my sink burst and my landlord claimed it wasn’t his responsibility. I’d tried hard to fix it myself, and the local plumbers charged ridiculous rates, so I found myself texting James.

To James B -

Hi! Sorry I haven’t contacted you before, been very busy! Could I pick up the favour you owe me? My sink has burst and I’m in desperate need of a plumber. - Y/N

I didn’t expect a reply, but he text back before I’d even put my phone back on the table.

From James B -

Hey! No worries. Heading over now.

I scrambled to tidy the apartment, dreading to confess I in fact lived like a pig most days. After a frantic half an hour, a knock sounded from the door.

“You’re a life saver,” I sighed as I opened the door.

James offered a lopsided smile, shrugging his shoulders. “No worries,”

“It burst two days ago, I had a go myself but I think I made it worse.” James set his bag of tools on the counter and opened the cupboard under the sink.

“Oh yeah, I see what’s wrong,” he silently set to work, laying on his back and doing god-knows-what.

After a while I went into the living room and read my book, curling my legs underneath me and settling down. James banged about the kitchen and a swear word or two later, he popped his head around the door.

“Done.”

“So soon?” I quickly stood and bounced into the kitchen. I turned the tap and stepped back, expecting water to drown my feet, but instead it simply swirled down the drain. “It lives!”

James chuckled at my remark. “A few bolts came loose and disconnected, easy stuff really,”

“Thank you James.”

“Bucky,” he quickly said. “Call me Bucky.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” I smiled. “Want to stay for lunch?”

“Yeah,”

We chatted mindlessly as we made sandwiches, Bucky telling me about his childhood. When he was the Winter Soldier I only heard gruff orders, but he had a voice that sounded smooth and sweet. His eyes lit up when he spoke of his siblings and parents, of a life that felt like thousands of years ago.

“You got a boyfriend?” Bucky asked, fiddling with the label on his beer.

I cocked a brow. “No, you?”

“No.” Bucky said. “I’ve tried these dating websites but...feel out of my depth.”

I nodded in understanding. “I abandoned those long ago,”

“I’m glad you text me.” He said. “I’ve spent the last few weeks wondering if you would.”

“Truthfully, I thought you wouldn’t want to speak to me.” I confessed.

“Why would you think that?” He frowned.

“I’m a reminder of your past,” I explained. “I can understand that even looking at me must be hard for you.”

Bucky paused for a moment and scanned over my face. “I see you as my salvation, not my damnation.”

I smiled. “I don’t think I said it before,” I shuffled a little closer. “But I forgive you, Bucky.”

His breath hitched, arm dropping to rest behind my head. “Say it again.” He whispered.

“I forgive you.”

Our bodies were close, Bucky resting his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes and waited for him to make a move, but they fluttered back open when I felt the moment slipping.

“I don’t want to push it,” he confessed.

“You aren’t.” I promised.

“I did bad things to you,” his hand stroked over my cheek.

“Then do something good.”

His lips pressed to mine. They were soft, softer than I’d thought, and he went slow and easy. I sighed into the kiss and pressed my body flush against his, my hands planting on his chest. His hand on the back of the couch slid off and looped behind me back, pressing me further into his as the other hand slid into my hair and held me close.

“Please,” he mumbled against me.

“Yes.”

Bucky eased me back into the sofa, lips still pressed tightly to mine as he eased between my splayed thighs. My hands moved up to fist his short hair, causing a quiet groan to escape his lips. Bucky’s hands held onto my hips as he gently, almost teasingly, ground his crotch to mine.

“Lemme make it better,” he whispered, trailing kisses down my cheek and neck.

“You can do anything,” I breathlessly promised, rolling my body up.

His hand slid down my stomach and into the back of my loose trousers, cupping my clothed pussy and flexing his fingers. I gasped and threw my head back, Bucky surfacing to peer down at me with hooded eyes.

“There?” I nodded at his question.

His fingers eased my underwear to the side and felt over the slickness he’d created. The cool metal of his hand ran over my burning cheeks and I thanked god for the relief of coldness in this moment. My eyes widened as his finger tips circled my swollen bud.

“So wet,” he murmured, gazing into my eyes.

“For you.” I whimpered back, cupping his cheeks.

“Me?” I nodded. “Good girl,”

I moaned again at his words, his fingers picking up their pace. My back arched as he eased two fingers into me, stretching me out. He groaned a little, muttering something about my tightness, before pressing his lips to mine.

“O-Other hand,” I said against his lips.

“What?” He pulled back, stopping his movements.

“Can you u-use your other hand?” I pouted my lips.

“Are you sure?” He furrowed his brows.

I nodded. Bucky removed his hand from my underwear, offering his glistening fingers to my lips. I hastily took them in my mouth, small hand wrapping around his wrist as I sucked. He momentarily closed his eyes, losing himself for a second before easing his metal hand between our bodies.

“Really?” He questioned again, playing with the waistband of my trousers.

I bucked my hips. “Please,”

I couldn’t help the loud moan that left my mouth as his metal fingers resumed his flesh fingers task. They rubbed tightly into my clit, causing my eyes to pinch shut and my jaw to slacken and drop.

“Such a good girl for me,” he cooed against my cheek.

I whimpered again. “I-I’m-“

“Gonna cum baby?” He asked, fingers increasing their speed.

I nodded and cried. “Yes!”

“Like feeling my metal hand, huh?” He teased with a smirk.

“I do! Yes!” My nails bit into the skin of his forearm, the other hand running over the smooth metal of his shoulder. “Oh Bucky!”

“Cum,” he shortly ordered. “Please baby, please cum.”

My head threw back and I saw stars. My back arched as Bucky wrapped and arm under me and held me close. He moaned softly into my neck, grounding his crotch against my thigh. My arms loops around his neck as I shuddered against him.

“S-Stop,” I begged, gently coaxing his hand from my underwear.

“Sorry baby.” He sighed into my neck.

We stayed tangled in each other for a moment before I reached a teasing hand down between us. Bucky quickly stopped me, sheepishly grinning down at me.

“I already...just then...” he blushed.

“Really?” I giggled.

“You have no idea how good you looked.” He whispered, pecking my lips.

I smiled warmly, stroking over his cheek. “Would you like to grab a coffee with me?”

He laughed loudly. “I’ll do more than that.”

[mettywiththenotes]

Expanding On Inko’s Segment From The “Izuku’s Emotional Neglect” post!!

I recently did a post about Izuku’s Emotional Neglect and it had a segment on Inko’s influence on him and like I wanted to add this part in but 1) I couldn’t find anywhere to put it that would still make the post flow well and 2) it would have made the post too long

Here is the original post [x], I recommend you read it before reading this!

The part I wanted to talk about was the All Might Visit scene in chapter 96, specifically this part

“If only my child had stayed quirkless (...) wouldn’t Izuku have been happier that way...?”

I know we talk about The Todoroki Family’s disconnect, but can we also talk about the Midoriya Family’s disconnect?

The way it is, Izuku sees his quirklessness as bad because of how it’s been treated in the past by his childhood peers/friends, his teachers, his mother and All Might. It’s always been implied to be bad and wrong, to be worse than having a “lame” quirk.

But Inko doesn’t know this. She doesn’t know how Izuku sees his quirklessness. To her, the extent of her idea must be “it was bad because he wanted to be a hero but you need a quirk to be a hero”, but that’s not the issue here

Izuku doesn’t want to be useless therefore -> quirkless.

Inko wonders if staying quirkless [therefore -> useless] would have been good for him.

My point is Inko doesn’t know how bad her son’s self worth is. She doesn’t know the gravity of her words in this moment.

As said in the original post, Inko’s language always implies his quirklessness as something deeply upsetting and bad. While she didn’t mean to imply it, to Izuku, her apology would have felt like a betrayal to how she acted before [she acted so upbeat and happy when Izuku would go on about becoming a hero, but when he asks her for the last time if he can become a hero, she cries and instead apologises. That would have felt like a big betrayal to Izuku]

The deeper problem here is that Inko and Izuku don’t communicate.

Izuku never told her how his quirklessness or her words made him feel, plus we don’t even know if he ever told her about Bakugou’s bullying or even the bullying in general! It seems like Inko hasn’t the foggiest idea of Izuku’s problems.

And in this scene, as you can see with the flashbacks, Inko seems to see his quirklessness as a lost opportunity for peace. She would be absolutely content with playing pretend as long as Izuku doesn’t run off into danger “like what she witnessed on tv”

[oh Inko... you’ve got a big storm coming]

And this isn’t to say Inko is wrong to think this. It’s not wrong of her to want her son to be safe. But the fact of the matter is that she doesn’t know how deeply her words effect Izuku, because this is the second time she has said something upsetting about his quirklessness. Not purposefully, but it still must hit Izuku deep.

So then we look at Izuku’s reaction to this

To her, she views it as a necessary evil. That she hates making her son upset and dragging him away from a place he loves, but she feels she has to do it in order for him to be safe.

To Izuku, this is the end of his dream, that panicked realization just before you wake up to reality. He eventually accepts that he can go to other schools, but I think this initial reaction is interesting.

“All my efforts reduced to zero! (...) I have to go back to UA, no matter what!”

Once again, I feel like it could be that familiar feeling of betrayal. That she’s taking away that dream of his.

Actually, that apology seems the same. She tells him “I’m sorry”, almost like a parallel to before.

To add more to the disconnect, let me also very briefly mention this

Because here, Izuku is promising things he can’t keep. This is more or less a “fake it till you make it” thing where Izuku PROMISES to work on getting stronger so he won’t worry his mother anymore but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh [war arc flashbacks and vigilante arc visions]

This is a disconnect with himself, because he’s still being reckless and not thinking about his own safety, but at the same time it’s a disconnect with his mother for not upholding his promise, with not thinking about how this behavior effects his loved ones

Izuku’s self hatred and self worth issues outweigh the feeling of not wanting his loved ones to be worried. It’s that constant need to prove himself worthy, not just to those he admires but to himself. Like saying “See, I am worth something. All those voices in my head telling me I needed to wake up and see reality were wrong, because I am worthy now.”

Unfortunately, even though Izuku IS stronger AND better than he was, he still sees himself as useless. This isn’t something a Hero Destiny can fix, this is a deep rooted issue that has been happening since childhood.

Anyway idk man, things turned out okay [kinda] but I think this scene speaks volumes to how Inko interacts with her son, the effect she had on him and how he views his quirkless, and how the two literally just don’t communicate effectively with each other

This isn’t to say Inko is a bad mother. She’s certainly trying her best and we can’t fault her for that. I’m afraid this is just one of those things where everything could be fixed if two characters just sat down and talked to each other [which ya know. can’t do that cause it would shut down the ~tension~ of the story]

Inko sees his quirklessness as sad, but also a lost opportunity to have a quiet life.

Izuku sees his quirklessness as something bad, the worst part of himself. When he’s reminded of it, he remembers how “useless” and “pathetic” he was, and tries to separate the quirkless version of himself from the “stronger” version, because he’d rather not remember that. In fact, it seems like he doesn’t want to remember it, or ruminate on it for long, because he can’t face how horrible it was. He simply wants to focus on the now, the better version of himself, because the past seems to be too hard to face.

It IS hard to face, especially with the amount of self hatred he has. As he is now, he can’t look at the past as someone who knows it shouldn’t have happened, he can only look at it as someone who still blames himself for being born quirkless.

[apocalypticbadass]

Sapphic Vampire Lovers (Smut)

A/N: Hey guysss it’s Alice smut time. Haven't been able to get the woman out of my head recently so here are my musings. You live with the Cullens and Alice is your girlfriend, but no one at school knows. You’re basically an adopted sibling so I might refer to the kiddos as your brother/sister. Also I’m not saying Alice can't see the future in this but like...lowkey...it’s hard as hell to write for her when she already knows everything lol.

Warnings: Smut, cursing, I think that’s it.

----

You sighed loudly as Mike Newton continued to prattle on about unimportant matters by your side. The bell signaled the beginning of class, and you feigned an apologetic look, which Mike believed wholeheartedly as he scurried to his seat. Poor boy. You turned to Emmett, your “brother” who sat next to you in Chem.

