#guy who doesn’t want to admit he needs help + guy who gets anxiously obsessive about giving that help literally recipe for disaster

[loverboydotcom]

my brain is mush so i cant write prose but do know that i as usual am thinking about best friend dynamics and caretaking dynamics, and the way they integrate in beau and bobby’s relationship arc, and what it means to not just require increasing levels of daily care but to receive it from the person who’s always been your peer, the same guy you grew up with and experienced teenagehood and adolescence with, and now you need him in a vulnerable way you never expected to need from anyone, and how them being best friends shapes that caretaking dynamic in both positive and negative ways, but ultimately in the end it integrates with that friendship and deepens their bond in a way nobody could understand but just them

[imtooscaredforthis]

Fixation

Chapter 25: Exes

Mentions of: Anxiety, Paranoia, Jealousy, etc.

Tags: @autisticpickle @dead-bxxxtch-walking @darthwhorecrux @mama-miya @stwbwwychan

Sitting at your table, you bit at your nails, bouncing your knee anxiously. You had yet another essay due, and your final exam was coming up in a couple of weeks. You knew you had to focus, and yet you couldn’t.

Because he was on your mind. For once, you couldn’t think of Ghostface, and you didn’t know if you should be relieved or scared. To be honest, you felt both, besides the constant paranoia that consumed you.

It’s fine. I’ll be okay. It’s not like he’s following me. He probably doesn’t even know where I live, right? He’s not that crazy.

Still, you couldn’t help but get to your feet and go over to the door, double-checking the locks, and peekng through the curtains covering your windows. There was nothing. No one. You really needed to calm down.

Unfortunately, you were still suspended from work, and Jed was busy as always, so you couldn’t distract yourself. You had been trying to with your essays and work, but it was no use.

Maybe you just weren’t trying hard enough. You supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try and focus up a little more, and maybe even relax a bit with a glass of wine and a nice bath.

--

Danny took a long breath, eyeing your house. It was dark, inside and out. Curtains, blinds, all covering the window. You were hiding. Trying to shut someone out. And it wasn’t him.

Maybe you did like Ghostface. At least, you liked him more than whoever this guy was. Ghostface should give you a call, maybe even reward you. But first, he had to figure out who this guy was and what he did to you.

“See you soon, babe.” He muttered under his breath, before starting up his car and driving away.

Danny ended up driving through the city, going back to that bar he took you to the other night. He knew it had something to do with that band. Specifically that singer, Alex.

They seemed new in town, being a band he hadn’t recognized or seen before. He still remembered the way that singer looked at you. The way he kept on looking at you. And how you couldn’t look back, averting your eyes and squeezing Jed’s hand, your body trembling with fear and anxiety.

The one same question kept plaguing his mind, repeating over and over again. Why were you so scared? Why? Why? Why?

Managing to sneak in with quite a big group of people, Danny made his way through the bar, heading over backstage. He knew they would be here, since they had announced they would be playing all week, every night, at six.

“Looks like you got some groupies, Alex.” The guitarist said, making the lead singer let out a soft chuckle.

“Of course I do,” Alex said, brushing his silky blonde hair aside. He wasn’t even that good-looking. He had too much hair, a beard that didn’t suit him well, and a bit too much meat on his bones, with all that muscle, he was just-

Okay, yeah, Danny will admit. He is jealous. To be that good-looking and scare you that bad? It was something to die for. Or rather, something to kill for.

“You gonna ‘meet with them’ after the performance?” The drummer asked, fiddling with the wooden sticks, flipping and twirling them around.

“No, I told you guys, I’m here for (y/n).” Alex reminded them, and Danny noticed how the other band members grew uncomfortable, glancing at each other and anywhere else but Alex.

“Right. But doesn’t she still have that restraining order on you or whatever? I don’t think it’s the best idea to-”

“It expired two weeks ago. And you know the reason why we’re here is for her. You saw the way she was looking at me on stage the other day. I know she still misses me and when I find her, I’ll remind her that she’s mine.” Alex interrupted him, speaking poisonously, his tone laced with venom.

Not anymore. You don’t even know who she wants now. Who she’s afraid of. Who she’s obsessed with. It’s me, not you, and she belongs to me.

Is all Danny wanted to say, while jamming his knife down this bastard’s throat, but he knew he couldn’t. Not yet anyway. First, he has to learn a lot more about his new friend and what he had to do with you. He seemed to have a big impact, like an ex or something, and Danny couldn’t help but wonder how did he miss this?

He thought he had been so thorough, scrutinizing everything in your life, every little detail about you and you hid this from him. He couldn’t help but feel betrayed. You two were definitely going to have a talk after thi-

Suddenly, Danny lost balance due to the curtain he was once leaning on slightly being pulled aside by Alex, who was now standing in front of him. Shit.

“Oh, hey,” Jed said awkwardly, propping himself up against the wall, trying to figure out how he was going to get out of this situation.

“Do I know you?” Alex asked cluelessly, a blonde eyebrow cocked.

“Uhm no, no you don’t. I just saw you guys play the other night and I wanted to let you know that you sounded great. I’m a big fan.” Danny lied, hoping that inflating his already massive ego would get him out of this.

It seemed to work, a smile crossing Alex’s face, all the hostility disappearing from his expression. “That’s always great to hear. I could sign something if you want.”

Of course, he thinks I want an autograph. How delusional can he be?

“That would be awesome.” Jed pretended to go through his pockets, searching for a pen. “Oh shoot, I don’t have a pen.”

“What a shame. It was nice meeting you anyways.” Alex dismissed, and Danny might actually be getting away with this.

“Hey, wait a second. Weren’t you out eating dinner with (y/n) the other night?”

Shit. Fuck. He knows.

“Oh yeah, we were on our first date.” Jed turned back around, facing him and chuckling nervously.

“That’s nice,” Alex said, cracking his knuckles, before grabbing Jed by his collar. God Damn, he’s as strong as he looks.

“But let me just tell you something. (Y/n)’s mine. I’ve just been away, on a little trip. But when I get back, and when I find her, she’ll kick your sorry ass to the curb.” He hissed, and Jed glared at him, eyebrow furrowed, fists clenched and shaking with rage.

“You’re wrong. She hates you. You’re fucking delusional to think she wants you. Why do you think she left in such a rush after your performance? If she wanted you that bad, wouldn’t she stay to catch up? Quit chasing after a girl that’s terrified of you and do something productive with your life, you douchebag.”

Alex’s grip tightened on him, and he raised his fist, moving to punch him, and Jed prepared for the impact. But the guitarist came in and interrupted him. “Alex, we have to go. We’re already late enough as it is. What are you doing?”

“I’m dealing with something, okay? I’ll be there in a second.” He snapped, and the guitarist shook his head, letting out a sigh and walking away.

Alex let Jed go, pushing him back. “Just get the hell out of here.”

Danny brushed off his shoulder, where he had just pushed him, glaring at him before leaving. “Wait, one more thing. Where does (y/n) live?”

[shig-a-shig-ah]

LAYING CLAIM

» pairing: dabi x fem!reader

» cw: dubcon, revoked consent, noncon (we’re going on a journey, okay?), rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, crying, gratuitously fanon characterization. 18+, minors DNI.

» a/n: Started this months and months ago, and since I’m finally getting around to wrapping some WIPs, I guess you can have it now. Thanks @thebiggergroove​ for beta-reading!

» wc: 5.3k

» ao3 mirror

Like my work? Support me on Ko-fi or request a commission.

The thing about Dabi is he's not usually a possessive guy. Fucking is fucking, as far as he's concerned—it doesn't really matter who is doing it with whom as long as everyone is getting off on it. But goddamn if there isn't something about you that makes him want to make you his.

And he's gotten that, more or less. It took some sweet talking and cajoling, and a few late nights where he made you come until you couldn't see straight, but you agreed not to go sleeping with anyone else. Sure, you've made him promise the same, but that's fine. Not that he's going to actually stop, of course, but he goes out on recruiting missions alone and he figures what you don't know won't hurt you.

That's all enough to satisfy him, at least for a little while. But then a few weeks pass and there it is again: that stupid jealousy and all those unbidden thoughts about the people you were with before him. People he knows. You never talk in too much detail about your past hookups, but he's not stupid, is all too aware that he's not the first one in this ragged band of miscreants that you've crawled into bed with. You've fucked Jin, and Shigaraki, and probably even Magne, god rest her soul—Dabi hadn't missed the way the two of you had huddled up giggling in the corner of the old bar one night, disappearing together unusually early, making those bedroom eyes at each other. And in theory that's fine. Nothing wrong with two girls having fun together, after all. Hell, bi chicks are hot and Dabi wouldn't mind taking advantage of that someday.

But first he needs to find a way to get the image of you with your legs spread for half the League out of his goddamn head.

If he's being honest, it's Shigaraki who bothers him the most. Magne is dead. Jin is a decent dude and, Dabi has to imagine, tame as a kitten in the sack. But Shigaraki, well...Dabi can tell just by looking at the guy that he's a freak, and the idea of you riding Shigaraki's dry, crusty dick, of letting him do who-knows-what filthy shit to you? It just gets to him.

And then Toga has to suggest that stupid game and go putting ideas in his head.

You're all sitting around the crumbling office space that passes for a hideout, drinking to celebrate the League's first successful double-amputation (because fuck that germophobic, transphobic prick), and blondie is just begging to play a drinking game. Normally Dabi doesn't go for that shit—why anyone needs an excuse to get wasted is beyond him—but he's in a good mood, and you make that adorable pouty face as you tell him that you played in college, that it's really fun, and somehow he finds himself sitting in a circle on the dusty floor with the rest of you losers playing 'I haven't' or whatever the fuck it's called.

It's all bland shit to start. Toga's never driven a car, Shigaraki's never gone to school. But, after you've made your way around the circle once, everyone seems to be loosening up and Spinner takes one for the team by getting to the interesting shit and admitting he's never slept with a girl. It spurs a moment of awkward silence made all the worse by his red face and obvious self-consciousness about being a virgin, but then Compress stage-whispers "Neither have I," before winking salaciously at the blushing lizard and taking a dramatic pull from his beer bottle. It's enough to lighten the mood.

After that, Dabi's forced to admit it's a decent game. There's not much he hasn't done sexually or criminally, and since those are the two topics everyone focuses on, he finds himself getting hammered faster than usual. It's a good thing too—his buzz makes it easier to ignore the look you and Shigaraki exchange when Jin announces that he's never tried watersports, easier to pretend his gut isn't twisting at the knowing smirk on your leader's face as he raises his beer bottle to drink and you follow suit.

That particular moment makes it all the more surprising when, on your next turn, you hide an embarrassed face behind your hand and announce that you've never taken it in the ass.

Dabi can't stop thinking about it the rest of the night. Obsessing over it, and the idea of being your first, your only, even if only in some less than conventional way. The thing is, it's downright tame in comparison to a lot of what you two get up to, so barely even kinky that it's almost impossible to believe you've never tried it. Sure, you've never done it together, but he'd just figured neither of you were all that into it, since it hadn't come up when you were doing lewd shit to each other.

That kind of sex is fine from his perspective, but only fine. He doesn't actively seek it out because in his mind nothing beats the feel of being balls-deep in a warm pussy, but that doesn't mean he hasn't done it. He's hooked up with plenty of girls that were into it and has always been happy to oblige; hell, he's even taken it more than once, on account of the fact that when it comes to the bedroom he's willing to try anything twice.

But doing it with you? Well, that thought sticks. The two of you finally go to bed and Dabi's so turned on by the idea of your virgin ass that he can't help testing the waters, prodding teasingly at that tight hole with one spit-slicked finger until you're squirming away and whining. He doesn't manage to convince you right then, but he makes those puppy dog eyes that are far more effective than they have any right to be, and you agree to give it a go in the future.

"Not here," you specify, the words fuzzy on your drunken tongue. "Someplace nicer, with a real bed." You already have your reservations, and you certainly don't relish the idea of undertaking that particular venture now, on a worn mattress in this falling apart building, with its paper-thin walls and complete lack of hot water. Between your booze-fueled haze and the seeming interminability of the League's poverty, you mostly forget about that casual promise by the following morning.

But Dabi doesn't. He picks up a small bottle of lube the next day and carries it around in his pocket shamelessly, a little reminder that he has something to look forward to besides roasting that prick Endeavor, and he strokes himself off to the idea more than he's proud to admit as he waits for the League to move on to better things. He can be patient, when he needs to be.

That patience takes a toll though, and the minute the League settles into their new digs in Re-Destro's sprawling villa, where there's actually privacy and clean, comfortable beds, Dabi shows up at your door with a cheshire grin and every intention of finally getting something from you that's just for him.

You grimace when you remember that promise, try briefly to talk him out of it even, but he isn't so easily dissuaded. It's made all the harder by the fact that you can't give him a specific reason why you've never tried it, beyond that it seems uncomfortable and you hadn't particularly enjoyed the couple instances when you'd allowed someone to slip a finger or two in there.

"C'mon, baby girl," Dabi coos, his breath hot in your ear as he pins you to the wall, working two unnaturally warm fingers into your cunt. "I'll make sure it's good for you. Be gentle, get you nice and warmed up first, all that sweet shit."

It really is unfair how persuasive he can be when he fixes those pleading turquoise eyes on you. The way the pads of his fingers are curling just right deep inside isn't helping either, and he teases you like that until you give in to his cajoling, though you still insist on waiting a couple nights so that you can do your research and make sure you're entirely prepared. Dabi demonstrates his appreciation by burying his face in your cunt and not surfacing for air until you've come three times and are begging for a break.

When the night finally arrives, Dabi's feeling positively giddy. He slips into your bedroom with a bottle of wine and a couple glasses he's brought, a little something to help you relax because he's a gentleman when he wants to be. It should be good booze too—he lifted it from Re-Destro's private stash, and he's certain baldy doesn't drink anything that costs less than ¥30,000. Of course, Re-Destro doesn't love sharing either, but the uptight prick is too scared of Shigaraki to complain about anything the League does. They all take advantage of that, because they can and because it's fun to watch him bite his tongue when they piss him off.

You don't make it easy for Dabi to focus on pouring the drinks though, not when you're reclining in that armchair by the window, freshly showered and fidgeting nervously. He was half-erect before he got here from just thinking about what he was going to do to you, and the sight of you acting like you're some blushing virgin spurs him all the way to rock-hard. By the time your glasses are close to empty, he's straining uncomfortably in his pants, and can't fight back his impatience any longer.

"What do you think, doll?" he murmurs, setting his glass to the side and standing up, shrugging his jacket off before leaning down to ghost his lips over your neck. "You ready to move this to the bed?"

The way you chew at your lower lip anxiously before nodding makes his dick throb.

You empty your glass with one final, large swallow, your heart racing as you rise. You know it's stupid—you and Dabi have fucked countless times and a lot of it hasn't exactly been vanilla—but it's been a long time since you've actually tried anything new. His obvious excitement doesn't help either, paradoxically; it leaves you fretting about what will happen if you're somehow bad at this, or if you can't take it and have to stop. You've never really worried about disappointing him before, but now the thought weighs acutely on your mind.

It's with halting steps that you approach the bed and then, when you can't realistically drag your feet any longer, you finally tug the nightgown you're wearing off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor to reveal what's underneath.

"Damn, baby girl," Dabi breathes, looking you up and down. You'd figured that since it was a special occasion you might as well dress up, donning a strappy bra and panties. They're little more than elaborate, crisscrossing pieces of lace, all white since he'd seemed so fixated on this pseudo-innocent, first-time act. His reaction doesn't disappoint, eyes lighting up as he stares at you hungrily.

You let yourself fall back on the bed, nestling against the many pillows. The look on his face has your stomach fluttering, and the wine has helped you to relax a bit despite your nerves, a pleasant warmth spreading throughout your body. It's joined by a different kind of heat when you feel the mattress dip beneath Dabi's weight as he positions himself over you, one knee resting between your thighs, just barely brushing against your center, a hint of what's to come.

"You look so good I could just eat you up," Dabi whispers hotly against your ear before tracing his lips over your jaw. Even though he wants to take his time, let himself savor this, it's taking every ounce of patience he has to keep the promise he made to get you worked up and ready for him, to not to tear those pretty bits of satin and lace off and have his way with you right then.

You whine eagerly when his mouth slants hungrily over yours, savoring the feel of those mismatched lips, the way the rough skin of the bottom one contrasts so deliciously with the top. Hot hands run over your sides as the kiss deepens, your tongues tangling together, and you moan against him.

When you finally break for air, Dabi moves his lips to your throat, his tongue lapping at your pulse before he sinks his teeth into you. He loves to mark you up, loves making sure everyone can see that you're indisputably his, and it's even hotter now that he knows he's going to fuck you in a way no one else has. You're shivering beneath him as he works, your hand tugging insistently at his hair, and Dabi lets out a low, throaty growl.

