#guess im moving out sooner than i though

[we-all-need-oxygen]

Happy New Year yall I just got assaulted <3

[normansnt]

Almost got you, bitch

(Hazbin Adam x fallen angel!Male reader)

No warnings I think perhaps cursing

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

You were a fallen angel.

You questioned heavens doings after finding out about the extermination, and of course heaven didn't like that.

When you fell, your best friend, Adam, was the most pissed off. Granted he was the one who told you about it one night when he was drunk and you had to get him home but he didn't know you were gonna make such a fuss about it.

You were in heaven, everything was fine you had your friends there, no one important to you fell before you, and most importantly you had him there, your best friend. Why would you care about those misfits in hell??

All though he shouldn't have been surprised, even though you put on a hard shell and make very similar jokes than himself you are a kind soul, a very kind one at that always helping others. But still, you fell, you are not here with him anymore. That sucked.

*flashback*

Heaven was a pretty new invention and adam and eve were trying to settle, for that god sent an angel, you.

When you knocked on the door adam went to open it.

"Who the fuck is here this early?" Was the first sentence he ever spoke to you.

Now you aint gonna take shit from nobody.

"Im the fuck who is here get you asses moving cuz we're going to heaven" you said with an equally annoyed tone.

Thats when Adam knew he liked you. And with the same amount of sass to each other the two of you became fast friends.

"I Almost got you, bitch" yelled Adam. You guys were playing flying tag cuz he just got his wings and they were completely new to him.

"You wish, fucker" you answer with a shit eating smirk. You were the one to teach him how to fight, the one who helped him through his divorce withe eve, you were his best friend.

*end flashback*

"...Shit" adam called seraphim, an idea occurred to him, how about they move up the next extermination, that way he has a reason to get down there sooner and bring you back, also slather some demons.

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

When you woke up in hell, the first thing you saw was someone trying to cut out your organs.

"WAAHH...MOTHERFUC-- WHAT THE HECK R U DOING??" You jumped up and started yelling at the demon.

"Calm down pretty boy, the cannibals pay good money for fresh organs like yours."

"Well guess what jackass I dont give tiny rats ass how good those fuckers pay you my organs aint for sale" and with that sentence you quickly kicked him in the nuts and when he fell to the ground brocke his neck. Yeah...you were kind but god help people who mess with you...literally.

"Well shit, never had to fight without wings."

"...Interesting, and here I thought I would have to come to your rescue in exchange for your soul." Came a...static voice from behind you.

"Uhhh...thank you?? I guess, but there will be no taking my soul." You looked at the grinning man in a red suit.

"Such a shame, you'd be my first fallen angel"

"...Ok, listen can I help you with something ooooorr??"

"Not particularly I just wanted your soul, but alas that ship has sailed, however since you just fell I assume you have no where to stay" his grin stretched a bit as he said that.

"Well, you assume correctly but Im not gonna agree to any deal you have to offer just for a place to stay"

"Well, well, you are smart one even though angles can be so gullible, but no there is no deal the only thing you'd have to do is perhaps act nice"

"I can do that." you answered finally smiling at the strange man.

"They are coming" you whispered to yourself. After you arrived in hell, Alastor offered you a place in the hazbin hotel and you were happy to take it. This was over 7 months ago, in that time you grew close to everyone who was there, they were your found family and now you will protect them even if its against you first family.

Today was the day of the extermination, the day you'd have to fight heaven, the day you's have yo fight Adam. Even though you never admitted to yourself you had deeper feelings for him than friendship, but since he literally went around fucking bitches that kind of lowered your hopes.

The fight was raging on. Since you were the one who literally trained these exorcists they were no match for you. However Alastor was supposed to take on Adam, and that worried you. You knew how powerful Alastor is supposed to be but you have seen Adam's powers first hand.

Just as you suspected Alastor couldn't take on Adam. So Charlie had to take over which made you even more worried. You climbed up and saw Adam hitting Charlie into the hazbin hotel sign.

"NO" you yelled

Adam turned towards you with a smile that said he was ready to kill, that disappeared however when he saw that it was you.

"(Y/N)...."

He looked at you for a moment when someone punched him out of no where.

"Oh shit" you said while looking at Adam flying away and than back at who punched him. Lucifer.

"Lucy?" U asked baffled. You met him when he was still in heaven. Personally you loved his creative ideas while the making of earth so you guys would talk a lot. You also found it highly unfair when he fell and considered going after him, but Adam held you back.

"...Who--? SHIT (Y/N)? Omg why tf are you down here??" He asked half pissed half happy to see you.

"Well a little this, a little that, you know, also I fucking fell so." You replied while hugging him.

"How many of you fuckers do I have to beat before I can take (Y/N) home with me" said Adam very pissed after crawling out from the window he was punched into.

"What?" You asked

"I'm the only one that matters, you messed with my daughter and now Im gonna fuck you" said Lucifer proudly smirking. Everyone went silent while you were trying to hold back your laughter.

"Khmm...its fuck you up, dad" corrected Charlie

"Wait what did I say?" Asked Lucifer confused.

After this a kind of...fight started between Lucifer and Adam. Well, only adam was fighting Lucifer was mostly changing forms.

It was quite funny to watch.

At the end Lucifer won over Adam and he wanted to kill him, but your body moved on its own and you threw yourself at Adam.

Charlie also told his dad to stop.

You stood up from Adams body.

"Take your angel army, and go home" you told him in a soft tone.

He painfully stood up and looked at you with sadness...and something you couldn't quite place.

"(Y/N)..." come with me, please. Is what he wanted to say, but he knew you are still mad at him and that your answer will be no. Or he just didn't want to seem vulnerable in-front of demons.

"I Almost got you, bitch"

Your lips twitched upwards a little bit.

"You wish, fucker"

And with that the angel army and adam flew up to heaven.

When adam arrived in heaven, something downed on him.

"Fuuuuuuckkk..IM GAY-"

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

Is he an (at best) mid white man who thinks he is the shit?

Yes.

Is he a fucking loser though and a lil bitch

Also yes.

BUT YK WHAT.

HE IS FUNNY AF I LOVE HIM AND HIS SONGS R FUCKING AWSOME.

HOPE MY FELLOW ADAM ENJOYERS LIKED IT THOUGH😎

I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies gentleman and others, good afternoon good evening and good night🦖🧡

[cozage]

OP Boys and a Sick S/O

How your One Piece boyfriend would react to you being sick on the ship!

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Law

cw: female! reader, some angst, various illnesses

Luffy

He noticed it as soon as he woke up. You were burning up. And when he made a joke, you barely chuckled. “CHOPPER!!! SOMETHINGS WRONG!!!!”

He runs as fast as he can to find Chopper while carrying you and begs him to help you. 

He’s got some PTSD from when Nami was sick. You look and feel a lot like how she did during that time and he’s worried. 

Luckily you’re just diagnosed with the Grand Line Flu, pretty common and easy to overcome.

He snuggles with you when you’re awake and paces around the room when you’re asleep.

When Sanji brings you food, he doesn’t even look at it. He knows you need your strength. He just wants you better.

Chopper advises Luffy sleeping in the same room as you but Luffy doesn’t care. He’s staying with you.

You’re really restless the first night, so he sleeps on the floor and stretches his arm out to hold your hand.

On the third morning you laughed at his joke, and his eyes started getting watery

“I WAS SO WORRIED YOU WERE GONNA DIE IM SO GLAD YOU’RE OKAY”

Zoro

Zoro didn’t really question it when he hadn’t seen you by lunch. Sometimes you just preferred to stay cooped up in your room or the library. 

By dinner, he was starting to get worried. Even more worried when everyone else had said they hadn’t seen you either. 

As he entered your room, he noticed all the lights were off. At first he didn’t think anyone was there, but you let out a small whimper of protest to the light.

“You okay?” He sat carefully on the bed and pulled back your blanket that was wrapped around your head. 

“Zoro…something’s wrong. I feel awful.” Your voice sounded strained. His stomach sank. Why hadn't he checked on you earlier? “I’ll be back” 

He grabs Chopper and rushes back down. He doesn’t want to be gone from you for long. He’s beating himself up over not noticing sooner. 

Chopper does a full exam and deduces that you have a severe case of sun-poisoning and possible effects of heat-stroke. 

“This is because we laid outside all damn day yesterday isn’t it? I knew that Summer island was hotter than usual” Cue even MORE guilt. 

He goes to Sanji and asks for him to make a hydrating meal for you. He doesn’t even pick a fight with the cook, that’s how worried he is.

He lays with you all night and hold you close and keeps apologizing for not noticing earlier. 

The next day you’re feeling slightly better, but he’s persistent in keeping you in bed with him all day until you’re fully recovered. He makes runs to the kitchen and grabs things for you all to do.

It’s really just an excuse to have a day together and he secretly loves it.

Sanji

thought it was strange you didn’t come get breakfast. He was initially worried you were avoiding him or he had missed you coming into the kitchen, so he checked all your favorite spots on the Sunny, and still couldn't find you. 

He knocks on your door, and with no answer, he just peaks inside for one glimpse to confirm you’re not in there. 

Instead, to his horror, he finds you passed out on the ground. 

“CHOPPER!!! Y/N IS DOWN!!” His voice echos through the ship and sends everyone rushing towards your room. 

Sanji is afraid to move you, so he just brushes your hair from your face and whispers quiet encouragement to you. 

He’s so scared. Your face is so white and clammy and there’s nothing he can do. 

By the end of his exam, you’ve slipped back into consciousness, though you’re still groggy. Chopper diagnoses you with Low blood sugar and low iron. 

You’ve given some iron tablets to take and told to take it easy. Sanji doesn’t want to leave you, but also wants to cook something to help your low blood sugar of course. 

He picks you up bridal style and carries you to the kitchen. “Chopper told you not to use extra energy didn’t he? So I guess I’ll just have to carry you everywhere!” 

He makes such a good breakfast for you :) you’re starting to feel better already 

Sanji is secretly beating himself up because it’s HIS job to keep the crew healthy and give them a balanced diet and you of all people were his oversight (it wasn’t really his fault though you know that)

Even after the food and choppers help yo still have a massive headache so you and Sanji curl up in the fish tank lounge and rest all day long. He only gets up to make people meals. 

Sanji occasionally puts his hand on your chest just to make sure you’re still breathing whenever you’re asleep. He’s so worried about you. Vows to never let that happen again because he can’t bear to see you sick like this ever again. 

Ace 

You’re not a restless sleeper. Usually you fall asleep against Ace and you stay pressed against him all night long. His body emits a nice warmth that you just love to snuggle into at night. 

Tonight’s different though. You’re tossing and turning, almost like you can’t get comfortable. Thats his first red flag. 

When he wakes up in the middle of the night, he reaches out for you, but only finds an empty sheet in your place.

He starts to panic and his eyes scan the dimly lit room. His eyes finally land on you, lying on the wooden floor in the middle of the room

He’s instantly out of bed, right by your side, desperately shaking you awake.

“Ace, stop…” you roll away from him. 

“What is it? What’s wrong, y/n?” He can feel that your skin is clammy and abnormally warm to the touch. Your hair is stuck to your face, damp with sweat. 

“Marco…I’m going to get Marco. I’ll be right back” he gives you a quick forehead kiss that emits a groan from your half-awake self. 

He dashed out of the room and sprints across the ship to the first division commanders room. He begins desperately banging on Marcos door 

Marco answers the door and he is NOT thrilled. Until he sees Ace’s face and how worried he is. “Please Marco. She’s sick. Really sick. She’s burning up and I…I don’t know what to do”

Marco follows him back to his room and sees you half conscious on the floor. He bends down next to you and starts taking your vitals. 

“Ace, it looks like it’s just a virus. It’ll run its course and she’ll be fine in a day or two. I’ll come back and check on her again tomorrow.” After reassuring his friend that it is not life or death, Marco takes his leave. 

Ace can’t sleep though. He grabs a fan, a rag, and a bucket of water, doing anything he can to keep you cool through the night. He just sits by your side and watches you when you’re asleep. 

When you wake up the next morning, he’s there, ready to get you anything you need. And he doesn't leave it until you're ready to leave the room again too.

Law

“No thanks, I think I’ll pass tonight.” makes Law raise an eyebrow. You never skip dessert, especially when Penguin is the one who made it. 

As you excuse yourself from the table, he waits just a beat before following you out. 

“Y/n-ya. Are you okay?” He’s already analyzing your face for any signs of distress. 

“I’m fine, Law. Just tired is all”. It’s a lie. And he knows it too. He pulls you into his office without another word. 

His hand outstretches toward you “Room”.  “Law this really isn’t-“ “Scan”. His word are clipped, and you can see that his worry lines are deep. 

“Food poisoning. Seriously? I knew we shouldn’t have eaten at that sketchy bar today.” He’s already grabbing IVs and other meds. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

“It was the oysters right? I knew they tasted funny.” You attempt a weak smile at your captain, which is only met with a glare. “At least you didn’t eat any of them too.”

“You’re sleeping in my room tonight so I can keep an eye on you.” He’s already got an arm around you, helping you stand. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you had someone helping support you. You wish you had the energy to object, but you let him lead you to his room. 

As soon as you’re on his bed, your eyes begin to close. The last thing you see is him prepping an IV for you. 

He stays by your side. Sitting, watching. Looking for any signs of discomfort on your face. 

When you’re sick, he holds your hair back for you. He has water and saltine crackers ready to get the taste out of your mouth, too. 

After the first few hours, he starts to relax, and chooses to work at his desk through the night, but he keeps you in his line of sight at all times.

The next morning you are already feeling better because of how fast Law noticed you were sick. You’re still feeling tired, but your appetite is already returning a bit. 

Law had Shachi prep some light and comforting foods for you, and you see a smile pass over his lips when you ask for it. 

He kisses his the pads of fingertips and then presses it immediately against your forehead. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, y/n-ya”

[spideyhexx]

do you have any piss thoughts for the tl im searchung

mdni; fem!reader, dubcon, cw piss, degrading

peacekeeper coryo always bringing out his favorite district girl to the woods to fuck her and if he’s in a particularly angry mood for whatever reason, he’s a lot rougher, a lot more degrading in more aspects than one.

he doesn’t lay down his jacket when you’re on your knees for him, so your knees are down in the dirt, getting bruised and scraped and dirtied and he doesn’t bring a blanket to lay down with you on, both of you getting dirtied by dirt and stray leaves, etc.

he’s constantly spewing things right to your ear, like, “you’re so fuckin’ filthy, no one could guess that, huh? I could. I knew you’d be a slut.”

Most times when he’s in these rougher moods, when you’re spent on your knees and sitting back against a tree to catch your breath, he tugs at his cock a few times, standing closer over you and pisses directly onto you, anywhere he saw fit, your tits, your cunt, your legs, your hair, wherever he felt like it.

And you’d always gasp, always forget he loves to do that, and you’d reprimand yourself for how much you liked it. How much you loved that he marked you. Because even though he threatens he can easily throw you away and fuck another girl, you know he’s only fucking you right now. That you’re the one who he’s coming back to and seeking out.

and usually he wouldn’t pay attention to you when he pissed on you, but this time, he catches the way you squeeze your thighs together as his piss soaks through your top, he chuckles, “of course you fucking like this.” 

Coryo moves forward to grab at your hair and tug your head up to look at him, his cock dripping piss to your legs, he’s not caring at all where it goes, or if it ruins every inch to you, “my dirty little whore likes getting pissed on hm? You should’ve told me sooner that you liked it.”

[chrisevansonly]

Missing Violet (harry’s angel au)

pairing: harry styles x female reader (angel)

summary: harry knew being away from you and violet would be hard, but he didn’t know it would be this hard…

warnings: slight angst?? nothing major <3

a/n: slowly but surely getting back on the writing juice, thought i’d get this cute little idea out before working on some more stuff that’s soon to come💜

It was just past 8:30 in the morning when your phone buzzed quietly beside you, Violet was sound asleep on your chest as you sat propped up in the living room. Your favourite show playing softly on the tv, the outside world was already bustling, people travelling to work, but inside all was quiet, almost as if you weren’t London.