“He doesn’t give up, does he?” Emmett snickered.

You shook your head and sighed. “Oh shut it, Em.”

“You should just turn him away at this point. It’s going too far. Alice is starting to really notice.”

“Wait actually? She can’t possibly think I would ever pick Mike Newton over her.” You replied, getting quite nervous that Alice might be upset with you.

“I’m just sayin’. He’s always flirting with you, the last thing you want is for Alice to get the wrong idea.” “Yeah, you're right. Thanks Em.”

He smiled at you and ruffled your hair before you both turned towards the front to pay some attention to your teacher. You couldn’t sit still for the entirety of class, Emmett kept having to pull your hands out of your mouth to stop you from biting your nails or rest his hand on your knee to keep your leg from bouncing. The bell rang after a painfully long class, and all you wanted was to get out of there. It was the last period of the day, so you and Emmett grabbed your things and booked it out of class, he understood your desire to leave. What the both of you had missed while you were too busy worrying about your anxiety, was that Mike Newton had left class 10 minutes early with Eric Yorkie and Tyler Crowley. How Emmett’s incredible hearing and sight had missed that, you’ll never know. Or maybe he just thought it was unimportant. The rest of your family caught up with you, and Alice linked her arm in yours.

“Hi baby.” She said with a smile.

“Hi Ali.” You answered, nuzzling into her shoulder as you walked.

As you all got closer to the parking lot, Emmett gasped. “Oh my fucking God...”

“Oh Jesus, here we go.” Rosalie sighed.

Draped across the side of Mike’s minivan, made of canvas and paint, was a sign that read “(Y/N), will you go to prom with me?”

You stopped dead in your tracks.

This could not be happening.

No way was this happening.

You turned, horrified, to look at Alice’s face. She was staring straight ahead, jaw set, eyes unreadable. You softly disconnected your arms and rushed over to Mike, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

He beamed as he saw your urgency. “So, what do you think?”

“Mike, take it down right now.” You pleaded. “I’m sorry but I won’t go to prom with you.”

His face fell as Eric and Tyler moved to take the sign down and save Mike a little bit of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry Mike, I have to go.”

“Yeah, no, it’s cool.” He said, rubbing the back of his head.

Your family was on your left and they were already getting into the car. Alice was at the back, and you grabbed her wrist while begging her to turn around and talk to you. “Alice, please, can we talk?”

“What is there to talk about?” She spat, venom in her voice. “Clearly you gave him a reason to think he should ask you. You’re very friendly, and I love that about you, but I think flirting with someone when you have a girlfriend is way too far.” “Alice you know I would never do that. You know how loyal I am to you, Mike could never hold a candle to you. I swear I’ve never flirted with him in my life, he’s just obsessed or something.” Your eyes shone with tears. “Please, baby. Trust me, not him. I swear on my life I only love you.”

You could see the slightest softening of her defensive exterior as your (y/e/c) eyes bore into her deep amber ones.

She stepped closer to you and sighed. “You’re right, I’m overreacting, I suppose. You haven’t given me any reason to believe that you’d flirt with him.” Alice placed her lips below your ear. “Unfortunately for you, you’ll have to pay for poor Mike’s mistake. I’ll have to remind you who you belong to, just incase you needed a refresher.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a blush creeping onto your cheeks since you knew that your family could hear you quite clearly from inside the car.

“I’ll meet you at home.” She said before turning on her heel to walk home, she’d be back before the rest of you.

You got in the car behind the passenger seat, head in your hands as Emmett laughed from the other side of the car. “What did I tell you?”

“Drop it, McCarty.” You glared at him.

“She’ll come around.” Jasper said, hand on your knee. “She’s not actually mad, just jealous that he can be so carefree with his feelings while you both have to hide yours.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Just sucks.” “At least you’ll get good sex out of it.” Rosalie said nonchalantly, looking at her nails, which she had painted last night.

“Get some!” Emmett cheered, which made you bust out laughing.

The car ride home was comfortably quiet, everyone else’s mind wandering to other things, Rosalie and Edward speaking to one another in a nearly inaudible tone.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach when you pulled up to the Cullen house, met by Alice leaning against her Porsche, arms folded neatly across her chest. Jasper squeezed your shoulder in encouragement, feeling your nerves flow, and eased your anxiety as best as he could, one last time. Alice got in the car before you could get over to her, and just before she shut the door, she gave you a “come hither” motion. You opened the passenger door and sat carefully inside of the car, careful not to track in any mud.

“Hi.” You said softly as she began to drive.

“Hello.”

You fell into silence, zoning out while looking out the window, wondering where the hell you were going. You tried very hard not to let her know how nervous you were, but the attempt was futile because she could hear your erratic heartbeat.

“Where exactly are we going?” You managed to say, in a calmer voice than you thought you could muster.

“You’ll see. It’ll be fun.” She said lightly, tossing you a wink.

20 minutes later, Alice pulled into a hotel parking lot, probably the fanciest building you had ever seen. You knew you were in Seattle, but had never been to this secluded area with these fancy buildings. You felt severely underdressed, the both of you casual, but her level of fashion much higher than yours, her walk far more graceful. She gave the keys to the valet as they pulled luggage out of the trunk. Alice took one bag for herself and handed one to you. She kept her hand on the small of your back and led you through the massive glass doors, which were opened for you of course. The gorgeous decor of the lobby kept your gaze until Alice had signed you both in.

“Come on now, love.” Her voice was like melted honey.

Your gaze flipped to her and you followed her to the elevator, where she pushed the button for the top floor. Your eyes went wide as you remembered peering up to the peak of the building and how high it was. As you stepped out, there was one single door in front of you. Alice swiftly unlocked it and ushered you inside, bolting the lock shut immediately. As you walked around in awe, you felt yourself being whisked away, vision blurring as Alice ran you both into the bedroom, where she tossed you onto the silk duvet. Her dainty, but incredibly strong hands pushed your shoulders back onto the bed. 

“What to do with you?” She pretended to think before pulling a pair of cuffs from behind her back. 

You bit your lip as you felt butterflies down below. Your wrists were in one of her hands in a second, cuffed to the headboard before you could even blink. “Are you going to be good for me, darling?”

“Yes baby, I will.”

“Good.” She muttered into your ear, tearing your shirt off to suck on the exposed skin of your breasts. All you wanted to do was tangle your fingers into her short hair as she marked your body. Your wrists audibly struggled against your confines and you groaned. Alice laughed. She tore your bra off in a fluid motion, gently worrying one of your nipples between her teeth.

You sucked in a breath. “Ali, please. Wanna touch you.”

She swiftly flipped you onto your stomach. “No ma’am. Not allowed.”

She then pulled your pants and underwear off in one go, leaving you completely exposed. Alice slid a finger towards your clit, circling it slowly. You whined and squirmed, so she ripped all contact away from you. You felt her cool breath at your ear and her disapproving tsk. “I thought you said you were going to be good for me.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll be good. I promise.”

“You better.” She replied, swiftly inserting one finger into your vagina. You took a sharp breath through your nose, trying to keep still. She curled her finger into your g-spot at an incredible pace, causing you to take a mouthful of the bedsheets to keep yourself quiet. She was pleasantly surprised at how good you were being, so she added another finger, scissoring you open. It took absolutely everything in you to just stay still and quiet.

Once you felt stretched enough, she placed a kiss at the base of your spine and retracted all contact, flashing across the room to grab a bag. You were unable to see this, but her clothes were off in an instant, and she had fastened one of her many straps around her hips. She’d chosen your favorite attachment, a hot pink dildo that measured around 7.5 inches. She leaned down to whisper in your ear while allowing the toy to nestle into the cleft of your butt.

“You’re not even gonna remember Mike Newton’s name after this.”

With that comment, she slid the tip of the toy into your entrance, slowly pushing into you, stretching you all the way out. “You can make noise now, love.” She purred.

Immediately, a string of profanities left your mouth. “Holy fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good inside me.”

After a few moments, you felt her icy hips hit your butt, felt her lips sucking marks onto your shoulder blades. “Move please, baby.” You whined, trying not to struggle against her. She pulled out of you slowly, and entered you once more. Taking her time, Alice picked up a pace that made your toes curl, she hit your g-spot every single time.

“Jesus fuck, Ali, God you’re so good. Feels so good, so fucking good, babygirl.” You babbled on as she drilled you into the bed at an inhuman pace, hands tangled into your hair.

“You just needed a little reminder, didn’t you, doll? Just needed to remember who you belong to. Mike Newton could never fuck you this good.” She growled, nipping at your earlobe. You wanted to make a sarcastic remark, but your words couldn't get past the way Alice was making you feel. Your clit gained some friction as each thrust pushed your body into the mattress a little further.

“Alice I’m so fucking close babes, please don’t fucking stop.” You cried out, the inferno in your stomach threatening release.

“Come for me, love.”

With her words, you came hard, squirting all over the duvet, leaving it soaked. Alice pushed all the way into you and stilled for a moment, relishing. “You were so good for me, babygirl. So beautiful.” She praised, pulling out of you and flipping you over.

“Wanna taste you.” You whined. “Sit on my face.”

Alice smirked at you and quickly unfastened the strap before positioning her dripping pussy over your mouth, settling softly with a moan. She had remained untouched until now, so the contact was quite welcome. “Christ, babe. Your mouth feels so good.”

Your tongue explored her walls, licking every surface, nose bumping her clit every so often. She leaned back and placed her hands on your thighs, squeezing them softly to get a grip. You moved to her clit, lips wrapping around it and drawing it into your mouth, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lover. You fervently continued, fully putting your mouth to work.

“Please, gonna come.” She rasped out, just before coating your face with her slick. “Oh my God, (y/n), so incredible.” Alice moaned while you continued to suck on her, drawing out her orgasm. You gazed at her with doe eyes from between her legs before she got off of you, reaching for the key to unlock your cuffs. She rubbed your wrists to soothe them before nuzzling into your neck and tangling her legs into yours.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over the way you taste.” You said after a few moments of silence.

Alice giggled. “I can absolutely say the same for you. That was amazing.”

“Totally. I love you. Sorry Mike asked me to prom.”

She let out a belly laugh, pulling you on top of her. “No need to apologize. I’m sorry for overreacting, quite dumb of me to be honest.”

“It upsets you that we can’t express our emotions for each other as freely as Mike can express his emotions for me.” “I just wish people could understand our love, understand that our gender is totally irrelevant.” She sighed, stroking your hips as she spoke. “I just love you so much and I wish I was able to show it in public without fear of something happening to you. God forbid anyone got violent.” “I know, baby, it’s really scary sometimes.” You cupped her face, stroking her cheekbone with one hand, combing through her hair with the other.

“I don’t want to say it, but you know what I’m thinking.” Alice whispered, expression growing serious.

“I’ve been thinking about it recently as well, I think we have to do it. Sometime soon, I want to be with you forever. We’ll set a date.”

Alice gave you a lopsided grin. “Can’t wait to be sapphic vampire lovers until the end of time.” 

You laughed, leaning down to kiss her. “Oh hell yeah.”

[mckinlily]

i am genuinely in love with your writing, particularly your foster care au. like everything about it is so good!! i adore the found family and wow you write the relationships between all of the characters so well! (I especially love the pride one it makes me so happy). if you have any other headcanons id love to hear them but if you want to save them or anything no worries, i just wanted to let you know how much i love your writing.

I literally don't have words, this is so sweet!! Thank you so much! And I am delighted to hear how much you love the foster care au. I was so convinced that I would be the only one interested in it, but I guess you really can't go wrong with found family. Complicated but loving relationships are my jam.

I was thinking about what headcanons to share, and you know who I haven't talked a lot about? Allura. Which is a TRAVESTY I tell you. How could I have done my girl dirty like that? But let's rectify that here:

Allura is the only child of Alfor Altea, a business tycoon who died unexpectedly just before she graduated high school.