"Guess I'm not the only one who's eager, huh?"

Your hips tilt in response, pressing needily into his firm thigh, and Dabi can feel the skin on his cheeks straining against his staples as he grins. He traces one hand up over your ribs, cupping at your supple breasts, teasing your hardening nipple through the flimsy fabric of your bra. Those deft fingers work under the seam of your lingerie as he shifts his weight, increasing the pressure against your center while he pinches and tugs at the peaks of your breasts until you're whimpering, spreading slick along his leg even through your thin panties.

Dabi pulls away abruptly, rolling onto his back and tugging at you to change positions, shaking his head when you move to mount his hips.

"Come here, baby girl," he says, his tongue tracing over his bottom lip. "Like I said, I wanna eat you up."

The promise in those words sends a bolt of heat straight through your core as he guides you to straddle his face, hot breath tickling your inner thighs. One calloused thumb brushes your clit lightly through your underwear, blue eyes sparkling when your breath hitches at that soft touch. When he pulls that useless fabric to the side and runs his tongue over your already-damp slit, you shudder.

Dabi lets out a pleased groan at your reaction and gets to work more earnestly, lapping at your sensitive nub, licking and sucking until you're moaning and only then shifting a little so that he can lap at your insides, that same rough thumb replacing the pressure of his tongue on your clit. It strokes firm circles as he buries that hot, wet muscle inside you, the metal barbell there teasing your inner walls as you grind involuntarily against it. You can't help but whine when he withdraws it, but that disappointment is quickly replaced by you startling as that same wet muscle extends further back to tease at your puckered entrance.

"A-ah, Dabi, wait," you protest, your face heating up self-consciously almost at once.

Dabi pauses, shifting just enough to keep his reply from being muffled as one warm hand runs reassuringly up your thigh. "I don't think I can help myself, doll," he says, his slick-coated lips splitting into a wide grin, "you just taste too good."

That heat in your face worsens as he dives back in, not even waiting for you to respond before he's flexing his tongue to poke at that tight ring of muscle. You still try to squirm away, feeling unprepared for this. You hadn't even considered it among the possible activities were volunteering to participate in, but Dabi is holding you firmly in place with the hand not working at your clit, and when another whine of protest escapes you, it's weaker than the first. The foreign sensation of his tongue against your neglected hole has you hyperaware of the press of his thumb at your apex, and you can feel tension building in your core even as you writhe in embarrassment.

It's as though he knows, too, and you suppose maybe he does; after all, he's the one who's done this before. He thrusts his tongue a little deeper, rolling your clit between two hot fingers with enough pressure to cut off any further protests. A long moan is the only sound you can muster as you spill over the edge, your thighs clenching around his head and your hips jerking shakily as you ride out your climax with his tongue still buried obscenely in your rear.

Dabi's face is covered in your juices by the time he slides from between your thighs, and he wipes it away carelessly with one arm as he repositions you again, pinning you on your back and wasting no time peeling away your now-soaked panties. He grins at the sight of your glistening folds and swollen clit before stripping off most of his own clothes, kicking them unceremoniously to the side and relaxing between your legs, kissing at your still-trembling thighs.

He teases at your sensitive cunt with his fingers, coating them in your juices as you whimper. "Ready for a little more?" he asks, and you nod despite the fact that your cheeks are still burning from before and your stomach is knotting with nerves.

"Just...go slow, okay?"

"Of course, baby girl," he promises, "I told you I'd take good care of you." With that, he starts to work you open, dipping one finger into your tight hole just until he reaches the first knuckle, working it in and out slowly. His other hand toys at your clit, stroking and rolling that puffy nub again, making you mewl.

Dabi waits until you're relaxed before trying any more, pulling away from you just long enough to dig the lube from the pocket of his discarded pants, coating his fingers with it. He works that lone finger deeper this time, in and out until it's buried to the last knuckle.

The sensation is strange, but not entirely unpleasant; even if you think you'd rather have that finger curling in your cunt, the slight stretch is still adding to the faint throb already growing inside you, the one that worsens when his thumb returns to your apex.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Dabi growls when one well-placed stroke of his thumb has you clenching lightly around his finger. He ruts his hips against the sheets, trying vainly to find some relief for his aching member, but it's not enough—he needs to feel you, needs the vice-like grip clutching his fingers to be wrapped around his cock, and he needs it soon.

You feel him withdraw to add more lube, and then he's fingering you again, adding another digit to stretch you wider. It comes with a stab of discomfort when he forces his way past the second knuckle, and you reflexively try to pull back. "Dabi, that's too much."

He abandons his soothing attentions to your clit, one warm palm pressing you tight against the mattress to keep you in place, stroking soothingly at your hip. His breath tickles over your inner thigh as he chuckles softly. "If you can't take this, how are you ever gonna take me, hmm?" he says teasingly. "You're doing great, baby, just relax."

You will yourself to unclench, trying to picture Dabi's satisfied face once you're taking him, that adoring look he sometimes gives you, the one that you relish. Your efforts are only marginally effective, but Dabi keeps pushing deeper, fucking you slowly but insistently with those fingers, and when you don't complain again, his thumb returns to caressing your sex.

"That's a good girl." Dabi picks up the pace, cursing under his breath. "You're doing so good."

You're wriggling against his hand now, trying to increase the friction at your center, not quite minding the foreign sensation of his fingers and the uncanny fullness they bring so much now that there's heat thrumming in your core. "Y-yeah, like that," you pant encouragingly, and Dabi grins.

"That doing it for you?" he purrs. "Think you can take more?"

You start to shake your head—the stretch now feels like all you can handle—but Dabi's already adding a third slick finger, shoving it in with less restraint than before. You feel more than discomfort this time when three knuckles breach your asshole, and it quickly dampens the arousal that had been steadily building. "Dabi, slow down," you gasp.

"Aw, are you sure you can't handle it?" His blue eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide with arousal as he looks you over with the hungry gaze. "'Cause if I'm being honest, it feels like you're trying to suck me in. Like this greedy little hole wants to get fucked."

The huskiness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, even as another whine of discomfort escapes you. For just a second his expression darkens slightly, but then he's slowing his movements, twisting his fingers instead of thrusting them in and out.

"Better?" he asks, and you think you catch an edge of impatience in his voice.

It is better though, a little at least, enough that you can focus on the way your cunt flutters every time his thumb strokes over your clit. So you just nod; it's not like this wasn't bound to be a little unpleasant at points, right?

Dabi's smile stretches wider, his thumb working faster. A mewl slips from between your lips and Dabi takes that as encouragement, his fingers resuming their persistent thrusts. It's still uncomfortable, though not quite as bad as when he started, and your teeth sink into your lower lip to bite back your complaints. You let your eyes fall closed instead, trying to focus on his attentions to your hooded nub, on the heat that's pooling in your lower belly. You're inching towards another release, and you let a hand lift to your breast, tweaking at the pebbled flesh of one nipple to help yourself along.

"D-dabi, I'm close," you stammer, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Yeah?" His movements speed up, his voice breathy and excited. "Do it, baby girl. Come for me and then I'm gonna fuck this tight little ass of yours."

You swallow hard, trying not to dwell on those words for now—you can tell you've loosened up more, tolerating the jab of his fingers, but his cock is substantially larger than those, all too intimidating. Thankfully, it's not hard to remain distracted, to focus only on your approaching peak.

Dabi can feel that orgasm rip through you when it hits, your asshole clenching around his fingers as you keen, and it's then that he reaches the limits of his patience. He needs you now, needs the thrill of burying himself in your tight ass and claiming you for his own, of reaching his own release deep inside and then watching his seed spill out afterwards. What a satisfying sight that will be.

He scrambles up from between your legs to catch your lips with his, fumbling his boxers off as his tongue invades your mouth. When he pulls away, his eyes are bright, needy. "Ready for me?" he asks.

You're not, not really, but you can see the fervor in his eyes, hear the urgency in his voice, and you convince yourself that he won't be able to work you open much more with his fingers no matter what. Your agreement doesn't matter anyway—he's already rolling you onto your side and slotting his chest against your back, his straining erection poking at the cleft between your thighs.

"Like this?" you ask, surprised by the choice of position.

"Just like this," he pants in your ear. His teeth nibble at your lobe as he slicks his cock generously with lube. "Want you spooned against me so I can see those cute faces you make, feel you squirming when you take me."

And fuck, when he slips one hand back down to finger your asshole one last time, it doesn't disappoint—your body ripples against him when that invasion catches you off guard, and he can see the way your lips part obscenely as you gasp at his touch. His fingers abandon your tight hole almost as quickly as they'd entered, and then Dabi is aligning himself with your entrance, using the last of his restraint not to slam his hips forward and bury himself inside with a single thrust.

You can feel the spongy head of his glans, and the slick coolness of the ring that adorns his tip, prodding at your rear. One of his arms worms its way under your side, his hand groping distractedly at your breasts as you tense in anticipation.

"Relax, baby girl," he murmurs, but he doesn't wait for you to even try. He's already slipping in, moving slowly until he encounters resistance an inch or so inside, and then pausing.

He has to struggle to keep his composure. Even like this, with not even the full head of his cock in your ass, his balls are tightening, just the thought of what he's doing nearly enough to send him over the brink. He waits until he's sure that won't happen and then starts moving, pushing insistently to work you open around his length with shallow thrusts.

"A-ah, Dabi, g-go easy," you stutter, already squirming. You can feel your body resisting the intrusion, so much larger than his fingers, and it aches slightly every time he tries to breach that inner ring.

"I am, baby, don't worry. I'll take care of you." His cheek is nuzzling against yours, his lips kissing and sucking wherever he can reach, but his motions don't change at all even as he murmurs so sweetly. He only slings one arm over your hips, toying lazily at your clit. That attention helps you relax, helps distract you a little, but it's not enough to prepare you for when he drives himself in further, finally surging past that taut band of muscle.

The invasion brings a sharp pain, one that has you crying out. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your body reflexively contorting to try and escape the cause of that hurt, but his arms tighten around you, holding you in place as he continues to work himself deeper with every thrust.

"Dabi, that hurts." Your words are sharper this time as each stroke sends another unpleasant throb through your overstretched hole, but his only response is to plunge the fingers rubbing at your clit into your dripping cunt.

"Shh, you're doing great." He curls his fingers, stroking against that spongy spot deep inside. It makes you writhe, but that does nothing to address the pain between your legs as he fucks you.

"Dabi, don't, that's not helping, I—"

"It's okay, baby girl, you're taking me so well," Dabi coos. You'll adjust, he knows you will—you're usually up for anything, of course you can take this. And fuck, there's no way he can stop now, not when it's even better than he'd imagined—hotter and softer, your pillowy walls enveloping his length every time he plunges into you, the exquisite tightness of your entrance massaging his shaft with each thrust.

"I'm not— I don't— I don't want to do this anymore." You can hear the desperate edge in your voice now. Your heart is racing and there's a cold sweat forming on your skin as tears of pain and confusion start to leak down your cheeks. "Dabi, stop."

"Shh, shh, you're fine. You—fuck—you feel so amazing. 'S never been this good with anyone else, fuck."

"I don't care, I don't want this." You can't understand what's happening, why he's not listening. You twist your head to look at him, pleading with your eyes, but he's barely even focusing on you. His blue eyes are glazed and half-lidded as his lips wander over your shoulders and your neck, all the while murmuring those useless reassurances against your skin. You're thrashing now, your feet scrambling for purchase on the sheets as you try frantically to pull away, but he keeps his tight grip on you, one of his legs hooking around your own to hold you in place. "Dabi, I said stop!"

He shushes you again, rutting into you harshly, and a choked sob escapes you when he bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your backside as you struggle against him. You feel sick to your stomach, and it only worsens when he pulls out until nothing but his tip remains, then drives himself back in with one agonizingly rough thrust.

You keep begging, pleading, wracking your brain and trying every past safe word you can recall, but he only continues to pound into you, his breathing erratic as he pants in your ear. "It's okay, baby. You're taking my cock like such a good girl. You're—ngh—making me feel so good."

The ache between your legs is diminishing slightly as you adjust to his girth, your body entirely unconcerned with whether you want that or not. He's still fingering your sopping cunt too, his palm grinding against your oversensitive clit with each plunge of his long digits, the lewd squelching sound of those attentions mingling with the sharp slap of his hips against your ass as he fucks you.

"You like this?" he asks, but you know he's not really asking. "You like knowing I'm the only one? That I'm making you mine, just mine, just like how it should be?"

"Dabi, stop. Please stop." Your appeals are feeble now, far more for yourself than for him as you continue to utter them between quiet sobs. Dabi's somewhere far away, awash in the tight heat of your ass and the satisfaction of finally staking his claim on you, aware of your supplications but not hearing them, not really.

You slump, still sobbing, and let him take what he wants. His attentions to your cunt have a coil tightening in your gut, but when your climax hits it's perfunctory and mechanical, no real pleasure to be found even as your hips jerk and your holes spasm, a joyless whine passing from your lips.

No real pleasure for you, at least. But fuck, the feel of you squeezing around his cock as you come is what Dabi has been waiting for, your insides massaging his length as though desperate for him to decorate your walls with his cum. It's a gift he's glad to grant—he rocks his hips more urgently, keeping his thrusts shallow now so that he's sure to get it all deep inside.

"Fuck," he groans against your neck. "Gonna make me come, baby girl. That what you want? Want me to fill you up?" You shake your head, but his movements are already growing spurtive and erratic, his grunts louder and throatier, and then you can feel his cock jerking inside you, a hot rush of cum flooding your guts.

Dabi doesn't stop then, either, keeps fucking his seed into you until he's softening, not quite able to work himself in and out of your tight, abused hole any longer, and only then does he finally pull out, a dribble of cum leaking obscenely down your thigh.

You're sniffling, drawing shaky breaths, and you try to pull away the moment his arms relax around you. They only tighten again, his lips planting soft kisses along your temple.

"Shh," he murmurs. The sound of his shushing makes you want to scream. One hand lifts to wipe at the tears on your cheeks. "You were so good, baby girl, there's no need to cry. You were fucking incredible." He means it too, doesn't think he's ever come so hard in his life as he did now, making you his.

Dabi can't wait to do it again.

[whosscruffylooking]

Instinct Part Two: Interrogations and Intrigue (Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader)

A/N: I'm super excited for this part. Spencer and Reader’s relationship finally has some foundation!

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings! Mentions of suicide and manipulation. 

(Reader’s POV)

I tap my foot anxiously as I peer around the bland and intimidating interrogation room. It looks like something out of a mental asylum in a 1980's horror movie. They want me frightened? They got me.

Count Dracula barges in abruptly and sits opposite from me. I wince at the sound of the metal chair scraping against the cement floor.

“My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner. I'd like to take a moment to get your description of the man who broke into your apartment," he shows no emotion.

I nod, "Well, he had his hood up and a bandana on, but from what I could tell, he had green eyes...maybe blue...or hazel. I'm sorry, I'm not a hundred percent sure. He was just a little bit taller than me, so maybe 5'8 or 9. He climbed out of my window, so clearly, he's at least slightly athletic. He disguised his voice; he made it sound almost like Batman."

He writes down some notes. A statement that the other agent presented to me at the crime scene puzzles me. I decide to inquire for myself.

"The other agent..." "Dr. Reid?" "No, Emma? Emily?" "Yes, Agent Prentiss." "Yes, her. She told me at the ambulance that I might be the key to solving this. What did she mean by that? This wasn't just a one-off robbery? How could it involve me?"

He purses his lips, obviously pondering the right response, "What do you know of the Nomad Boys?"

My heart rate rises, but I promptly disguise my anxiety. "You get straight to the point, don't you," I quip, "I know that they used to operate about a block from my old neighborhood growing up. A lot of people have lost their lives because of them. Both figuratively and literally."

"Are you aware of your brother's involvement with them?" Agent Hotchner examines me.

I gasp. What kind of game is he playing here? I shift uneasily in my seat, "Excuse me?"

"We have significant evidence that your brother Jeremy was involved with the Nomad Boys from 2015 until his death."

I slam my fist on the table, "How dare you. How dare you bring my brother up and implicate him in illegal activities that he had no part in. Is this what you people do? You're so desperate to close a case that you can't admit defeat in then you pin it on people who aren't even here to defend themselves?"

"You seem relatively defensive yourself. Care to explain why?" The emotionless man taunts.

"Two hours ago, I was the victim of a failed robbery, and now I'm being interrogated by the feds about my dead brother? Is that not a good enough reason to get defensive?" I clamor back. 

Tears sting my eyes and threaten to spill over as I dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand, trying frantically to suppress my growing rage. He watches me like a predator to its prey. The sound of my rapid heartbeat muffles my hearing. I can feel my skin heat up with anger. I stare right back, eager to display my disdain for his treatment.