You reached over slowly, careful not to wake your little girl, quickly swiping to answer Harry’s facetime call, an hourly ritual almost as he was away finishing his tour. You smiled seeing his face pop up, the Portugal sun doing wonders for the tan he was getting

“good morning H”

He smiled

“morning darling, how’d you sleep last night?”

“not too bad honestly, gem is here with us so she helped with the little one last night, how about you?”

Harry found a shady spot to sit, returning his attention to you two

“not too bad I suppose, m’really missing home though, i hate being away from you two”

You knew being away from Harry this early after having Violet would be hard on him, and you could see it now when he took his sunglasses off, the bags under his eyes prominent: he just looked so tired

“im sorry my love, only a little longer and then you’ll be back to us…”

Bringing the camera down so Violet was now in the frame, he could see her tiny hands grasping onto your cashmere sweater, her eyes closed, her back moving up and down ever so softly as she slept away

“how come you’re always sleeping with daddy calls hmm?”

You laughed a little

“she just had a very big breakfast so I guess she’s in a food coma”

“what a life”

Harry laughed, taking a few live photos of her before she stirred slightly, a little squeak like noise escaping her

“oh did daddy wake you up? he was taking some cute photos of you”

You placed your phone down propped up with pillows so you could readjust her, a smile on your face noticing the green in her eyes

“did you get any good ones baby?”

A few moments passed with no answer, when you turned back to see the screen Harry had a sad look on his face, tears lining his eyes, that alone broke your heart

“harry what’s wrong? hey please don’t cry…”

He shook his head as you picked the phone up bringing it closer to you and violet

“i should be there a-and i’m not…i feel like i’m failing you both-”

Cutting him off before he could continue you shook your head

“harry, no, we aren’t doing that. don’t you ever think you’re failing us, you’re the best father to violet and the best husband to me, you are in no way failing us.”

Taking a breath you paused

“you’re working your hardest and putting on shows for so many people who love you, we knew it was a possibility bee would come sooner than the tour ended and that’s okay! i know being away from us is hard, and i wish i could be there with you, but don’t you ever think you’re failing me, because you’re not”

After a few minutes he nodded

“I mean fucking hell harry you sent me a continental breakfast from another country with my favourite cherry almond latte…i’d say you’re far from failing”

Harry finally let out a laugh, bringing a smile to your face

“I love you so much you know that? you take such good care of us even from miles away, I know Vi loves you just as much”

“I love you girls too, so much..i’ll be home soon”

Smiling you brought the phone down so Harry could spend some more time with Violet, talking to her softly, telling her stories all while she blinked, not really knowing what was going on, but Harry liked to think she was paying attention. Little did he know you’d been missing him just as terribly, and you couldn’t help but smile knowing you’d be flying to Italy for the final show of love on tour.

The last show was going to be special, but surprising H to be there as a family, would make it that much more incredible.

[thewritingginger]

Posts are gonna be kinda dodgy cuz Im slumpin’ but I'm trying to power through 🤞🏻

Plz mind any mistakes :)

Fandom: Blood of Zeus Pairing: Apollo x M! Reader Word count: 4,1k+ words Warnings: 18+, Modern au, Established relationship, Model! Apollo, Dom/sub behavior,  Pet names, Sexting, Phone sex, Guided masturbation, Mutal Masturbation, Slight degrading, Dirty talk (obvi), Praise, Sex toys (vibrator), Anal Fingering, Anal penetration

Enjoy ~

Tossing your keys into the bowl by the door of your apartment you let out a tired sigh. Stripping yourself of your jacket and scarf you shoot your boyfriend –Apollo– a text before getting ready for a shower.

Y/n: “Back home, today couldn’t have ended fast enough. Call me when you can. ❤️”

Leaving your phone by the bathroom sink you warm up your shower trying to not stay glued to your phone waiting for Apollo to respond –which has been really hard not to do any free chance you’ve gotten these past two weeks.

Apollo had to leave for a few photo shoot and a show. In the past you’ve gone with him and were able to not only watch him do his work but to travel and explore new places together —though your schedule didn't allow that to happen this time. Although these trips being longer than a week weren’t often, the time apart was never easier because of it. Even when you have to be apart for more than a day the two of you are always sure to have a nightly phone call, along with texts throughout the day.

As you were rinsing your body you heard your phone ding —it was Apollo’s text tone. Finishing up you quickly dry off to see what he had sent.

Apollo: “I’m sorry, my love. I’ll call you later. I have a meeting with my manager. What are you up to?”

Y/n: “No worries. I just took a shower and probably will order out tonight.”

Walking into your shared bedroom you hadn’t even thrown your dirty clothes in the hamper before you got another notification.

Apollo: “Oh, mind showing me? 😏”

Biting your lip you shake your head at his audaciousness.

Y/n: “Don’t you have a meeting?”

Apollo: “Yes but perhaps you can send me a little something as inspiration to end it sooner?”

You’ve always found it hard to deny Apollo, especially in person, but he does make an enticing proposal. Forgetting your task for clothing you go back to the bathroom and wipe the steam off the mirror. With your towel still wrapped around your waist, your hair wet and racked back, you snap a picture with your chest and loosely tied towel in view. Looking it over once more you press send.

Y/n: [Photo Attached]

Apollo: “What a tease you are.”

Y/n: “I guess you’ll have to get done with your meeting if you want more.”

Apollo: “I guess I will. I hope you don’t have anymore plans for the night because when I’m done with you, you’re gonna be too exhausted to move 😉”

Y/n: “Can’t wait.”