This has left Allura very rich, very lonely, and feeling very disconnected from the majority of her peers.

Coran is an anthropology professor at Harvard, Alfor old friend, and Allura's godfather. He loves Allura very, very much and is painfully waiting for Allura to accept his help with her grief.

Allura is doing a double major of Political Science and International Relation. As well as a minor in philosophy, biology, hey maybe add in some engineering.

Some might see this as a maladaptive coping mechanism. Others would point out that Allura's hyper-competence is just like that. The truth is probably a combination of both.

Allura is also involved in like a hundred clubs and student-lead organizations. Shiro is only slightly joking when he asks if Allura intends to take over the entire campus.

Allura convinces Shiro into taking classes like pilates or gymnastics or volleyball with her for "easy" credits.

Both of them are WAY to naturally talented and FAR too competitive together. They'd be awful if they weren't also so darn nice.

A lot these classes are very woman dominated. There'd probably be a lot of rumors about Shiro joining just to "pick up chicks" if it weren't for most the class just assuming he and Allura are a Thing.

Somehow both Shiro and Allura still manage to be surprised that this happens every. single. time.

This is getting a bit into spoiler territory, but nothing big and this fic is taking forever to finish anyway so let's add...ROMELLE!

I'm going with a design based on @breezycheezyart 's Black Romelle because she's gorgeous and I can't unsee it

Romelle and Allura become friends their freshmen year, and Romelle is Allura's best friend after Shiro.

Romelle is an bubbly, social Art History major. Also I've decided to make her a lesbian because I can and it's what we deserve.

(This means so far Lance is probably the only straight character in the series. Sorry, Lance.)

Romelle hasn't met all of Shiro's siblings, but she's heard about them. She adores them vicariously through Allura.

(Hunk is her favorite).

It doesn't happen all at once, but over time Allura comes to adopt Shiro's siblings as her own. Or perhaps it happens the other way around. In any case, they're family now. It doesn't make up for losing her father, and perhaps it's because this new family is completely different that she accept it. No one will ever replace her father. But she's never had siblings before.

Turns out, she rather likes it.

[jenomark]

PART 1: LUCAS, THE BOYFRIEND

➔Pairing: Lucas x Reader (Female) | Ten x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut (+ angst, + fluff, + plot) ➔Warnings: vaginal penetration, passionless sex, exchanging money for sex, very light bdsm and mentions of pegging ➔Word count: 5,107

➔Summary: You don’t know what you do. You don’t even know who you are. Some would call you a whore. Some would refer to you as a sex worker. All of your clients would say you’re damn good at your job.

MASTERLIST

  It hadn’t rained in months. It felt strange to hear it coming down hard enough to drown out Lucas’ snoring. You laid in bed and listened a little while, wishing that it would lull you back to sleep somehow. But your eyes were wide open and they kept searching for the clock Lucas kept on his bedside table. 2:45 a.m. 3:14 a.m. 4:20 a.m. Time kept moving as you stayed still, eyes occasionally glancing up at the water marks on his ceiling, and hoping the rain wouldn’t drip through.

 “Lucas.” you whispered. 

  When he didn’t stir, you sat up in his bed and reached for your phone. He slept soundly on the nights when you had sex, which suited you just fine. You didn’t want him turning over in the night and asking you why you weren’t sleeping. 

  You unlocked your phone, your password far more complicated than it needed to be. You and Lucas once got into an argument when he asked you what you were hiding from him. You felt too exposed, for someone with something to hide. You felt like you no longer belonged to yourself, and he felt hurt that you didn’t want to share what secrets you kept.

  Unread text messages: 56   Unread emails: 134

  Your phone wallpaper was a photo of Lucas during Christmas of last year. He was smiling and holding up a gift you had bought him: an expensive watch nestled in black satin. You remembered the moment well. He opened the box and nearly dropped it to the floor when he realized it was the same model of the one he’d been lusting after for years. Every little boys dream was to own an expensive watch just like their father, and Lucas was no different.

“We can’t afford this.” Lucas had said.

  You, not we. You had wanted to say it, but his family was around the Christmas tree and all eyes were on you. It was true that Lucas could not afford the watch with his low-end salary, but you could. Of course, you had to play the part of the lowly office worker with a salary fit for someone shoved into a shoebox apartment.

“Don’t worry about it,” you had said to soothe him. “You’re worth every penny.”

  And Lucas was. You were with him because he was the first man in a while to make you feel alive. He used to be more daring before he got older, used to make you laugh so hard you’d nearly piss your pants. Like all things, the older things get, the harder it is to keep them in good condition. Your relationship with Lucas never failed on the surface, not really, but there were too many things brewing underneath. You were a lot like the watermarked ceiling: barely holding it together.

  You checked to make sure Lucas was sleeping before opening your inbox full to the brim with emails from men. The descriptions were all the same: I’m tall, handsome, and worth your time. The names all basic and no doubt aliases, were lined in a row for as far as you could scroll down. Every once in a while, you would entertain one of them and look at their email, expanding it so you could see their plea. Pick me, I’m a winner. 

  Tonight's lucky winner was a twenty-three year old artist. The picture attached was of a man smiling, his whole face lighting up at whomever was behind the camera. He looked barely legal, and definitely too cute for what he wrote in his description

WinWin, 23. I want to fuck you raw and parade you around town to all of my friends.

Not today, kiddo. 

  You closed the email and set your phone back in your lap. You wondered how much longer you could keep it up.

     You were dreaming of him, which you did often. He was sitting at his kitchen table, his tie undone and resting around his neck, and a newspaper spread out in front of him. You waltzed into the kitchen in a bouncy dress, announcing your presence with a slight clearing of your throat. The picture felt very old school, static-y lines and scalloped edges. Like a dream of the past, you were bordering in housewife territory, red lipstick turning grey in the black and white film. He looked up immediately to smile at you over his shoulder. The camera panned to reveal a table with food set on it, and two children sitting in chairs.

“Is it almost ready?” he asked

  All you wanted to do was go kiss your dream husband and wrap your arms around him. You wanted those kids to pull faces, like they were really disgusted their parents were still in love after all the years. But you couldn’t move. You looked down and your little kitten heels were stuck in quicksand that was dragging you under too fast. He couldn’t save you. He didn’t even care, just went back to his newspaper. It was all white noise.

  You woke with a jolt, shooting up so fast that Lucas came out of the bathroom. A toothbrush was hanging out of his mouth, and he wasn’t wearing clothes. 

“Bad dream?” he asked, toothpaste spitting in all directions. 

  You looked at his body, just trying to collect your thoughts. Lucas assumed you were checking him out. He started flexing his muscles to make you laugh, showing you all the parts of him he’d been working out lately. You smiled for his benefit and held your hand to your chest.

“Nightmares,” you said. Lucas went into the bathroom to rinse his mouth. When he came back out, he was heading towards his wardrobe.  “Are you leaving for work so soon?”

“Gym.”

“Again?” you asked. “You went last night. Isn’t it true that if you go to the gym too much you’ll leave a very disgruntled and lonely girlfriend behind?”

 When Lucas wasn’t working out, he was at work. During the day, he was the terribly intimidating Veterinarian assistant, his pink scrubs and puppy pin making all the Great Dane’s growl in his direction. From another direction, all the women who worked there practically swooned when he walked his muscled body through the door.  

You got out of bed and opened the blinds. “The rain stopped.” 

  The view was terrible, but he got what he paid for. You watched the little old lady from across the other apartment building hang her clothes on a line. When you turned back to talk to Lucas, he was silently masturbating.

 “Oh shit,” he breathed.

  You closed the blinds quickly before he practically tackled you, lifted you into the air and swung you around. 

You screamed like you were being murdered. “Lucas! Put me down.”

  He lifted up your pajama shorts and smacked your ass. His laugh was loud and boisterous, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. He dropped you on the bed. His big cock was swinging between his legs before he took it back in his hands and continued stroking himself. You weren’t in the mood for sex, but the sight of him standing over you made it hard to resist. 

“I have to be at work.” you said, your eyes on his cock.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.” he laughed.

  He took your ankle and pulled you to the edge of the bed, sliding you across the sheets like hot butter in a pan. You were taking off your shorts and panties while still denying him access.

“I do!” you said. “And I need you to drop me off at my apartment so I can get my things.”

 You didn’t need to tear your tank top off. Lucas pulled the spaghetti straps off on either side to reveal your breasts. His big paws were on you as he moved closer. Without wearing a condom, he pushed himself inside of you, both hands holding either breast while he thrusted.

 There was no talking as you fucked. Lucas took your leg and placed it on his shoulder. He kissed your calf softly. There were always tender moments like that, where it felt like it was only him and you that existed in the world. His eyes were big and brown and full of love whenever he looked at you.  You hoped that when he looked into your eyes, he didn’t just see his own reflection peering back at him.

  You felt something swell inside of you with a big wave, before quelling. Lately, you couldn’t seem to orgasm with him. There was a mental disconnect somewhere between him and you, but that didn’t stop you from pretending. You moaned and told him you were coming, even though you and him could feel yourself drying up.

  Lucas lifted your ass up and held your body as he moved, his pace too fast for you to enjoy. You just stopped moaning and stared at him, your mind completely blank. Whenever he came, the veins in his neck popped out. You were expecting him to come inside of you, but when he pulled out and came on your stomach, you let him. You held him as he collapsed on top of you, his big body making it harder for you to breathe.

  Dressed in his gym clothes, Lucas sat in the driver's seat. The drive over to your apartment was silent, mostly because Lucas still hated that you hadn’t moved in with him yet. The other reason was the awkwardness that existed after you both had sex. You laid on the bed for far too long with his semen pooling in your belly button. Not bothering to hand you a towel to clean up, he very quietly got dressed. 

  Lucas had never came on you before. He had always been the romantic look-me-in-the-eyes-as-I-fill-you-up type of guy. It’s not that you didn’t like it, just that it was so out of character you were wondering if something was wrong.

“Do you want me to come inside?” he asked.

  You snapped out of your thoughts, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I think I can handle it on my own.”

  You got out of the car and walked up your steps without looking back at him. You went inside and closed the door behind you, leaning against the wood to regain your nerve.

  You didn’t like Lucas being anywhere near your apartment. He was insecure that yours looked a little better than his. Whenever he was there, he had a million questions about the things you owned. Why they were so expensive. Why it seemed like you had never lived there. You assured him it was because you spent the majority of time at his apartment, but there was always a bitter taste left in both of your mouths any time it was brought up. The other reason was that you weren’t sure what he would find if he looked hard enough.

 You ran up the stairs and unlocked your second door. You could never be too careful. Inside, you were met with a musty smell. You didn’t bother cleaning as you went, just tore through the place gathering what you needed. You stopped briefly to look at yourself in the mirror, at the way your pantsuit hugged your body. Business professional is what the saleswoman had said. It’s what all the men want. 

What do you know about what men want? You wanted to ask her.

  You moved on, click-clacking your way to your bedroom. Your bed was unmade, and there was trash strewn everywhere. You opened the door to your walk-in closet, grabbed a duffel bag and started shoving lingerie into it. You picked up a pair of handcuffs and threw them aside. Rifling through your things didn’t help you find what you were looking for. You cursed out loud and sat down in your closet, leaning your head against the wall. 

“Must be in the other apartment.” you whispered, trying to recall where it was.

 By the time you made it back to the car with Lucas, he had fallen asleep. You tapped the window and apologized for taking so long.

  Lucas pulled up in front of your office building. He hadn’t asked why you brought a duffel bag, because after his nap, his attitude was so damn chipper that he couldn’t stop smiling. He leaned over the console to kiss you.

“You know what?” he said. “I’ll walk you inside.”

There was a panic in your chest. “No, baby, it’s okay.”

  He didn’t hear you. He was halfway out of the car. Lucas opened your door and held out his hand for the duffel bag. Reluctantly, you placed it in his hand and got out of the car.

“So, what time do you work until?” you asked, your eyes on the bag he was holding.

“Late day,” he said, taking your hand with his other. “I won’t be home until after dinner. Save me some?”