"If you'd excuse me," he gathers his files and leaves the room. I exhale shakily and hastily wipe the stray tears from my eyes, desperate to gain my composure.

(Spencer's POV)

Hotch exits the interrogation room and clutches my shoulder, "You're up. She knows more than she's letting on, even if she doesn't realize it. She will feel more comfortable with you." "Hotch...I-I feel like maybe Emily or Morgan should go in. Not me." "Why?" He glares at me. I swallow the lump in my throat. 

I have a job to do.

"Forget about it," I say, stepping past him into the dimly lit room. She looks up at me with pleading eyes, silently begging me not to put her through what Hotch did. I sit across from her, noticing her obsessive picking at the skin of her fingers. Her knee bounces and lightly taps against the underside of the table.

She takes a deep breath and breaks the stillness, "Whatever it is they are thinking, it's not true. None of it is true. They're wrong." 

"Y/N, I appreciate your willingness to cooperate and come back to the precinct with us and sit in here to be interviewed." 

She throws her head back and laughs, "My willingness to cooperate?Interviewed? You mean interrogated, right?"

"I know this must feel like an ambush," I say, and she jeers, "but I promise if you just hear us out, the sooner we can rule you and your brother out of this." 

She sits up, eyes wide, her posture defensive, "You just said my brother and me. Am I a suspect too? For god's sake, I don't even know what we are suspected of! Do you think I'm apart of the Nomad Boys too?" 

Strike one, Spencer. Don't screw up again.

"I didn't mean it like that, y/n." 

"But you said it," she crosses her arms.

"I need to ask you some questions about your brother's death." 

"I'm going to be sick. Screw you, Dr. Reid." 

I can't manipulate her. I don't want to. I can't use months of researching her to achieve our agenda. 

It doesn't feel right. Why doesn't it feel right? 

But for the efficiency and success of this case, it's required.

"Every day, you wake up in fear of the nightmares that haunt you each night. You live with the images of your brother engrained in your mind. The patterns he used to follow every day have now been adopted by you, most likely in an attempt to keep his spirit alive somehow. You are constantly looking over your shoulder because, still to this day, aspects of his death leave you unsettled and uncertain. You opened the door today because you were under the impression that the person on the other side would be able to offer you insight into your brother's death. He couldn't because he had another agenda, but I can. I can give you that insight; I just need you to work with me." 

I watch as she struggles to fight the pain that comes from masking her fear. I got to her. 

Why do I feel so guilty? 

Her lip trembles as she begins to speak, "I know he didn't kill himself. That's all." "What makes you so sure?"

She releases a sob and then grapples with composing herself, "B-because he loved his family. He loved life. His girlfriend was pregnant; he was going to be a father. What kind of man who was so family-oriented and had such a bright future ahead of him would do that to himself, to his future child?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize he had a child." "Aren't you guys supposed to know stuff like that? Shouldn't you come in here armed and ready with any ammunition needed to break me down?" She cocks her head. "We do. We try to find out all vital information on our suspects and those connected with them." "That's how you know that I follow the same routine as my brother? Have you been watching me?"

I can feel a bead of sweat drip down the back of my neck; I reach my hand around to pat it off and to buy myself time to come up with a sufficient answer. She chuckles, "You don't have to answer that. I've seen you and Count Dracula in there tailing me."

My heart stops, and I swallow unexpectedly, slightly choking in the process. "For professionals, you sure don't take into consideration the fact that most people are suspicious of black SUVs now...mainly because of tv shows. Black Suburbans with tinted windows are either law enforcement or a celebrity. And judging by the fact that no celebrity would ever willingly set foot in my town, I was quickly able to determine which I was looking at every Monday and Friday from 10am to 5:30pm. You should really try getting some red cars, maybe blue, just try and blend in a bit." 

"Actually," I begin falling back on my knowledge as a way to diffuse the situation, "Any vehicle, when suitably modified, can be utilized as a police vehicle, but the most prevalent are those produced or altered by manufacturers for the role of being a police vehicle."

"Validation and dissemination: am I making you uncomfortable, Dr. Reid?" She raises her eyebrow. I adamantly shake my head, "Not at all. I was merely dissecting your point and proving it to be a failed tactic to intimidate me."

She looks at me keenly, but not in the way she had looked at Hotch. No, she peers at me as if striving to convey a message, an offer to be her ally. While locked into her gaze, I can't help but study her. Contrary to all of the times we followed her, hidden within the shelter of our car, I can now learn her up close. She is attractive in a flawed, approachable way. Her vulnerability camouflages a might that even she doesn't perceive exists.

(Reader's POV)

I study him thoroughly. He baffles me. A man in the station he is, maintaining the job he has, and bearing the weight of both victims and perpetrators on his shoulders, should be coarse, bitter, emotionless, much like the first agent who grilled me. Yet, here he is, eyes lighting up when he starts to spout off facts. His nervous ticks overflow, making it seem like he is incapable of withholding the truth of what this job does to him. He doesn't want to put me in this position. He's not like the standard brute that treats this job, and it's prey as if they are nothing but a bridge to walk over to get appreciation and approval.

"I want to help you," he proposes in a hushed tone.

"I know," I whisper, easing back in my seat. 

Unexpectedly, he offers me a wink and then stands from his chair. Stepping over to the door, he clasps the doorknob but delays for a moment. I look at him in anticipation. Looking back at me, he declares, "I'm going to get you answers. I promise you that." And with that, he's disappeared behind the two-way glass. A feeling of being left alone in an alternate universe overwhelms me. 

Spencer is somewhere out there on the side of the good guys, his reputation untainted, with the certainty that he will be going home tonight. I, on the other hand, have lived in uncertainty since my brother died. Here I sit, on the side of the glass that is riddled with darkness and evil. Spencer lives in a world of heroes. But I have been subjected to the world of criminals. I have a feeling, though, that I won't have to navigate it alone. 

Tag list:

@mcntsee

[bangtanloverboys]

part 30 // happy circumstance

series: good bad choices

pairing - stoner!yoongi x good girl!reader

genre - fluff

word count - 1.6k

warning - nothing

author’s note - im so so so so so sorry for not updating for a while, classes got busy. but i’m back! new part! let me know what you guys think!!

“Y/N, you’ve been in there for 15 minutes. You doing alright?” You heard Yoongi through the bathroom door you’ve locked yourself in.

“Al-almost!” You responded as you turned on the sink to splash water in your face for the fifth time. You’ve been trying your best to mentally prepare yourself for what was going to happen, for talking with Namjoon finally about his actions and how he’s made you feel the past several weeks. Taking a deep breath, you stared yourself down in the mirror. Gathering the small bit of courage you had tucked away, you shut the water and opened the door. “Ready.”

“You sure?” Yoongi questioned, no doubt sensing your anxieties as his hand moved to grasp yours. 

“Yeah, just nervous I suppose.” 

“Okay, remember that you agreed to talk to him. You made no promises to let him back into your life.” He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “This is going to help.”

You nodded, his words echoing in your head as he started leading you down the hall towards the front door. You agreed to meet Namjoon at a cafe not far from your apartment, so you and Yoongi decided on walking there. Usually you like the silence of walking around with Yoongi, giving you peace of mind and not having to fill it with small talk. But the quiet only made your nerves stand more on edge. 

When you got to the doors of the cafe, you could see Namjoon through the glass, anxiously checking his phone. It was your first time seeing him in person in a while, he looked practically the same yet something was off about him. His clothes looked rumpled and he was antsy, his hand tapping on the table. You swear you could hear the tip tip tip of his fingernail against the wood. 

Wrapping your hand around the handle of the door, you pulled it open, warm air of the coffee shop enveloping you as you walked in. Immediately, Namjoon met your eyes and frantically got to his feet. He gave you a stiff smile before waving his hand to beckon you closer. You couldn’t move though, you tried to move but it felt like you were glued to the spot on the floor. The mere sight of Namjoon has you frozen, you wanted to turn on your heels and walk right out the door. You couldn’t do this. It was better to leave things alone and over time the pain of losing your oldest friend will fade. Right? 

However, you felt your hand receive a gentle squeeze as Yoongi leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You’re going to be alright, you can do this.” Your head whipped around to face him, and he was giving you a small smile as he nodded his head in Namjoon’s direction. “Come on.”

You meet Namjoon’s eyes again and you see a twinge of fear. He must’ve been hurting as much as you had. With a sigh, you made your way toward him, Yoongi following a step behind. 

“H-Hey, Y/N.” Namjoon moved to hug you, but before he could even wrap his arms around you, you stopped him. 

“We’re here to talk,” you reminded him. You may not admit it, but you really did want to hug him at that moment. But the thought of hugging him and acting like nothing had happened wasn’t the way this was supposed to go. You needed to get straight to the point.

“Right,” his arms fell back to his sides, “please. Sit.” He gestured down to the two seats opposite of him. Yoongi pulled out your chair to help seat you, before sitting down beside you. The three of you sat in awkward silence, save for the continuous buzzing of the coffee shop surrounding you. “So, uh, you must be Yoongi.” Namjoon said, breaking the silence and reaching his hand over the table towards your boyfriend.

“Yeah,” he met Namjoon’s hand, shaking it firmly. “I wish we could’ve met under a better circumstance.” He quipped as he pulled back, your eyes quickly darted towards Namjoon who seemed to have been put off by the statement. 

“I- Right,” his head fell to look down at his lap. “I would like to apologize for that.” He started, “Despite the fact we’ve never met, I judged you harshly and said a few rude things to you. I’m sorry.”

“But why, Namjoon?” You questioned, now the attention of both of them is on you. “I went over every little thing I said about him and you- you just hated him. Even for things I told you were my decisions, you blamed him.” As you went on, Namjoon said nothing. He didn’t try to speak over you, or interject, he let you say your part before opening his mouth again.

“Y/N,” he sighed, “I know.”

Underneath the table, your hand went to grab Yoongi’s. His statement scared you, he knew what he was doing? You held your breath as he continued. 

“At first, it was with genuine concern. When he answered your phone that night and then you saying you smoked. . . I’ll admit the worst case scenario came to mind,” he shifted awkwardly in his seat, avoiding looking at Yoongi in the eyes. Yoongi however, remained calm and didn’t say a word, letting him go on. “I thought it was just going to be a one time thing though, that you’d be over it and never see him again. But it didn’t and the more you hung out with him, I-I got jealous.”

“Jealous?” You furrowed your brows as you tried to meet his gaze, but he looked away. “What would you have to be jealous of? You’re my friend, I don’t- Oh.” You couldn’t believe how you missed it, how obvious it almost seemed now. The way he jumped at any moment to your side whenever you asked, the vague tweets, it all made sense. “Namjoon, I-”

“Don’t.” He stopped you, finally meeting your eyes. “Don’t say anything. It was wrong of me to take my jealousy out on you. I said a bunch of things I didn’t mean because I let my feelings get the best of me. I know it’s not a real excuse, but I’m sorry. I truly am. To both of you, I hope you both can forgive me. But I understand if you don’t.” Namjoon finished, bowing his head. 

You glanced over to Yoongi, unsure of what to say. When he met your gaze, he gave your hand a reaffirming squeeze. Reminding you of what he had been telling you all this time, no promises were made or have to be made today. 

“Joon,” you watched as his eyes flashed at his nickname. “I forgive you but I can’t promise that I’ll let you back, at least not yet. But thank you for the apology.” A tight smile formed on his lips as he nodded his head in understanding. 

“Namjoon,” his attention turned to Yoongi, who spoke at last. “We got off on the wrong foot, but I think you’re alright. I hope we can get to know each other properly, if time allows it.” His hand reached out to Namjoon’s across the table for another handshake. He was a bit in awe for a second, but he took his hand and returned it. 

“Thank you,” he smiled as Yoongi released his hand. The three of you sat there for a moment longer, sitting in silence before the air around them began to feel awkward. “I uh,” he coughed as he gathered his few things as he stood, “I should go. Got an exam to study for.”

“Oh, yeah. Good luck!” You responded as he bade you two goodbye. Soon enough, he was out of the cafe leaving you and Yoongi alone at the table. “Wow, that was. . . unexpected.” You confessed.

“Which part? Because I found him apologizing to me, unexpected.” He replied as he relaxed more into his chair, now that the awkward tension in the air was gone.

“Him liking me, that’s just- I never thought he liked me like that.”

“I noticed.”

“You what?!” His admission took you off guard. “H-How? You never met him, or talked to him before?” You questioned him as he chuckled at your reaction. 

“I mean, I had a suspicion. Him getting mad at you for going out with me, for starters.” He explained, his eyes trained on your still locked hands. “He also blurted it out when I texted him-”

“You texted him? Why?” You felt your face begin to burn red with embarrassment, did Namjoon think you sent your boyfriend after him to leave you alone? Is that why the messages suddenly stopped?

“Don’t worry,” he met your eyes with his loving gaze, “I made sure that he knew it was coming from me, not you. All I said was how he doesn’t know me or my intentions with you, and that if he cared about you, he'd let you come to him.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I noticed that clearly what happened between you two still affected you, I don’t like seeing you upset.” He shrugged. “Plus, I figured since I’m the cause of all this I had to do my part in cleaning it up.”

“No, no, Yoongi, it’s not your fault at all.” You turned to grab his other hand and squeezed it gently. “Every choice I made was mine, you just happened to be uh- a happy circumstance?”

“A happy circumstance?” He raised his eyebrows at the statement, not believing you at all. “I thought I was more than that, alright.” 

He began to feign getting up, “Hey!” You pulled him back down by his hands. He looked back at you with a smile pulling at his lips. The sight had you giggling in return you leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.” 

“Anytime, angel. Anytime.”

taglist: @yoongs-jeontae @chelsea-chee @hecticwonderer @absoluteyoongit @k-queen @murderyoursoul @thin-mint-yoongi @jeonjungkaka @igotyoongiverse @thatmelaninqveen @trashyemonerd @bbyjoonies @mariand @jaiuneamesolitaiire @angelbabymed @calling-dips-on-j-hope @imluckybitches @kimmalik @sammysammyswag @crazy4myself @preciouschimine @3sriracha @tipsymarklee @liriaus @misshale21 @ivywidogast @mute-chaos @xxxanimangxxx @cheesecakes-randomshitz @liveoffyou @secretlycrazyhummingbird @luv-u-2-death @sunnysideblog @chirokookie @mipetronella @minclangyyy @coffeeismylife28 @fairyunhappy @flersalomme​ @peterparkerspjsuit​ @thisetaernallove @yagirlsmiles @the-obsessive-fangirl

[unbridgeabledistances]

I love your last fic so much it got me thinking could you write something about like the gallaghers( +Kev and v and sandy etc) observing Ian and Mickey’s relationship? Like their perspectives of seeing them be soft with each other and just their dynamic? I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense lol <3

hiiiii anon!<3 okay i want to start off by saying that this got WAY too long, bc i loved this prompt a lot- so much that i think i might make this a multi-part thing on ao3! i started with sandy (since i am in love with her) but i’ll also go through the gallaghers/kev & v soon- lmk if u guys want me to continue, and who u would want me to write next if i do (or if u want me to continue with sandy lol i have lots of thoughts and feelings)

this ended up taking place in s10 when we first meet sandy, fyi:) also tw for brief mentions of abuse (as always, bc of terry 🙄) -- and there is a reference to the line in 10x07 that jokes about mickey and sandy for a brief moment

--

When Sandy heard her phone buzz on that Tuesday afternoon, sitting on the stained and lumpy couch in her shithead uncle’s living room while drinking a beer and arguing with Alek about what type of insurance fraud could make the biggest payout, she had no idea what to expect on the other end of the line. The phone kept ringing, the contact info lighting up the screen: MICKEY.

Mickey? Shit. It had been a long fucking time. Between her own various juvie stints as a kid and Mickey’s time behind bars overlapping just as she got released, Sandy hadn’t seen Mickey since… high school, maybe? Whenever it was, it was back when Mickey was a grimy kid with spikey hair and dirty fingernails, a kid with an obsession with guns and way too much time on his hands, back when they would hang out by the train tracks and drink beer and get way too high and do stupid shit; all in all, back when everything was a hell of a lot simpler. Sandy assumed Mickey had met Royal and been clued in about her shitshow of a life at some point while she’d been gone, and they’d possibly overlapped at a family party or two a few years ago when they both were in town— but other than hearing about the aftershocks of Mickey coming out and driving Terry up a goddamn wall, so much so that Terry broke his parole and was headed straight back to prison hours after his release, Sandy hadn’t seen Mickey in forever.

Which is why this call intrigued her so much— Mickey was supposed to be in prison for at least a couple more years, or at least that’s what his brothers had said, so why the fuck was he using a cell phone right now?