Just the thought of it was enough to make your cock twitch with excitement but you hold it back for now. Instead of getting properly dressed you decided to throw on your robe then put in your order for dinner.

~~~

An hour or so has passed since your last text from Apollo, with your meal finished you’re now sitting on the couch watching tv when you got a notification.

Apollo: “My meeting is over and I’m in desperate need. You think you can help me with that?”

You feel giddiness well up inside you when you read his message.

Y/n: “I’m sure I could figure something out. 😊”

Getting off the couch you make your way to your bedroom and into your bedside table, inside is a purple vibrator –Apollo’s favorite to use on you. Laying on the plush mattress of your bed on your belly, you open your camera app and begin recording.

All that can be seen on the screen is your slightly exposed chest, your lips and your tongue lewdly sucking the toy in your hand as if it was a cock. As you suck and spit on the phallic toy you are sure to zoom in and capture the spit dripping down your fingers –just how Apollo likes it.

Pressing send, you flip onto your back with your head propped against your pillows, anticipating your boyfriend’s response.Your cock is already painfully erect and you’ve barely begun.

Instead of a text you receive a phone call, your golden haired boyfriend’s face illuminated on the screen. Pressing the green button you hold the phone to your ear where you hear Apollo’s smooth voice.

“Babyboy, you look so pretty sucking your toy.”

“All for you, Lo. You like watching me suck on stuff?” You ask playfully, eliciting  a low chuckle.

“Absolutely but I think I’d like to hear you play with yourself even more.” His forward words make you whimper. “Tell me, baby, what are you wearing?”

“Just my robe, it’s open and just barely able to cover my cock.” You hear a low curse on the other end of the phone making you giggle.

“Send me a picture. I want to see how hard you are for me.”

Doing as he says you take a picture of your barely covered member, your hand wrapped loosely around the base. In a silent moment between snapping the photo and sending it you know the moment Apollo saw it due to the low growl that rings in your ear.

“By the gods, Darling. I want you so badly.”

“Yeah? What would you do if you were here?” You ask, sinking further into the mattress, biting your lip. A soft chuckle tickles your ear.

“If I was there I would strip you of that pesky robe and admire your gorgeous body by running my hands up and down every part of you.”

“Uh huh.” You sigh, running your hand up and down your chest, imagining it was his. “What else?”

“I would then have you spit in my hand and start jerking your pretty cock in my hand till you’re begging for more. Then I would lean down and lick up all the precum that leaks out of your little red tip. I’d suck you off and massage your balls in my hand and when you’re just about to cum I’d pull away –just to hear you whimper.” He sighs hungrily. “ I always do love the way you sound when you’re all worked up for me.”

Listening to Apollo’s honey rich voice depict such naughty things, you begin to slowly jerk your cock creating soft breathy moans to play through the phone.

“Is my baby getting excited from just my words?”

“Uh huh.”

“Use your words, Darling. Tell me, what are you doing?” Taking a few breaths you collect your words.

“I’m stroking myself, imagining it’s you.” Your admission blooms heat to your cheeks but it's rewarded with a warm hum of approval.

“Yeah? Give your pretty cock a little squeeze for me and rub your tip with your thumb.” Doing as he instructs you keen into the receiver. “Does that feel good, baby?”

“Yes.”

“Is your tip leaking?” You give another groaned ‘yes’. “Gather it on your fingers and lick them clean.”

Giving your shaft a few more tugs you milk the few drops of precum that’s beginning to drip down your length onto your fingers and begin sucking them clean, humming into the speaker.

“Does that taste good?”

“Yes, Sir.” You say.

“Good boy.”

“Where are you?” You breathlessly ask, your hand continuing to slowly stroke your member. A low rumble from Apollo’s chest meets your ears with his response.

“Well, my little dove, if you must know I’m in the back of my chauffeur’s car with only the dividing wall between us as I palm myself to your sweet sounds.”

An low uncontrolled groan is pulled from your lips at the thought of him pleasuring himself so close to someone else blissfully unaware of the erotic act taking place behind them. Your public figure boyfriend doing the unthinkable with a high likelihood of getting caught all because of his desperation for you.

You pull this from him.

Lust.

Hunger.

Depravity.

The very idea makes your hand move quicker on its own.

“Does that excite you, Baby?” Apollo asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.” You breathe, needing more you mewl. “Talk to me, please, Sir. I need to hear you.” The other end of the line rings with a dark chuckle.

“So needy. So impatient.” He tsks mockingly. “What more could you need, babyboy? You have me. I’m listening to you jerk your pretty cock. What else is there?

“Perhaps you need me to tell you what a dirty boy you are for making me pull my cock out in the backseat of my driver’s car? How I wish you were here to clean up the precum already leaking from my tip with your tongue. Would you like that? To taste me? Have me fill your mouth till I spill down your throat?”

You can hear a slight hitch in Apollo’s voice, a clear indicator that he is stroking himself as well. The shuffling of clothing and the soft shift of leather beneath him as he gets himself comfortable for your play. The next few minutes the two of you merely exchange fevered breath and cursed moans as you feel yourselves to the idea of each other.

“Baby, you have your toy with you?” You give a hum of approval. “Good. Turn it on for me, put it up to the mic so I can hear it vibrate against my ear.” Doing as instructed, you release yourself to find the vibrator you’d discarded on the sheets. Turning it on you hold it in front of the receiver and touch it with a soft moan.

“Give it a filthy suck for me.” Again you quickly obey, earning you praise. “Good boy. Make it nice and wet, pretend it's my cock you’re prepping for your little asshole.”

Slurping on the vibrating toy between your lips makes your cock twitch with excitement, more sheer white liquid spilling out.

“Run it up and down your shaft and around your tip, Baby. No cumming! Just edge yourself.” A shudder runs down your spine at the sound of Apollo spitting into his hand to wet himself.

Doing as he says you slide the tip of the toy along your length and around the flare of your engorged tip, coating the silicon in your drippings.

“That feel good?”

“Yes, Sir.” You squeak out, your eyes screwed shut —the image of Apollo’s godly naked form painted behind your eyelids.

“Rub it against your balls.”

The vibrations that go through your tightening sack makes your toes curl and another choked moan releases into the silent room air.

“Speak to me, Baby. How are you feeling? What does my naughty little boy need?” You are almost so lost in the shock waves the vibrations are shooting through you to comprehend the words your boyfriend said into your ear. Swallowing a moan and wetting your lips you find the words.

“I feel needy for more. I need you to- to stretch me out. I feel so empty, Sir. Please.” You sound pathetic but you don’t care and neither does the man on the other end.

Your confession is met with mock sympathy.

“Poor, Baby. Needs his boyfriend to fill him up. Play with his little hole, make it loose and well used, huh? Need me to spit on it, make it sloppy. Stuff in my fingers to prepare you for my fat hard cock?”

��Yes. Yes!” You gasp, teasing your contracting hole with the pulsing vibrations of the toy in your shaking hand.

“Fuck. You sound so cute.” He says almost to himself. “Baby, reach into your bedside drawer and get your lube.”

You instantly toss the vibrator to the side. Hitting the speaker button you place your phone on the pillows beside you to grab the tube of clear gel in your bed sit table.

“Put it on your fingers and rub it everywhere. Coat your pretty cock, your tight balls and on and around that needy little hole of your’s. I want to be able to hear your hand moving against yourself any way I tell you to.”

Squirting a generous glob of lubricant onto your fingertips, snapping the lid shut and tossing it next to your toy, you begin rubbing the cold gel against the hot skin of your erection and most intimate areas. The vulgar sound of your wet palm working yourself fills the air alongside your breathy moans and sighs.

One hand is squeezing your shaft with every stroke, as the other kneads the slick into your sensitive balls —with your fingers moving further south to tease your clenching asshole.

“You sound so beautiful, Darling. Sounding so slick and desperate for me. Tell me what you’re doing. Paint me an image to jerk off to.” His lust coated voice purrs into your ear.

You tell him of your sprawled out naked form, your robe lost on the floor –forgotten– and your working hands on your groin.

“I’m stroking my cock and massaging my balls with lube like you told me to and made my needy hole sloppy how you like it.”

“You teasing your little asshole with your fingers?” He intersects.

“Yes, Sir.” He tsks in disapproval. “I’m sorry, Sir. I -ah- I couldn’t help it.” You whine with a high keen from the duel stimulation of your hands on your genitals.

“I know, my naughty boy. Always so excited for me with little patience.” You whimper apologetically that Apollo knows is hollow from your pleasure-filled moans.

I should punish you for your disobedience.” He lets his words hang between you, interrupted by a lusty moan of his own. “But… I’ll let it slide this one time for me having to leave you in this sorry state.” You eagerly whimper in agreement.

“Yes, please. I tried waiting for you but I miss you so much, Sir.”

“I know, Sweet boy and you’ve done so good for me. When I get home I’m gonna worship you as you deserve for being so good.” His promising and praising words melt over you, sending a shudder down your quivering form.

“As you stroke yourself can you insert one of your fingers into your tight hole for me?”

“Yes, Sir.” You instinctively reply

Releasing your testicals you readjust yourself against the pillows to better reach between your spread legs. Gathering the slick dripping around your hole you prod it with your middle finger teasingly a few times before finally sinking it knuckle deep. A high pitch sigh escapes your lips.

“Good boy. Start slowly pumping your finger till you can press another one in.”

Guiding you through your ministrations of your own genitals with body melting praise and bone chilling filth spewing into your ear till you’re able to comfortably curl three digits within your tight cavity.

“That’s my boy. Play with your ass harder, I want to hear the squelching of your fingers stretching you.” A choked-gasping moan tears through your throat as your movements become more aggressive. Hungry. Needy. Your other hand gripped around the tip of your shaft, thumb pressed and rubbing against your profusely leaking head.

“Sir- please. I- fuck!” You cry.

Balls tightening, cock twitching and eyes screwed shut with muscles cramping with built up tension. You can feel your end nearing and it feels so good. You want nothing more than to erupt in this moment with your fist wrapped around your raging erection and knuckles deep in your own quivering asshole but that relief was pulled out from under you by Apollo’s commanding voice rumbling in your ear.

“Stop!”

You groan and whimper in frustration at your obedient body pulling away at his single worded command –body shivering, toes curled and chest heaving.

“Good boy.” His rich voice smooths over your pleasure deprived body. “You were so close, weren’t you, Baby?” A sniffled ‘uhuh’ was your response as a frustrated tear streaks down your heated cheek.

“I know, Darling. I’m sorry but I couldn’t let our fun end just yet.” He says sweetly through the speaker. “We haven’t even gotten to properly use your toy, have we?” He asks, a clear smirk in his voice.

“No, Sir.” You manage to say, through heavy breath.

“No.” He parrots. “And what a shame it’d be to not.” He chuckles.

“Pick up your toy and put more lube on it, I want my vibrator to slide smoothly into your pretty asshole. Make it nice and easy to fuck yourself with it.” You give a whimpered ‘yes, sir’ as you dutifully spread more gel along the length of the purple toy and more on your waiting hole.

“Vibrate it against your hole. And no touching your cock.” The second half comes out as a thinly veiled threatening command. If you had half a mind left you might tempt that and purposefully disobey Apollo’s words but your well trained body was running on autopilot. Doing everything to please your boyfriend. To do just as he says for the rich reward of his praising words.

Rimming your hole with the toy, it takes everything not to finally shove it fully into your gummy walls. But you’re good. You wait despite your pleading body.

After a small eternity of sending vibrating pulses through your hole that is clenching the prodding silicone tip, eager to suck it in.

“Please- I need it, Sir. Please.” You plead wantonly, as your other hand rubs against your exposed chest, pinching and teasing your hard nipples for much needed stimulation.

“You haven’t touched your cock? Or pressed into your needy hole without my permission?”

“No, Sir. I was good. I promise.” You cry, hoping your words ring earnestly in his ears, granting you what you need most.

A torturous moment of his deafening silent tongue, nothing but his low growls and a grumbled ‘shit’ to be heard in the speaker.

“Go ahead, Baby. Stuff your slutty hole with your toy. Pretend it’s my cock. Imagine it’s me fucking into you. Pressing your body into the mattress with my hips.” You can hear the staggering in Apollo’s voice, his hand moving audibly faster with the added wetness of his spit.

Inserting the toy that doesn’t fill you nearly as much as you need. With your eyes squeezed shut you try to imagine it’s Apollo’s cock but it's not and that knowledge only makes your desperate misery deeper. Your free hand still resists touching your painfully hard cock, opting to continue toying with your nipples. Touching the expanse of your heated flesh with your palm.

“Please, Sir. Let me touch my -ah- my cock. Please. Please.” You are so hot, it feels as if a fire has been set under your skin, you’re past the point of caring about begging. You’d gladly grovel and lick the ground under Apollo’s feet for the chance to get the relief you’re so desperately seeking.

Thank the gods he takes pity on you, his voice just as debauched as yours.

“Yes, Baby boy. Stroke your cock. Squeeze it hard. I want to hear your cries of pleasure in my ear as I cum. I’m so close, Darling.” He growls, his voice low and restrained.

“My cock is so fucking hard for you, Baby. I should be the one inside your fucked out hole, not that toy. I should be the one making you cry, seeing your cute face —all fucked out and euphoric. Fuck!

Can you hear how hopelessly I’m stroking my cock, trying to make myself cum?”

You can’t. You are barely registering the words Apollo is saying through the rushing wave of pleasure crashing over you. You moan an affirmative sound anyway with your helpless ‘please’ and whimpered ‘yes’.

The two of you are no longer sharing coherent thoughts, you’re merely urging the other to their ends with praise and gratified sounds.

“So good for me. Fuck. I need you. Crave you. I can’t wait to get my hands on you.”

“Yes, Apollo. I’m- I-.” You are unable to finish your declaration before your high overtakes your body.

The never ending pulsing of the vibrator invading your quivering walls, hitting that secret button deep within,  doesn’t falter along with your persistent fist. In a moment of blinding heat, the imaginary cord within you snaps and splits you into a million deliciously destroyed pieces.

Streams of hot white spunk shoot from your flared tip, painting your panting chest. The hand holding the toy slows, as well as your moving fist milking the last drops of your pent up seed till your fatigued riddled body slumps —the toy still lodged inside you and hand grasping your exhausted shaft.

All that’s left with your tired-shaky breath is the soundtrack of Apollo’s impending end. His breath horse and haggard as his hellbent hand furiously jerks his cock till his finally silently roars an open mouthed groan of release.

The next few moments are filled with your collective gasping breaths, the low hum of the vibrator overstimulating your used hole and soon a warm and coughed out chuckle from Apollo. You can faintly hear rustling coming from his end as he —presumably— begins cleaning himself up.

Then a finalizing sigh comes through.

“Are you still with me, Darling?” He asks, humor lacing his voice making you tiredly chuckle in return.

“Barely.” You joke. “That was-.”

“Wonderful.”  Apollo finishes. It was –considering what you had available in your current separation.

With gentle guidance you turn off and slowly remove the vibrator from your pulsing insides and manage to turn your slack body onto your side, bringing the phone closer to your face.

“I miss you so much, Baby.” You confess, a bittersweet edge ringing true in the end.

“I know.” He really does.  

Basking in the afterglow of your intense high, you listen to Apollo’s melodic voice praising you and saying more promises that makes your cock tempted to twitch back to life sooner than expected.

“Be prepared, my darling boy, once I get back you’re not leaving that bed till I’m satisfied.”

“Sounds like the kind of torture I can get behind.”

“You should be very careful what you wish for, you might end up biting off more than you can chew at once.” A giddy feeling wells up in your chest but is interrupted by the sound of a knock coming from the front door.

You let out a disappointed groan, you didn’t want to end your flirtations yet.

“What’s wrong?”

“There is someone at the door but maybe if I just stay here they’ll go away.” You say playfully but are met with a disapproving Apollo.

“No, no. Be a good boy and answer the door.”

“Fine.” You sigh, willing your body to sit up sighing from a delicious soreness radiating from beneath you.

And as if on cue, just as you were about to pick up your discarded rope Apollo interrupts you.

“Naked.” The single word makes you stop in your tracks.

“What?”

“You heard me. Be a good boy and answer the door –naked.” You try to retaliate but his tone leaves little for argument. “You are my obedient boy, aren’t you?” He asks, teasingly, knowing it’ll spark your submissive need to please. Gathering your dazed courage you sigh out a coy ‘okay’.

Walking out of your bedroom on shaky legs you patter over to the door with a thrilling mix of shame and excitement turning in your belly. Peeking through the peephole you don’t see anything —it’s covered, leaving only darkness in your sight.

“I can’t see who it is.” You whisper into the receiver making Apollo chuckle.

“That’s ok, just open it.” Swallowing your resignation and in a push of sudden courage you unlatch the lock and open the door.

On the other side is a smug, and slightly disheveled, looking Apollo hanging up the phone, shoving it into his pocket.

“I told you it’d be okay.” He says smugly, stepping into the doorway to capture your nude form in his arms. The door quickly shuts behind him as you leap into his arms, his hands eagerly cup under your ass. Your lips are locked with tongues in a desperate battle for dominance as he slips off his shoes and walks the two of you back to your shared bedroom.

The wind is knocked from your lung when he throws your back to the mattress before him. Propped on your elbows you watch entranced and bewildered as your boyfriend undoes his tie and begins stripping himself of his pointless expensive clothing.

“I hope you’re prepared, my darling.” He says, crawling over your body that is moving further up the mattress, in nothing but his underwear with a very prominent tent already forming.

“I wasn’t lying when I said we’d be in here till I’m done with you.

And I intend to uphold that promise.”

I’m still not very well versed in writing Male x Male stuff, i hope this wasn’t too bad 

Feedback and Interaction is always appreciated! :)

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[headcansxfanfictions]