“Of course.”

  Normally, Lucas would lead you, but it was your place of work, so you did the leading. You opened the door and walked inside, your heels tapping against the marble. The woman at the front desk and the security guard both nodded at you at the same time before looking back to what they were doing. You guided Lucas to the elevator.

“Are you done the same time as always?” he asked. “I can send someone to pick you up.”

“No, that’s okay.” 

  You stepped into the elevator. You weren’t the only people in there. Luckily the office building was so big that you didn’t need to know everyone. He held your hand the entire ride, giving it a little squeeze. And every time he did, you were forced to look at him and smile.

“This is me.” you said, stepping out. 

  A glass wall separated the hallway from your offices, gold lettering etched on all of the doors. Lucas had never made it this far up, so his eyes were taking in everything like a greedy child.

“This looks expensive,” he said. “No wonder they pay you so well. Maybe I should quit and get a job here.”

  You laughed. It was obligatory. You leaned on your tip-toes and kissed Lucas at the same time you ripped the duffel bag from his hands.

“Call you during break?” you asked.

Lucas smiled. “Yeah,I’d like that. I love you. Have a good day.”

 You could tell he didn’t want to leave. He was too curious about what was behind the glass wall. He could see people milling about, stacks of papers in their hands. There were cubicles and privacy offices, a break room that was too high-tech for a plain office building. 

“I love you, too,” you said. “If you just go down to the ground floor I’m sure someone can help you find your way out.”

  You waited until the elevator doors closed to walk through the glass ones, crossing the threshold like you were walking into a new world. As soon as your heels stepped down into the grey carpet, you walked a little looser, your hips swinging. You did feel professional. And as eyes were on you in every corner of the room, you were the one person who knew exactly what men wanted.

  The office. You didn’t belong. Everyone could smell it on you, that new car smell that always seemed to drive right onto their floor and disrupt everything. For many of them, you were something they couldn’t afford. Oh, how they’d love to test drive you, though. As soon as they got a tasty look at you, all cream interior and buttered seats, all eyes seemed to avoid meeting yours. You sashayed across the floor in peace, your eyes scanning cubicles and the people coming and going.

“Hey.” a familiar voice called.

  You ducked down beside a cubicle. A woman sat in a chair, her long legs bare and freshly waxed. She crossed them and swiveled her chair to face you. You picked up a paper from the floor and shoved it in your pockets. 

“You’re early.” she said.

“Needed time to change.” you shrugged.

  You put your hand on her shoulder to lift yourself up and kept walking. No one stopped to talk to you, and there was something lonely in that feeling you couldn’t put your finger on. You stopped before a door, one of the only non-glass ones in the whole place. Your manicured fingers against the shiny door knob made you pause. You caught your reflection for the second time that day, the distorted figure grimacing back at you.

  You would never open the paper so brazenly in front of other people, but it was the calm breath you needed before you opened the door. It was what would launch you, truly, from this office into the next part of your journey. You opened the paper and stared at each letter burning a hole in your retinas. 

             Sweetie, I miss you. Today’s advice is to never look behind you.

  You tucked the paper in your bra. Every inch of you wanted to look behind you, but instead, you opened the door to the dark closet and changed your clothes.

  You stepped out of the closet dressed in clothes one would find in the mens department. Sweatpants that could be worn playing basketball, a grey sports t-shirt with faded writing, and a black windbreaker. Your sneakers were white with little worn marks on the side, and your hair was thrown underneath a ball cap. If anyone thought you were crazy for entering as yourself and exiting as someone socially male passing, they didn’t bat an eye. 

  Passing by the cubicle, the woman whistled. “If I didn’t know you, I would have you bend me over this desk right here.”

You smirked. “Only if you pay me enough.”

  You threw the duffle over your shoulder and kept walking, all of the confidence in the world in the way you moved. People still looked at you, but it was in a new, illuminated light. You walked through the glass and made it to the elevator. 

“Excuse me.” you said, weaving your way past a man.

“No problem.” he said, eyeing you up as he stepped out. He stared at you until the doors closed.

  In the lobby, you waved hello to the woman at the desk and the security guard. Both were unbothered by your new attire. You swung open the front door and stepped into the sunlight where a black, unmarked car was waiting for you.

“Am I too early?” you asked the driver.

“Right on time, miss.”

 He opened the car door and you slid in, the leather feeling cool, even through your sweatpants. In a fancy car like that, you felt underdressed, but it was all in the job description. He shut the door and went around to the drivers side, any chatty banter he may have started falling short of his lips.

You took out your cell phone and unlocked it.

  Unread text messages: 72   Unread emails: 212

You looked at the very last message from Lucas sent right after he left:

             I love you more and more every day. See you when I get home.

  Trees. That was all you saw. Streets with trees lining them, parks with the healthiest limbs and most luscious green leaves. They stood proud and strong, only wavering with a slight wind. Occasionally, when you were lost in thought, they played against the glass of the car window, a kiss of a leaf here and there, as if to say, “Welcome, open your eyes.”

“We’re almost there,” the driver said. “He asked that I don’t escort you inside. I expect you know your way around.”

  You nodded, making eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror. He was judging you, you could tell. He wasn’t new, by any means, but the lifestyle took some getting used to. When you first met the driver, you were scared of what he  thought of you, but now you didn’t spare a single thought for him at all.

 The car came to a stop in front of a three-story brick building, its red face powerwashed to pristine condition. There were flower boxes on every windowsill and forest green shutters. A wreath on the door felt welcoming, but only if you were someone who liked open invitations. In the neighborhood, that might have been plausible, but only you really knew what lay beyond the oak front door, its stained glass windows more expensive than Lucas’ monthly rent.

“Thank you.” you told the driver.

  You stepped out of the car, your sneakers crushing a twig. It was the only blemish on an otherwise clean street. You closed the door behind you and held your duffel bag in your hand. The driver waited a beat before driving off, his strict time schedule unable to be rearranged if you chickened out.

 But you would never chicken out. Before you was a place you had been to many times. Anyone who looked out of their window would recognize you, even if the flavor of you didn’t sit well under their tongue. As you ascended the stairs, no one bothered to push aside their curtain for a glimpse of the girl dressed in baggy clothes, every trace of her from this morning vanished completely.

 You walked right in.

  You were met with a smell that hit you instantly: cinnamon. Candles burned on a foyer table, the wick barely black. 

Just lit, you thought. You have to be around here somewhere.

  The home inside was cozy, deep blue accents and unexplainable modern art tucked into corners of the room. It was the home of someone with an eye for the unusual, but whose very facade made one feel more comfortable with themselves. You walked further inside, your fingers touching along the walls. When you were away, you missed the smells terribly.

“Where are you hiding?” you asked. “Little kitten.”

  You walked further inside, your shoes still perfectly on your feet. At his request, he wanted you to keep them on. You never asked why, but you expected that after you left, he got on his hands and knees and scrubbed his floor after your every footprint, in his bid to serve you. 

“Don’t you miss me?” you asked.

  There were so many doorways without doors. You weaved in and out of rooms, taking your sweet time to make sure he could hear you trampling through. You touched some things softly, and others, haphazardly. You didn’t wince as a part of a measuring cup family fell from its hook, clattering to the ground loud enough to make your teeth hurt.

“Tenny,” you said. “Come and play.”

  You wandered up the stairs, your manicured fingers tapping against the wooden railing. You let the duffel fall to the ground when you made it to the top, and rubbed your shoulders.

  If the downstairs was grandmother chic, the upstairs looked like the hallway of a sex club.The walls were deep sapphire and velvet, gold tassels dividing each door. You walked down the center, looking foolish and out of place. On your right, you went in through the first door to an empty bedroom. You looked around but could find nothing. 

“This is taking too long,” you said. “What if I just leave?”

  A sound tipped you off. Your head snapped in the direction you heard it coming from: the very last door on the left. You walked towards it, stopping before it. You rubbed the wood, massaging it in your palm. 

“My little kitten.” you cooed.

  You opened the door to find him in plain sight. His arms were above his head, his wrists strapped to a mechanism chained to the ceiling. He was naked and blindfolded, and there were headphones around his ears so he couldn’t hear anything. You stepped in but didn’t close the door behind you. You stood in front of him, watching as he mouthed the words to a song. When you pulled the headphones down his neck, he gave a little shake.

“You were right under my nose the whole time.” you said.

  You walked around him. His joints looked like they were straining too much. He could hardly keep himself up right. And yet, he began to smile as you made your way back to him.

“How long have you been waiting?” you asked.

“An hour.” he said, his voice hoarse.

  You took off his blindfold and was met with the most mischievous eyes. He looked you up and down, his cock twitching right as he got to the sneakers on his carpet. You had been in the room before, so all of the sex toys and contraptions lining the walls didn’t bother you. People liked to play, and in your line of work, you would do whatever they wanted for the right amount. 

 His name was Ten. He was your age, but there was something about him that felt older than your years. His eyes were that of an old soul, his body young and supple. You scraped your fingernails against his chest and watched him close his eyes and quiver.

“Should I leave you here for another?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I need you to hold me.”

  Ten was one of your favorites. It wasn’t so much about the sex but the companionship. Sure, there were things he did and wanted you to do to him that were a bit different, but your attachment to him was hard to explain. 

“Before I hold you,” you began. “I need to know I can’t disappoint you.”

He opened his eyes. “I don’t think you ever could.”

“You put too much faith in me.” you said. 

  You reached up to unhook him from the ceiling. He whimpered in pain as his arms fell. You massaged his shoulders and brought him against your bosom. Ten’s hair tickled your chin. You were scared to tell him that you forgot his blanket, that it was in your real apartment with the life you hid from Lucas. 

 You wrapped your arms around Ten and kissed the top of his head. You owed him honesty, so you opened your mouth and told him that you forgot the thing he wanted most from you. Tears welled in his eyes, and for a second, you thought about breaking the arrangement and asking if he wanted his money back, but Ten took your hand and started leading you out into the hallway.

“We can do the comfort blanket next week,” he said. “This week, we’ll do something else.”

  Briefly, he showed you the man he was when you weren’t there. He was straightened up and assertive, his eyes more disobedient. It was rare that you were privy to how he was when you weren’t there, but it was always refreshing that somewhere underneath it all, there was something you liked to think of as a friend.

  Ten brought you to a room with only a bed in the middle of it. An island of sadness is what you always thought of it. You remembered when you had found him there sprawled on his stomach, his puckered, wet asshole waiting for you to fuck it. You did as he asked, the money too good to turn him down.

  Ten waited for you to get on the bed by yourself. Before you did, you made sure no hair was peaking out of your ball cap before you stretched your body across the sheets. Ten climbed in and tucked himself into the side of your body. He moved down so that his cheek was pressed against your stomach.

“Tell me you love me,” he said. “And that you’ll never leave me.”

You let your fingers smooth his hair. “I love you, Kitten, and I’m never going to leave you.”

  You fell asleep on the car ride home, the sound of thunder waking you up just a stop away from Lucas’ apartment. You groaned because, for once, your sleep was dreamless. It was too good of a thing to wake up from.

“Drop me off at the corner,” you said. “I don’t want anyone to see me.”

  You had ditched the clothes at Ten’s place and changed back into your pantsuit, but you had hat head and felt like your body had been run over by a truck. You cuddled with Ten for six hours in the same position, your body aching more than his was when he was chained up. You cracked your neck and got ready to jump out of the car as soon as it stopped, just in case someone in the neighborhood was nosy enough to tell Lucas.

“Thank you.” you said for the second time that day.

“See you next week.”

“Yeah.” you sighed.

  You got out and walked the last block to his apartment. The duffel was in your hands, but it was empty. If Lucas asked, it was once full of office supplies the company let you borrow that you needed to return. He would buy into the lie. 

 You let yourself into the darkness, removed your shoes like you were a zombie, and thought about collapsing right on the floor. It wasn’t even that late, but there was something about being deceiving that sucked the life out of you. Deciding against it, you walked your way to the bedroom and flipped on the light. 