Sandy nodded her head towards the cellphone, cutting Alek off mid-sentence and sliding her thumb across the screen to pick up the call. Before saying anything, she rose off the creaky springs of the couch and speedwalked out to the front porch before answering— whatever the fuck Mickey wanted, she assumed he was calling her because this conversation wasn’t for the ears of any other Milkoviches. She lit a cigarette and leaned against the post of the front stoop, listening to the silence hanging heavy on her phone’s speaker.

“Mickey? You there?”

A low chuckle came from the other end of the line.

“Fuck. Been a long time.” Mickey’s voice sounded the same; punchy and snarky, maybe a little gruffer and raspier after years of cigarette smoke. Sandy waited a moment for Mickey to give more of a reply, or an explanation for his call, but it was clear that Mickey wasn’t going to give one right away— it was like he was testing the waters, like he was deciding if making this call was the right move. Soft static echoed on the phone line.

Sandy totally got it— reemerging from a life of cinderblock cell walls and barbed wire fences fucking sucked, especially when you were a Milkovich and the moment you got out you were faced with a choice, an opportunity: did you want to go back home, or did you want to start fresh, erase your own name, and forget this dysfunctional family ever existed? Sandy knew she felt the same way when she got out. Mickey deciding to call Sandy was a big fucking move, and she realized that— reclaiming your life as a Milkovich on the brink of a new beginning took guts.

“So, I take it you’re out of prison?” Sandy asked after a moment, inhaling another slow puff of her cigarette.

There was that laugh again— Sandy had weirdly missed it. Honestly, Mickey hadn’t ever been too bad to be around— they’d both felt like outsiders in the family, had both always had a strong head on their shoulders and a fucking moral compass, unlike the rest of Terry’s sheep who did his bidding and got swastikas tattooed on their chest. When he was younger Mickey used to follow Terry and his older brothers around like a lost puppy, and he even got those fucking knuckle tats—but later in high school, Sandy remembered seeing something deep snap inside him, bleeding out in “STAY THE FUCK OUT” and “FUCK LOVE” signs taped onto his bedroom walls. At the time she thought it was the fucked-up shit with Terry and Mandy driving him up a wall— but now she realized the constant bombardment of homophobia, coupled with the cuts and bruises blooming on his cheeks and the cigarette burn scars on his arms, must have been signs of Mickey realizing the rude awakening that was inevitably going to come if he wanted to be who he was. Sandy couldn’t even imagine— no one really gave a shit who she fucked, and her cousins didn’t know anything about her sex life—but she couldn’t fathom being Terry’s son, the pride and joy of the Milkovich clan, and needing to outwardly admit those deeper parts of herself.

“Yup, I’m free to join civilization as of this morning. Overcrowding or some shit.” Sandy could hear Mickey also taking a drag of a cigarette on the other end of the line. She smirked to herself. Guess we both didn’t break the Milkovich nicotine addiction.

“So, uh, listen,” Mickey continued, and Sandy immediately knew he was in deep shit if she was the one he was calling to ask for a favor. “I’m in a bit of a… situation. Don’t wanna go into too many specifics, but there might be a massive fucking Mexican cartel after me right now.”

Sandy barked out a laugh before she could help herself. Fucking Mickey. “Oh yeah? Sounds like you’re feeling thrilled to be a free man again.”

Mickey chuckled again. “Fuck you. But hey, d’you think you can bring my shit by to me, so I don’t have to stop by the house and get fucking killed? You don’t gotta rush or whatever, just didn’t wanna show my face quite yet.”

Sandy could feel all the unsaid things wrapped in the way Mickey’s sentence ended. Didn’t want to show his face quite yet because of this cartel bullshit, or because of Terry? She decided it didn’t really matter— Mickey was a good guy, she could spend an hour or so rounding up his shit and bringing it to him if that’s what he needed.

“Got it.” She blew out more smoke, watching it curl and drift over the wasteland of the front yard on a gust of summer air.

Mickey cleared his throat, like he was gearing up to say more. When he spoke, his voice was softer around the edges, more genuine than before.

“I’m, uh. I’m sure you heard everything about me while I was gone. About Terry flipping his shit. Probably not the best idea for me to come around the house quite yet—my brothers n’ I haven’t really talked much since then either.” He paused, inhaling another drag of his cigarette. “I figured you’d get it. And hey, if you can bring the stuff by, I’d love to hear all the badass shit you’ve been up to the past few years.”

Sandy nearly winced—yeah, if by “badass shit” you mean getting forcibly married to a douchebag and then couch surfing for months— but she tried to keep her shit together for Mickey’s sake. She stubbed out her cigarette on the railing of the porch, straightening from where she was leaning.

“I’ve got it Mickey, don’t worry about it. Where are you right now, anyways?”

She could hear the hint of relief bleeding into Mickey’s voice when he replied. “I’m at the Gallagher house? The grey one by the tracks.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “I was in jail for a couple of years Mickey, not braindead. I know where the Gallagher house is.”

Mickey huffed out a breath, but there wasn’t any sharpness in it. “Excuse me for tryin’ to be helpful, smartass.”

“Why the fuck are you there, anyways?”

“I’m, uh, crashing with my partner for now. Ian?”

Holy shit, Mickey was still fucking Ian Gallagher? Sandy had pieced together that Ian was the reason Mickey came out months after getting married to some Russian bitch, and according to Iggy the whole reason Mickey went to jail in the first place was some love-crazed revenge plot on Ian’s behalf— but since getting locked up Mickey hadn’t kept in touch with anyone, other than a shady-as-fuck message to his brothers after he’d busted out of prison letting everyone know that he was in Mexico, despite getting thrown back into jail in Chicago a couple months later. Sandy didn’t really know the details, and she especially didn’t know anything about Mickey’s love life— but it was wild as fuck that someone as unsettled and ruthless and batshit crazy as Mickey could’ve been with the same person all this time, especially someone as seemingly bland as Ian Gallagher. Huh. Wonder if I’ll get to see Ian.

“Got it. I’ll round up your shit and bring it by the Gallagher house later today. And don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know you called til you’re ready.”

Mickey exhaled on the other end of the line. “There shouldn’t be much, just check the drawers or whatever. “

Sandy knew for a fact that most of Mickey’s lingering possessions had probably been taken, sold, or thrown out by a zealously homophobic Terry by now, but she wasn’t going to say as much to Mickey over the phone.

“I’m on it. See you in a couple hours.”

“Hey, Sandy?” Mickey blew out a long breath, and this time Sandy couldn’t tell if it was because he was still smoking or because he was riding a wave of relief, releasing the floodgates of anxiousness he’d been holding in the whole conversation. “Thanks. I fuckin’ owe you one.”

Sandy smirked. Maybe Mickey being let out of jail early was a good thing, despite how fucked his whole situation seemed— maybe, for once, someone in her family would be fun to be around, wouldn’t set her teeth on edge every two seconds by making a racist comment or forcing her to be something she wasn’t.

“I’ll text you when I’m almost at your love nest.”

She imagined Mickey’s grin as he replied. “Fuck you. See ya soon.”

**

After scraping through every rickety dresser drawer in Terry’s house for nearly an hour, Sandy could barely come up with anything that was reportedly Mickey’s: a couple of tattered shirts, an impressively overused-looking bong, and a single sneaker she’d left behind because she couldn’t find the other one. She threw it all in some shitty burlap rucksack she’d found on one of the bedroom floors, assuming no one would miss it— it dawned on her that maybe her cousins were lying, and some of the other stuff in the house was still Mickey’s, but she’d collected what she could based on the whispered directions Alek and Iggy had given her when Terry was out of the room.

Sandy unlocked her phone, and typed a quick message to Mickey. “Out front.”

Mickey’s reply came quickly, and Sandy noticed the front curtains rustling on the top floor of the Gallagher house.

“Coming down”

The front door creaked open, and Mickey walked out onto the front porch. He looked good; he looked cleaner, sure, but also like a fucking adult—like he’d grown into himself, like he actually carried himself with confidence instead of just pretending to. He nodded his chin up at Sandy in acknowledgement.

“Long time no see.” He smirked, leaning on the banister. “You make a good delivery service. All those hauls we did with Terry must’ve been good training.”

Sandy lazily walked up the front steps, reaching the bag out in front of her for Mickey to take. “Here’s all the shit I could find. It’s not much.”

Mickey jerked his head to the open door behind him. “You wanna come in for a sec?”

Sandy grinned. Why the fuck not. “Sure."

So that was how she found herself perched on what was presumably Ian Gallagher’s bed, watching Mickey ruffle through the burlap bag, his brows furrowed as he realized just how much of his shit was actually gone.

“This everything?”

“As much as I could find.”

They comfortably chatted back and forth about how everyone was— Sandy decided to divulge the fact that Mickey’s brothers were idiots who tried to crawl in bed with her every night, which is something that she had to joke about so she didn’t go fucking insane sleeping under the same roof as them.

“Fuck ‘em, chop their nuts off next time they try it.”

Sandy smirked. Finally, a decent fucking relative. She made some hollow joke about staying with Mickey, alluding to the extra-shitty night decades ago when their cousins had forced them to make out when they were way too high on something.

“Or I could stay here with you. Have fun like we did when we were kids.”

“You know that’s fucked up, right? We’re fucking cousins!”

“Plus he’s taken.” A voice came from around the corner.

Ian Gallagher looked bigger, taller, and more solid than Sandy remembered; he was definitely miles away from the scrawny kid with the bangs who worked at the Kash N Grab that Sandy and her cousins endlessly used to fuck with in middle school. Ian’s shoulders were wide, his body imposing in the tiny room; immediately, Mickey’s aggravated stance softened when Ian walked in, wrapped in a towel from the waist down.

“Oh right, you.” Sandy grinned as Ian hunched over the bed and grabbed his deodorant from the nightstand.

Mickey had turned back to the bag of clothes. “Hey, I had shampoo and shit, is there soap anywhere?”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “You’ve been gone for years, you think your brothers would save that shit for you?” she bit out— and okay, maybe she was a little pissed at Mickey’s brothers for the constant-sexual-assault thing.

Ian just applied his deodorant and leaned in close to Mickey as he passed by the bed towards the doorframe. “You can use mine. We’ll hit Costco later, I’m getting paid.”

It was stupid, but Sandy felt something soft pang in her chest at Ian’s words; it was just now that she was realizing it, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen someone take care of Mickey before, or so… automatically factor Mickey’s needs into a situation. Being a Milkovich was all about scrounging and scraping, and guarding what little you had; a Milkovich would never let someone use their fucking soap just because they cared about them, or not as an immediate reaction anyways.

“Nah, I can’t, man. PO texted me when you were in the shower, he’s got a job for me.”

Ian kept looking at Mickey from where he was leaning in the doorway. “Then give me a list of shit you need, and I’ll pick it up for you,” Ian said in an overly simple tone, like he was mocking the fact that Mickey didn’t realize Ian would run an errand for him.

Sandy smirked. Jesus, Gallagher is whipped.

“Isn’t that cute, little domestic bitches,” Sandy crooned before she could help herself.

Ian stepped into the room again and leaned in towards Mickey, pressing a kiss to Mickey’s cheek while Mickey aggressively tried to uncrumple one of the pile of shirts from the bag.

“Mm, thank you,” Ian said in reply, his voice muffling as he smushed his face closer to Mickey’s.

Mickey instantly smiled smugly as Ian’s lips pressed against his cheek—then he noticed Sandy was staring, so he flipped her off and smiled even wider. What the fuck? Sure, Mickey had flipped Sandy off, but he was practically fucking beaming in a way that Sandy had never seen. God, wonder if I’ll find this shit someday.

Ian detached himself from Mickey and walked out of the room, Mickey’s eyes lingering on his torso. Once Ian had turned the corner Mickey snapped back to attention, fixing his eyes back onto the small mountain of clothes spread on the bed in front of him. Mickey lifted the bong off the bedsheets, and met Sandy’s gaze. 

“You have to go, or d’you wanna hang for a bit? I don’t have to be at work for a couple hours, and it’s gonna suck enough that I should probably be high before I get there.”

Sandy grinned. “Hell yeah, I’m down.”

**

They sat on the rickety back steps of the Gallagher house, silently taking hits and passing the bong back and forth. It had been years since they’d been in the same space, but Sandy and Mickey easily sank into a comfortable silence, passively surrounded by the shrieks of kids playing across the alleyway and the bubbling of water as they inhaled. Mickey blew smoke out of his nose, then sat back so he was leaning against the banister and passed the glass pipe to Sandy.

“So,” Sandy started as she held the lighter to the bong and inhaled deeply. “Ian Gallagher.”

Mickey huffed out a laugh. “Yup. That’s some Romeo and Juliet shit for ya.”

Sandy smirked as she exhaled. “You really fucking love him, huh?”

Mickey eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly as he looked towards her. “Yeah. Guess I do.” He took the bong from Sandy’s outstretched hand. “Took me forever to get shit straight with him, though.”

Ah. So their road to domestic bliss wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed. Sandy’s curiosity was growing.

“Because of shit with Terry?”

Mickey stiffened, coughing a bit as he exhaled smoke, like Sandy’s question caught him off guard. “Shit. Yeah. That too. Let’s just say there were lots of fucking ups and downs, and we both had a lot of shit to unpack.”

Sandy snickered. “You sound like a fucking couples therapist.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “If you wanna see couples therapy, I should tell you about the months me and Ian were sharing a fucking cell. We nearly ripped each other’s heads off. We literally stabbed someone so one of us might get sent to fucking solitary.”

Sandy’s laughter grew. “Are you fucking serious?”

Mickey grinned, and passed the bong back to Sandy again. “Fuck. Yeah. I fucking love him, though. He’s fucking crazy, and I still can’t let him go.” Mickey looked off into the distance across the alleyway, and either the weed was really hitting him right now, or he was being a very sappy motherfucker.

Sandy nudged Mickey’s knee. “You guys are cute together.” Mickey’s eyebrows raised when he heard the word “cute,” and Sandy quickly tried to rephrase. “Not cute, but y’know. Good for each other. You seem happy. Happy is... good.”

Mickey nodded pensively. “How’re you doing, anyways?”

Sandy shrugged noncommittally. “Eh. We can talk about me another time. How the fuck did you and Ian end up sharing a jail cell, anyways?”

Mickey let out a throaty laugh. “I heard Gallagher was getting locked up when I was down south, so I essentially pulled some strings and fucking snitched on the cartel I was working for. Hauled my ass back up here so we could be together.”

Holy fuck. Sandy’s jaw nearly dropped. “Mickey, you’re batshit crazy.” She shoved him squarely in the chest this time. “Are you fucking serious?! You evaded the feds, were living in Mexico, and you came back for Ian Gallagher?”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, placing the bong on the steps. “I can’t explain it, man. I just didn’t wanna be anywhere else, I guess.”

Sandy leaned back onto the banister. “Shit.” She paused for a moment, wondering if she should ask the next question. “Do you… want me to tell anyone you’re back?”

Mickey glanced over at her, his eyes alert. “Nah. Not yet. That okay with you?”

Sandy nodded. “Of course.” Mickey pulled out his phone, checking the time and presumably looking for a distraction from tiptoeing around talking about Terry— but Sandy had to tell him, had to let him know one more thing.

“Hey, Mickey?”

Mickey looked up. “Yeah?”

“I don’t really know the details of what went down with Terry, or whatever— but I just wanted to let you know that… if you ever wanna come home, I’m on your side. No questions asked. And I think a lot of the others are, too.”

The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked upward. “Thanks.”

Sandy stood, checking her phone and zipping her leather jacket. “Well, I’d probably let you sober up a bit before your big parolee first day of work.”

Mickey raised a middle finger up to her from where he was seated, but then rose to stand.

“Thanks for comin’ by. And hey—you’re free to crash here anytime. There’s a million fucking kids running around all the time, but there’s always a couch or something open if everyone at home’s giving you too much shit.”

Sandy felt something warm growing in her chest. It had been a long fucking time since someone offered to take care of her, just because they could, just because they wanted to— maybe being a Milkovich wasn’t half bad. Maybe there were some good ones.

Sandy nodded in acknowledgement, and turned to walk down the creaky back steps. Wow. If Sandy was sure of one thing right now, it was that Mickey really, really fucking loved Ian Gallagher.

[life-rewritten]

Flower of Evil: The Breakdown of the Psyche of Baek Hee Sung

Watching episode 15 of Flower of Evil is a thrilling experience that still haunts me till this very day. We could focus on the psychological state of Do Hyun So as he hears that Baek Hee Sung kills Cha Ji Won. I could analyse it as a Romeo and Juliet base;  dreadful outcome of miscommunication and how this has been foreshadowed since the very beginning of this show. But what's even more fascinating is how the ghost of Do Min Seok is used even more as a way to showcase the breakdown of his psyche again, especially when he starts to doubt Cha Ji Won in front of him because he always believed he wasn't sane. It's a fantastic painful scene. So yeah we could focus on all that, but I want to focus again on the actual message of the show being a flower made of evil/in evil, and look at the man, the coward, the villain of this show Baek Hee Sung. His reasoning, his descent into psychopathy, and his reasons for his thirst to kill.