HisokaXIllumi DRUNK! Fanfiction

AN: Im new at writing so please give me feedback. I got writers block so I’m gonna post this as a part one PART TWO ON ITS WAY.

TW: drinking- dead body- assassination- blood- its literally about Hisoka and Illumi

If you would have told Illumi Zoldyck that by 6am he would be playing shot poker with Hisoka AND winning he would have laughed in your face. (Which for Illumi means subtly sneered while keeping his distance.)

11:06 pm

Illumi is on the phone listening carefully as his most recent client gives him information about the target, “You’re information has been very helpful. I’m confident I can get the job done within the next 12 hours at least.”

12:24 pm

Illumi is sitting at a bar of a grand casino in YorkNew City. He has zeroed in on his target. A 43 year old ginger woman in a very expensive looking cream dress adorned with pearls. She was accompanied by a tall old man of maybe 75 years. Not a threat. This would be an easy job.

12:25 pm

Illumi’s eyes flick sharp to the left head not moving. His eyebrows raise as Hisoka waltzes to his side, glace of red wine in hand. Sure Illumi wasn’t expecting to see Hisoka here but he has learned to expect the unexpected, there is no need for theatrics.

Hisoka obviously disagrees, “Oh what a surprise! I didn’t take the Zoldycks for gamblers!”, his voice dripping with theatrics.

“Hush Hisoka, don’t go announcing me like that,” Illumi replies swiftly, gauging any change in the targets behaviour though he is sure she is out of earshot.

Hisoka follows his gaze to land on the ginger woman, “ah I see. You’re on the job are you?”

“Yes and I should be done soon this target is rather easy.”

“Thats a shame. I was hoping to see some fun. I’ve been very bored. Could I possibly tag along incase any fun does arise?” Hisoka uses his best ‘mock-innocence’ voice.

Illumi considers, all the while not loosing sight of the target. “Well I guess so. I don’t see anyway a job this easy could be messed up.”

Hisoka gives Illumi a stink eye for that comment but quickly recovers, “Oh goody!”

4:43 am

Hisoka looks at the lifeless body of the ginger woman in the hotel-room bathtub. Illumi cleans the blood off himself and sets the scene to look like a suicide. His face is emotionless but if Hisoka had to put an emotion to it he would say Illumi looked somber. Or maybe somber was Illumi’s natural state.

“Well that wasn’t any fun. She was so weak. Why would anyone want her dead.” Hisoka sighs turning to Illumi.

“I know nothing but the job I am given. It is not my place to question my employers.” Illumi states matter of factly.

Hisoka groans is annoyance, “Why must you always speak like a living dictionary.” Hisoka strokes his chin, “don’t you ever let your hair down?… figuratively of course.” He adds with a wave of his hand. “You could be so much fun if you did.”

“Fun?” Illumi dries his hands and walks out the bathroom door, Hisoka right behind. “I have no need for fun. Fun doesn’t get you anything. Training and work does.”

“Well aren’t you the life of the party.” Hisoka’s words drip with sarcasm.

“Look, you got that job done quickly. You said so yourself. That means you probably have oh I’d say 6 hours before anyone is even expecting anything of you. Lets have some fun shall we.”

Illumi doesn’t look convinced so Hisoka is surprised and delighted when his answer comes sooner than expected. “Fine damnit. What do you have in mind.”

Hisoka smiles slyly. “Hisoka I am NOT having sex with you.” Illumi states flatly.

Hisoka shrugs, “Oh well, was worth a shot. Speaking of shots, have you ever played shot poker? I feel like gambling AND drinking. We are in a casino afterall.”

“Lets get going then.” Illumi grabs his wallet and heads for the door but Hisoka catches him by the wrist.

“I’d prefer to have our very own private match here,” Hisoka waves his hand and a full deck of cards appear in his hand all fanned out, “I brought up some wine and whiskey earlier, It should be in the fridge.”

Illumi wordlessly heads for the kitchenette and pulls the rather small bottles from the fridge. There are six in total. Two red wine, two whiskey and two are something Illumi can’t identify.

“Ah you found them.” Hisoka smiles. He is sitting on the floor around the oval coffee table shuffling the cards and laying out the glasses.

Illumi places the bottles on the floor next to the table, “Right, so how do we play.”

“I assume you have played poker before?”

“Yes yes but what are the additional rules. For one I see no chips.”

“That is because we bet with shots instead.” Hisoka explains. “Unlike with regular poker it is the looser that takes it all. The looser will down all the shots bet.”

“And how does one win this game?” Illumi enquirers leaning back on his hands.

“Simple! In our version we win by making the other too drunk to keep playing.” Hisoka’s smile is thin and excited.

“And what determines ‘too drunk to keep playing’?” Illumi asks eyeing the six bottles.

Hisoka looks annoyed at this question. “Till one of us passes out, throws up, or admits defeat.“

“May I add to that list?” —Illumi

“Be my guest.” —Hisoka

“Well as you know my family trains all of us as kids to be immune to poison. This means that I could be unaffected by alcohol if I chose to. However I have found a way that allows me to get drunk or high like anyone else if I want to. My condition is that neither of us use such protections.”

“Well if that is all lets begin. I bet 1 shots of whiskey.” Hisoka looks for any reaction but Illumi has a resting poker face as it is.

“Then I bet 2 shots of wine.”

Hisoka wins this round and Illumi drinks the shots, “I’ve never liked whiskey but the wine is actually good.”

Hisoka wins the next rounds and Illumi is suffering from it. Even without using his poison protection abilities he has a high tolerance for alcohol, but 3 shots of wine and 2 shots of whiskey in he is definitely feeling it.

“Come on Illumi, you can do better than that dont make me stay sober the whole night.” Hisoka teases.

The next round goes to Illumi and Hisoka smiles with surprise. He had bet 2 shots on this one.

“There almost even now.” Illumi says his voice loose with alcohol, as Hisoka downs his 4 shots.

Hisoka looks down his nose at his now empty shot glass. “Hmmm I have to disagree with you the whiskey is much better than the wine.”

Illumi giggles and Hisoka’s focus snaps to him in shock. “Why you staring at me.” Illumi slurs, still giggling to himself.

“Illumi you’re giggling.” Hisoka laughs.

“What, I giggle!” Illumi looks confused and that just makes Hisoka more amused, “You cackle sure but you don’t giggle!”

Illumi shrugs lazily. And tips over with unintended grace to lay on his side “I think I’m drunk.”

“You THINK?” Hisoka gets up to grab Illumi (an himself honestly) some much needed food and water.

“Lets keep playing Im fine.” Hisoka hears Illumi’s deep voice whine and a hand grab his arm.

Hisoka is taken aback by the contact Illumi is not a touchy person at all. “I’m just getting us some food and water so we can continue.”

Illumi reluctantly releases his grip and flops back down. Hisoka can’t help but notice how pretty Illumi is. The man’s raven hair matches his void eyes and long lashes.

PART TWO COMING SOON

A Favorite fan art:

(Unfortunately do not know original artist.)

[ms-nesbit]

the crow

jason todd x reader

rating: 18+ (read at your own risk)

warnings: rape, sexual abuse, marital abuse, noncon, emotional abuse, explicit violence

summary: Jason Todd and y/n despise each other. Love? An unreachable destination. Not at first, at least.

ao3

note: this was my ex's name. this was what he did to me when we were together. im tired of being silent about it.

Dim in the distance, the headlight on Jason's motorcycle bounced from the puddles on the ground, illuminating a path for the vigilante to follow.

Not that he'd follow it - Jason often resisted orders and ignored pre-planned paths, typically resulting in his own demise; not with y/n, though.

It wasn't love at first sight, nor did y/n explain it that way: they despised each other, passion of vitriol permeating their relationship into a wildfire that spread into other areas of their lives.

So much so that their peers would comment on the supposed hatred. "Jesus, just kiss already." Tim muttered through clenched teeth.

Jason spat his remaining orange juice at him, apologizing to Alfred for the cacophony at the dinner table before insulting his younger brother. "The fuck , Timmy? Seriously?! I don't- I-I don't have any goddamn-"

"Yeah, you do." Dick chimed matter-of-factly. "Babs and Steph have an ongoing bet to see who would make the first move."

Jason's face reddened. "Are you joking ?" he looked at the pair of brothers, who simply nodded whilst consuming their breakfast. Even Alfred made a polite affirmative noise in his throat as he poured Dick a cup of coffee. "I mean, I guess she's kinda nice and all, but she's so stubborn, and it's so fucking-"

"Hot?"

" Endearing?" Tim and Dick both answered.

Jason shook his head. "Frustrating!"

"So, lemme get this straight," Tim reclined in his seat, rubbing his patella. " you are upset at someone for being stubborn . You ?" He awaited Jason's confirmation, and replied, "So then it's a match made in heaven."

"Wh-wh-WHAT?! Are you deaf and stupid?" Jason pushed himself out from the seat, leaving the dining room as an erupting volcano, his loud ash and magma polluting Wayne Manor.

Yet the thought refused to shake from Jason's mind. They stirred in his head, every time y/n grinned or the streetlights shone on her face, and it clicked - he loves her.

Visual images of her appeared spontaneously as Jason completed otherwise mundane chores; while tossing his dirty, malodorous clothes into the washing machine (no matter how many times Alfred offered to handle the task, Jason insisted he be the one to handle it, given his fascination with a properly working device), Jason recalled a moment when y/n smirked at him after she out-squatted him; as he was grocery shopping (an exaggeration, obviously, as Jason conducted his routine shopping for protein bars and high-protein snacks at the corner convenience store), he passed the aisle of reasonably fresh flowers, the aroma of geranium sneaking her way to Jason as a reminder of y/n.

He was as hopeless as a runt in a pack of puppies, doomed from the beginning. He contemplated switching gyms altogether, in fear of confronting y/n and seeming too blatantly into her, but was acquainted with the rigid (and expensive) cancellation policy.

When they brushed shoulders at the gym the following week, Jason behaved standoffish, more aloof than hardheaded, and if y/n wasn't busy assembling her rack on the squat bar, she would have caught on (especially when Jason formed a lump in his throat when he spotted y/n on the bench press).

Sheepishly, Jason attempted to insult her authentically, but came across as frigid. Y/n quirked a brow and laughed. “Really, Jay? Strong women scare you that much?”

But they never did. From infancy, Jason was fascinated by powerful women, an unfortunately scarce species (due largely by the patriarchy, according to him). He wondered why he hadn’t felt this way sooner about y/n, and made a note to kick himself for it later.

When y/n wasn’t looking, Jason spent too long staring at her; in fact, even when she could notice, his stare would linger, and she’d comment on it.

As she was leaving, Jason insisted on accompanying her, something she sniffed as suspicious. "You never offered it before, Todd."

“Well, I heard the crime is getting worse,” Jason summed under his breath, irritation stiffening his tone, “plus you can only bench 120. Not brag worthy.”

She spared his life with a flat blink, pursing her lips to prevent even the most miniscule of insult to leave in a sharpened knife. They walked together in silence, until they approached y/n’s vehicle, a…police interceptor. Retired, Jason surmised, by the absence of bars dividing the pigs from civilians. He sucked on his teeth as he observed the vehicle burning into his eyes.

“So…”

Y/n held up her water bottle in her hand, remaining liquid sloshing in it. “My ex told me to buy it. One of… many poor decisions I made.” she sighed at the statement, rolling her eyes lazily as she fumbled with her lanyard holding her keys. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the attention and fear when I’m driving, and it is a V8, but since it was used for chases, I have loose bullet holes under the chassis, and the transmission is starting to stutter when I’m shifting.” She said it without hesitation. Jason really was in love.

“Why do you still have it then?” his hands were fists in his pockets.

Y/n shrugged, finagling with the janky manual lock. “The thrill of it.”

“And the ex, he uh…” Jason tried to play it cool, “was he okay?”

The door unlocked with a hard click, and y/n cracked the driver’s side door. “Why do you wanna know?”

“Sorry if I’m overstepping boundaries, I just don’t think anybody willing to pressure their partner into supporting the police in any way is exactly a green flag.”

Y/n nodded, the streetlight illuminating her face enough for Jason to see a hint of a grin. “I’ll unlock the passenger side if you want.” She turned to face him, but didn’t quite look in his eyes.

Maybe he was another monster in the night to her. “S-sure.” Jason stammered, before pacing in front of the car to the passenger side, tossing his gym bag in the backseat before he sat down.

Y/n locked the doors. “He was okay.” she started, hands gripping the frayed vinyl of the steering wheel. “I mean, he was…he sucked.” Jason could hear in her voice more than he could see of her face.

“Was he just a douchebag?”

Y/n shook her head, hair following it. “He was so nice in the beginning, y’know? I mean, they always are.” They always are . Jason knew where it was headed, and his forehead thumped with frustration. “Buying me things, texting me these long things in the morning and evenings, as if he didn’t have a job.

“But-”

Jason bit down on his bottom lip, drawing blood. It still failed to stifle his anger. “ But? ”

“He was like the sun. So many people around us were applauding him, telling him and me how good he was doing, how lucky I was, all that. My best friends started to see his texts change, and how I would sleep less. At first, y’know, they thought it was because I was just so in love-” y/n’s voice started to break. Jason’s heart did upon hearing it. “-but they found the texts. Love-bombing, they said it was. He was setting me up, gassing me, and then just throwing me down to the ground when I wasn’t compliant.” She shut her eyes and let her head fall to the steering wheel, impact broken by her hands. Jason’s fist clenched in his hoodie pocket. “He then told me to choose: them or him.” Still resting her head against the back of her hands, she turned to face Jason, exposing her teary eyes. “Wanna guess who I chose?”

“Them?”

Jason was sarcastic, expecting a different answer than the affirmation he received. His blood boiled as y/n spoke, fuming in the passenger seat of her interceptor. “Yeah. But he threatened to kill himself if I didn’t comply. I thought it would be my fault. I made myself just…believe that I didn’t deserve those friends, anyway, and that they were just jealous of our relationship.”

A grunt left Jason’s throat. Y/n dismissed it. “I just…he was like the sun. All of the people in his life, revolving around him, praised his devotion and love, and he wanted me to orbit him, too.

“But I got too close to him, and I got burned.” she hunched over her steering wheel, letting out hollow, agonizing breaths. Jason froze, hesitating to touch her in fear of scaring her, hurting her.

“Where did he hurt you?” his brows furrowed, practically kissing.

Y/n shook her head, sniffling and wiping the corners of her eyes away. She refused to allow herself to lose composure over him, and was breaking the promise that night, in front of the man she previously thought was more a frenemy than friend. “I thought that because we were engaged, it was okay. Because we were married, it was okay. I should be thankful.”

She was lost in her head, leaving Jason to frantically attempt to complete the puzzle. “He beat you? You married him? What happened, y/n?”

The car was off, engine as cold as the brisk dusk air, but the heat within the interior was thick and tense. “I said no, Jason. I tried to push him off, and he just-just held me down.” Crimson flooded Jason’s ears, heartbeat loud with turbulence. “I’m sorry.”

Why was she so sorry? The apology broke the threshold, Jason cursing loud enough for y/n to hear. She was trembling. Scared. In the year they’ve known each other, glaring teeth at one another, he hadn’t seen her so terrified, and hadn’t scratched the surface of her past. And as if she read his expression, as obnoxiously obvious as it was, “That’s why I lift weights.” y/n sharply inhaled through her nose, quietly tapping on her olive polyester legging-covered thigh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dump this on you.”

She was vulnerable, naked, and Jason was ashamed to walk in on her in such a state. “Is he in prison?” his fingers crossed, hoping her answer was simply Hell .

“No, he lives just outside of city limits. Couldn’t get a restraining order because his record is so clean.”

Jason screwed his eyes shut, utilizing the grounding tool Dick taught him in his tenure as Robin. “May I give you a hug?” The words were forced, jagged in delivery. But y/n managed a nod, and as soon as Jason registered the affirmation, he pulled her close to his chest, as much as the center console dividing them would allow, and guided her breathing to something steady, rhythmic.

After that night, y/n and Jason were inseparable, the friendship blooming beautifully. They accompanied each other during their respective workout sessions, throwing each other shady comments and snide jokes, but leaving the personas in the locker room as they attended dinner together shortly after.

Y/n loved…loose-fitting cotton pants; her closet was filled with oddly folded clothing, some buried in the back for formal events she’d eventually excuse herself out of attending; her left cheek had a dimple, something Jason failed to identify until he made her laugh one night. They were all idiosyncrasies y/n allowed him to explore, deepening their relationship past anything he previously experienced. The admiration he felt bubbled, rather than simmered (as he hoped), and it flourished into an agape infatuation, y/n’s life and entire being a novel he couldn’t (nor wanted to) complete.

His attitude improved at home, initiating constructive team-building activities, much to his family’s surprise.

“You…wait, you want to try the simulation?” Dick repeated back to Jason, who nodded with a benign smile.

“Sure.” his nose scrunched as he spoke, and if it wasn’t for the context provided, he would have considered that perhaps Jason was under the giggle gas that intoxicated thousands of Gothamites years prior.

By accident, Jason overwelcomed his stay at y/n’s apartment, falling asleep on the couch after a lengthy conversation about loafs. Y/n tiptoed to the closet, gingerly opening the sliding door to pull out a spare blanket, and lying it over Jason’s tall and muscular frame. She watched as his chest rose and fell, inspiring a desire for her head to be resting on it, the curiosity causing a whiplash that distracted her from the initial knock on her door.

The next group of knocks drew her attention away from the sudden discovery of romantic feelings she had for Jason, something she noted to explore later.

Distracted, she unlocked the door, opening it before checking the peephole.

There stood a disgruntled, soulless man, staring darkly at y/n. Her heart fell, and she instantly found fault in her negligence of safety. She was too vulnerable, it seemed, and it costed y/n her solace.

“Cheating.” he spat at her.

Y/n shook her head wildly, whispering timidly, “N-no, Matt, you don’t understand-”

“It seems very telling just exactly what transpired here.” he responded curtly, wasting no time in his conviction. He looked up at her with rage in his eyes and wrath in his spirit. He followed it with the words, “Nobody will ever have you like I did.”

Then, a bang.

One that was so familiar, Jason jolted from his sleep, torso snapping from the bed as his head failed to catch up with his heart. He stood on his feet, rushing over to…