 After you usually left Ten’s, you felt too soft to the touch. Some nights, you cried the whole car ride, missing something you didn’t know what you were missing. Often, you would climb into Lucas’ arms and make the most passionate love to him. You just needed to be near him, to make sure it was him who would never leave you.

  Everything looked the same as you had left it, only Lucas’ gym clothes were on the floor and one of his drawers was half hanging open. You went over to it and stuffed his shirts down so it would close properly. Your fingers lingered on the soft fabric. You brought his shirt up to your nose and buried your face in it, inhaling deeply. When you went to put it back, your hand knocked into a small jewelry box.

Uh-oh.

 You took the box out and opened it. A diamond ring sat nestled in black velvet, the name of the jewelry shop printed in silver script on the lid. Feeling dizzy, you snapped the lid shut and shoved it back where it was.

[yannowhatigiveup]

My One And Only - Chapter 17

Previous | Next | Master List

I have posted this chapter and I have had as much sleep as an insomniac can get. After next chapter, maybe, I’ll get to the scene that I have been wanting but also dreading to write so that’s something.

"...You're Ladybug, aren't you?"

————————————————————

Marinette's eyes widened, she didn't expect Alya to come to that recognition but as she gave it a second thought, it made sense. Luckily the pain in her chest had subsided so she could think clearly. The bluenette turned away from her best friend, nodding her head.

"Oh my god. You're Ladybug, my best friend is Ladybug!" Alya gasped, the situation truly hitting her, "Oh god you're Ladybug, the same Ladybug that got stabbed! Oh my god Mari are you okay?!"

The bluenette took a few long breaths before answering. "Yeah, I will be"

The aspiring reporter shook her head, "No, what happens if that happens during class? You might not have enough energy to stay conscious! I'll go tell Miss Bustier to let us off for today then we go to Damian's since he's the likely candidate to be Noir" Marinette knew not to underestimate her best friend's capabilities but she couldn't help but be stunned at her accurate conclusion. Hesitantly, she agreed and only after the bluenette was safely escorted out of the bathroom did Alya make her way to their classroom. After what felt like an eternity, though was probably only a few minutes, the amber-haired girl returned. "Come on, let's go get your stuff"

Once her belongings were collected, the two left the school building and towards the Grand Paris. While one hand was steadying the bluenette, Alya had her phone in the other. 'Texting Dami probably' The walk completely silent, but it was a comfortable silence. The aching in her chest would certainly appear in her voice and she didn't want to worry her best friend more than she already was. Marinette also knew that Alya was waiting to reach to hotel room before she asked questions, a good hero never discussed trivial matters out of the mask when it wasn't necessary, and Alya was definitely a good hero.

Soon enough, they arrived at the hotel and made their way to Damian's room. The green-eyed boy greeted them as they went inside, taking Mari from Alya so that she could lean on him. Once all three occupants were safely secured in the room, their three kwamis came up to check on their guardian.

Tikki's voice came first. "Marinette! Are you okay? I tried healing it but it didn't work I'm sorry"

"It's not your fault Tikki. It's oka-"

"No! It's not okay, Marinette! You're in pain! Plagg, Trixx is there anyway to get rid of it?" The red kwami anxiously floated towards her fellow companions.

"It's was caused by Hawkmoth" Plagg supplied. "Only Nooroo can remove his magic"

Damian hummed thoughtfully while Alya, though less panicked, was still slightly alarmed. There was still one question that left unanswered. What were they going to do now? Marinette's train of thought kicked in. 'We might have to expand our team sooner than expected...'

"What's the plan?" It was Alya who spoke, the reporter recognised the look of thought on her best friend's face.

"I think... I think we need to bring in more heroes" the bluenette replied hesitantly. "I'll give it some more thought before we bring anyone in"

Alya nodded. "Say, do you think I should practise my illusions? I could try to make them more fluid and realistic" Marinette approved for Alya to practice and watched Rena Rouge jump from rooftop to rooftop. The bluenette turned to her boyfriend.

"I'll look at the copy of the Grimoire, maybe it'll reveal a way to heal me, or subdue the pain at least." The blue-eyed girl blinked as an idea popped in her head. "Why don't you join me? You tend to pick up on things quite quickly so maybe I could teach you how to read the language of the guardians"

Damian sat on the chair, gently pulled Marinette on his lap and peered over her shoulder, looking at the digital copy of the book on her phone. "Learning an ancient language could be interesting"

~~~

The green-eyed boy chuckled ever so slightly as the bluenette kept whining about how he managed to pick this up much faster than she did when Master Fu taught her. After some time, Marinette decided to go check on Rena Rouge in her hero persona, she took one of Damian's hoodies before leaving, though. This went unnoticed by the owner but not by his kwami. Plagg snickered at Marinette's sneaky antics before asking, demanding, for some Camembert. Damian ordered a selection of cheese to see if there was a substitute to the stinky cheese, there was no way he would go around smelling like a used sock. The black kwami didn't complain since it means he would have more cheese. As Plagg was eating somewhere in the hotel room, a ringing sound came from Damian's phone. Thinking it was one of his annoying brothers, he left it idle for a moment before reaching to answer the call. It was a face time request. From Jon. Pressing the accept button, Damian placed his phone on the coffee table while waiting for the call to connect.

"Hi Dami!!" Was what was first said when the call finally connected. He didn't necessarily like the nickname, it was reserved for Marinette and Marinette only.

"Hello, Kent" he replied, his eyes briefly glanced over to the black kwami in his room. Then he remembered something that Marinette had mentioned momentarily.

Marinette had pulled her phone out from her purse and pulled Damian in for a picture, Tikki on her shoulder and Plagg on Damian's head. Wanting to make her happy, Damian let his lips twitch ever so slightly, having a small smile, one that his family would scarcely see, on his face.

"Don't the kwamis appear on camera?" He asked when she had finsihed. The bluenette turned to smile at him.

"Their magic prevents them from being recorded or heard on camera, so no" Marinette grabbed her phone back from where she returned it. She handed it towards him where the picture was shown and sure enough, there were no kwamis insight.

"Magic never fails to impress me"

The bluenette giggled. "I know"

"So how's the City of Love? Found anyone yet?" Jon's tone wasn't in a teasing manner, like most of his brothers would usually have, instead his voice held genuine curiosity. Again, Damian noted how much Jon would act like an excited puppy.

"It's adequate" He stated simply, he purposefully didn't answer the second question. Unfortunately for him, Jon managed to pickup on the fact.

"No. Freakin'. Way. You found someone! What's their name? What're they like? Do you have a crush or you and them together? Wh-" His voice was cut off by the sound of Damian's hotel door opening. He was thankful for the interruption before realising it was Marinette who entered, wearing his hoodie.

Completely forgetting that Jon was on call, Damian turned to the bluenette. "Is that my hoodie?"

Marinette, noticing Damian was speaking in English, switched to English as well. "I may have taken it as I left but you have no proof" She made her way to the couch, hugging her boyfriend from behind before noticing the boy on the phone. "Oh hello!" She greeted.

"Woah! Hi! Are you Damian's girlfriend by any chance?" The big wide smile that appeared on his face when she confirmed his suspicions, could rival her own. "What's your name?"

"Marinette"

"It's nice to meet you Marinette! I'm Jon, Dami's best friend!" He reminded her of Adrien, both had excitable personalities and they were both enthusiastic rays of sunshine.

"Self-proclaimed" Damian muttered under his breath.

Marinette, though having a smile on her face, jabbed the green-eyed boy in the ribs with her elbows, "Be nice, Dami"

"My name and nice are not usually in the same sentence" He smirked at her offended expression.

The bluenette huffed as she folded her arms across her chest. "Well when you're with me you're much more than nice"

"Well you are my girlfriend, it's hard not to" Marinette shot a playful glare at Damian, which was by no means intimidating in the slightest. "Such as right now, I feel like I'm being intimidated by a cupcake"

The blue-eyed girl's cheeks dusted with a light pink before she turned her head towards something in the room, muttering incoherently. Damian couldn't pick up what she was saying so he pulled her into his body, her begrudgingly leaning into the embrace.

Jon could tell that Damian had gotten soft and was completely smitten for the noirette. In all honesty, he was happy he could find someone like her. Despite only briefly talking, he could tell she was a pure soul. "Well I gotta get going. See you lovebirds later!" And the call disconnected.

"You're best friend seems like the cheerful type"

"Self-procla-" A soft pair of lips on his own cut off the words he was about to say. He didn't mind, he was just annoyed that this was a very convenient way to get him to shut up.

"Self-proclaimed or not-" Marinette began after she pulled away "-you still care about him greatly, much like you do with your brothers."

"You always try to think of the best in others" He muttered, his voice muffled as he placed a kiss on her temple. "Where's Cèsaire?"

"She returned to school, hey do you want to get something to eat while I'm still here?"

"Sure"

~~~

The two had sat down in the dining area, both scanning the menu for something that caught their eye, when an akuma made it's presence known. The couple quickly came to the the scene, the Akuma seemed to be a ten year old girl. Le Chien and Rena Rouge were quickly to arrive as well, with Le Chien providing the information on her backstory.

"Apparently, from what I heard, she got ridiculed for getting a participation reward" The dog-themed hero supplied, eyes dropping ever so slightly. "Poor her"

"If we deal with this swiftly, we'll be able to help her" Ladybug called upon her lucky charm and was given a long, spotted javelin. The spotted heroine noticed how the girl's weapon was also a javelin, just with a more pointier end. Her eyes darted all over the scene, first to Noir who was duelling the Akuma, then to the two heroes at her side. Quickly formulating a plan, Ladybug turned to Rena Rouge. "I'll need you to create illusions of the two of us, we'll able to confuse the Akuma and while it's confused-" The spotted heroine turned to Le Chien. "-you'll be able to identify the akumatized object"

Rena and Chien nodded while positioning themselves to attack. Ladybug, javelin in hand, joined Noir in the duel. Rena joined too after a music note was played and many clones of the hero team were created. The Akuma, however, was tactical and had managed to narrow it's opponents down to the original trio. This was when the main part of her plan was to take place. Ladybug slowly distanced herself from the fight, sending a signal to Noir to get him to do the same.

Once noticing her signal, Noir took action. "Rena, fall back" The fox-themed heroine shot a shocked look at the black cat hero before hesitantly obliging. With all three heroes equal length away, the Akuma struggled to decide who to get rid of first, Ladybug had other plans. Using the moment of uncertainty to her advantage, the spotted-heroine charged at the Akuma, knocking the Akuma's javelin out of their reach with her own. While Ladybug was in the air, jumping over the Akuma, Le Chien had not a moment to spare.

"Fetch!" His boomerang lit up and he threw it at the Akuma with great force, the glowing boomerang snatched one of the many medallions resting on the Akuma's body before returning. A purple butterfly emerged as the dog-themed hero threw the medal on the floor.

A spotted yo-yo was quick to capture the fluttering creature. "Gotcha. Bye-bye little butterfly" Once freed from it's magical imprisonment, a white butterfly emerged. Javelin in hand, Ladybug threw it in the air, erupting into many magical ladybugs. "Miraculous Ladybug!" Once the ladybugs subsided, all four heroes fist pumped.

"Pound it!"

They were interrupted by the sound of three miraculous beeping. Sharing a chuckle, the superhero team parted ways, Ladybug and Noir leaving together of course. They arrived to the sound of Damian's phone being bombarded with notifications. With a sigh, the green-eyed boy went to check what the messages were while Marinette brushed through her hair. He hummed.

"What is it?" The bluenette asked, placing the brush down on one of the cabinets.

"Your uncle released his album, the song you provided the vocals for has already reached number one in a few countries" Marinette blinked in astonishment.