A breakdown of the psyche of Baek Hee Sung

When we first look at Baek Hee Sung, he's found lying on a hospital bed secretly stashed inside a walk-in closet of his parents. His mum is hugely emotional and anxious about him, we can tell she holds a lot of guilt, and she's involved in his situation. His dad is there to hold her back from making mistakes, whilst also still making her feel guilty whenever she tried to actively move on and accept Do Hyun So as her family. (which she admits to him in episode 14) 

Baek Hee Sung lying on the bed doesn't feel as scary and whilst the clues are there that he is the missing accomplice; the reason for why the serial killings stopped after Do Min Seok committed suicide, (the day he went into a coma) and his family's need to conceal him away like a secret.  Even when he wakes up, he's still not as scary as his father who acts more coldly and heartless in situations and feels more dangerous than the guy who can't walk. It's until the audience is told he is the accomplice that things start to fall into place. The question is, why is Baek Hee Sung a killer.

The Guilty Party: His Parents

I've already posted about the irony of the identity of Baek Hee Sung, how both he and Do Hyun So are mirrors of each other, foils of each other destined to intersect. Just like Hyun So was taken to therapy at a very young age for hurting animals, Hee Sung was also there because he also dropped a brick from the roof on a dog/car with people in it. He blamed it on stress, and unease from his exams, he needed to let off steam, and whilst Hyun So doesn't react or give of emotions to the therapist, Hee Sung cries and acts guilty making people think he's not someone with a disorder. Including his parents, who feel guilty for making him into one later because of neglect and stress on him to succeed as a maths wiz. This is when Hee Sung meets Do Min Seok, and he tells his parents he was coerced and forced by him into the killing. 

Reasons for why his family continues to aid him into killing: 

The father and his neglect

The mother of Hee Sung states that from the very beginning she was the one who took care of Hee Sung, she was the one who taught him, stayed by him as he grew up. His dad was nowhere to be found because he was always working. Even in the past, when he was taken to therapy, his father wasn't at the hospital, it was his mother who knew and fully understood his character. The most important scene that is repeated is that his father refused to answer the phone when he ran over Do Hyun So and because he panicked he proceeded to try and bury him in the back yard. This is what caused the catalyst of his mother, stabbing him and realising the monster he's become. It's what drives him to be in the coma. Looking at this information and what Director Baek says, it's his guilt for not being with his son that causes him to act out if he was there perhaps Min Seok wouldn't have coerced Hee Sung if he was there or answered the phone his family would not be in the predicament they are in. His guilt is focused on ensuring his family is safe, protected and mended. Because he was not there at the beginning. From his cold attitude, and unfeeling persona about other matters, it can be assumed that he only focused on the fact that his son was a genius, and math wiz, he probably didn't think it was wrong as long as his status and reputation were good.  He believes after his son wakes up that by being by his side, he will change, he will now be part of it and control the other variables. This is what causes him to pardon Hee Sung continuously; he feels too guilty to try and stop him. (though his guilt doesn't stop him from being abusive, I guess.) He's even willing to kill to get his family protected, as long as he can manipulate someone else to take the fall. He uses Do Hyun So as physical place holder, hoping to get rid of him and return his son to that position, he even menace says that Hyun so's wife and child will end up being given to Hee Sung, and that's his goal. The father's character is three dimensional because as much as he acts cold and unfeeling, he does have one thing he cares about his son and family's reputation. This is why it can be proved as well that the environment for Hee Sung was also part of the reasons for his descent into psychopathy/murder. His father neglect that makes him more prone to following Min Seok to get attention.

The mother and her guilt

Baek Hee Sung has a different relationship with his mother; he indulges her and doesn't feel angry about her trying to kill him. He coerces her into helping him and his antics because he plays as well on her guilt. Different from the father's responsibility in neglect, his mum is representative of the burden in pressure. From the start of the show, the mother reacts anxiously to any hints of pressure: she rips up Eun Ha (her fake grand daughter's) maths work because it's too ahead of her, she blames the work for the reason for why it would ruin her life and her mum's, she also questions Eun Ha if her mum hits her, or hurts her when she gets the answer wrong suggesting that Hee Sung may have been forced into the life of being a maths wiz. Her character is over-reactive, and she makes mistakes all the time. She feels guilty for pressuring him into studying, especially when in the psychiatry hospital he says it's what caused him to throw the dog from the rooftop. In her mind, the pressure they instilled on her son is what made him look for refuge and release from Min Seok.  Her guilt continues to hunt her because she reacts to the reveal of his killings by stabbing him and putting him in an extended coma. Her guilt is what makes her hide him on life support in the closet, ensuring they keep him alive, and her guilt even worsens when she finally wants to end it all (and move on) by killing him again but only making him wake up. Not only is she feeling guilty for making him a monster because of pressure, but she feels guilty for trying to kill her own son who 'was a victim of the environment'. In her mind, her husband's neglect pushed him into wanting to seek someone else in his life as a mentor, and her pressure on him to succeed caused him to break down in need of release (he killed to feel calmer/distract himself from the stress). Because of this, and the fact that her maid betrays her (she doesn't have anyone else to trust but her family) she allows Hee Sung to coerce her into framing Hyun So. In her mind, because everyone else is terrible/fake because there is no one else who will protect her but her son and her husband she decides to team with them and keep protecting Hee Sung. It's all about guilt. Both the parents feel guilt, but the immense guilt they have is not knowing the influence of Do Min Seok in their son's life. 

Do Min Seok and his cruelty 

What Hee Sung tells his parents is that Do Min Seok forced him into the killing, he feared for his life, and so his only option was to kill. This is interesting if you do believe his perspective. We've seen Min Seok can be quite coercive as he tried to coerce Do Hyun So as well into hurting and maiming animals, he took him out on excursions waiting for potential to see if he was going to kill like him. Min Seok also approaches Hee Sung due to hearing about his incident with the brick, and he tells him that he's just like him. Reasons for why Hee Sung's parents would believe that Do Min Seok did do what their son says, is because of the cruelty of the murders,  and their refusal to accept his role in it that makes them see it as the only option/reason for why he did it.  However it is revealed that Do Min Seok did not need Hee Sung anymore once they captured Jung Mi-Sook, he wanted him to turn himself in and stop, but Hee Sung proceeded to kill him because he could no longer go back to his past life, and he now had a never-ending thirst for violence. And this brings the question why did he develop an appetite for murder? 

Baek Hee Sung and his thirst for violence 

The father figure

It's interesting when we analyse the scene when Min Seok warns Hee Sung not to bring his son into the conversation, his desperate need to frame Do Hyun So as the murder/accomplice, and why he reacts by killing Min Seok for wanting to abandon him. The intentions from Min Seok is clear; he understands that Hee Sung won't be in trouble because his parents are wealthy enough to acquit him for his murders if they pay enough. He's not selfishly abandoning Hee Sung, but he's giving him an excuse to stop killing. This goes against Hee Sung's own claim that Min Seok was abusive and forced him into the killing.  So why is he obsessed with framing Do Hyun So. From looking at the environment/nurture, he received so far before he met Min Seok, it could be possible that just as the neglect plagued his father, Hee Sung was plagued by it too. The first way Min Seok coerces Hee Sung into joining him is to speak about them as equal, he states whilst others see it frightening and weird to understand him, Min Seok is like him, and he should find others like him, so he's not lonely. Min Seok used Hee Sung's loneliness to bring him to his side.  One might guess that from learning and being mentored by Min Seok,  Hee Sung found a father in Do Min Seok, someone who let him be himself (aided his thirst to hurt/maim) and someone who understood him.  This can then explain why he is determined to punish/frame Hyun So for the murders; jealousy.  It seems that just as much as Hyun So in the future wants to be Baek Hee Sung the most to live, Hee Sung wanted the reverse to be like Hyun So, and have someone like Min Seok who understood his urges and thirst for violence but still cared.  The jealousy of Hyun So also can explain why he reacted and killed Min Seok.  Min Seok was about to abandon him whilst trying to protect Hyun So who isn't like them. Min Seok wanted Hyun So to be like him, he waited for chances to see Hyun So will want to kill (waiting for his skills to ripe) but overall still cared and wanted to protect Hyun So even till the end. This would have triggered jealousy in Hee Sung who didn't want to go back to his environment and wanted to continue killing. He didn't want to feel controlled or judged by others, so he got rid of Min Seok and resented him for making him a murder. His longing for a father figure might have pushed him to the edge, once he felt there was no hope of ever being normal/sane, and he didn't want to be. 

The stress

Again breaking down the other reason for why he was prone to follow Do Min Seok and found refuge under his mentoring and presence. He killed to relieve stress and tension. This could be relieving tension of the pressure on him to succeed in his studies or the anticipation of feeling suffocated that he must wear a mask to be seen as normal. (The crying and the unnatural act he put on when he was in front of the therapist.) Do Min Seok became the alternative to all that, and he developed an addiction to killing, a sort of release from it that he enjoyed and revelled in.  He became so addicted to it, that when Min Seok tried to stop it, he lost it and ended his life. He resented being this way, but he also enjoyed doing the act. Do Min Seok represented a sort of freedom for him, one where he didn't have to pretend or hide, or feel forced to live up to expectations of others. So his reaction in killing Do Min Seok makes sense when you look at the variables, he's not just a cold-blooded killer, he had incentives and reasons for why he did so. But this brings the question: Nature vs Nurture. 

The nature vs nurture

What made Baek Hee Sung a serial killer, was he born with it or was he made to become it. From how he reacts to his diagnosis/mostly when he fakes emotions, it's clear he was born with a disorder (psychopathic/sociopathic), his automatic reaction was to find something else to use as an excuse, and he himself refused to believe he was one, a psychopath. Two from everything we've analysed now, he's also made to become one, from meeting Do Min Seok and learning how to kill, to enjoying it, to wanting an escape from the environment he was from. Three the question, however, is if he hadn't met Do Min Seok would he be a killer. My answer is yes, it was only a matter of time before he found something else to latch on as an excuse for killing, so it's both, the environment he was nurtured in was toxic and would have made him search for ways to find release, but also with his money/ social reputation it would have made it easy for him to get away with his murders, but also he wanted to kill. He didn't feel any emotions in hurting people, so we can argue that he would have tried and hurt someone even without the help of Do Min Seok, as a reaction to something, when he felt threatened in the world, or he felt annoyed by someone, he would have ended up one way or another finding reason to kill. So Baek Hee Sung might be a victim of circumstance, but he isn't innocent. 

[avadescent]

Rivetra-Parent AU but modern is still lodged in my brain, so here’s Eren attempting to win a Science Fair.

Crossposted on AO3 w/ references

Eren bursts in through the front door like a high-powered locomotive on a one-way rail track, and as he kicks his shoes off expertly before striding into the meticulously polished threshold, Levi feels no need to act like an accommodating parent today and decides to leave Petra in charge of all the damage control.

She catches him by the sleeve before he can slither away from the kitchen however, and promptly threatens to make him sleep on the couch should he leave her to deal with their rambunctious thirteen year-old alone. Cleaning up is his specialty, after all.

Really, Levi thinks as he seats himself once more, Wives just have too much power sometimes.

“Eren!�� Petra greets warmly as he rushes into the kitchen. Levi arches a brow, because Eren on a normal day is a big, bumbling, annoying idiot whose pent-up energy needs a thorough rain check; Eren today looks like even more of a big, bumbling idiot than usual.

This is not good.

“How was school today?” Petra ruffles his hair like nothing’s amiss and Levi shoots her a nasty look because he knows she knows that Eren’s firecracker energy today spells Impending Doom. Instead of giving them a colorful, sparkly show, Levi is quite sure they’ll be given an explosion and one hell of a kitchen to clean the longer they allow this overly excited version of their adopted son to linger.

“Good evening.”

The clear and pleasant (albeit slightly monotone) voice that greets them from the kitchen doorway causes Petra’s smile to widen even further—and Levi’s patience to wear thin.

“All right, spit it out,” he orders, crossing his arms in the hopes to get this over with as soon as possible. “What did you do this time?”

“Eren didn’t do anything!” another voice pipes up, a shock of blond peeking out from behind Mikasa’s scarf. When Levi’s perpetual glare settles on this poor, unsuspecting child, Armin hastily blurts out a mandatory: “Yet.”

“They just announced that the Science Fair’s coming up!” Eren informs, still too enthusiastic for Levi’s comfort, but that’s where Petra comes in.

“Are you planning to join the fair?” she asks, and to Mikasa and Armin, “Do your parents know that you’re here?”

“Yeah, but we had to go to Mikasa’s to ask for permission, that’s why I came home a little late,” Eren answers for his friends, his voice turning sheepish at the end, eyes darting nervously between his father and the floor (not that looking at the floor is alleviating his anxiousness in any way, Levi’s obsession with cleanliness stares him back in the face as glaringly as Levi’s gaze itself).

“So what,” his father bristles disapprovingly, “Are you going to build a baking soda volcano or something?”

“Or… something,” Eren supplies meagerly, and it doesn’t help that neither Mikasa nor Armin are offering any placating clarification or better yet: an explanation.

“And what exactly is this something?” Petra asks, god bless her soul.

“We’re still working out the details!” Armin says, now looking as nervous as Eren. “So is it all right if we stay for dinner… sir, ma’am?”

Before Levi can open his mouth to deliver the big fat No he’s been itching to deal out since Eren came crashing in, Petra shoves Eren and his friends in the direction of the stairs and says with what Levi can tell is genuine sweetness, “Of course! Levi will drive you guys home too, so don’t you go walking out in the streets at night, you hear?”

“Yeah, thanks!” Eren beams at her and then he’s rushing off with his friends to conspire. “Holler when dinner’s ready!”

“You mind the time, brat!” Levi snaps, having crossed the distance between him and his wife. “Either you come down on time for dinner or you’re getting leftovers.”

Eren blanches, and then he’s mock-saluting, used to his father’s attitude. “Aye aye, Captain!”

The kids disappear behind Eren’s door with a loud bang, and then Levi is whirling on his wife, displeasure evident in the crease of his brow. “You and I both know encouraging him was a bad idea.”

“For your kitchen, maybe,” she quips easily, all versions of his glare having lost its effect on her years ago.

“I’m not just talking about that,” he grouses in a tone that indicates he is just talking about that. 

“Young adolescents need encouragement!” is her defense, and then she’s pushing past him. “Especially around his age.”

“Who told you that?” he scoffs, “The Parent-Teacher Association?”

The way she blushes slightly is telling enough. “Seriously?” He sounds genuinely shocked.

“He’s entering high school now, I’m just trying to be a little more… lenient.” She shrugs, and he absent-mindedly brushes her hair back from her face when it falls forward with the motion of her cutting the vegetables. “Let him spread his wings and all.”

“At a Science Fair?” he replies incredulously. “You want him to end up like Shitty Glasses?”

“First of all, that is not how we regard friends in this household,” Petra scolds uselessly. “Second of all, why not? He seems excited about it.”

“Wait until he steals all your bleach to conduct hair-brained experiments,” he scoffs, and Petra rolls her eyes at his argument because the only one who cares for kidnapped bleach is him.

“Listen, they’re probably planning right now,” Petra begins.

“You mean Armin’s doing all the planning,” Levi interjects, grumbling.

“Exactly!” Petra beams like he just walked into her trap and he realizes a millisecond too late that he did. 

(Wives definitely have too much power.)

“Armin’s a smart boy and he knows how to keep Eren in check—remember that incident with the rock?”

She builds a solid argument and Levi has to admit that, albeit he does so with a bit of snark, flicking her hair like they’re still teenagers and sending her a complimentary ‘tch’ sound to put a cherry on top of all his irritation.

Her muffled laugh at his reaction serves as a familiar response, and as they settle into a comfortable rhythm in their kitchen as they always do, she looks up at him with a considerate smile and aims to bargain, “We’ll just trust him with whatever it is he plans to do, okay? He came asking us for permission, after all. Teenagers I know would have run off and done whatever it is they wanted to without asking for anyone’s permission.”

The reference to his days as a rogue in the outskirts of the city is plain as day, but as always Petra manages to make it seem like something worthy of admiration—something cool, and not at all something to be ashamed about. She’s always been one to see something for what it is, and Levi doesn’t doubt for a second that her admiration for him isn’t misguided at all, because he knows—he’s learned—all the ways that Petra is genuine, and this is one of the ways.