Y/n’s body. Lifeless, frozen. A coldness in her eyes, as nothing was behind them. They were glossed over.

For the first time since his betrayal by the Joker, Jason screamed for help.

He didn’t tell her he loved her. Not once did he mention nor hint at it, and the thought of it made him feel dirty, and his stomach twisted in pain. He repudiated the gym, canceling over the phone and threatening the manager when reminded of the hefty cancellation fee.

Dick found his gym bag collecting dust in the back of the laundry room, hiding in a corner, punished for its association with y/n. It was the bag he wore to y/n’s flat that night, and Jason was quick to rid himself of the thought of it, sure that her blood spilled on it. After inspection, Dick was unable to find a trace of it, and instead deduced that Jason was flooded with grief, so much that the vigilante was beginning to hallucinate out of fear.

“We have to talk to him, Bruce.” Dick cornered his adoptive father in the Batcave, arms crossed. “He doesn’t drive his motorcycle, hasn’t left the house in a week, I-I’ve never seen him like this.”

Rather than engaging actively, Bruce remained in his seat before the bright screens, supervising his own search for Gotham’s antagonist. He didn’t even blink, let alone flinch, when replying flatly, “Dick, we all process grief differently. Don’t you remember-”

“What the hell are you even doing, Bruce?” Dick snapped, gripping the head cushion of Bruce’s seat and yanking it, pulling the seat further from the computer. He swiveled the seat and approached Bruce with heavy eyes, hands gripping the arm rests to prevent Bruce from fleeing. “This isn’t about you, and it isn’t about me. Your son saw his loved one get killed , and you’re not even showing a glimpse of sympathy for him? The hell is wrong with you?”

Bruce’s jaw clenched. “Dick, it is best not to interfere with the personal matters of others. You know more than anyone-”

“ Fuck that!” Dick pushed Bruce’s seat back into the computer, the back cushion hitting the keyboard with a thud. “You got yourself involved when my parents died, and had no problem moving on from Jason when he died. Now that he’s back, you not only dismiss what he went through, but you refuse to learn from your mistakes? You’re a fucking coward.” The insults reverberated through the cave, but Dick didn’t care, almost wanting the rest of the family to hear his response. “Your son needs your help. If you won’t do it, don’t you dare get pissed if he leaves town and goes on another rampage.”

Huffing, Dick marched off from the computer, headed toward the hidden staircase leading to the mansion. Behind him, he heard Bruce’s firm voice. “I know what I did. I learned from his death, mourned him, just as much as you did. Don’t you accuse me of anything.”

Without hesitation, Dick responded through his teeth, “You’re heartless.” and left the cave, slamming the door behind him.

Upstairs was quiet, air thick with tension as Tim’s eyes darted between a fuming Dick, and his college homework. He finally laid his pencil down on the table. “Do you need anything from me? I dunno how I can help, but I can try.”

Back against the grandfather clock, Dick buried his head in his hands. He breathed for a moment, collecting himself, before responding to Tim’s offer. “Have you seen Jay at all? Heard from him?” Tim shook his head, muttering a negation. “I haven’t, either. Try to see if Cass or Steph have heard from him. Assume he’s on suicide watch. I’ll contact Luke and Babs to see if he’s still in Gotham.” Dick began to walk away, unlocking his phone to dial Barbara’s number.

“What do you think Todd’s gonna do?”

Dick shrugged. "That time a bully beat you up, Jason got even by kidnapping the guy. I dunno what he might do now."

Rain pattered against the car window, washing away as the vehicle zipped through Gotham streets. Inside, Jason gripped the steering wheel with his life, with all control he could possibly have, and bit his bottom lip underneath his red hood. As unsure as he was, Jason brushed it aside with his insatiable urge for vengeance. Beside him, a ghost, a spirit he wished was real, and instead was an apparition conjured by his forlorn heart.

In the seat, his thoughts were loud, so loud he could hear them in his ears, and only then did he realize he was actually speaking. “My fault.” he overheard. “My fault.” he repeated, again and again, until the sting from the words hurt him as much as an actual bullet.

His phone rang in his pocket. He ignored it, and debated silencing it; Jason removed a hand from the steering wheel only to unlatch the glove compartment and shove his phone in it.

Struggling to maintain his stoic impression, Jason forgot he was wearing a mask, and allowed himself to exhale, before the tears followed, rushing down his cheeks to escape the suffocation they shared with him. His lip trembled, body riddled with a revolting concoction of emotions.

Following behind him was Cassandra, in an unmarked rental vehicle. Her phone was faced forward on her dash, to capture all evidence of Jason’s whereabouts, and she maintained a reasonable distance, dimming her headlights to draw attention away from herself. Eventually, at a traffic light right out of downtown, Cass lowered her window and secured a mobile tracking device below the passenger taillight. She grinned to herself cockily, applauding her ability to outsmart her big little brother (again).

“Thanks, Orphan. It seems like my fears were right - Jason’s headed toward Matt’s place.” Dick stated into Cass’ ear through the group communication line. “Red Robin, you’re my ears, what’s going on?”

“Looks like it.” Tim said, voice blinking from the wind atop the building where he perched. “Oracle, you got the geolocation for Matt, and backup in case something happens?”

“Affirmative.” Barbara replied.

Jason heard none of it, as his earpiece was left on his nightstand in his room, but felt eyes on him. He quickly made a detour, weaving through traffic and cutting through alleys until he was satisfied.

“He’s on to us. Batwing-”

 “At the building.” Luke replied abruptly, clothed back against the dilapidated brick of the townhouse. “Suspect is inside, having… relations.”

“Are you fucking serious ?” Tim spat into the comm line. “He fucking killed someone, and he still felt good enough in his conscience to sleep around? Dick, are you sure we’re doing Red Hood a favor by-”

“Yes, we are.” Dick interrupted. “Batwing, is Batwoman with you?”

Luke shook his head. “Nope.”

“Oracle, do you have eyes on Batwoman’s whereabouts?”

Barbara typed into her computer, before finally replying, “Negative. Tracker and microphone are offline.”

“Shit.” Dick sighed into the comm line. He was afraid of what it might entail, Kate’s disappearance, as she showed obvious support for Jason’s decision when brought to her attention earlier that evening. “Does anybody know where Batwoman is?”

Having shaken Cass from his trail earlier, Jason raced to the subdivision, fueled by anger. According to his GPS, he was only a quarter mile away, so he pulled into a street parking spot and shut off his engine. “I only have this chance.” he said to himself, setting up his pistols and placing one in his holster, and another under his pants belt. “This is it.”

Meanwhile, at the townhouse, Luke stood with crossed arms, awaiting the homicidal intruder. “Batwing, Orphan lost eyes on Hood, and Oracle informed us his car’s been parked on the 1100 block of Commonwealth. Any visual?”

“None.” Luke replied. “Just the same as-”

And the comm line disintegrated into static, all members reacting with the shrill sound of it in their earpiece.

Leaving his vehicle, Jason ensured to close the door slowly, entering into a brisk walk through the open backyards of the cookie cutter residential duplexes. He kept his head hung, in case of security cameras.

“Just you and me.” he muttered under his breath as he approached the address, matching a grainy photo of a brick-walled building with a tall wooden fence. He heard a faint sound of a beating heart, oddly drawn to it. Jason hopped the fence, bringing a hand to his knife before he stopped at the sight of Luke along the side of the townhouse. Grayson , Jason thought to himself.

Before he could back away into a secure hiding area, Luke snapped his head toward the faint footsteps Jason made, and called to him in a forced whisper. “Jason! What are you doing, man?”

“Stay out of this.” Jason snapped back.

“You should know better. There’s a warrant out for him. Let the goddamn system do its job.”

“Are you fucking naive?” Jason darted toward Luke, tricking him by sliding between his legs and using his weight to force Batwing onto the ground. Jason then knocked a rock onto Luke’s head, deeming him unconscious.

Jason waited for a sign of consciousness before standing on his feet again, mumbling angrily under his breath, “Justice system? Here? If there was one, I’d have stayed dead.”

As he approached the side door, he heard commotion, and one that triggered his gag reaction. He worked at the lock with a pick before gaining entry, gingerly opening the door before entering slowly. The noises were louder, mangled, obscene and desperate. Jason snarled under the mask, becoming a beast more than man.

He followed the sound, interested more in the crescendo of the heartbeat than the filthy noises that disgusted him, until he reached a bedroom with an open door. He slipped in, drawing a gun from his holster. “You. Out, now .” Jason sneered at the woman, throwing a piece of clothing to her as she scattered out of the room with a shriek.

The man, also unclothed, sat up on the bed, hands raised. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your problem, man?”

“Matt, is it?” Jason cocked his gun, pointing it at the man.

He nodded. “Yeah, why?” his eyes were wide in fear.

“Remember y/n y/l/n?”

He blinked at Jason. Then, his face relaxed into a cheshire cat grin. “Ah. You’re her new boytoy she was cheating on me with. Jared? Justin?”

“Justice.” Jason answered, stepping forward and using his other hand to suckerpunch Matt on the nose. “She told me what you did.” He was growling now, feral instinct consuming his rational mind. He grappled the man; after pinning Matt down to the bed, Jason shot Matt’s right bicep, then left, rendering him useless. “You want this? Hmm? You want me to penetrate you again?”

Matt screamed in agony, blood oozing from his bullet wounds onto the dirty, disheveled mattress sheets. “No. No! Stop, please!”

Jason only cackled loudly, throwing his head back. He pressed more of his weight onto Matt before replacing his pistol into his holster and withdrawing his knife, scraping the sloppy skin of Matt’s abdomen open, inch by inch, deeper every time Matt let out the faintest of noise.

“Oooh. You feel so good. So tight.” At the last word, Jason twisted the knife in Matt’s abdomen, pressing it in deeper into his body. Spurts of blood splattered onto Jason’s costume, while the rest gushed from the blood wound onto the now-painted sheets below them. The smell of copper filled the air, and it only drove Jason’s cogence further away. “I’m gonna fuck you all night.”

Abruptly removing the knife from the gash, Jason dragged it against Matt’s now-mangled torso, stopping at his heart. He let out a low, deep groan. “What’s this? All this for me?”

“Please. Please have mercy. Please.” Matt was pathetic in his whines, heart pounding, and Jason found himself smiling sadistically through his hood.

He tsked Matt, mocking the pleas. “ Oooh ! Oooh, please !” Jason laughed. “I thought you didn’t understand the meaning of the word no.” Jason removed his hood from the base near his chin, bringing it over his head to stare Matt directly into his fear-stricken eyes. “Do you want me to feel the beating of your heart, Dear? Really?”

Jason watched Matt devolve into a bumbling mess, spurts of blood spilling from his mouth as he choked a faint plea. “N-no. N-no, no.” he repeated the word as if it were all he knew, and in that moment, it was.

“Oh.” Jason lifted his knife in faux contemplation. He brushed his hand through his skunk-patterned hair. “I’m really sorry, you’re gonna have to forgive me for this one, Matty, I completely forgot…” he leaned in to Matt’s ear, whispering, “Like you, I don’t believe when someone says no.” And without hesitation, Jason’s right hand holding the knife lifted higher, before lunging the blade into Matt’s chest, before repeating his action once, then twice, and again, and again.

And again.

He heard Matt took his final breath minutes ago, but the vigilante wasn’t satisfied, still hungry for vengeance. He stabbed and scraped until there was an untidy hole in Matt’s chest, skin flung through the air in the room from Jason’s reckless act. Ink of blood scattered across the room, now decorating the wall into a morbid, murderous mess. It wasn’t until Jason felt the scratch of a mattress spring did he stop, and sat back on his knees, still crouched over the dead man in a heaving mess.

The thumping of his heart ceased, and Jason could finally sleep in peace. Y/n could finally rest, free of shame, guilt, and worry.

Yet he felt no different. His eyes began to water, and quickly stood from the corpse, pacing out of the room and erupting into a cry with his bloody blade still in hand.

Running into the room, Dick examined the scene, pulling Jason into an embrace.

“What did you do?” he asked, apprehension in his voice.

“She’s not coming back, Dick.” Jason sobbed into Dick’s shoulder now, falling apart, “Y/n, she’s not coming back.”

[localhopedealerr]

Starry Night

Azriel x Reader Oneshot

Some fluffy late night talk with azzy✨⭐️

Warnings: noneee EXCEPT i literally didn’t edit this at all, i just had to get it posted. so beware and i’m so so sorry. 🫣

You hadn’t meant to spend so long up on the balcony, but the stars seemed to keep your thoughts in an endless conversation. The other members of the Inner Circle had dispersed after an evening full of wine and food, but you had hung behind waiting on your mate. One thought led to another, until you found yourself curled up on the outdoor sofa, staring up into a sky that seemed to go on forever.

You weren’t sure you’d ever get over the view. Tiny bursts of life filling a vast sea of black. The stars were so willing to allow the people who lived here to witness their beauty every night. A beauty you weren’t sure anyone here deserved, but were all damn grateful to see.

“I didn’t realize you were still down here. You should be sleeping. ”

Your head peaked behind the back of the couch, finding the eyes of the infamous Shadowsinger. He had gone off to speak with Rhys about his latest intel, needing to share it while it was fresh on his mind. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his pants, a fitted black long sleeve covered his impressive frame. As casual as he ever dressed himself, usually preferring his leathers and arsenal of weapons strapped to him.

He had been in a rare form tonight, having just returned from a mission that kept him away from home- away from you- longer than he wanted. The Spymaster spoke openly the whole night, laughing and joking with the whole table. Enjoying the much needed family time.

You liked seeing that side of him. Multiple times throughout the night you caught yourself simply marveling at him. He’d caught your eyes a few times, offering a smug smirk in response before returning to the conversation in front of him. Cheeky shit.

You didn’t mind it though. You were in love with that smirk. In love with the way he spoke. The way he laughed. Hell, you weren’t sure there was anything you didn’t love seeing him do.

“It’s not hard to lose sleep when there’s a view like this waiting for me every night.”

Azriel nodded, looking out over the balcony for a moment before he came to seat himself next to you. You moved your legs underneath yourself, allowing Azriel to press up against you as your head fell against his shoulder.

“Cassian was acting a fool tonight, im surprised Nesta didn’t cut him off sooner.”

You snorted at that. “You’re surprised? Im sure Nesta enjoys Cassian plenty when he’s too wasted. He gets a hundred times hornier.”

Your mate laughed, a delish sound falling out of his lips as his head fell back against the cushion. Cassian must have finished at least two bottles of Rhysands wine by himself, much to your high lords dismay. “Yes, i suppose that’s true. I guess we should count ourselves lucky he was sober enough to fly them back to the Townhouse tonight.”

You laughed once more, shaking you head as you thought about your friends. You loved them dearly, but couldn’t deny the sigh of relief you let out when they had decided to spend the night at the Townhouse instead of the House of Wind, sparing their friends the torture of having to listen to them well into the early hours.

“You haven’t told me how your mission went, or what exactly you were doing on it.”

Azriel kissed the side of your head, sighing as his hands tugged at your own, toying with the pads of your fingers. “ mm, let’s talk about it tomorrow. Let me enjoy the night sky with my mate.”

You wouldn’t argue with him, couldn’t argue with him- Not when those dark, angelic eyes met your own. How could you deny your mate of anything when he was so perfect?

You gave a look of contemplation, before finally sighing dramatically. “ Fine. You’re off the hook for now. Have you finished that book i lent you?”

Azriel hummed in response, head lazily leaning to one side. “ I did. I was surprised with the ending, in a good way. “

“ I know, it was out of nowhere. But that’s what i like about the author. “

He smiled when your eyes lit up, like they always did when you talked about books. “I’d like to read more from him. We should start the next one together.”

You shifted, burrowing yourself closer to his side. You blinked slow, body and soul finally feeling at peace now that your mate was back with you. “ Tomorrow, we can go to that bookstore down by the river and grab the next books.”

Azriel held you closer, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “ It’s a date.” His eyes closed.

You could barely keep your eyes open now. “ I love you. I missed you. I’m glad you’re home.”

“Is that your way of telling me you’re going to sleep?” Azriel mused, one eye lifting up to peak down at the girl in his arms.

You had already dozed off. Azriel kissed the top of your head one more time, before shifting your bodies. He now held you on top of him, your legs tangling with his.

“ Sweet dreams, baby.”

[bloody-bee-tea]

Be gentle with me

Suguru watches the training field with narrowed eyes. Nobara and Megumi are up against Itadori, their goal this time to touch him but, he’s expertly avoiding them. He really is fast, Suguru muses, mentally noting down tips he can tell them all later, once they are done.

His concentration is broken when Suguru skips into view, hands in his pockets and a grin plastered on his face.

Exhausted then, Suguru thinks after just one glance and easily allows Satoru to drape himself over his side as he sits down.

“I didn’t know you’re back yet,” Suguru muses, moving a little bit to give Satoru more space to lean more comfortably against him.

“I just returned,” Satoru gives back and Suguru refuses to address the warmth that rises in him.

Satoru should be reporting to Yaga and the Elders then, but instead he came here, first.

“You should shower, give your report. That way you can sleep sooner,” Suguru advises him and chuckles when Satoru slings his arms around his middle, clinging to him.

That’s more like the Satoru he knows and the worry slides off him.

“But Suguru, I wanted to see you first,” Satoru whines out, hiding his face in Suguru’s shoulder and Suguru idly pats his head.

“And you did that now. Go take a nap, Satoru, you’re wiped.”

“I’m not,” Satoru argues back, stubborn and mulish like a child and Suguru sighs fondly.

Satoru might be able to convince everyone else that he’s invincible, that he doesn’t get scared or tired or worn out, but that doesn’t work with Suguru. Suguru knows him better than that and he’s honestly a little offended that Satoru thinks he can fool him, too.

“Yes, you are, Satoru, no need to pretend, not with me. I know you’re exhausted. I won’t tell anyone, though, if you go to sleep right after handing your report in.”

“How the hell do you always know,” Satoru breathes out, leaning more heavily against Suguru, finally dropping the pretence.