"I- already? Wow..." She couldn't really figure out what to say. In her defence, what do you say in reply? "Hang on, wait I'll be back" The girl left and Damian decided to occupy himself by rereading the digital copy of the Grimoire that his girlfriend had sent him. It was quite a simple language once you get used to it, most of the symbols were shaped similarly and it was quite an easy concept. Around twelve minutes later, Marinette returned with a few boxes. "I brought some of the things I made for your family. I thought it would be best to give it to you now before I forget"

Damian removed the weight in her arms while smiling. "Thank you, Angel"

"Anytime, also-" The bluenette took something that was hidden behind her back, since she had an oversized hoodie it was easy to. "-I made this for you" It was a hoodie of her own design, ever so subtly Robin themed.

Putting the boxes near his suitcase, Damian walked back over to Mari, delicately handling the woven fabric almost as if he were in fear of ruining it. The green-eyed boy slipped in on, it fit like a glove with a little bit of leniency to provide warmth. Turning back to the bluenette, Damian found her analyzing the piece of clothing in him, as if looking for mistakes needing to be fixed.

"Does it fit okay? Is it comfortable? Do you like the design?" Marinette kept rambling on with questions about the artwork that he was wearing. Walking closer, he enveloped the bluenette in a hug, her face buried in his chest while he stroked his fingers through her midnight hair.

"Thank you, Habibti. I am very grateful for this gift, but you really didn't need to make me one"

She looked up at him and huffed. "I wanted to and besides-" her arms snaked up his chest and made their way around neck, her fingers lightly tugging on the hairs on his nape. "-it looks good on you"

He hummed, his hands trailing down to her waist, "if it was made by you, it's bound to be" The green-eyed boy placed a slow but heartfelt kiss on the forehead. "I'm not sure about you, but I'd like to listen to the completed song"

Marinette whined but went to get her phone anyway, Damian chuckled at her antics before returning to the pages of the Grimoire he was reading. In the background, he heard the plucking of a strings instrument followed by chimes from what could've been a triangle. The genre itself wasn't what first came to mind when someone mentioned 'Jagged Stone' but the man was fully capable of creating great songs in any music style. His point was further supported when Marinette's voice echoed through the music. Damian unknowingly smiled as he listened to his beloved's voice, but something else caught his attention. Flicking through the pages, the green-eyed boy came across a page relating to both the Ladybug miraculous and the Butterfly miraculous. Briefly scanning the ancient letters, he caught the bluenette's attention.

"Angel, did I translate this correctly? If I did then..."

Marinette, intrigued, came over to peer over her boyfriend's shoulder and found him looking on a page she hadn't seen before. She scanned it hastily, her palm covering her mouth as she finished. Damian looked over at her expression, meaning that he had translated it correctly.

"...I believe I found a way to subdue Hawkmoth"

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar,@miracleofadisaster,@frieddonutsweets,@jjmjjktth,@genderfluidmoma,@starlit-dreaming,@icerosecrystal,@lolieg,@kashlyn, @mochegato,@eggadoodle,@walkingthroughonautopilot, @toodaloo-kangaroo,@lady-bee-fechin,@weebjai1

[writtenvisionary]

Rooftop Riddles

Read on Ao3

WC: 5.1k

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna hear a riddle?”

“Uh, sure.”

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

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

“Um... I don’t know, what?”

“Melon-choly.”

A smile lit up her face.

“Oh!” She laughed.

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

She nods, shifting in her seat.

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

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

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

She gulps.

“A mother?”

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

“Bingo,” he says dryly.

Her frown deepens.

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

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

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

“Alright, last one.”

“Okay,” she nods.

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

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

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

She needs to give an answer.

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

Tie a knot? What?

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

“I’m at a loss. I don’t know.”

Chat hesitates before whispering the answer.

“A noose.”

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

“Just kidding, it’s a paperclip.”

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

“Chat, you’re worrying me.”

“What do you call a dead pine tree?”

“Chat.”

“A never-green.”

“Minou, I —“

“What do you call a broken pencil?”

“Chat Noir.”

“Pointless,” he laughs darkly.

“Chat Noir!”

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

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

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

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

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

“… I-I’m not upset.”

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

He shakes his head, scrunching his eyebrows.

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

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

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

“So? New to dark humor?”

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

He’s quiet for a couple seconds before responding.

“Just wanted to try something different—“

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

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

“They’re not excuses—“

“YES they are!”

She softens her voice.

“Please,” she begs. “Talk to me.”

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

And he does.

“My mother died about a year ago.”

Her jaw slackens, but she stays silent.

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

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

Alarms go off in her head.

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

Wait.

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

Chloé?

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

Her eyes widen. He couldn’t be…

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

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

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

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

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

Focus, Marinette.

“It sounds stressful, A— uh, Chat.”

He intakes a sharp breath.

“Did I say too much?”

She bites her lip. Yes.

“No?”

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

He tilts his head in admission, then looks down.

“Sorry.”

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

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

His response was hesitant. “Yeah.”

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

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

Chat Noir chews his bottom lip.

“Thanks, bugaboo.”

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

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

“Does your wrist hurt, kitty?”

He startles, but shakes his head.

“It’s good.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

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

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

Ladybug likes a happy kitten, not a bitter one.

She wishes she knew what to do.

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

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

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

“Hey, Chaton?”

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

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

“You and me against the world.”

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

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

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

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

Marinette wanted to talk to him, come to a mutual agreement, and then officially tell each other who they were. She knew it was unfair that she knew and wasn’t telling him, but in all honesty, she wasn’t even sure her suspicions are right.

(She’s ninety-nine percent sure).

Her eyes had been on Adrien for those two weeks, subtly checking to make sure that there weren’t bags under his eyes (there were), that his smiles weren’t forced (they were), and that he was eating enough (she had no way of knowing, but he hadn’t asked for a macaron in a few days and she was starting to get worried).

He was doing somewhat alright, from what she could tell. She didn’t expect to see anything different today.

Boy, was she wrong.

She had been passing out papers to the class regarding their next class trip, explaining that they needed a parent signature, as well as forty-two Euros by next Monday, in order to attend. When she reached Adrien, she paused.

He was rubbing at his left wrist — the same wrist that Chat had been holding in pain that night two weeks ago. His face was contorted painfully; familiarly. This brought about her worries.

Subtly, she placed down the papers in front of him, to which he looked up at her and sent an oh so fake smile in thanks.

As she walked away, Marinette just barely caught a glimpse of some red, scratch-like marks on his skin as he picked the paper up.

Her heart dropped.

She hadn’t realized that him holding his wrist earlier was a sign of self-harm. Apparently he was worse off than she thought. Now, it’s a whole different ball game — one that can’t have secret identities interfering with. She has no choice; she needs to stay in contact with him.

He needs to be okay.

Marinette tried to wait until patrol that night. Really, she did. But she couldn’t resist zipping over to his house and knocking at his window right after his fencing practice had ended.

He jumps at the sound, quickly ushering Plagg to hide in his shirt, before turning around to look at the super-heroine.

“Hi, Ladybug!” He greets with a smile. “Anything I can help you with today?”

She takes that as an invitation to leap into his room, then she allows her yoyo to snap close as she lands in front of him.

Her hands stay in fists as she brings them up to rest at either side of her waist. She grins brightly in his direction.

“Hi, kitty!”

It’s almost comical how his smile drops.

“What?”

In lieu of a response, she drops her arms to rest at her side. Then she takes a few steps forward so that she’s standing much closer to him.

“Your father is strict… he has an assistant… he makes you take piano, fencing, Chinese lessons…”

His eyes widen slowly as she speaks, his heart beating erratically.

Ladybug scoffs, “Honestly, Adrien? You couldn’t have been more obvious.”

He gulps in horror.

Then he narrows his eyes.

“How did you know that Adrien Agreste takes Chinese lessons? I’ve never once mentioned that in an interview…”

She stiffens.

“Uh. B-because you told me before.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“As Chat,” she supplies.

The model scoffs, “I’m not Chat Noir.”

Ladybug shrugs, beginning to stroll around his room.

“Okay. So why did I see you rub your wrist in class today, hm?”

Now it’s Adrien’s turn to stiffen.

“Y-y-you’re in my class? What?” He asks incredulously.

“Yes. I’m the class president.”

She says it so confidently that it scares her. He’s sure to figure it out by now. She can’t look at him as he comes to the realization.

“But my class president is Marinette— wait.”

He huffs, smirking.

“Are you Marinette?”

Finally she casts her gaze in his direction.

“In the flesh.”

She watches as his eyes light up. He approaches her with a smile.

“Oh my god. Wait, then I’m totally okay admitting I’m Chat Noir.”

Her eyebrow raises, “Oh yeah? And if I was, say, Chloé… would you have admitted it?”

He immediately shakes his head.

Ladybug doesn’t even try to stifle her laugh.

“Spots off.”

Adrien watches in amazement as a magical, pink light engulfs her entire body, leaving Marinette Dupain-Cheng standing in his bedroom.

When she’s out of the Miraculous, the first thing Tikki does is call Plagg.

“Plagg, get out here! I need to talk to you!”

Plagg phases through Adrien’s over-shirt and glares at his counterpart.

“Well hello to you too, Sugarcube!”

The other side of the room is then occupied by two magical creatures, allowing for Adrien and Marinette to have some time alone.

An awkward tension fills the air for the first couple moments, as the two recently-outed superheroes stare at each other, letting everything sink in.

Adrien is the first to speak.

“Wow, uh… wow.”

Marinette only nods, unable to comment on his reaction as she is overflowing with concern.

“Adrien, we have to talk.”

His eyes dim and his lips curve downwards. He nods, hanging his head.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “we do.”

He leads her over to the couch and gestures for her to sit down. Then he gets situated right next to her, positioning his hands on his knees. Marinette takes a deep breath.

“So… I saw the scars in class today.”

She shifts her eyes to his left wrist, uncovered and visibly scarred. He follows her eyes, frowning when he meets their destination.

Adrien simply hums, staring at the abused skin but not saying a word.

“Why?” Marinette whispers.

He shrugs.

“I’m fine. It’s just… Chat Noir gives me freedom, but sometimes it’s not enough. I promise I don’t do it that often.”

“The amount of times you do it doesn’t matter, kitty, it’s the fact that you do.”

“What do you care anyway?” He scoffs. “You weren’t paying me much attention before I was in a sour mood that day.”

“I’ve always cared, Adrien. Always. Just because I’m super level-headed doesn’t mean that I don’t pay attention. I notice when you’re sad. I do. This time you were really worrying me, though, so I spoke up.”

Adrien rolls his eyes, “And it didn’t occur to you that maybe I wanted you to ask how I was feeling all those other times I was sad?”

She quiets at that.

“I mean, I understand that you don’t want to get in my way, but I appreciate people caring, Marinette. It means a lot to me. I feel like, if I never gave away too much information, you would still be assuming things about me. Things like, oh he’s okay because he’s loud and cocky and cracks jokes all the time — maybe it’s just a bad day.”

He shakes his head, allowing a bitter laugh to escape his raw throat.

“Every day is a bad day, Mari. I’m just a good fucking actor.”

Marinette soaks in every word like a sponge, letting each and every one hit her right where it hurts, because it’s true. He is a good actor; she’s not good at understanding the script.

I’m sorry, she wants to say. The words dance on the tip of her tongue.

He’s not finished, though.

“I want the world to suffer some days, you know? I want everyone to feel just as pressured and exploited as I have been for basically my entire life. I want all my friends with a good family to see what it’s like to live in this large mansion, with their father closed away in his room, never to be seen again by his own son who just wants him to say I love you.”

When had he started crying?

Well, the tears are flowing and he can’t stop the river now. Not when he has more to say.

“I have the power of destruction wrapped around my finger, Marinette.”

His lip trembles.

“You should be glad that I haven’t tried to Cataclysm any houses, or street lights, or cars, or busses, or-or-or—“

He breaks.

He meant to keep going — to finish his sentence — but he breaks.

There’s not much more that Marinette can do, other than pull him into her arms and whisper soothing words of reassurance as he sobs uncontrollably.

She rubs his back, softly shh-ing him as he lets it all out of his system. She allows him to drown for the time being, all while reassuring that she’ll be there to pull him back to shore.