So even though he’s usually the one calling the shots around here, for a rare occasion, he relents and listens to her.

“You can keep him in line if he goes too far,” she continues, and she sounds so sure that nothing will go wrong that Levi almost believes her, “Since you’re the only one who can do that.”

He huffs, flicking her hair again. “Are you stupid?” he asks, and the question has bite but he manages to relay it in a way that sounds so incredibly fond, “You’re forgetting all the times he’s listened to you instead of me.”

“We’re even then.” She grins, and he’s a little surprised when she leans forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Thanks. You’re doing great.”

A thousand nights of doubting himself and his abilities as a caretaker weigh behind that last sentiment—a thousand nights of hurling insults into the sky at self-righteous parents who thought he was unfit for the job, a thousand nights of Petra sitting by him and letting him take his frustration out on the grimy state of their house’s outer walls because they were wrong, because for all his crass he would never walk away from his kid—and because this is Petra, he believes her.

And because this is Petra, he tilts his head to take advantage of their solitude, and dinner is delayed by a few minutes.

— 

“So,” Eren preludes, his grin still far too exuberant for Levi’s liking, “We have a plan!”

Armin nods in tandem with the announcement, but his mouth is too full of mashed potatoes that he has yet to provide any input into this so-called plan.

“All right, we’re listening.” Petra opens the floor for discussion with a slight wave of her knife, and Levi finds the unconscious action amusing. Maybe this is why he does all the threatening in their relationship. “But first, when’s the Science Fair?”

“Two weeks from now,” Mikasa informs. “Eren wants to generate biodiesel.”

Levi and Petra blink. “He wants to what?”

“We’re going to store used cooking oil and treat it to remove impurities, then we’re going to subject it to transesterification in order to produce biodiesel that we can use to power a toy car or something,” Armin rushes to explain, though the looks of impervious ignorance gracing the adults’ faces does not fade in the slightest, “We’re still working out the kinks, but it’s a solid plan and will most likely just take a week of trials, so we’ll be in time for the fair.”

“I’m making the posters,” Mikasa adds, as an afterthought.

“Hold on.” Petra shakes her head. “What’s this about biodiesel?”

“Biodiesel is an eco-friendly fuel source made from cooking oil!” Eren tells them enthusiastically, though he just sounds like he’s citing a Wikipedia article the way Hange prattles away about her experiments. Levi side-eyes Petra with a damning look of ‘I told you this would happen.’

“Basically it’s like gas,” Armin explains, always ready to back Eren up with solid fact. “But it isn’t harmful to the environment. We’re thinking of creating biodiesel for the Science Fair, because—”

“It’s sure to win!” Eren interjects animatedly. “We’re going to beat that horse-face Jean and his potato arc reactor if it’s the last thing I do!”

‘Arc reactor?’ Petra mouths confusedly, but Levi’s just as clueless as her.

“So basically…” Petra tries, and Levi continues her sentiment with a deadpan, “You want to turn my kitchen into a fucking power plant.”

A look of sure-fire guilt and hopeful excitement crosses Eren’s face at the fact that Levi understands exactly what they’re trying to do here—which could end in a disastrously good or a disastrously bad way, depending on how he takes it. (Eren made his friends promise to cross their fingers behind their backs while trying to convince Levi into allowing them to conduct experiments at home, just for that extra boost of luck.)

“Walk us through the methodology,” is the order that comes out of Levi’s mouth, but it’s leaning more towards that hopeful excitement than the sure-fire guilt from earlier, so Eren’s still revving in full throttle when he delivers a run-down of what he and Armin had discussed earlier, with the occasional input from Mikasa.

“We’re going to let Mikasa cook three hundred grams of chicken in three-hundred grams of oil,” he starts slowly, so as not to lose his parents—or himself—in the process of explaining their project. “Because Armin said it should be a one-to-one ratio.”

Levi nods like he understands, so Eren continues, “Then we’re going to heat up the used oil at sixty degrees for about an hour to remove any moisture or impurities.”

“Hold on. How are you going to do that?” Petra asks, her brows furrowed. “What equipment are you going to use?”

“We’re going to borrow flasks from Mom’s lab,” Armin supplies, “We’ll put the used oil inside, then we’re going to heat the flasks in a pot—kind of like a water bath for the oil.”

“And that’s it? It becomes biodiesel?”

“Um.” Armin flushes embarrassedly. “Not exactly. That’s still the… first step.”

“How are you going to generate biodiesel then?” Levi crosses his arms derisively, like this is the sign of Impending Doom he’d divined earlier.

“Well—we let it react,” Armin stutters, “With methanol. And sulfuric acid.”

There’s a long stretch of silence that pervades the dining table at the mention of hazardous chemicals, and Eren is tense the whole time, Armin quivering beside him and Mikasa coiled as though ready to spring into action at any moment, and some niggling part of these kids’ brains whispers in fright that maybe they’ll find a dinner table flying at their faces at any given moment now, even though Levi hates it when he has to clean up after broken glass.

It doesn’t help at all that Petra is simply staring at him lengthily, as though waiting for him to say something. That means she’ll agree with whatever he decides and if he decides they can’t do it then that’s a promising project going right down the drain. Eren crosses his fingers harder.

“You better make sure we don’t get food poisoning,” Levi finally says, spooning vegetables into his mouth, and at the verdict both Eren and Petra look like they’re ready to bring him the entire fucking moon.

— 

A few days later, Levi shuts the door in Hange’s face.

“Hey!” comes the muffled yell of outrage from outside. She seems to have brought bothersome company with her, because after that he’s being scolded.

“Levi, this is not how you should be treating your guests,” Erwin’s voice booms, but Levi can’t really bring himself to care, so he turns around and walks away, except he’s intercepted by Petra, who with her welcoming nature disrupts all his last-minute plans for a peaceful weekend.

“Hange, Erwin, wonderful to see you!” she greets, and the taller woman falls forward to press a grateful kiss to Petra’s cheek in return.

“Wonderful to see you too, unlike some people,” Hange gripes, and if he were any younger Levi probably would have flipped her off in reply. Instead, he just passes his handkerchief to his wife with a grave aura about him, pointing to his cheek when Petra tilts her head at him in confusion.

“Is Aunt Zoë here!?” Eren yells from upstairs, but his parents find no need to give him a positive response when they can already hear him thundering down the stairs. “Aunt Zoë!”

“My little titan looks like he’s grown so big!” Hange gushes, already accepting the firecracker that is Eren Ral into her open arms and swinging him around like a stuffed toy. Eren laughs, because then he’s swung into his Uncle Erwin’s arms too, who catches him with as much ease as it had taken Hange to pick him up. “What have you been feeding him, Petra? At this rate he’ll grow taller than Levi! You haven’t been giving him an overdose of Cherifer, have you?”

“The only person in overdose here is you, Shitty Glasses,” Levi grouses, and Hange flicks his forehead in return.

“Where’s Armin?” Erwin asks, setting Eren down. “We’ve brought all the materials he asked for from Hange’s lab, so you should be ready to start your experiment.”

Armin and Mikasa hurry from the stairs just as Erwin asks, and the former is beaming up at the man with unreserved gratitude. “Thanks Dad!”

“No problem,” Erwin replies, patting his head. “Eren, you help me carry the stuff from the car.”

“Yessir!” Eren rushes outside with Erwin in tow, and as they do so Mikasa tugs on Petra’s sleeve.

“What is it, dear?” Petra smiles, and Mikasa looks up at her, that overcast gaze clouded with a steely determination.

“Ms. Ral,” she starts, “Can you show me how to cook fried chicken?”

— 

The weekend is—and this is the understatement of the year—a Fucking Disaster.

Eren has managed to turn their kitchen into a laboratory this time, with a digital weighing scale plugged in next to the microwave and a big pot filled with three Erlenmeyer flasks settled upon Levi’s most prized possession: the induction stove.

He stands like a cactus in the corner of the kitchen—prickly and dry and harmful to anyone who comes within reach except maybe Petra—surveying the people who have invaded his home and who are now boiling three flasks of used cooking oil, methanol, and sulfuric acid inside his cooking pot.

He’ll have to buy a new cooking pot after this weekend if the way Hange’s leering over it is any indication.

Petra and Mikasa are situated by the stove, cooking batches of chicken thigh that Petra had him drive to the store to buy (he has to crack that Wife-Power thing before it does him in someday). Mikasa’s adept at learning and that applies here, as she whips out batch after batch of fried chicken and pours golden oil into a beaker for Hange to separate into a For Analysis test tube and a For Experiment flask.

Eren had tried to cook a chicken, but it had blackened as a consequence of his sporadic attention span.

So now he’s just the designated stirrer, since a water bath is these kids’ alternative for a three-neck batch reactor (as if Levi and Petra even know what the hell that is) and the reaction needs to be stirred constantly, according to Hange and Armin, who parrot each other frequently regarding the methodology that now everyone’s got it memorized. 

Even Levi, who stipulated earlier that he would not be helping them turn his kitchen into a disaster zone whilst raising a spray bottle of self-concocted cleaning solvent in their faces like he was going to shoot them with it any second.

The first time Armin tries to pour a batch of oil into a flask for pre-treatment he’s shaking so badly under Levi’s dead-eyed stare that he accidentally spills everything. Levi’s muttering a string of profanities as he proceeds to do self-designated clean-up duty. 

Erwin pats the boy on the back and when he tries for the second time, Eren notices his uncanny ability to pour just enough oil into a flask to make 250 mL.

That sort of diverges into a little side-experiment where Hange encourages Armin to pour oil at a variety of different volumes—20 mL, 50 mL, 150 mL, and so on—and it vaguely reminds Levi of a drinking party when they cheer every single time Armin gets the exact measurement after one try.

It takes Petra asking them in learned Levi-fashion “what they’re trying to do” that everyone remembers they’re here for a biodiesel experiment and not an experiment to test Armin’s Hidden Talent (even though Levi’s 110% sure Hange has an entire encyclopedia dedicated to her son’s growth alone, and that’s not including the record she’s probably kept of Eren over the years, from all his baby teeth down to every single nail clipping).

They go back to watching over the cooking-pot slash water-bath, and Hange yells bloody murder when she realizes they’ve let the temperature get to one-hundred—Levi moves in anticipation of a coming explosion but thankfully that doesn’t happen.

At some point Petra’s hand ghosts over his butt and he turns his head to snap at her for stealing his phone, but everyone’s suddenly back in Drinking Party mode as Petra records Mikasa flipping chicken thighs like they’re pancakes and aiming them at the plate Eren has raised a few feet away. Hange’s yelling in admiration and scribbling onto a notepad—Levi’s brows crease because since when did she have a notepad—and then Hange asks like it’s the end of the world: “How do you manage to make every chicken land on the plate?”

Mikasa turns in that aloof manner of hers that Levi can respect, and then she’s saying: “I’m good at calculating angles.”

That gets Hange’s undivided attention for the rest of the hour, with Eren trying to get her back on track with reasons along the lines of, “We’re not here to study Mikasa’s eyeballs, Aunt Zoë!”

Levi thinks that maybe they all would have been arrested right there and then if anyone else had heard it—for fuck’s sake Erwin is the goddamn Chief of Police, but all this so-called Chief-of-Police does is turn to look at Armin with a jovial smile and a politely asked, “So what’re we doing next?”

It’s midnight by the time Eren gets four rows of biodiesel samples to test on a toy car the next day—if he can wake up to greet the next day, that is—and it’s nearly one in the morning by the time Levi’s got the entire kitchen spotless and all the trash (including Hange and company) out the door.

He crashes into bed after a quick three-minute shower, and he can barely question why the heck Eren is in their bed too before Petra rolls to curl into his side, sound asleep. 

He sighs in reluctant compliance, but it’s easy to sink between the warmth of Petra and Eren at his sides, and when he drifts off to sleep he thinks the comfort is well-rewarded after a rather tiring day.

— 

The day of the Science Fair comes, and Levi looks bored as he scrutinizes all the other booths around them. He spots the mandatory baking soda volcano off to the side and decides Eren’s got this competition in the bag until he notices a horse-faced classmate flaunting some Potato Arc Reactor with much vigor. 

“That’s the horse-face you were talking about?” Levi asks incredulously, because he hadn’t expected Eren to be accurate in his observation of the other boy. Eren nods in a manner that can’t be described as anything else but “repulsed”, his eyebrows scrunching in the middle like he’s itching to just punch the boy in the face. Which Levi wouldn’t really mind—he thinks this fair could use a little more flair.

“Well I think you’re definitely going to win!” Petra cheers, and her positive energy is the only boost Eren needs because when the panel of judges comes strolling by he leads the presentation and the demonstration of his project with what Levi deems is adequate decency.

“You three really made that?” one of them jeers. “I don’t believe you for a second—you seem to have used chemicals unavailable to high schoolers. Did you solicit outside help for this experiment?”

Eren, dumb and determined as always, doesn’t disappoint when he snaps back, “The only people we asked were our parents, and the guidelines say we can ask our parents!”

Another judge narrows his eyes—Levi recognizes him as Nile Dok, that annoying prat who usually leads the Parent-Teacher Association meetings, and he feels inclined to punch this man in the face and break a few teeth when he whirls on Petra to ask, like he’s ready to persecute the lot of them for breaking the rules, “And what exactly were your contributions to this project, Ms. Ral?”

The man stumbles back in surprise when Petra levels him with a stern glare and a just as sternly said, “I simply showed them how to cook the chicken to get their used oil, Mr. Dok. Nothing more than that.”

“Hm.” He studies her for a long moment before turning to face Levi instead, which would have been a huge mistake if they hadn’t been within school premises and Levi had all the room to demonstrate just how many ways he could break this man’s teeth. “And you, Mr. Ral? Did you contribute in any way to your son’s project?”

“Hah? Of course I contributed.” He shifts his weight onto one foot, and with an air of nonchalance that manages to qualify Eren for first place in this stupid competition, he says with all seriousness: 

“I ate the chicken.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

“I shouldn’t have let you go.” (Adam Driver)

by now, yall already know about my obsession with adam driver, so i decided to write a fic about him, what a surprise! it’s been a while since i last wrote anything off my drabble list, so i thought i would do this one for that. also thank you @softboyshawn​ for motivating me to write it, you always know when to give me a push!!

word count: 3.2K

drabble list masterlist

Walking into the building Adam pushes his shades up to the top of his head, keeping his hair out of his forehead. He intended to get a haircut weeks ago, but he wasn’t sure what’s gonna be needed for this role, so he decided to keep it long just for a little longer. He is welcomed by a nice receptionist who helps him out with where he has to head for the reading and he takes the elevator with a delightful smile on his lips.

He feels thankful to be back in the drill, working is exactly what he needs right now, something to keep him busy and focused on what’s important. Starting a new movie is always exciting and powering for him, meeting new people, challenging himself with new scenes, this is what he loves the most.

As he steps into the small auditorium that was turned into the location for the reading he looks around, searching for familiar faces around the long table that has a labelled seat for every role in the movie. His eyes meet a well-known face and he can’t help but chuckle as he approaches the director, Shawn Levy holding his arms out for a brotherly hug.

“It’s so nice to see you again!” Shawn pats his back.

“You too, man.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be at your audition, but to be honest, I knew you would be the perfect for the role,” Shawn lets him in on this little secret.

The two of them has worked together in 2014 and Shawn didn’t doubt Adam would be the perfect fit for his new movie’s leading role. He told his assistant to reach out to Adam and ask him to audition. It was kind of an informal meet up with the movie’s producer with a short screen test and they were entirely sure Adam is the one to cast for the role of Derek Lahey, the big city guy moving back to his mother following a split from his long-term girlfriend after he finds out she’s been cheating on him for quite a while.

“It’s alright,” Adam smiles as they let go of each other.

“You got the new script, right?” he asks pointing at the table where Adam sees a rack of scripts in the middle.

“Yeah, got it yesterday, I gave it a few reads last night.”

“Amazing. We had to make a few changes last minute, sorry about it. But we had a change in the cast as well.”

“The cast?” Adam furrows his eyebrows as Shawn looks around and his eyes lighten up when he sees someone he was looking for.

“Yeah, you remember Y/N?”

As Adam turns to the side and his eyes meet hers, he can’t even figure what to do or say. It’s been about four years he last saw Y/N, but time has definitely changed her and it’s kind of taking his breath away. The shy, baby-faced girl has turned into a very mature, eye-catching young woman, but there are some things that stayed the same. Like her freckles all over her nose, her dimples when she smiles and those amazingly dark eyes that just pop out thanks to her reddish-blonde hair she refuses to dye for any role.

“Hi, Adam,” Y/N smiles, feeling just as startled by his presence as he is at hers, but snapping out of his awe he finally goes for a friendly hug.

“Y/N, you’re the change in the cast?”