“It’s in your smile,” Suguru absentmindedly says, his eyes fixed on their students again.  “It’s not quite the same when you’re exhausted. The corners of your mouth—it’s just not the same,” Suguru tries to explain but he doesn’t actually have words for it. He’s not even sure there is a physical sign of Satoru’s exhaustion, it’s just—he knows.

He always knows.

Suguru only brings his attention back to Satoru when he feels him go stiff against him but when he turns searching eyes to him, Satoru relaxes again.

“I see,” is all Satoru says to that, rubbing his head against Suguru’s shoulder like an overgrown affectionate cat and Suguru is just leaning into it when a yelp reaches them.

It’s more startled than actually pained, but Suguru’s head flies around nonetheless and he’s caught off guard when he sees blood spill down Itadori’s hand.

“What happened?” he calls out, carefully getting up so he doesn’t jostle Satoru too badly, but then he makes his way across the training field quickly.

“I’m so sorry,” Nobara says in response, not actually explaining anything and for all that she’s usually so tough, she’s really pale right now.

Suguru guesses that happens when you hurt one of your friends and so he gives her a reassuring smile.

“I messed up,” Itadori says, scratching the back of his head with his uninjured hand, watching how his blood is still dripping to the ground. “I wasn’t fast enough. My bad.”

“Your bad,” Nobara hisses out, the worry clearly getting to her, the grip on her hammer tight and Suguru eases it out of her grasp carefully.

“Anyone else hurt?” he wants to know and both Nobara and Megumi shake their head.

“Can I go now? It’s not as if that’s going to do anything to this blockhead anyway,” Megumi says, apparently disinterested in the entire thing but when a flash of hurt crosses Itadori’s face, he sighs out and stays right where he is.

Itadori grins brightly at him.

“Let me see,” Suguru says, reaching out to inspect Itadori’s hand, and he’s distantly aware that Satoru has joined them on the field.

It’s a testament to his exhaustion that he doesn’t immediately bicker with the students and Suguru vows to drag him to bed himself, if he isn’t gone by the time Itadori’s injury is dealt with.

“It’s not bad, not bad at all, certainly not bad enough to see an actual doctor, right? Right?” Itadori babbles out and the fact that he’s so damn scared of Shoko but has usually no qualms about mouthing off to Satoru makes Suguru chuckle.

“It doesn’t look too bad at all,” he decides and tugs on Itadori’s arm to get him to the side-lines. “I have a small first aid kit right over there, we can fix you back up, no problem.”

And it’s true. It’s a cut, sure, but it’s not as deep as the blood dripping down would suggest and Suguru doesn’t feel bad about not sending him to Shoko with this. It’s hardly worth her attention.

“You two are free to go, if you want,” Suguru tells Nobara and Megumi, who both stay right where they are and so Suguru drags his eyes over to Satoru.

“And you should go. Report and then do what I told you,” he says, more sternly and it makes Nobara snicker.

Satoru doesn’t even rise to that, though, and Suguru wonders if he fell asleep standing up. It wouldn’t be the first time, though of course Satoru likes to pretend things like that never happen.

“Itadori, sit, and give me that hand,” Suguru instructs when Satoru doesn’t answer him and Itadori at least does what he’s told.

He might just be Suguru’s favourite at the moment.

Suguru carefully cleans the wound of the blood that already spilled out and then carefully applies a bandage to it. It’s not even big enough to warrant it, a band-aid would probably have done the trick as well, but he can feel all eyes on him and so he might just be going a little bit overboard.

“There, all done,” he says after a few moments and Itadori grins at him.

“Thanks, Geto-senpai.” He turns towards Nobara and Megumi. “You wanna go again?” he then asks, because of course he does and he barely even flinches when Megumi flicks his head.

“We’re going for lunch,” he decides instead and Itadori is never one to turn down food, so he follows readily along with his friends.

It’s cute to see Nobara and Megumi worry that much over such a small injury, Suguru thinks, and then he remembers that Satoru is still right there.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, because maybe this is more than exhaustion, and he frowns when Satoru flinches, his eyes, which were fixed on Suguru’s hands snapping back to his face.

“Fine,” he says and then marches off without another word.

Suguru hopes it’s to report the mission and then sleeping off the exhaustion he can see clinging to his shoulders, but he knows Satoru better than that.

He’ll just have to make sure to check on him in an hour or so and then—if necessary—drag him to bed himself.

~*~*~

Suguru throws Satoru over his shoulder almost gleefully, very satisfied to hear the breath leave him in a rush when he connects with the ground and when he’s straightening up, he grins down at Satoru.

He told him a million times to work on his footwork but Satoru never does and so Suguru gets to lay him out flat every time.

Since Satoru refuses to learn, this does bring Suguru a great deal of satisfaction, but the grin slides right off his face when he spots red on Satoru’s cheek.

“Satoru, you’re hurt!” he rushes out, bending down to inspect the shallow cut high on Satoru’s cheek. “What happened?”

“You happened,” Satoru grumbles, though he does allow Suguru to turn his face so he can see it better.

“What about your Infinity?” Suguru asks, because in his mind Satoru is invincible, untouchable for anything that could bring him harm.

“I turn that off when we spar, you know that,” Satoru grumbles out and Suguru frowns.

He hadn’t known that. Suguru always assumed that Satoru keeps it on, because Suguru is an exception to the technique anyway, but clearly he was wrong about that.

“Come here, let me clean it,” Suguru urges him, dragging him off the ground and leading him to the side. “Sit, Satoru, let me get the first aid kit.”

“So it’s not bad enough to trouble Shoko?” Satoru asks and pokes at his cheek, right until Suguru catches his hand in his and drags it away. “Will it scar? Will I be ugly now?” Satoru goes on, batting his eyes at Suguru who snorts out a laugh.

“You’re ugly anyway,” he gives back and flicks Satoru’s forehead. “Personality matters, you know,” he goes on, his voice coloured with amusement, but Satoru falls silent.

“Mh,” is all he says to that and Suguru is surprised to find him evading his eyes when he looks back at him.

“Satoru,” he starts, as he sits down next to him and he sighs when Satoru stubbornly refuses to look at him. “You know you’re too beautiful for your own good,” Suguru finally admits and wills his cheeks to stay the colour they are.

He really doesn’t need to be blushing right now.

“And this will not scar, it’s way too shallow for that, so don’t worry.”

Satoru doesn’t answer him, but Suguru is momentarily stunned when he sees a blush creep up on Satoru’s cheeks, even as he turns his gaze back to him.

“Better,” he decides and then turns his head so that Suguru can clean the cut.

“You want a grown-up band-aid or one for the kids?” Suguru asks once he’s done with that, though he damn well knows the answer.

He thought the Digimon band-aids he bought a while back on a whim would go to waste what with Satoru’s Infinity, but he guesses they are going to finally see some use.

“Kids, please,” Satoru decides, just like Suguru knew he would and he’s quick to put it over the wound.

“There you go,” Suguru softly says and fights the urge to press a kiss to his cheek as well, for better healing.

Satoru surely wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Thank you,” Satoru gleefully says and then grins at Suguru. “So, another round, then?”

“So I can lay you on your back again? I don’t think so. Besides, I’m hungry. How about we go out for a change? The kids are all gone anyway.”

His suggestion makes Satoru’s eyes sparkle and soon enough he’s dragging Suguru off campus as if it was his idea in the first place.

And Suguru is more than willing to indulge him, Digimon band-aid and all.

~*~*~

They just returned from a mission, exhausted and kind of grimy and Suguru is looking forward to a shower more than anything at the moment.

Except that Satoru doesn’t seem to think the same, because instead of going to his own room, he follows Suguru to his.

“Everything okay?” Suguru asks with a frown, because even for Satoru that’s unusual behaviour but Satoru only hums in response, which makes this entire thing even stranger.

Suguru decides to wait until they are in his room to press some more, because for all that Satoru is loud and outgoing, he is an insanely private person and chances are better once Suguru has him behind closed doors.

And he doesn’t even have to prod and press because once he slides the door shut behind him, Satoru turns towards him, holding his arms out.

Suguru’s stomach drops out when he sees that one of his sleeves is wet with blood.

“I’m hurt,” Satoru easily says, as if it doesn’t mean anything, as if he isn’t dripping blood all over Suguru’s floor and Suguru’s eyes fly back to his face.

“Yeah, no shit,” he hisses, worry making him more snappish than he normally would be. “What happened? Gods, Satoru, sit down, do we need Shoko? How bad is it, let me see.”

He’s rambling, he knows that, but Satoru is hurt, Satoru is bleeding and ever since that thing with Toji happened, Suguru can barely stand to see that.

The image of finding Satoru in a pool of his own blood, carved up almost all the way, still haunts his nights, sometimes.

“It’s not that bad,” Satoru says, his voice wobbling a bit in uncertainty and Suguru drops to a knee in front of him.

“Let me see that,” he demands, carefully peeling Satoru’s sleeve away from his skin.

The cut is deep, maybe deep enough even to need stitches and Suguru looks back at Satoru when a realisation hits him.

“You have reverse cursed technique. Why didn’t you heal it? Why did you get injured in the first place, what happened to your Infinity?”

Satoru’s eyes guiltily shift to the side and Suguru sits back on his haunches. He knows that look; it means that Satoru is up to something—has been up to something—and Suguru doesn’t like it, not one bit, because it means Satoru got hurt.

“Satoru.”

He doesn’t say anything else, because Satoru knows him just as well as Suguru knows him, and so Satoru knows that this tone of voice means that Suguru is no longer joking around.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru whispers out, dragging his sleeve back down and hiding the injury from sight.

He still doesn’t heal it.

“Are you hurt anywhere else? Is something interfering with your technique, with your energy?” Suguru asks, trying to keep calm, though it’s hard when Satoru’s sleeve is still wet with his blood.

“No.”

Suguru closes his eyes in relief. At least there’s that, he thinks.

“Then what is it. How did you get hurt?”

“I let it happen,” Satoru admits, still keeping his head turned away and Suguru reaches up to push the blindfold off his face.

“Look at me and tell me why,” he says, keeping the blindfold in his hands to keep them occupied.

A part of him marvels at the fact that Satoru allows him these things so easily, but he has to remember that he’s angry with him right now.

Worried out of his mind, more like, but Satoru only needs to know that he’s angry.

“I—it’s stupid,” Satoru finally says and Suguru snorts because if Satoru allowed himself to get hurt then that’s a given.

“You don’t say,” he gives back and softens when Satoru pouts at him. “Satoru, you’re bleeding all over my room. Please just tell me what’s going on.”

“How about I just go see Shoko and we forget all about this?” Satoru gives back but he doesn’t actually move because Suguru’s gaze pins him to the bed.

“How about you heal that cut up with your own technique and explain yourself to me?” he shoots back. His words come off harsh, his voice tinged by the worry he tries so hard to hide but when Satoru presses his lips together, Suguru reaches out for his hands.

“Please, Satoru. What’s going on?”

“You were so gentle with Yuji,” Satoru says and it’s so out of left field that Suguru blinks at him.

“Huh?”

“When Nobara cut him during training, you were so gentle when you patched him up.”

“Okay,” Suguru slowly says, making it sound more like a question than a statement and Satoru lets out a harsh breath.

“I wanted that, too,” he admits and his voice is barely audible in the room. “I was always untouchable and the one time someone did manage to get to me, he forced me to learn how to heal myself. No one ever—” Satoru cuts himself off there but Suguru can guess where this is going.

No one ever took care of Satoru like that.

“Okay,” Suguru softly says, squeezing Satoru’s hands. “This requires stitches though, which I am not equipped to give you. Can you heal it up enough that a bandage will do?”

He knows that he shouldn’t go along with this, probably, but it’s Satoru. And for once in his life he’s asking to be taken care of, and who is Suguru to deny him that.

Satoru stares at him, clearly surprised that Suguru isn’t yelling at him, but that will probably come later. For now, Suguru is going to bandage him up and treat him just as gently as he deserves.

“Satoru?”

“Yeah, sure,” Satoru blurts out and Suguru gives him a small smile.

“Stay here, I’ll get the kit from the bathroom and then we’ll take care of it.”

He gives Satoru’s hands one last squeeze before he gets up and rushes to get the first-aid kit. Satoru has manged to wrangle himself out of his jacket in the meantime, so when Suguru gets back he can get to work immediately.

Satoru healed the cut up well, but not so well that they can leave it like that and Suguru is gentle as he cleans it out, wiping the blood away, before inspecting it again.

“It looks clean. I’m going to wrap it now, alright?”

“Sure,” Satoru says, his voice coming out strangled and Suguru tries to hide his smile.

He gets a bandage out and wraps it around Satoru’s arm evenly, making sure it’s just tight enough to stay on for however long Satoru wants it to stay and when he’s done he makes a split second decision.

Satoru sucks in a surprised breath when Suguru leans forward to press a kiss to the bandage as well.

“Don’t do this again,” he then whispers as he pulls back and immediately, Satoru’s expression stutters shut into one of the many masks Satoru carries around with him for other people.

“Of course,” he says, his voice only trembling the slightest bit and Suguru sighs.

“Satoru, I’m asking that of you because I hate seeing you hurt,” he admits as he reaches out to tangle his fingers together with Satoru. “I’m going to be as gentle and caring and soft with you as you want, but please do not ever get hurt like that again.”

“You—what?” Satoru gets out, his face bright red and now Suguru wonders if that cut on his cheek a few weeks back was part of this as well.

Probably, knowing Satoru.

“Satoru, I—don’t you know I’m going to give you everything you want? You just have to ask for it,” Suguru whispers out, because really, this is the crux of the matter.

Suguru is always afraid of going too far, pushing too much, giving everything of himself when it’s not wanted but if Satoru were to ask for it—

“Please,” Satoru breathes out and Suguru has half a mind to tease him, to drag this out more, to make him use his words, but they have both danced around this thing for too long now.

So he leans up, smiling slightly when Satoru meets him halfway and then he doesn’t think for a while because kissing Satoru apparently wipes every thought from his head.

“No more injuries,” Suguru whispers when they finally part and he was prepared for Satoru to slide off the bed and spill into his lap, so he sits back and simply hugs him close.

“No more injuries as long as you take gentle care of me,” Satoru gives back and Suguru laughs fondly at him, burying his face in Satoru’s hair.

“Don’t I always take good care of you?” he wants to know, because really, Satoru should have seen that much sooner, but it doesn’t really matter now, he guesses as he scratches at Satoru’s scalp when he nods.

He’ll still take extra good care of Satoru now, be more gentle with him if that’s even possible, and love him harder than he did all these years so far.

That, at least, will be very easy for Suguru,.

[ladylynse]

Happy Halloween! 👻

For continuing a three sentence fic - I’d love it if you wrote more of the second idea for “file cabinet” or the thermos/drowning fic

Links:

https://ladylynse.tumblr.com/post/728500835869474816/i-went-on-a-trip-down-memory-lane-and-visited

https://ladylynse.tumblr.com/post/185211125716/hi-there-im-feeling-a-little-evil-today-so-how

Happy Halloween, Anon! I think the file cabinet was the more popular prompt with people, so I went with that one even though the temptation to torture Danny further was very much there. The original three sentence fic is copied here, and the rest is under the cut.

-|-

Logically, Vlad knew Daniel couldn’t escape his current predicament without help, and the vultures—incompetent though they could be at times—were capable of handling the simple task of alerting Vlad to the inevitable arrival of Daniel’s little friends.

That didn’t stop Vlad from giving into the urge to pull open the middle drawer of his filing cabinet to make sure the little badger hadn’t woken up and escaped since Vlad had stuffed him in there upon Valerie’s unexpected arrival, though.

Vlad had gotten Valerie out of his hair sooner rather than later, and his newest invention had done the trick in taking care of Daniel since he was still unconscious, but Vlad couldn’t help but feel that the other shoe had yet to drop; he’d won this time, but he still half expected something to explode in his face whenever he opened the drawer to check that Daniel was still there, and he doubted he’d feel otherwise until Daniel woke up and was finally forced to come to the realization that he didn’t have the upper hand.

-|-

In hindsight, Vlad supposed he should not be surprised that the other shoe had waited to drop until the little badger had woken up.

Oh, Daniel still didn’t have access to his ghost powers—Vlad had made quite sure of that—but it seemed that he was far from powerless.

Evidently, lock picking and untying knots had been added to Daniel’s repertoire, and Vlad would have to ghost-proof some cable ties in the near future. Daniel’s escaping the pilfered Fenton Fisher line was less of a surprise than his escaping the purloined Fenton Cuffs (Vlad had wanted to account for the possibility of another ghost helping him as best he could), since Vlad had no idea what he’d managed to use as a lockpick. Sam’s influence, no doubt. Her parents weren’t as high class as they liked to pretend, but Vlad had met them enough times even before moving to Amity Park to be quite sure she’d taught herself how to pick locks in early childhood.

Not that any of the particulars mattered when Daniel, freed of his bindings and his gag and now the filing cabinet drawer, was hurling priceless Packers memorabilia in Vlad’s direction and cursing up a storm while doing so.

“Language,” Vlad scolded lightly. He was intangible and floating just slightly off the ground, and he had a duplicate ready to ambush Daniel before he could grab something else Vlad didn’t want to be destroyed, but it was hard to keep up the pretence of indifference when he could hear something break as it hit the wall behind him.

Sadly, that was the reason Vlad was down to one duplicate.

Daniel scowled. “Says the guy who thinks butter biscuits is a satisfying swear. Seriously, get a better writer. Maybe you can hire the Ghost Writer because your original stuff sucks.”

“That’s not—!” Vlad bit off his protest. Daniel was trying to rile him, but at least when he’d started talking, he’d stopped throwing. Vlad let the duplicate lapse; he didn’t need the headache of splitting his concentration, and Daniel seemed bound and determined to give him a headache. “I’ll be frank with you, shall I?”

“I mean, I guess calling you Frank is a step up from what you usually want me to call you, but….”

Vlad heroically resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Let me be crystal clear. Whether you like it or not, you fell for my trap, and your little friends are going to be more than preoccupied with dealing with my employees. You may have escaped from a drawer, but you have not escaped this room, and you will not escape me. You do not have as many options as you seem to think you do.”