Each one of his sniffles was a subtle reminder that she was there for him; that no matter if his father comes around to finally paying him some attention, or not, he will always have her shoulder to cry on. Simultaneously, though, her heart twists at how unhealthily he’s been dealing with the trauma.

She had heard stories upon stories of teenagers resorting to self-harm because they had no other outlet, and she had been so thankful that no one she knew had taken those measures. Now, a statistic has become personal. She would be lying if she said that she knew how to handle it.

But she knew that no matter the circumstance, it had to be dealt with.

That meant getting her crush some professional help. A therapist, some medication, and plenty of cuddles. (Cuddles arescientifically proven to relieve anxiety, right? It’s a professional technique).

A quiet sniffle breaks her out of her thoughts. She glances down at Adrien as he slightly pulls away from her hold, eyes red and puffy.

Maybe that can all be dealt with later.

She ruffles his hair.

“Let’s go get some ice cream, yeah?”

Adrien peers up at her in confusion.

She just smiles and wriggles out of their position on his couch, then stands up with her hands on her hips.

“Ice cream always cheers me up. We definitely have to talk more about this later, among other things, but I can’t bear to see you sad any longer. So let’s go!”

The left corner of his mouth perks up, albeit only for a mere second.

“My father—“

“To hell with you father,” Marinette reaches down to grab his hand and hoists him up from the couch.

“We are going to get ice cream whether he likes it or not. You need to do what makes YOU happy, ‘kay?”

He concedes.

After ice cream, they return to the bakery and consult with Tom and Sabine. It had taken a lot of convincing on Marinette’s part to get Adrien to agree, but from there began the journey of his recovery.

They explained his home situation and mental health struggles in full, only leaving out the part about them fighting akumas. Both adults had immediately started searching for a good therapist (and lawyer) that would help Adrien get on the right track.

In the end, Adrien was glad that they had told her parents. Their concern for him and dedication to his cause filled his heart with long lost hope and parental love. It had been so long since he felt cared for. And now that he’s felt it once again, he’s not ready to let it go.

Thank goodness the Dupain-Chengs’ weren’t going to let him go so easily.

It was a unanimous decision that, until he feels comfortable going back to the mansion, he would stay. He didn’t want to burden them, but they insisted. So he had no choice but to accept the offer.

Before he even knew it, another two weeks had passed. A new routine was broken in by the members of the D.C. household — Marinette was getting real annoyed with Adrien’s constant comparisons of her last name initials to Marvel (her father had taken a liking to his puns, however, so now she just lived in constant pain) — and suddenly it was like he had always been there.

His first therapy session wasn’t great. He was riddled with anxiety (no pun intended) and Doctor Benson was too nice for his liking. Well, it wasn’t that he didn’t like it. It was just so off-putting, considering he wasn’t used to being treated with such kindness even by his own father.

Doctor Benson told him that a lot of the things he’s been experiencing aren’t normal, but his response to that trauma is. At first he had been confused when he was told that his father was emotionally neglectful and verbally abusive. He didn’t understand what his father was doing wrong. Once Doctor Benson explained that, “Abuse is a violent, repetitive behavior that has a negative mental, emotional, and/or physical impact on the victim,” it became more clear.

It’s still a concept that he’s getting used to — that he’s a victim of abuse. The thought makes his skin crawl and a shiver run up his spine because he never considered himself to be part of a statistic. Now that he knows he is, he’s not sure what to do.

Marinette keeps telling him, “Even agreeing to go to therapy is a huge step in the right direction, and I’m so proud of you.” Then she goes on to tell him just how special he is to her and how important him and his life is and all of this crap about how he’s worth more than he thinks.

He has to believe her, too, because she’s the one that found him at his worst and instead of judging him, picked him off the ground and took initiative. She’s the one that brought him to her parents, helped him hide from his father, and even got him a part-time job at the bakery. It’s only temporary until he is able to access his earnings, but he will admit that he likes it way better than modeling; that had just been because his father wanted him to, anyways.

Everyone tells him time and time again that he should not be living for his father. He wants to disagree, because that’s what he’s been conditioned to do for so long, but he ultimately chooses not to. Because they’re right; he’s a young adult who should have the freedom to make his own decisions.

In the end, if he’s not happy, there’s always more opportunities. He knows that now.

And there’s no better way to figure out what he wants than to explore, and reach out for help.

A black cat and a ladybug sat atop a roof.

Marinette has her head tucked into the crook of her partner’s neck, eyes closed as she feels the wind blow past her. Adrien’s head lays on top of hers’ and eyes are trained on the full moon above them.

It had been a long day; one akuma attack and three tests, plus their friends wanted to hang out. Exhaustion had taken over hours before, and sleep was creeping up on them. They cherish the view of Paris at night while it lasts, before they have to go home and do it all again the next day.

When she lifts her head to look at her favorite kitty, she’s relieved to see a soft smile resting on his features.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

He glances at her before turning back to the stars, then hesitates.

“Can I tell you a riddle?”

Her face pales and stomach plummets.

“N-no, I don’t want to play this game again.”

“I promise its a good one, nothing too sad.”

They lock eyes. She can tell there is sincerity within those dark green orbs, so she reluctantly nods.

Adrien licks his lips, not breaking his gaze.

“I visit you every night, even if you don’t call me. I’m lost every day. What am I?”

Jokingly, she wants to say “Chat Noir” but their identities are known now, and she sees him every day (so, admittedly, it wouldn’t be that good of a joke). Then she looks up at the sky and she has her answer.

“The stars,” she whispers.

She’s not looking at him, but she can almost hear his smile widen. So she looks back to him, because she loves to see her kitty happy.

Sure enough, a grin — genuine, not forced — is playing on his lips. It’s human nature to copy social expressions, so she lets her mouth curve into a matching grin.

Then she leans in.

Their smiles fade as they inch closer, focused on the next task at hand. His gaze drops to her pink lips, and she stares into his eyes. She can see the thirst, the want, but she can also see his hesitance.

Experimentally, she pauses to see if he’ll close the gap, but he simply stops in accordance with her. She wants this so bad, but he’s very shy when it comes to romance; despite being so outwardly confident as Chat Noir.

He had told her that it was a mask to hide how scared he truly was. His advances towards her were genuine, although deep down, he was afraid of rejection (to which she will forever feel guilty for putting him through). He wanted to break his façade sometimes, but he chose not to for the sake of not worrying her. The media might have noticed his change in behavior, too; granted, he never cared what the public thought of him anyways.

So, to save them both the trouble, she takes the leap and closes the gap, capturing his lips in a fluid movement.

It’s pure ecstasy; electricity pulses through his veins, but at the same time… he’s calm. He’s not sure how to describe the feeling, in all honesty. It’s just perfect.

Well, not perfect, he corrects himself. Enjoyable, but not perfect.

They don’t move in perfect sync and his lips are chapped so she’s probably wondering why the heck are his lips so dry?and her mouth keeps opening and he isn’t sure if it’s a mistake or if he should do something but he’s not ready for the tongue yet, and so their heads are tilting at an awkward angle trying to make sense of the situation —

— but she smells like pastries and her lips are so soft and he can’t help but crack his eyes open because she is so beautiful in every single way oh my god I love her and nothing makes this better than cupping her face with his right hand and feeling just how smooth her skin is which calms him immensely and he just doesn’t want this to end.

When they finally pull away, with heavy breaths and big smiles, little giggles and red cheeks… he’s happy.

Maybe he’s not perfect. Neither is she. Nobody is, and Adrien is just starting to understand that.

Years of conditioning is hard to unlearn, but he is so grateful to have a support system he can count on. Marinette’s parents honorarily adopting him as one of their own, Doctor Benson offering coping mechanisms he hadn’t even known existed, his bodyguard protecting him from the  father  sperm donor he’s still afraid to talk to (one day soon, he’ll have to, but he’s planning on crossing that bridge when he gets there), Ms. Bustier’s unwavering faith in his abilities, and his friends’ insistence that he is more than enough — all of this support is overwhelming, to say the least, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Most importantly, there’s Marinette. She has been his rock for the past three years and it’s more true now than it ever was. She is family, in every sense of the word.

“Hey, Mari?” He says quietly, breaking the silence.

“Yes, Chaton?”

The nickname rolls off her tongue in a teasing manner, and he has to laugh.

“Thank you.”

“Always.”

[thatfanficstuff]

Feelings - Tony DiNozzo

Pairing: Tony DiNozzo x reader

Warnings: canon typical violence and situations, language.

A/N: 3500 words. Way longer than I’d intended. First time writing Tony x reader. Hope you like it. 

***

Gibbs had his rules for a reason. You didn’t ask about those reasons. It was hard enough just remembering the damn rules without worrying about the back story that went with them. There was a rule for just about anything: dealing with attorneys, putting family first, not annoying Gibbs. There was even that one rule about not dating your co-workers that you were dying to know the origins of but were in no way brave enough to ask.

Unfortunately, there was no rule about falling in love with your co-worker. Sometimes you wondered if there was, if you could have avoided all this. I mean, you were so careful about following the rules to the point that Tony often made fun of you for having them memorized. If you were honest with yourself, you knew it wouldn’t have mattered. Hadn’t you tried everything you could think of to keep your heart from falling for his hazel eyes and lazy smile?  

He was a player. But that didn’t stop your gaze from following him as he headed to the elevator and his latest date.

You reminded yourself he never took anything seriously even while you laughed at his latest prank.

He talked about movies way too much. It was obsessive really. That didn’t stop you from watching every film he mentioned, a bowl of popcorn in your lap and an empty space beside you on the couch.

Maybe that was the problem. Perhaps you were just lonely. Maybe—

“Y/N,” Tony’s voice pulled you from your thoughts and you realized you’d been staring at the same piece of paper on your desk for the last half hour. Shit.

You glanced up, eyebrows raised in question. “Yeah?”

His brow was furrowed and his gaze was filled with concern. “You okay?”

Your cheeks heated and you turned back to the papers on your desk. “I’m fine.”

Tony huffed. “If there is one thing I know, it’s that a woman is never fine when she says she is. So, what’s going on?”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing, Tony.”

The next thing you knew, he was right beside you, perched on the corner of your desk. If Gibbs and McGee were here you wouldn’t have to deal with this. McGee would tell him to leave you alone and Gibbs would smack the back of his head. They both respected your privacy. Your need to not share every aspect of your life. Why couldn’t you have fallen for one of them?

 As you leaned back in your chair, you ran your gaze over him until you met his eyes. “Can I help you with something, DiNozzo?”

“It’s never nothing, Y/N. You’re always zoning out lately. Something’s bothering you.”

“I just didn’t sleep well. It’s not a big deal. Everyone has off days, today’s one of mine.”

He hummed as he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Normally I’d give you that, but this has been going on for weeks. So, what is it? Money? Are you sick? Have a fight with Abby?”

You just leaned back in your chair and kept your eyes on the man sitting on your desk like he owned it. He continued to list topics, pausing between each one to gage your reaction.

Suddenly, his brows shot up as he frowned. “Is it a guy?” The tone of his voice said that it couldn’t possibly be the right answer. It would have been so easy to fool him, but you couldn’t stop your eyes from moving away from him, afraid he’d see everything you were too afraid to say.

“It is!” There was an undertone to his voice you couldn’t quite place.

You ignored it, and him, to turn your attention back to the paperwork on your desk.

“I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“There’s nothing to say, Tony. Now can I please get back to work? I really don’t want Gibbs chewing my ass again.” You were far enough behind on your paperwork that Vance had said something to your boss. That had earned you a head slap and an admonishment about you knowing better.

Tony grabbed the pen from your hand and dropped it on the desk. “Come on. You know Gibbs doesn’t care about paperwork. He’s just passing along the ass chewing he got from Vance. Quit avoiding the question. Is this why you’ve been skipping out on our dinners?”

You sighed. Tony liked to eat and you liked to cook so you’d started inviting him over once a week. Lately you’d feigned other plans to keep from having to spend an evening concealing your feelings. “Actually, yes.”