“The girl we originally casted broke her leg, so we needed to make a quick decision in order to start filming in time. Luckily, Y/N was able to take the job!” Shawn taps her arm smiling at her happily and she tugs her hair behind her ears. Adam finds himself staring at her longer than he should be, so he forces himself to look over at his director friend.

“It’s like a mini reunion,” Adam chuckles. All three of them worked on This Is Where I Leave You in 2014, a time Adam definitely hasn’t forgotten about.

“Take your seats, guys, we’ll start soon,” Shawn says before drifting off to another cast member, welcoming everyone.

“I’m sorry if working with me is uncomfortable for you,” Y/N starts when they are alone. “I thought about saying no, but… this is a great opportunity for me.”

“It’s not uncomfortable! I’m very glad to see you. Honestly.”

Their history is a little longer than the other cast members’. Five years ago, when filming started they hit it off pretty quick on set, even though Y/N was just an extra back then, while Adam was one of the main actors. He was freshly wedded at that time, only one year into his marriage and Y/N was… a realization for him. A realization that hit too late, definitely not at the right time. As a 22 year-old ambitious actress at the start of her career, meeting Adam and somehow forming a bond with him was confusing for the both of them. Adam first questioned his marriage and tried to deal with his confusing feelings for this girl who also seemed just too young for him at the time, while Y/N feared she might ruin an entire marriage and became the blame for the divorce of an up-and-coming, popular actor, which could also ruin her career.

Nothing ever happened between them, they refused to let it go too far. Besides stolen glances and touches, deep conversations and shared secrets, they never crossed the line from where they could have never returned. Once filming and the premier was over, they forced to lose touch thinking this is what’s best for everyone. They went their own ways until their paths crossed again in this room, forcing them to face each other again.

“Well, that’s good to hear, because we’ll spend a lot of time together,” she chuckles nervously.

“Yeah, I guess,” he nods smiling down at him.

All through the reading Adam can’t help but sneak glances at Y/N, sitting right across him, whenever he could, slowly listing everything that changed about her and things that stayed just the same. Their eyes meet a couple of times, Y/N blushes whenever it happens, focusing her gaze down at her script.

“Great job! Thank you for everyone, I can’t wait to see this on the screen!” Shawn cheers once the reading is finished and a round of applause follows his words. “See you on set in three days!”

Everyone starts packing and Adam makes sure he finishes quickly so he can walk over to Y/N.

“Hey, wanna grab lunch with me? We could catch up a little.”

He hopes his offer didn’t come out as anxious as he feels, waiting for her answer. She hesitates for a moment, sliding her script into her bag before nodding her head.

“Okay. Why not?”

They are perfectly hidden in their booth in the nearby diner they chose to eat in. Adam is anxiously scanning through the menu even though he knows what he wants, but is just too afraid to look into her eyes.

“So, how have you been?” she breaks the silence putting her menu down and their eyes finally meet again.

“Um… busy, mostly.”

“Congrats on the Star Wars movies. You were great in all of them.”

“You saw them?” He is genuinely surprised, he never thought she would be the kind of girl to watch them.

“Yeah. Wanted to see what the hype is about,” she smirks leaning back in her seat. “Turned out I like watching dudes in uniform, fighting with some more dudes, without uniform.”

Adam laughs shaking his head, happy that her humor hasn’t changed.

“That’s exactly what Star Wars is about.”

“Alright, so what’s up with you outside work?”

Before he could answer their waitress arrives. She takes their order and collecting the menus she disappears leaving them alone again.

“Outside work?” Adam inhales rubbing his hands to his thighs. “Um, not much. I’ve been hitting up the gym daily, I’m learning to cook and…” He pauses for a moment, debating whether if it’s the best time to admit it or not, but he decides it’s something that should be cleared. “You know, I have a lot of time since I got divorced last year.”

Y/N’s eyes go wide as this wasn’t something she expected to hear.

“What? Oh God, I didn’t know… I’m so sorry, Adam.”

“Don’t be, it was for the best,” he sighs with a sad smile. Even though it really was the best choice, it took a toll on both of them, letting go of something that was supposed to last forever.

“How are you holding up?”

“Fine, I’m trying to focus on work, most of the time.”

Y/N nods in agreement.

“Yeah, that’s a great technique. I… I did the same when my boyfriend broke up with me after two years.”

“Oh. I didn’t… I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“Have you been keeping an eye on me?” she smirks, making him realize it sounded like he has been following her ever since they stopped talking.

“I wasn’t—That’s not how I meant it…”

“I know, relax,” she chuckles. “I kept it as low-key as possible. Turns out it was the best choice since the asshole left me for some high school senior,” she grimaces.

“Ouch, that sounds… illegal?”

“Kind of, but that’s not my problem anymore,” she shrugs. “So, I guess we both had our ups and downs lately.”

“Seems like.”

Adam feels like this is the moment when he is supposed to say that he is sorry for the way they parted. Things were getting out of hands and he knew it was time to make a decision. Work on things with his wife or end it and give it a try with Y/N. He made the wrong choice, but regardless of this, he also chose the wrong way to let her know they can’t do it any longer.

“Y/N, listen. I—“

“Don’t,” she shakes her head. “I totally get it. Let’s just… move on. Okay?”

Looking into her eyes he sees how much she doesn’t want to talk about it and forgetting about the past is exactly what he wants to do. So nodding they come to a silent agreement. The past is left behind, they have started a new, empty page.

 ***

 Heading to her trailer Adam runs his fingers through his hair and fixes the shirt that’s already his outfit for the filming. Knocking on the door he waits for her to call out, but instead she opens it for him.

“Hey! Got your text, everything alright?” Standing at the bottom of the stairs he is finally shorter than her so he has to look up at her.

“Come in,” she nods and he follows her inside.

She is still in her robe, but her makeup and hair is done, ready to take up on the role of Leah, the next door girl Derek falls for upon coming home.

“I’m a little freaked out,” she admits, fear filling her dark irises as she stares at him, arms hugging herself.

“Hey, relax, it’s fine.” He immediately figures what the problem is, the first day of filming coming at her a little more intense than she thought.

Taking her hands he pulls her to the small couch at the back of the trailer and they sit down next to each other.

“Talk to me, okay? Tell me how you feel.”

“I-I’m… I’m just afraid I will blow this. This is my first big role, like a main role and I’m so afraid I’ll disappoint Shawn,” she sighs in despair.

“You can’t disappoint him, he wouldn’t have casted you if you weren’t good. Believe me.”

“I just don’t want to embarrass myself, forgetting my line or something.” “I’ll do that all the time, don’t worry.”

“Oh please, I bet you already know even my lines!” she rolls her eyes chuckling.

“I definitely don’t. Don’t you remember how much I messed up back then? I think half the gag roll is about me.”

“I loved it when you started laughing at your own line,” she chuckles recalling the memory.

“See? Don’t worry about messing up, I’ll do the same, though I’m sure you’ll be great. Just don’t stress okay?”

She nods taking a few deep breaths. Adam feels a sense of intimacy in how they shared this moment, something he missed so much ever since they stopped talking. They had so many moments before, in between takes, after filming, early before filming, they were seeking all these little sparks since they didn’t have more. They couldn’t have more.

“You’ll be fine?” Adam asks squeezing her hand.

“Yes. Thank you for coming by,” she nods smiling as they stand up and head to the door. “See you in a bit.”

He just nods smiling and leaves so she can get dressed and ready for the start.

Filming together is now a different experience for the both of us. While they had no interaction on the screen before, now they had to bring a whole romance alive and though Y/N has seen Adam work his magic, it’s the first time he see her in real action. And his mind is blown away. Seeing her change into a whole different character amazes him on a different level and in between takes he thinks about how he has never felt like this with another cast member he worked with on a movie. She is just… different.

Once filming is over Adam is in his trailer, taking his time to get ready to leave when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!”

Glancing up from his phone he turns to the door and see Y/N sticking her head inside with a warm smile on her lips.

“Hey.”

“Hi, come on in!” he invites her inside and she walks in closing the door behind her. “So, how did you feel on your first day?”

Without even answering the question Y/N strides over to him and hugs him. It takes him by surprise but after a second of hesitation he wraps his arms around her.

“Thanks for being so patient and nice with me all day. And messing your lines up on purpose.”

A deep chuckle shakes his chest as he holds her close.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he lies, but she just smiles to herself before letting him go.

“Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Not really.”

“Then what do you say, staying a little, celebrating the first day? I have some wine in my trailer.”

“Sounds great,” he smiles.

Twenty minutes later they are sitting on the floor in her trailer, drinking white wine out of plastic cups and laughing about anything and everything.

“I remember that day!” he chuckles holding his cup up.

“Yeah, it’s not hard remembering me spilling three cups of coffees on myself,” she snorts taking a sup from her drink.

“Fuck, I missed having you around,” Adam sighs closing his eyes. If he weren’t four drinks into the evening, he probably wouldn’t have said that, but now it’s already out there.

“You did?” Y/N tilts her head smiling at him, watching him lean his head against the wall behind him.

“I did,” he nods, eyes still closed.

“I missed having you around too. I missed our talks.”

“I’m sorry for the way it ended.”

“Hey, we agreed on not talking about that!”

“I know, but… I really wanted to tell you that,” he sighs looking down at his cup, stirring the wine around before chugging it down and pouring some more from the bottle.

“I don’t blame you. You were married and we were… dancing on a dangerous line.”

Glancing up at her he watches her just sit there, busy with her own drink and he admires this moment, something he has been waiting for years to have again. He regrets making the wrong choice back then, thought he understands his own reasoning behind it. People don’t just give up on a marriage, he couldn’t have known it wasn’t gonna work out. But he also lost so much time with her and that’s his biggest regret.

“I shouldn’t have let you go,” he breathes out.

Lifting her gaze up her eyes meet his as they stare at each other, feeling the change in the conversation, obviously. An absent-minded smile appears on her light pink lips as she tugs her hair behind her ear.

“I always thought that you found me too young, outside all the other circumstances we had.”

“I did think about being an old man compared to you,” he chuckles. “But I feel like it was bridged pretty fast.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! I mean, it’s not even ten years, the world has seen way worse,” he chuckles making her laugh as well.

“You’re right.”

Putting his drink down to the floor he climbs over to her and sits next to her, resting his back against the couch just like she is doing and they sit there in silence for a couple of moments before Y/N rests her head on his shoulder.

“Adam?” she breaks the silence.

“Yes?”

“I think we are at the line again.”

“Yeah. We are.”

Another short silence while Adam turns to the side a bit, just enough to brush his lips against the crown of her head.

“Are we gonna cross it this time?” Lifting her head she looks at him with doubtful eyes as she puts her drink aside too.

Instead of answering his hands find their way to her waist and somehow he pulls her to his lap, her knees on each of his sides, hands resting on his broad shoulders.

“I don’t know what we are going to do, but I’m gonna cross the line.”

And without hesitation he presses his lips to hers. She doesn’t think twice before returning the kiss since she’s been waiting for this moment from the day she met him. He digs his fingers into her hair at the back of her head while she combs through his messy strands too, kissing like it’s their last moment on Earth. His hands slide under her shirt and soon it lands on the floor somewhere next to them.

As much as she wants to continue this, she still doesn’t want to do it lying on the floor of her trailer, that’s not what they deserve. So pushing away she tries to catch her breath while she admires his swollen lips and messy hair, running her fingers along his cheeks.

“We shouldn’t be doing this here. Not like this.”

“You’re right,” he nods realizing he got a little carried away.

Leaning down she softly kisses him again before sliding off his lap, landing on the floor again.

“We should head home, we have work tomorrow,” she advises as they slowly get up from the floor and gather their stuff, getting ready to leave.

Walking out to the parking lot they stand midway between their cars, staring up at each other, neither of them wanting to leave.

“See you tomorrow?” She bites into her bottom lip and it’s enough to drive him crazy. Pulling her closer he kisses her again.

“Yeah. How about dinner after filming?”

“Sure,” she smiles.

“It’s a date,” he raises his eyebrows as they start backing towards their cars.

“Surely is,” she chuckles. Right as she is about to turn around Adam leaps in her direction and running back to her he kisses her once more before sprinting back to his car.

Giggling to herself she gets into the car and heads home, knowing he would be here in the morning, ready to continue everything from where they left it off.

[sarah-writes-marvel]

Young Love: Peter Parker x gn!Reader

S.S: Most of these stories that I put on here are just my own imagination running wild so bare with me! Hope you guys like Peter Parker fluff!

Warnings: none really, extreme fluff andd some kissing, if thats a warning....

Word count: 1339

MASTERLIST

======================================================

Peter pulled me along, his hand gripping my own, as we entered the Stark Tower. He gently led me into one of the open elevators, pressing on of the hundreds of buttons on the wall lighting up the floor number. 

I had learned about his identity when we had begun dating when I had accused him of not wanting to spend time when he always switched plans up last minute. It was a little shocking but I adjusted quickly to the information. He spent many of his afternoons at the Tower upgrading and adjusting his suit and we would do our best to plan time for dates around time for him to upgrade his suit. Which usually worked, except today.

Peter had gotten a text during our final class from Mr. Stark asking him to stop by to upgrade his suit. Obviously he had to agree, meaning that our after school date would have to be pushed back. I insisted that  I would wait for him at the apartments but he decided against it and took me to Stark Tower with him.

“Good Afternoon Mr. Parker. Should I inform Mr. Stark that you are here?” the Scottish A.I., that Peter obsessed over consistently, asked.

“Uh, no thanks Friday.” He almost sounded anxious 

“Very well. I will keep your presence unannounced.”

“I thought you were here to work on your suit though? Won’t you need Mr. Stark’s help with that?” I ask quietly.

“I am. He doesn’t know the changes I've done to the tech so he won't be really helpful, just kinda nosey.” His hand reached behind his neck, “Plus he doesn't know about you, nobody does. And I know if they found out they’d poke and prod about it.” his hand rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh?”

“I just want to try and keep my private life out of my Avenging life. If that makes sense.” His nervousness radiates from him as he tries to explain.

“Here I was hoping I could meet the team.” I joke, placing my free hand on his arm. “I get it though. You don't want to put me into harm's way or whatever.” He nodded as the doors opened to a corridor with glass doors on each side. 

As we passed by the few doors, each led into large laboratory space. They were dark and empty minus a few scientific machines lining the back walls. We got to one of the last doors and Peter pushed it open, the lights illuminating the room at the movement, exposing the mess of the lab.

“You should really keep your workspace clean,” I state, examining the piles of papers, beakers sitting out stacked on top one another, and equations messily scribbled onto a clear board, as Peter continues to tug me along to a table that was a little less cluttered than the others.

“Ya, ya I know. ‘A clean space means a clear mind’” He quotes our Chemistry professor, with an almost perfect impression, as he shoved aside a stack of papers. “Whatever.” He sent me a smile before dropping his messenger bag to the floor and taking a seat on one of the stools.

I copied his actions, pulling a book from my pack before it settled on the floor, and sitting across from him. He pulled a tablet sitting next to a stack of miscellaneous things and tapped the screen that immediately projected a hologram image of his suit.

“Pretty neat huh? Mr. Stark has the best tech!” He said, once seeing my astonished look as I watched the hologram spin. 

Peter quickly got to work, his tongue stuck out and his brows furrowed in concentration. I smile, taking in the sight, before opening my book to the page I had left on.

After an hour or so of silence and reading, I closed my book, marking my page, and moved around the table next to Peter, hopping up to sit on the metal top. He looked up at me with his sweet honey brown eyes and smiled.

“Bored yet?” he asked, leaning against the back of the stool.

“Not in the least. I just wanted to get a better view of your cute face. The hologram was blocking my vision.” I flirt, causing his cheeks to flush pink.

“Well, I’m glad you did cause I couldn’t see you through the hologram either.” Now it was my turn to blush at the comment. He stood up, standing in front of me, his hands placed on either side of my hips, and gave me a tender kiss.

“The A.I. is called Friday right?” I ask, leaning back, my hands supporting against the table.

“Ya, why?”

“Can she play some music? It’s kinda quiet.” 

“Ya, she can. You like radio music?” I simply nod, anything but the silence would be fine.

“Friday, will you put on the radio?” Peter asked, directed towards the ceiling. ‘Chasing cars’ began filling the spacious room, resonating off the walls.

“This is such a good song,” I say quietly, closing my eyes and quietly humming to the melody, reminiscing on childhood. I reopen my eyes to see Peter watching me and smiling. “What? I like the music!” I exclaim with a chuckle.

“I wasn’t judging! I was just admiring,” he stated, his hand going up in surrender.

“Whatever Spider-boy. Finish up your tech so we can go have our date night.” I say leaning forwards and taking his shirt in my hands. I gently pulled him towards me giving him a gentle kiss.