Daniel tilted his head. “You sure about that? Because I think you have it backwards. You fell for my trap, my friends are keeping your employees busy, and now you don’t have as many options as you think you do.”

Vlad shot him a withering look. “Bluffing will get you nowhere.”

“Who says I’m bluffing? Even if you don’t think we saw your setup coming a mile away after all those hints Skulker’s been dropping, Sam and Tucker aren’t my only friends.”

“The ghosts—”

“The rest of my friends are not automatically ghosts. Geez, don’t you stalk me enough to know that? Wasn’t that what all your creepy spy stuff was for? Learning everything about me and Mom?”

Vlad sighed, but Daniel would only keep interrupting. Vlad wouldn’t lose anything by humouring him on this. “I can handle your sister.”

“Okay, one, she’s gotten better, and two, she’s not who you’re missing, so it’s a moot point even if you don’t believe me.” Daniel grinned. “So how about some show and tell?”

The final words were pitched louder and carried an emphasis they shouldn’t have, given the mundane nature of the conversation, which should have been Vlad’s first clue. Or perhaps his second. Third? The first clue he shouldn’t have missed, anyway.

But hindsight is always 20/20.

“I dunno,” said Valerie’s voice above him, clear even above the whine of her charging ecto-gun. “You told me a lot, and this showed me a lot, and I didn’t hear a lot of denying going on where it mattered.”

Vlad slowly raised his hands, though that was more for the show of it than anything else. Half the weapons he gave Valerie wouldn’t work on him, or at least wouldn’t work well—if he could figure out a way to exclude his ecto-signature and therefore being recognized as a ghost, he’d done it—but she wouldn’t know that.

Besides, being shot with an ecto-gun in this form would hurt more than it would a regular human, even though he’d set these sorts of weapons to automatically adjust and downgrade their charge should they ever be aimed at him or one of his duplicates.

“Whatever lies Daniel has been telling you—”

“He’s not the one who’s been lying to me,” Valerie hissed, and as Vlad finished turning to look up at where she was perched at the window entrance she always used, he realized that her weapons were not lit with his ecto-energy but with Daniel’s.

They had planned this.

Daniel really hadn’t fallen for his trap; he’d waltzed into it and turned it to his advantage.

Butter biscuits.

(see more fics)

[fastcardotmp3]

Re: the tags of that post you just reblogged from me - AU where Steve and Eddie swap roles for just the final fight (Eddie’s with the girls, Steve’s with Dustin) but with an added subplot where we meet Steve’s parents early in the season & maybe they’re trying to get him to grow up/move out/think about his future, or something else, but they’d have to feature somehow so we still get that ending scene except it’s Robin telling his parents he didn’t make it (im picturing a very tragic recontextualising around the phrase “you need to do something with your life” leading to Steve drawing the bats away from Dustin)

That’s just my quick thoughts though, I’d love to know how you’d do it!

oh I LOVE this you've got my brain spinning I have so many thoughts and it's all your fault!!!

(I am so sorry for how long this got)

I think there are for sure many versions of this plotline that could work BUT here goes nothing

I definitely agree that we'd need to introduce Steve's parents early on (in my ideal world we'd have met them sooner than s4 for this plotline but alas I'm not in charge I'm simply posthumously script doctoring) and I think one version of the conversation there could come from a place of wanting what's best for him, but centering itself around ambition and choice in a way that sticks with Steve.

"You had so much ambition when you were still in school, Steve-- all of your sports, how sociable you were-- what happened to that? Where did you lose that along the way?"

And Steve flounders a little bit, because he's gotten to the point after season 3 where he can see himself better from the outside, is just that touch more self aware and good at reading not just other people's feelings but his own.

So it takes him a beat to put it into words, but he's able to, is the thing--

"Maybe I don't need to go down the-- the usual path to end up where I want to end up."

"Is this where you want to end up?" his mother asks, "working at a video store for the rest of your life?"

"It's not about that," Steve shrugs, pouring two travel mugs of coffee all the while, one for him and one for Robin.

Because he knows it's not about that, he spent all of last summer learning it's not about that and the months since discovering that there's a certain amount of peace in knowing that things aren't perfect but that matters less when you have your people around.

"What's it about then? Steve, I just-- I don't want you to get stuck here, when I know you could do so much more with your life if you just chose to."

"I'm not doing nothing with my life, Mom!" he laughs, exasperated but certain for once in his goddamn life. "I'm-- I'm actually doing really well right now, I've got good friends and I've got the kind of job where I'm kept busy while I figure out what's next for me and I'm just... happy, I guess? Like, can't my ambition just be to keep doing stuff that makes me happy? Can't I choose that?"

And he has to go to work, has to walk out and promise her that they'll talk about it more later, talk about it with his dad too, but Steve knows what he cares about and this isn't going to shake his resolve.

What he cares about is this group of people who have changed his life even more than the monsters did, who brought enough good into it to at the very least match the bad, and in some cases (like the girl already monologuing as she climbs into the front seat of his car and accepts her coffee with a mocking kiss to his cheek) somehow usurp the bad.

Steve doesn't have to be what this town expects of him, what most likely to end up rich superlative voters expect of him, what his parents expect of him, because his life isn't about being any particular something, it's in the doing.

It's in the swinging of a baseball bat, the swinging of his fists to keep the people he loves safe.

It's in the morning drives to get Robin to school on time and the late night ones to make sure Dustin meets curfew.

It's in the friendship he's managed to find with Nancy in the past year, the knowledge that this version of them is the best one by far.

It's in the days driving the kids to the trailer park to visit Max even if she ultimately ends up refusing to come out with them, because at least they're doing it, at least they're trying with her.

It's in this, too, when they drive out to Reefer Rick's place and some of the claims of happiness start slipping through Steve's fingers again with the proof that it isn't over, the fight.

But they've beat it before and they can beat it again. It's in the doing, and Steve has gotten knocked down many a time but the thing he always does is he always gets up on the other side.

He knows this. He trusts in this. He's built a fucking worldview around this because that's where his ambition went, Mom.

That's what happened to "Steve Harrington, actually a cool dude."

Steve's humble enough to thank Eddie for saving his ass, but he's done this enough times to still be able to reassure the guy who calls him badass that, "It always looks hopeless right before we win. Don't freak out too bad if it looks like the end of the world, huh?"

Eddie looks at him like he has two heads, says he's jealous of Steve's optimism.

Even Robin tells him that she thinks they might not win this time but all Steve knows is that they always have before. All Steve knows is that his instincts usually work out, let him protect the rest of them long enough to make the big and vital moves necessary to beat this thing.

All Steve knows is that he just, he's changed a lot but-- He's just the same kid who was cocky enough to run back into the Byers' house to fight a monster, stubborn enough to let the Russian's beat the hell out of him before he'd let them do the same to Robin and he--

"I don't know, I still have hope. Maybe this is the first time we actually win. Forever."

There's this sense of finality to it, hanging in the air, and she doesn't look convinced there in the same way she doesn't look convinced when he and Dustin are saying goodbye to the other three at Eddie's trailer, but Steve kisses her once on the forehead and says, "what are you waiting around for? Go kick some ass, your schmuck will be here when you're done."

His instincts have always protected them in the past.

It's his instincts that have him formulating a plan the second he realizes the bats are going to get inside the trailer, going to make a break for the gate and attack whole swaths of people unprepared for such a thing.

Dustin will be mad about being abandoned on the other side, but Steve's pissed him off before and he's always gotten over it.

It's in the doing, his ambition.

It's in the doing, the key to a well-spent life.

It's in the doing, the being of Steve Harrington, overconfident nature and all.

He always gets back up, every knock to the head and blow to the ego, Steve always gets back up, so he holds his ground and fights. Leads the bats away and keeps them there.

His mother wasn't wrong that he's changed, but she wasn't right when she claimed the thing he'd lost was his ambition. He'd found it, this force of nature in his chest that makes him willing to face down hell if it means the people he loves are safe.

He always gets back up, a tail around his throat.

He always gets back up, teeth in his flesh.

Steve Harrington is a pro at getting knocked down.

"I'll get up in a second, just-- just a second--"

"Steve there's-- there's so much blood-- Steve, you need to-- you have to get up now--"

"It's okay, it's okay, we won, just-- just another minute. Wanna see that-- Rob and the others made it back. Then we--can go--"

Dustin is crying. Dustin is holding him.

And Steve is bleeding out, he thinks somewhere indistinct and hazy at the back of his mind. He'll get up and fix that in a minute.

"You die, I die! Hey, hey motherfucker! Don't close your eyes-- you die, I die, you hear me?!"

It's in the doing, really, that Steve does as he's told just long enough to see the other three come stumbling out of the tree line towards them.

It's in the doing, in the choice of it, that he dies knowing they won.

(His mother wails when Robin approaches her at the shelter two days later with sunken eyes and unwashed hair. His father sinks into the closest chair and takes the offered keys to a maroon BMW with trembling hands.)

(It's in the doing that this time, in order to really win, they have to cling a little bit to his hope.)

[incomingalbatross]

im definitely okay and im not going to cry about minna sundberg saying she can no longer wholeheartedly recommend "a redtails dream" and "stand still stay silent". two of my favorite comics of all time

Okay so first of all, sorry for not answering this sooner! I was traveling Thanksgiving weekend and then got dropped RIGHT back into the end of the semester.

Secondly... if it helps, I think I get where you're coming from, but I also think it's an understandable move from her while also not impairing my enjoyment of the comics.

Minna Sundberg (at least last I checked) is a relatively new Christian. She's judging her life and the world by an entirely new light, and I think it makes sense and is prudent for her to say "I'm not sure what I think of these from a Christian viewpoint." Because she knows that's not something she had in mind when creating them! They are not, in their making, Christian art. Add on that she probably has less objectivity on them than anyone, both because they're so close to her and because her own thoughts in creating them are part of the product for her... Yeah, I think it's reasonable and even prudent for her to disclaim them a bit.

At the same time, though, I WAS a Catholic when I first read her art. I discerned then, as far aside remember, that there was nothing inherently immoral in there, and certainly nothing harmful to me personally. So I can respect where she's coming from and honor her motives, while also saying that (sharing her motives) I've found that her concerns aren't a problem for me as a reader.

Oh, and just gonna answer the other Sundberg ask here, since I assume that's from you! I agree her post-conversion comic is... WILDLY different. And certainly unsubtle - she was doing explicitly Christian allegorical social commentary, any ONE of which is hard enough, especially at a first attempt!!

But even if it's not on the same storytelling level as her other comics (and, again, might be apples and oranges given the different goals), it's her working out some of that new convert zeal, which is nice to see - AND being Very Loudly Christian in an environment which I don't think was super friendly to that. I can't help supporting her in that, even if it's not quite my style. And certainly I don't want to critique it.

(of course, if you're NOT Christian, I imagine it would be a much more distressing change to watch. I guess all I could say then is to wish her well and be grateful for the art she made that you enjoyed - and maybe keep trying to understand her new art, if you're not comfortable parting ways with her.)

[gizm0-gadgetz]

Fuck it. Shorter chapters. Please note i havnt written anything in a while, so im a little rusty :)

Epilogue Au

Chapter 1

Desmond wakes up to Lucas watching over him. Answers will have to wait, theres someone he needs to go and see.

    Desmond groaned softly, rolling over a bit. His body was so tense and sore, like he would snap if he moved. He faintly registered the sound of somebody moving, then there was a hand on his. He tried to look at the mystery person, only to get pushed down a bit. 

    "Calm down Desmond. You need to rest." That voice was framiler, he knew that voice. Who was it again? "Just let me help, alright?" The mystery man's voice was pained, but sounded relieved at the same time. "Guess they got to you before i did, huh?" Oh...oh! Lucas! It was Lucas! He made it! 

    "Lucas-!" He tried to sit up properly, but Lucas pushed him down again. "You made it-" 

   "Woah woah, slow down cowboy. You shouldn't move that fast… but yes. I made it, I wasn't just gonna ignore your call for help man." He squeezed Desmond's hand. "Scared me good, seeing you on the floor like that." 

   Desmond nodded, sitting up slowly this time. His joints cracked in protest, but he ignored it. Finally his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the room again. He took a moment to look around him. Man his office was a mess, though he wasn't that surprised. Lucas stood next to him, towering over him more so than usual. That's when he realized he was laying on his couch. Oh, that explained it. 

    "I'm glad you're okay man… Now, what the hell happened? Looks to me those bastards got to you before i did, judging by that box over there." Lucas gestured behind him to his desk. 

    "I'm fine. I think." He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "Look I'll explain later, first I need to know, has Allen awoken from his coma yet?" 

    "No, not that ive heard." 

    "Then cmon, we're gonna go visit him." He said, already standing up and grabbing his coat.  

    "Why would we need to visit him? As far as I know he hasn't responded to anything. Good as dead." 

    "Because I just...feel like something is going to happen." 

   "Why would something happen just because we visit him?" Lucas asked, following Desmond out the door. 

   "I don't know, okay? Alls i know is the world is going to hell in a handbasket and nobody is doing anything to stop it!" Desmond stopped walking, leaning against the wall and taking a few deep breaths. "Sorry. I'm just… A lot happened and I'd prefer to only explain once.. So id like to check on Allen first." He started walking again, faster this time. 

    "Hey, don't worry man. I'm on your side here. I just… Don't see the connection is all. Allen was just the lighthouse worker, wasn't he?" 

    "He was there when the crash happened." He spoke quieter, as now they had left the building. The town seemed so quiet compared to just a few weeks before. People were paranoid, hiding inside and only leaving occasionally. Of course there were a few who didn't believe anything was happening, but there weren't many. "He had called me about it, shortly after it happened. I wish I was there to answer." The wind was a bit chilly, but it wasn't that surprising. It was Washington afterall. 

   "He was there..?" Lucas seemed to be processing, trying to understand the connection. Then it clicked. "The fire. It wasn't his fault…" Desmond only nodded, crossing the street. "They tried to get rid of him… oh no." 

   "Exactly." Desmond kept walking, not looking at lucas. 

   "So it's true isn't it? That panicked call of his about men in black?" 

   "Must be, yes." 

   "Dammit… how did i not see it sooner…." Desmond shrugged as Lucas cursed a few more times under his breath. They continued to walk in silence for a good ten minutes after that, neither of them were willing to break the tension. 

    Desmond's pace slowed considerably as they approached the hospital. He was having second thoughts about this plan. What if they wouldn't let them see him? They could call the cops. That wouldnt do any good. 

    "Desmond." Lucas's stern voice cut through his thoughts. He blinked a few times before taking a deep breath. "You sure you want to do this right away? It might be best to put it off until you have recovered more." 

    "..i appreciate the concern, but it'll be fine." He smiled, trying to convince himself it would be okay. He was pretty sure Lucas doubted his optimism, but if he did, he didn't say anything. After one more deep breath, he reached for the door and pulled it open. 

    Hopefully Allen would be okay. 

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter III: Bleed the Freak

masterlist | playlist | chapter II

summary: you continue getting used to your circumstances, staying strong willed in the fight against the one thing you want.

tags/warnings: adult themes, excessive drinking, angst, rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader, gnc!reader, slow burn, heartbreak

a/n: am i destroying your lives with how sad these two idiots are yet? hopefully ch IV will be out much sooner, im already writing it. this one is a lot of filler but y’all need to learn what happened in the time gap somehow! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. reblog to support the author!

June 1986

“Tada!” Eddie gestures to your new bed frame, shoved against the wall of a brand new trailer in Forrest Hills.

“You sure you want this? We’ve only been together for six months. What if we hate each other? What if-“

“Sh, sh. Babe, if I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t have done it. C’mon, now.” Eddie grabs your mattress from against the wall. “Help me move this?”

You grab the other corners of the mattress, heaving it onto your new frame. “Wanna try it out?” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you make a show of rolling your eyes before shoving him onto the mattress, still without any sheets.

-

Present Day

Your POV

“So-“ “Um-“ You both speak at the same time.

“You can-“ “You go-“

You both laugh dryly, then fall to an awkward silence. You break it first, “Look, you shouldn’t feel like you have to talk to me, I don’t know what Steve said, but-“

“Y/n, if I didn’t want to talk, I wouldn’t.”

You nod, a little embarrassed.

“How’re you doing?” You ask him finally.

He raises an eyebrow at you, genuine confusion written on his features. “How am I doing? That’s a stupid question.” You roll your eyes. This is the most you’ve spoken to him in years, and none of it is substantial. You squirm under his glare, suddenly very aware of your shoes.

“Look, I’m not happy about it either, seeing you has brought up a lot of unwanted memories.”

“Unwanted?” You almost think he sounds hurt.

You nod, your lips pressed together. Icing Eddie out is the only way you see yourself making it through the season. “You think I wanna drag up all our dirty laundry on my first big tour? It’s not like we ended things too amicably. This shouldn’t be at the forefront of my mind right now.”