“Nice. You start getting laid and leave me to starve.” He moved back over to his desk with a scowl on his face. “I thought I meant more to you than that.”

His affronted tone had you rolling your eyes. “I didn’t say anything about getting laid. And you’re hardly starving.”

“Tell that to my scale. I’ve lost five pounds since you quit feeding me.”

His disgruntled tone bothered you. “Are you okay, Tony?”

He shook his head but said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just miss your cooking is all.”

His phone rang before you could respond. After a quick conversation, he hopped to his feet. “Johnson hasn’t showed up at home. Gibbs wants us to try his mom’s place while they sit on the apartment.”

***

Despite your suspect’s mother claiming she hadn’t seen her son in months, it was your experience that people tended to run home when scared. You hoped that’s precisely what this suspect had done as you were more than ready to close the case.

Tony parked along the curb at the end of the driveway so no one could pull out while you two were otherwise occupied. He took the front while you went around the back. He gave you a moment to let you get into position before knocking on the door. As you listened to the hum of him talking to someone, you kept your weapon trained on the back door. A moment later, the unmistakable feeling of a gun pressed against the back of your head. Shit. You should have done more than your cursory examination of the backyard.

“Easy there, sweetheart. Hands up.”

You did as instructed, and he yanked your weapon from your hand. “Phillip Johnson, I presume.”

“That’s me. Give me the keys to the car.”

“What car?”

He slammed the side of the gun into the back of your head. Not hard enough to knock you out but hard enough to give you an instant headache. “Don’t play stupid.”

“I don’t have the keys. I didn’t drive.” You forced the words through teeth gritted in pain.

He stepped up behind you to pat down your pockets. “Fuck,” he growled when he discovered you were telling the truth.

“Look, just go. It’s not like I can shoot you as you run away, you have my weapon.” You wanted to diffuse the situation, to try to control the fallout from your fuck up. He was angry and armed and was the type to start shooting people if he felt trapped.

“So you can scream for help before I get two blocks away? I don’t think so.” He pushed you toward the back door. “In you go.”

You gave a brief thought to yelling for Tony but kind of liked your brains where they were. Johnson had already killed once, what was to keep him from killing again? He shoved you through the house causing you to stumble more than once. You could hear Tony still arguing with the mother at the front door. Johnson stepped up behind you and pinned you against his chest with a thick arm, the gun now shoved against your temple. He walked you into view of the front door though you couldn’t see anything as his mother blocked the opening.

“Look, Mrs. Johnson, while I appreciate your position, the fact remains that we have a warrant for your son’s arrest. You’re gonna need to let me in to make sure he’s not here or we’ll come in anyway and won’t be nearly as nice about it. I’ve already called backup. They’re on the way.” Tony was using the placating tone he always used when trying to convince a suspect or a witness that he was harmless and reasonable.

“You come in and your friend dies,” Johnson yelled.

His mother was pulled from the doorway and onto the front porch behind Tony who had his gun drawn and aimed in almost the same moment. His eyes were glued to the weapon pressed to your head. His face lost what little color it had. “Let her go, Phil. You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, but I do.” He moved forward and slammed the door in Tony’s face. He shoved you and put some space between the two of you. “Close the blinds and the curtains,” he ordered. When you dared to look at him, he waved the gun as if to bring your attention to it. Like you could forget for a minute the situation you were in. Your eyes flicked down, spotting your sidearm tucked into his waist band.

Your brain worked through scenarios even as you did as he’d ordered. As you closed the last blind you caught a glimpse of Gibbs stepping from his vehicle. Your team would get you out of here. They had to.

***

It had been almost two hours. Once you’d secured the house to his satisfaction, Johnson had used your own cuffs to restrain you. Fortunately, he was an idiot and left your hands in front instead of placing them behind your back so you’d have less mobility. He was using your phone to talk to Gibbs periodically. He’d put the calls on speaker and you could tell Gibbs’ patience was wearing thin. You’d tried to talk to him during the first call and Phillips backhanded you with the gun still in hand. The whole right side of your face felt tight and sore. Asshole.

“What the hell is taking so long?” he muttered as he peered through a gap in the blinds. He glanced over at you. “Call him.”

You reached forward and pressed the button to call Gibbs and put it on speaker. “Gibbs,” he answered.

“Where’s my money and my car?”

“I told you it was going to take some time. If you want to forget about the money, you can leave right now. I’ll even give you a police escort out of town. Just let your hostage go.” You could hear the anger simmering in his voice.

“You have thirty minutes or I start sending her out in pieces.” He slammed his finger down on the disconnect.

“Well, that was monumentally fucking stupid.” So was pissing off the man with the gun but you were running out of time. You’d been waiting for an opening, but thus far hadn’t found one. It was time to make one of your own.

He shoved the barrel of the gun against the temple on the sore side of your face and you winced. Fucker. “What did you say?”

“You just confirmed that you have no problem hurting me. And you put a timeline on it. They’ll try to take you out now.”

Uncertainty flashed on his face and he glanced toward the windows.

“You were smart covering the windows, but they’ll be getting ready to send in a tactical team now. They’re probably already out front.”

After a second of indecision, he moved away from you to peek through the gap between the blind and the window. His gaze kept darting back to you. “I don’t see anything.”

You shook your head. “They’ll be prepping further down the street so it’s harder for you to see.” You gestured to one of the other windows. One that would put him close to you with his back turned while he tried to get a view of his impending doom.

As he moved to the new viewpoint, you leaned forward, shifting your legs so you could get to your feet quickly. The moment his attention was elsewhere, you launched yourself at him. He grunted as he slammed against the wall and window.

“Bitch!” He tried to turn, to get the gun up, but you didn’t give him even a single moment to recover. You couldn’t or that would be the end of you. Instead, you shifted your weight to come at him from a different angle. You drove him toward the ground, grabbing your gun from his waistband as you went.

The impact knocked the weapon from his hand. You pushed yourself to your feet and aimed your weapon. Johnson didn’t even notice as he scrambled for his own gun. You fired a round into the floor by his head and he froze instantly. “Give me a reason.”

He rolled over, hands raised in front of him. Your phone began to ring but you kept your attention, and your gun, on Johnson. “Couch,” you instructed.

The call had barely had time to go to voicemail before it began ringing again. If you didn’t answer it soon, things would get a hell of a lot more chaotic. Still, you waited until Johnson sat on the couch to move over and grab the other gun from the floor. You laid it on the table beside you.

Your phone started another cycle of ringing and you heard Gibbs on the bullhorn. “Answer the phone or we’re coming in.”

You answered the call on speaker phone, needing to keep your hands free for your gun. “You can come in, but I’m going to be real pissed if someone shoots me.”

A sigh of relief was the immediate answer.

“Johnson has been disarmed. I’m the one that fired the shot. See you in a second.”

It wasn’t even a breath later that the front door opened and people swarmed around you. You kept your weapon trained on Johnson even as he was pulled to his feet and placed in cuffs. A hand settled on top of yours and you followed the length of the arm to find Gibbs standing next to you. “We’ve got him. You can stand down, Agent.” His jaw tightened as he took in the injury to your face. His eyes found yours and softened. “Give me the gun, Y/N.”

You nodded and loosened your grip so he could take the weapon from you.

“DiNozzo, get her out of here,” he ordered.

You turned to your other side to find Tony. The smile he gave you was strained, but it was good to see it just the same. “Hey.”

His smile widened, became a little more genuine. “Hey.” He unlocked the cuffs and took them off before tossing them to Gibbs. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to steer you out the door and you relaxed against him, content to simply be in his presence after the last couple of hours.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said as he led you to a waiting ambulance. “Let’s not do this ever again, okay?”

“But I was so looking forward to making it a weekly thing.” You sat so your feet dangled out of the back of the ambulance while the medic looked you over. Tony stood silently, arms crossed over his chest as he watched them work. You grit your teeth and flinched as they pressed against bruised skin checking for broken bones. You cursed outright when they found the bump on the back of your head.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have this checked at the hospital to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

You waved him away. “I’m good. Promise.”

“Y/N/N, maybe you should—” Tony interjected but you cut him off.

“I just want to go home, Tony.”

He looked uncertain.

“Please.”

He thought a moment more before saying, “Yeah. Okay.”

Your shoulders sagged in relief and you took the hand he offered you. Once you were on your feet, he stayed close but released your hand. Instead, he settled his at the base of your spine to steer you through the scene until you stood in front of your boss.

“They clear you?” Gibbs asked, looking between you and Tony.

“Sure did, boss,” Tony answered for you, sounding entirely too upbeat. You resisted the urge to smack him in the stomach.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes but nodded just the same. “All right. Take her home. I’ll see you both in the morning for debriefing.”

***

Tony was unusually quiet on the way home, which was fine since you didn’t really feel like talking. After the third time you caught him looking at you, you turned your attention out the window. It wasn’t until he parked the car that you focused enough to realize he hadn’t taken you to your home at all. You followed the familiar path to his apartment.

“Have a seat,” he instructed once you’d made it inside. He disappeared into the kitchen while you made yourself comfortable on his couch. When he emerged, he held a beer in one hand and a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel in the other. He placed the beer on the table beside you and handed you the makeshift icepack. You held it to the side of your face, flinching at the contact.

“Thanks.”

He nodded absently and began to pace the floor. Your gaze followed him for a couple of minutes before you interrupted. “What is it, Tony?”

He turned to you, his eyes wide. His gaze darted down then back up and he licked his lips. He pulled something from his pocket and set it on the table. It took you a moment to realize it was your phone. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and pink dusted his cheeks. “I should have given that to you earlier. You probably want to call this boyfriend I knew nothing about. But if you could wait a minute, there’s something I need to say first.”

“Only if you sit. The pacing’s driving me nuts.”

He grinned at that and sat on his coffee table. He was close enough your knees touched. You resisted the urge to press closer. When several minutes passed without him saying anything you spoke up. “Tony—”

“No. I’m sorry. I’m getting to it. I just usually don’t do this sort of thing.”

“Talk?”

“Cute, but no.” He licked his lips again. “Look, I lied to you.”

You frowned as you tried to follow what he was trying to tell you.

He sighed. “When we were talking about this guy and all those canceled dinners and you asked if I was okay. I said yes when that was the furthest thing from the truth. In my defense, I thought I would be okay. I mean, if he makes you happy, that’s what’s important, right?”

He pushed to his feet before you could respond and started pacing the floor again. “But then you had to go and get yourself held hostage. When I saw you with that gun to your head, I knew I’d never be okay again if something happened to you. If I lost you before I ever had a chance to tell you.” He stopped pacing and turned to face you. “I’m crazy about you, Y/N/N. I have been pretty much from the moment Gibbs introduced you to the team.”

You blinked as you tried to process the fact that Tony DiNozzo had just admitted to having feelings. For you.

“Right, well, that’s done. I’ll just go see what I have for dinner.” He fled to the kitchen before you could stop him.

Rather than calling him back, you followed him. You stepped into the doorway to find him leaning on the counter with his back to you and his head bowed. Your heart ached at that thought that he’d apparently been pining after you as much as you had him. “It was you.”

He looked over his shoulder. His brow furrowed as he met your gaze. “What?”

“The guy that I cancelled all the dinners for? That was you.”

He turned to give you his full attention. “That doesn’t make any sense, Y/N/N.”

You shrugged. “Well, see, I would have dinner with you. We’d watch a movie together. Maybe have a few drinks and I could fool my heart into thinking that maybe, just maybe we could have more. Then a few nights later I’d watch you hurry to the elevator so you wouldn’t be late for a date.” You closed the distance between you but didn’t touch him. Not yet. “My heart couldn’t take me playing pretend anymore. It hurt too much. So, I started making excuses.”

“And I was doing the same thing, only I was making dates, hoping someone could make me forget about you.”

“How’d that work out for you, DiNozzo?”

He rested a hand along the uninjured side of your face and ran his thumb across your cheek. “Not great. How about you, Y/L/N? Did you manage to get over me?”

“Not even close.”

His smile was radiant.

“Hey, DiNozzo.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Kiss me already.”