Eddie shrugs, his arms crossed over his chest. “I didn’t know you still felt so strongly.” You can’t tell if he’s putting on an act, or if he’s finally over you.

“Well, how do you feel?” You shouldn’t care. You should stop talking to him right now, actually.

He shrugs again. “Album cover kinda threw me for a loop.” He chuckles nervously.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

Eddie snorts, but he doesn’t look amused. “How’d you imagine me finding out, then?”

“You wouldn’t have been anywhere close to me, for one. I dunno, I pictured you watching MTV or something, or seeing it at a record store and falling to your knees.” You try to joke, but he doesn’t laugh. “Something less immediate, I guess.”

“So you’ve been thinking about me?”

You groan, “I didn’t really have a choice, considering the subject matter.” Eddie looks at you, worry carved into his forehead. “You haven’t listened to it yet, huh?”

“Should I be concerned?”

It’s your turn to shrug. “Depends on how you receive it, I guess.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

You take a sip of your drink, willing it to get you drunker. “I’m not trying to reassure you. I don’t need your feelings on my conscience.” It comes out harsher than you intend, and Eddie winces at your words. You don’t take them back though. The further you can push Eddie away, the better both your chances for a good tour are, you’re convinced.

“Right, well, I’m gonna go.”

You nod. “I think that’s a good idea.”

He turns, throws the door open, and saunters out of the green room. It takes everything in you not to break down.

-

Eddie’s POV

Ouch. Eddie isn’t sure what he expected, but he can feel his hopes crash down. His heart sinks to his stomach as he wills himself back into the crowd. No one’s around to guard him, and he lets the fans swarm like locusts, ready to eat him alive.

“Hey, HEY! Back up, move aside!” Steve comes galloping from the far side of the room, wiggling his lanky limbs between sweaty bodies as they fight to reach the tips of Eddie’s fingers, or the ends of his hair. “Eddie, man, what the fuck are you doing?! You need to tell a guard, or me, when you do this shit!” Steve’s shrieking over the screaming girls surrounding him. Eddie ignores his protests, snatching markers to sign tickets, posters, and any pieces of skin offered to him. It doesn’t fill the void in his chest, the one you’d left when you ripped his heart out, but it’s a welcome distraction. It feels good to mean something to these strangers without having to give a shit about them in return.

Just as Eddie’s thoughts are about to pull him under, Steve yanks his wrist out of the mob of people, and into a seat at the bar. “Nope, no, Eddie’s not signing things right now, you gotta go.” Steve shoos the remaining kids away, while Eddie waves at the few that catch his eyes. “Are you suicidal?” Steve sits back into his own stool. Eddie avoids the question, biting his bottom lip until he tastes blood. “Oh my god, are you suicidal? What happened?”

Instead of answering right away, Eddie waves the bartender down, and orders his fourth whiskey of the evening. The room is only slightly spinning, Eddie knows how to hold his liquor. He’d rather face the consequences tomorrow than have his mind stuck on you all night, the words that flew from your tongue and right into his heart, somehow breaking it all over again.

When she returns with his drink, Eddie hands the bartender a five, sending the busty brunette a wink. She giggles at him pathetically, leaning into Eddie to whisper in his ear. He nods his response, whispering back to her before she skips away, a shit eating grin on her face.

Steve can’t help but sit there, mouth agape, eyes wide. “What?” Eddie asks, almost innocently.

“What the hell was that?”

“She told me when she gets off, I told her she could help me get off.” Eddie shrugs. When she returns, she slides him a piece of paper with her number scribbled on it. “Thanks, darlin’. I’ll be sure to call.” He’s grown used to the attention from people, fans of not. It’s easy to get into bed with someone when there aren’t strings attached. Eddie hasn’t let himself love since losing you. On tour he chooses to fill his spare time with meaningless sex, trying his best not to picture you on top of him instead. But he’d never say that out loud, even to Steve.

Steve can read Eddie like a book, though. “That shit isn’t healthy, man. It’s not my business as your friend what you do or who you do it with, but as your Record Label Assigned Babysitter for this tour, it’s the first thing I need to watch out for.” He tries getting Eddie to look at him, but his eyes are behind him, already signaling the bartender to bring him a fifth drink. “Alright, that’s it. I’m cutting you off.” Steve yanks Eddie’s free arm as hard as he can, managing to bring him to his feet.

“C’mon, big boy, let me play a little longer.” Eddie whines, making a scene of grabbing for the counter.

Steve only rolls his eyes before tossing another three dollars onto the bar, and begins dragging Eddie back towards the dressing rooms while shielding him as best he can from the crowd.

-

You POV

It’s 3AM when you and Robin finally swing your hotel room door open. “That wasn’t so bad!” Robin exclaims, ripping her tight t-shirt over her head in favor of a much baggier one. You do the same, ripping your dress from your body like you’re unwrapping a christmas present. Once you’ve pulled up your shorts, you climb into your bed, facing Robin as she mirrors your position.

“It was kinda bad.” You mumble, avoiding her gaze.

Her eyes widen. “Do tell?”

You sigh, knowing this will probably all reach Steve by lunch tomorrow whether Eddie tells him or Robin. You decide there’s nothing worth dancing around it. “I talked to Eddie.” Robin’s mouth falls open, but she doesn’t interrupt. “Not for long, not really about anything. I think I might’ve been a bit mean. I told him I didn’t care how he felt about the album.”

Robin’s quiet for a second, hopefully not completely judging your character. “I think you do care. Immensely.” There’s no hint of sarcasm in her voice, she’s simply telling it like it is. And of course, she’s right. “You told me yourself, when we were writing Decay With Me, you didn’t want to hold him back from his dreams, right? So you never told him about us getting signed to Sub Pop.” It rips you apart hearing Robin’s gentle voice give you such a harsh reality check.

“I know, and I still stand by that decision. I’m sure he’s grateful for it.” It hurts to speak the words out loud, but you mean them. Eddie deserves to be the rockstar he was born to be, and you were only ever holding him back. Getting signed was an excuse to leave, but telling him that would have had him trying to make it work between you two. If you were being honest with yourself, you wanted the space from him, too. You’d wanted to find who you were outside of Eddie, beyond your relationship with him, and all you’d discovered was that you’d made a huge mistake.

-

Eddie’s POV

He hunches over the toilet of his hotel room, making noises he’d previously only heard in horror movies. He can usually hold his liquor, but all the whiskey combined with his conversation with you has left him drained and sick. Luckily, he has the hotel room to himself, and plans to use that to his advantage. He pulls the bartender’s number out of his pocket. When he can’t read the numbers, he tosses it in the trash.

When the room stops spinning, Eddie rises from his spot on the floor, heaving himself to his feet. He barely makes it to the bed, where he flops down onto the mattress, still fully clothed. He lands on something sharp, and rummages around in his jacket until he pulls the CD out of his pocket. Eddie inspects it again, willing himself to open it. Instead he flips it over, and reads the track list.

Decay With Me

Choke On It

Underneath Hell

Pretty Boy

Indiana

Broken Brain

Tighten Up

Skin Deep

Smell Her On You

Tinnitus

Going Home

He reads them over and over again, theorizing what they could be about before he plays the album. He’s not even sure he wants to listen, if he’s ready for the words you could’ve written about him. He’s written his own, about you, masking his feelings in analogy and imagery, but you’ve always been unafraid of saying exactly what you mean. He knows it will be the reality check he needs to really get over you, but he wants to keep his grip on the false hope for as long as he can. He shoves the album into his suitcase, willing his brain to forget about it for now.

-

“Up and at ‘em, big guy!” Steve barges into Eddie’s hotel room early, rousing him from another dream about you, or nightmare about the Upside Down, immediately making him aware of the intense pounding in his head. He throws his pillow over his face and groans as Steve busies opening the shades. “C’mon, man,” He yanks the comforter off of Eddie, pulling another frustrated growl from him. “You have press all day today, or did you forget that when you were drowning yourself in liquor?”

“Just give me five minutes and another whiskey, I’ll be good as new!” Eddie whines into the pillow. Steve exhales as Eddie rolls over, hands resting on his hips as he makes sure Eddie commits to standing up.

“Are you able to function?” Steve’s tone is stern, and guilt settles deeply into Eddie’s chest.

“Yeah, man. I’m good.”

“What the hell happened last night?”

“You walked me to my fuckin’ death is what happened.” Eddie spits as he enters the bathroom to splash water on his tired face.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/n wanted nothing to do with me. Told me they don’t care about,” he air quotes, “‘my feelings.’”

Steve looks at Eddie with genuine sympathy. “I’m sorry, man. They’re gonna be a lot harder to break than I thought. Just know they didn’t mean that.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I should’ve known better than to listen to you.”

“You can cry about how I’m the devil on our way to the interview, let’s go!”

“The devil would let me have another drink.” Eddie mumbles, gathering his clothes from the previous night.

“Not gonna happen!”

-

Your POV

The shoot for Spin Magazine is hectic, with stylists and makeup artists bustling around you like a glamorous pit crew. Right now, you’re in clothes you’d wear everyday; an oversized flannel, a Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt, a long black skirt, and big, thick boots. Despite the comfort of familiarity, the outfit is still purposefully exaggerated, but it’s nothing compared to the dress waiting for you on the rack.

You try your best not to squirm while Harley does your makeup. She’s the one friend you hadn’t lost touch with from Boston. She’d made a point of insisting on being your personal makeup artist “when you make it big.” Though you’d snorted at her words only a decade ago, you kept your promise.

Harley moves on to Robin, patting dark red eyeshadow on her eyelids. You inspect yourself in the vanity, the mirror streaked and dusty. Something turns in your stomach as your thoughts escape you. Death Dance is still a relatively small name in your scene, even since getting signed. Having all of this attention on you is something you still can’t fathom. You wanted this, you do want this, but you’re not so sure you can handle the pressure. People are constantly watching you, some even waiting for you to fail.

“Y/n?!”

“Yeah, hi, what?” You’re snapped out of your spiral before you get too stuck, knowing it’s a breakdown you’ll return to later.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for like five minutes!” Robin waves her hand in front of your face, and you don’t even blink. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm great! Let’s get this show on the road!” You shrug your shoulders, shaking off the weight stuck on your back. Sylvie comes up behind you, clasping their hands on your shoulders, and you relax at their touch.

“You got this. Let’s go look sexy!”

The rest of your bandmates agree with piercing cheers, and you join them.

-

Eddie’s POV

“So, on your new album Freak Show, there’s a song titled Sweetheart. It’s far different from the rest of the tracks, a calming break before the climax of Severed Thumb and Wiped Clean. What influenced this mood change?”

The interviewer is a young girl, probably in college. She’s wearing a light blue blouse, buttoned all the way to the top, and a pair of white jeans. She sits across from Eddie in their dressing room, as he waits for CC to be called for their shoot. Eddie bounces his leg nervously, jonesing for a cigarette.

“Uh, well,” he laughs timidly, “Sweetheart is about someone that was once very close to me. It’s about love and loss, and a whole shit ton of heartbreak, and the one person that never made me feel like, the freak, y’know?”

The girl nods, scribbling something on her notepad. “Do you still talk to this person?” She’s not prying for explicit information, unlike plenty of interviewers Eddie’s experienced.

“That’s um, it’s complicated.” No. It isn’t. He doesn’t talk to you anymore, not on purpose. Beyond the failed conversation last night, Eddie doesn’t know if he’ll ever get to speak to you again outside of shop talk.

She moves on. “Who would you consider to be Corroded Coffin’s influences? Biggest inspirations?”

Eddie hates this question. He doesn’t try to make his music sound like anyone else’s, but originality is dead in the eyes of art, he’s learned. He humors her. “We’re all really big Metallica fans. Master of Puppets has a huge spot in my heart. Bands like Rage Against the Machine, Nine Inch Nails, and Alice in Chains were also on frequent rotation during the early stages of writing. Bleed the Freak is a masterpiece of a song.”

The interview continues, with Eddie trying his best to stay focused. He spots you walking down the hallway, past his room, dressed in a long tattered dress, your bandmates in suits of the same condition. He wonders how you must feel, being in the spotlight for real for the first time.

“Eddie, wrap it up, your turn for makeup.” Steve snaps him back to reality. Eddie sends Steve a thumbs up, and the interviewer says her goodbyes before shuffling out of the dressing room. As soon as the door closes, Eddie sends a shot of whiskey down his throat, and wills himself to continue the day.

-

chapter IV

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills | send a message to be added🫶

[missmouse25]

Me again 😂

Can you write something where the reader (you can call her Louise that’s my name hahah) and Max F are very close best friend and it’s one of them birthday, we can say that is the reader birthday and them and their friends are all going out for the night and the night ends with Max and the reader making out on the dance floor (but that’s not the first time because every time they are drunk they kiss and sometimes more). The day after they both wake up and decided that maybe be they should take a step further to their relationship

Thankkk you again :)

Hi friend... 😬 sorry that your asks are taking so long but! im back into my writing now so they should be coming soonish (not making any guesses as to when though) please enjoy ❤️

Drunk on You - Max Fewtrell

gender neutral first person pov // 1034 words // minor warning for drunk reader, that's it really.

--- The day had been wild already and I knew it would only get wilder as the sun set. My phone hadn’t stopped beeping or ringing since I woke up; there are only so many ways you can reply to a ‘happy birthday’ message and I think I’d used all of them.

I stood in front of my wardrobe, not getting any further than I had since I started five minutes ago, when my phone buzzed once more.

‘Hey. I heard a rumour that today is a special day or something 😏happy birthday. I’m sure it’s only just starting to get good though. See you later.’

Involuntarily, my eyes rolled as I read Max’s message because he wasn’t wrong. If he was going to the club with us later; I knew exactly how that was going to end and I wasn’t going to stop it.

~ The bass thumped through my body. In the middle of the club, my friends and I danced to our hearts content, downing another drink and generally not caring about anyone or anything else. But in the tiny part of my brain that was still thinking clearly, I was caring, continuously glancing at the entrance hoping that he’d show up already.

‘He’s not your boyfriend, stop thinking about him and enjoy yourself!’

But no sooner had I thought that when a hand slipped around my waist and a voice in my ear.

“Having a good time?”

I didn’t need to look to know it was Max: that flirty voice would be the death of me one day.

“Took you long enough to get here,” I retorted, continuing to dance.

I tried to move away from him, knowing it was a tease, but he was faster and pulled me flush against him. His hands slid down onto my hips, holding me tightly.

“Don’t run away so fast, I haven’t given you your present yet.”

Even through the hazy air of the night club, his eyes shone and he flashed a naughty smile. We both knew what he was going to do but the game was half of the fun.

“A present? I don’t see any gifts?”

“It’s not a gift you can open… You have to close your eyes and I’ll give it to you.”

With an exaggerated sigh, I did as Max said but for a moment nothing happened. The music kept playing, the people kept dancing. The space between us stayed exactly the same.

‘Why is he hesitating?’

Then his lips found mine. He was gentle but hungry, and it didn’t take long before I was pulling him into the shadowy corners of the club to take it a bit further. It always felt good having his hands on my body, his breath on the skin of my neck.

But when the night was over and I found myself at home, I knew I felt different somehow. Something had changed between Max and I. My head was still too floaty to figure it out. I fell into an uneasy sleep.

~ It was midday by the time I crawled out of my bed, the remnants of my hangover clinging to me like Cinderella’s rags after the ball. I splashed some cold water on my face and I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, seeing the marks from where Max had been last night.

“Is this all our relationship is?” I asked no one. “Just quick hook-ups in night clubs for special occasions?”

I caught my own eye in the reflection and my expression told me everything I needed to know.

I had only just gotten my first cup of something warm when Max came into the café. He still had dark circles under his eyes and his hair had been hastily brushed but he still looked good.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down opposite me.

“Hey.”

Max ordered his coffee before looking at me.

“What do you wanna talk about?”

He asked it so casually and not as if our whole relationship was about to change – for better or for worse.

“Max, you’ve been my friend for a long time now. You’re one of my closest friends. But I can’t keep going on like we are,” I said as I fiddled with the handle of my mug. “Either we’re friends and we act like friends, or we’re more than friends but then it has to be serious. It has to be real. I can’t keep doing what we did last night because…”

Taking a deep breath, I gathered all the strength I could muster.

“Because I want to be more than that. I want us to be more but if you don’t want it then we have to stop doing what we’ve been doing.”

The sounds of the people around us was almost deafening. Every clink of a spoon. Every buzz from the coffee grinder. It all sounded too loud in the silence between us.

“You’re right.”

Max’s words take me by surprise. Of all the things he could’ve said, I wasn’t expecting it to be that.

“You’re right, we can’t keep doing what we’re doing. I don’t want to.”

‘That’s why he hesitated last night.’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t want to do this at all. This is the end of us.’

I looked down at my drink letting his words wash over me and accepting my fate. That was until Max gently took my hand in his own.

“I’ve wanted to be more for a while now but I thought that you didn’t. I nearly didn’t go to the club last night and even when I was there… I wanted it to be different. But I was willing to do it if it meant I got to have you in any kind of way.”

It was taking time for my brain to process.

“Max, what are you saying?”

This time, it was him who sighed dramatically, before he smiled.

“I want to be with you properly. I want to be your boyfriend,” he said. “If you’ll let me.”

My mouth turned up and I felt my cheeks grow warm.

“This is a much better birthday present than last night.”

We laughed quietly as we began something new together.