“Alright fine!”  He said taking his seat with a lovesick smile. 

A few minutes passed and the sound of the door swinging open startled Peter from his concentration and tore my eyes from Peter. He turned around and he stood from his stool, and anxiousness radiated from him as Mr. Stark made his way to us.

“Mr. Tony- Iron Stark- Man.” he stuttered, moving towards me and clearing his throat. “Mr. Stark, what’re you doing down here?”

“I didn’t get a notification from Friday so I figured I’d come to check myself.” Mr. Stark moved closer to Peter, his arms crossed against his chest. “Who’s this?” His head gestured towards me still sitting on the lab table.

“This is, uh, they’re a friend. They uh they-” Peter tripped over his words. I hopped down from the metal top and reached my hand out.

“I’m Y/N, a friend of Peter’s. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Stark. Sorry for intruding on your space.” he took my hand hesitantly looking me up and down.

“Are they here for a reason or just wanted someone with you?” Stark pointed at Peter, who was wringing his hands.

“I, uh, they, we had plans after class.” He admitted.

“Like what?” Mr. Stark prodded with a small smirk.

“Homework.” Peter squeaked. I had to cover my mouth, suppressing my laughter.

“Mhmm.” Mr. Stark hummed, eyeing Peter. “You suck at lying, kid.” 

Peter's eyes widened and his mouth opened like a fish. “No, I- no sir. I wouldn't lie to you.” he tried to cover, earning a small chuckle from me.

“Who are you?” Mr. Stark turned to me. I looked at Peter and his look of defeat crossed his face.

“Y/N L/N, Peter's partner,” I stated knowing the truth was going to come out one way or another.

“Well, that’s news,” Mr. Stark looked slightly astonished. His eyes analyzed me, deciding if I was right for his “son”. “When your done, the team is having a game night. Bring Y/N with you. I’m sure everyone would love to meet them.”

“We had plans,” Peter whispered as Mr. Stark started walking out of the room.

“Well, now you have more plans. I expect to see you both up there in like 20 minutes.” He sent a playful smile to the two of us as he exited the lab.

“So much for keeping your Avenging and personal life separate,” I said quietly watching Mr. Stark walk down the hallway.

“Ya no kidding.” 

==========================

S.S: Tell me what you think! I hope its alright! Thanks for reading!! Feel free to message me with anything!

[missmalice202]

Designing Your Melody: Chapter 18 - Vocals

Chapter 01 - Chapter 17

There were some situations that could only be put into perspective by venting to your best friend. Having a boy basically state his interest in you in a romantic capacity definitely qualified as one of those situations.

“Alya,” Marinette whined, looking at her best friend sitting on her couch. “What do I do?”

Ever since Luka’s confession two days ago, Marinette had been debating what her next move would be. She really really liked spending time with him, but she didn’t want to chance messing up the comfortable friendship they had developed.

“Girl, what do you want to do?” It was killing Alya to keep her mouth shut about Viperion’s true identity, but she agreed with Nino that this was something that their friend had to work out on her own. However, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t give her BFF a little nudge in the right direction. “What would you do if it were, say, Adrien confessing his love to you?”

She was appalled at that idea. “Adrien? Alya, you know I don’t like him like that anymore.” She shook her head in disgust. “No, even if Adrien were to tell me right now that he was in love with me and wanted to be with me, I’d tell him that we’d just have to stay friends”

“Okay, so it’s not the fact that someone likes you, it’s the fact that it’s Luka who likes you, correct?”

She stopped in her tracks and stared at her chestnut-haired friend. She hadn’t thought about it that way before. Maybe she wasn’t scared of being in a relationship, maybe she was scared of being in a relationship with Luka specifically. “Why does that scare me so much?” she asked anxiously.

“Girl, you’re scared because you’re already invested in your relationship with him.” She stood up and walked over to grab her friend’s hand, pulling her back to sit with her so she could focus on their conversation and not her pacing. “Even though you guys aren’t romantically involved yet and he said ‘no pressure’, you’re still worried that if you try to be with him and it doesn’t work out, it’ll destroy whatever it is you guys have now.”

“You’re right. It’s not worth it. I don’t want to lose him.”

Seeing the determination on her friend’s face, Alya realized that she needed to try a different tactic before Marinette sabotaged any sort of romantic involvement before it even began. “Let’s look at this from a different perspective. How would you react if it were Viperion saying that he wanted to be with you. Would you react any differently?”

She knew that she had to tread lightly. She didn’t want to reveal everything too soon. She was a little worried about using Marinette’s crush on her clanmate against her, but really, the girl was just so dense at times. Sometimes you just had to come right out and smack her across the face with something to make her acknowledge it.

“Viperion? What does he have anything to do with this?”

Alya growled, frustrated at her own decision to keep her mouth shut. “It’s a hypothetical question. Purely hypothetical. I asked, ‘what if’ to make you think about if you would behave differently.”

Marinette pondered that question for a few seconds. Would she react differently if it were Viperion? She did really like talking to their reptilian clanmate and she looked forward to playing with him whenever she got a chance to get online. Plus, he had an easygoing nature that made it really easy to open up to him. There were times that she wanted to ask him if they could meet up in real life, but she was comfortable with that degree of separation between them. Crossing that line would make him real, a flesh and blood person instead of a voice behind her screen.

If Viperion expressed an interest in meeting her and cultivating their friendship into something more, would she be so quick to shoot him down and play it safe?

“Honestly? I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know the real Viperion, only what he shares with me online. Just like he doesn’t know the real me. We only know what we tell each other.”

Alya chuckled softly. “That’s true of any relationship we have with another person. It’s up to you how much you share with the other person. Just because you don’t know what Viperion’s face looks like doesn’t mean you don’t know what his heart looks like.”

She looked at her friend in shock. “Wow, Alya. That was kinda deep.”

“What can I say?” she retorted with an exaggerated hair flip, “I have my moments.”

They both started giggling and the absurdity of Alya’s statement. After a few moments, Marinette took a deep breath and continued talking. “To be honest, I think if it were Viperion who had confessed his love to me, I think I would give him a shot.”

“Really? So what makes Viperion different than Luka?”

“I don’t know. I’m just so comfortable around Viperion. We can laugh and joke around and there’s no expectation there for anything else. When I’m with Luka, I can be myself around him, but there’s still that, I don’t know… pressure? I can’t really describe it.”

Deciding that she’s pushed her friend far enough for one day, Alya changed the subject. “So have you seen Luka since Saturday? Has he been stopping by the bakery like he used to?”

Marinette shook her head. “I think he’s giving me space. He invited me to see him perform next Saturday, though.”

“Oh my god, you have to go!” she shrieked. “Nino and I will go with you if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Would you?” she looked relieved. “I was going to ask Adrien if he wanted to come too. Get him out of his house for a night, ya know?”

Alya’s nose crinkled as she scowled at her friend. “Really? You think bringing Adrien to go see Luka play is really a good idea?”

Marinette’s brows furrowed in response. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be a good idea? He’s one of my best friends!”

She sighed at the naïve girl’s utter lack of awareness. “If you think it’s a good idea, then go ahead and invite him, girl. It’s your funeral.”

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

To Marinette, she thought of the evolution of her relationship with Adrien Agreste as a marker to indicate how much she had grown up and matured over the years. If someone had told her that she would be able to personally invite him out to join her – and their friends – to a club to watch a band perform without stuttering or making an absolute fool of herself, she would have called that person a liar. When they had been teenagers, there had been something about him that had made her brain short circuit in the most embarrassing of ways.

In a way, she was flabbergasted that the blond boy had never caught on to the way she had felt about him back then. In her mind, her obsession with him had been so painfully obvious to literally everyone except Adrien himself. Maybe he was just that oblivious. Or maybe he had been aware and was ignoring her affection for him in order to avoid a painfully awkward rejection.

It was something that she had wondered about many, many times over the years, but as her attraction for him had waned, she’d decided to just leave it alone and put it behind her.

Once she had moved on and made the conscious decision to be Adrien’s friend rather than just another fangirl, they had grown even closer than she had ever imagined. She was aware of the constant pressure he was placed under from his father and she had become a sort of safe haven for him to turn to when the stress of living up to his father’s expectations while pursuing his own dream became too much. If she were to be honest with herself, she was honored that she was the person he turned to when he just needed a break from reality.

However, recently she had begun to wonder if he had an ulterior motive for seeking out her company.

Over the past few months, she’d begun to notice that he’d been making more and more excuses to spend time with her, even if it meant squeezing in time between his university classes to drop into the bakery to snag a few pastries before returning to campus across the city. Surely there were other places much closer to his university where he could eat his lunch.

But Marinette never questioned him. She never brought up the lingering glances she caught him giving her. She never confronted him about the casual way he would invade her personal space, even if it was in a platonic way. She was hesitant to rattle the status quo they had been living in for so long, especially if her intuition was wrong. God, that would be embarrassing for him, as well as her.

A trickle of unease ran down her spine when she saw the way Adrien’s grin lit up his face when he noticed her approach in front of the club where Luka’s band would be performing that night. The sparkle in his eyes was something that she chose to ignore. After all, she was here at the invitation of another man.

‘Oh crap,’ she thought to herself. ‘Now I understand what Alya meant.’ She really hoped her utterly brilliant idea of inviting Adrien to watch Luka’s performance would not end up blowing up in her face.

As she and Adrien made small talk while waiting for the other half of their group to arrive, Marinette sent up a silent plea to whoever was listening that nothing bad happened tonight.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

Once inside the club – turns out it really does help expedite the process when a member of the band gives the bouncer your name in anticipation of your arrival – Marinette and her friends looked around for a good spot to watch the show from. Even though they had gotten there an hour before Luka was supposed to hit the stage, the club was packed.

As she looked around the crowded club, Marinette was impressed. She’d been here before with Alya a few times to unwind after a rough day and it had never been this busy. It was standing room only and the mass of bodies crowding in front of the stage was already nearly impenetrable. Apparently, the band Luka was playing with tonight was more popular than he had led her to believe.

Just when she and her friends had resigned themselves to watching the show from the back of the room, a ripple of movement through the crowd caught her attention. The volume of chatter rose over the pre-recorded music being pumped through the speakers, easily becoming audible over the pounding base that made it feel like her ribs were vibrating with the reverberation.

She strained her eyes in a futile attempt to see what had caused the commotion, but she was too short to see over the heads of so many people.

When Nino nudged her arm with his elbow, she glanced at him in question, but he was too busy waving to someone in the crowd. Just then, Luka himself broke through the sea of bodies and the rift he had opened with his passing closed behind him.

He grinned at the four of them and yelled over the music to be heard. “I’m glad you guys could make it! I wasn’t expecting it to be this crowded tonight.”

Marinette couldn’t help but notice the way that Adrien shifted on his feet to inch just a little closer to her. Luckily, Luka didn’t notice the subtle movement due to his attention being focused solely on her. Thankfully, Nino kept the conversation going as he made the necessary introductions, even though she was pretty sure that Luka had met Alya and Adrien before.

They decided to brave the bar in an attempt to get something to drink. Luka stuck to water since he would be playing later and he wanted to have a clear head for the show. The other four, however, ordered bottles of beer to wet their parched throats. The temperature in the club was already becoming oppressive simply from the heat of so many bodies pressed together in one place.

Marinette couldn’t prevent the way her cheeks flushed whenever Luka bent over to yell something into her ear. The music was loud enough to invite the intrusion into her personal space, but she was certain that the hand he placed on the small of her back was unnecessary. Welcome, but unnecessary.

While Luka and Marinette stood off to the side and attempted to carry on a conversation in the loud club, Nino and Alya were keeping a careful eye on how their other friend was reacting to the interaction. He wasn’t taking it very well if the way he was scowling as he quickly drained his bottle was any indication. They tried to get Adrien’s attention away from the couple talking next to the bar, but even as he half heartedly listened to them talk, his eyes never once strayed from their dark-haired companion. Or the hand pressing gently on her back.

Alya and Nino grew more concerned as Adrien ordered and three more bottles of beer and emptied them before Luka motioned to them for them to follow him. Adrien tipped his head back to drain his last bottle and slammed it on the bar before following their group.

Using the dense crowd as a flimsy and utterly transparent excuse, Luka grabbed Marinette’s hand and led her through the crowd to get closer to the stage. With her free hand, she grabbed Alya by the arm, who grabbed onto Nino with her own spare hand. Nino, in turn, snagged the last reluctant member of their party and weaved their way up to the front of the crowd.

When they were in the front, right in the middle of the stage, Luka leaned in one last time. “I’ve got to go finish setting up. We’ll be starting soon, but I wanted to make sure you had the best seat in the house for this.”

Marinette’s heart fluttered. He really was so sweet, sacrificing time he should have spent preparing for the concert to make sure that she was taken care of. She shooed him playfully and he gave her arm one last squeeze before making his way backstage.

They didn’t have to wait long before the house lights dimmed and the spotlights illuminated the stage. The roar of the crowd was deafening when Luka and he other members of the band stepped on stage.

If she thought he was cute under normal circumstances, the moment he stepped on stage, her jaw – and her IQ – dropped. He was wearing simple clothes, nothing fancy since he wasn’t a full-time member of the band and didn’t want to attract too much attention away from the main members: ripped jeans and a shredded black t-shirt with a pair of Converse sneakers on his feet. But the moment he pinned her with his eyes, Marinette’s brain ceased to function. He had heavily outlined his ocean-blue eyes with eyeliner and the way he looked at her did things to her insides that she didn’t want to acknowledge. He was freaking hot.

Marinette joined in and cheered for Luka; she hadn’t learned what the band was called, so she just screamed his name when the vocalist, a tall, slender girl with wild, jet-black hair introduced each member of the band.

The way he winked at her as he slung the strap of his guitar over his shoulder made her mouth go dry. Seriously, it should be illegal for someone to look that good holding a guitar.

From the moment the band started playing the first song, Marinette was mesmerized. Hearing Luka play at her parent’s bakery and in her room had shown her that he had talent, but seeing him on stage, playing with a full band, gave her a whole new appreciation for his skill. The way his fingers danced over the strings of his instrument was a thing of beauty to behold and the way he moved so confidently around the stage told her that this was who Luka truly was.

Gone was the quiet boy who liked to tease her and who she had always considered a bit of a flirt. This boy – no, this man – was sex incarnate. He knew exactly what he was doing with his fingers on his instrument and the dexterity he displayed (as well as the heated way he looked down at her from the stage) made her think about what else he could do with those nimble fingers.

She shook her head to get rid of those intrusive thoughts. She looked up just in time to see him wink at her and smirk knowingly. It was like he knew exactly what she had been thinking about.

The band continued playing, sending the crowd into an absolute frenzy. People around her were dancing and jumping and screaming and Marinette was loving every second of it.

Until she felt someone drape their arms around her shoulders, holding her in an unwelcome embrace from behind.

She turned her head to see Adrien grinning at her from mere inches away. In all their time together, as casual as their physical interactions had been, he’d never been so bold when touching her. It was something she truly respected about him as a person; he knew where the line was. Until now.

She looked to her other side to see if she could get Alya’s help, but her friend was too wrapped up in the energy of the crowd to notice her predicament. She reached up and grabbed Adrien’s wrists, aiming to gently pry his arms away from her, but he only took that as an invitation to cuddle her closer.

She looked up to the stage with a panicked expression. Sure enough, Luka had noticed what was going on. He walked across the stage, never missing a beat, and crouched down to where she was standing. He locked eyes with Adrien and growled, “Let her go. Now.”

The singer’s vocals were loud enough that nobody around them realized what was happening. To the casual observer, he was just interacting with the crowd. But to Marinette’s immense relief, Luka’s actions had caused not only Adrien to release his hold of her shoulders but had also attracted Alya and Nino’s attention to the drama that was unfolding between their two other friends.

Thankfully, once that situation had been diffused, the rest of the concert had gone off without a hitch, but Adrien’s actions made it abundantly clear to Marinette that she would be having a serious discussion with her friend about boundaries and personal space.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

As the club emptied out after the show, Marinette and company were waiting by the bar for Luka to make another appearance. After a few short minutes, he walked up, reached behind the bar to snag a bottle of water that was waiting for him, and drained half of it before he turned to them.

“So, what did you think of the show?”

Marinette beamed at him. She didn’t think her smile could stretch any further across her face. “Luka, you were amazing! How are you not famous by now?”

He chuckled at her enthusiastic reaction. “I don’t want to be famous. I like my peaceful life.” He shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of his water. “I just want to play my music and live in peace.”

While Nino and Alya exclaimed over how good the show was, Marinette could feel the daggers that Adrien was staring at Luka. As time passed and his gaze turned darker and darker, she had had enough.

Just as she was about to confront him about his attitude, Luka reached out and place his hand on her shoulder. “I hate to do this, but I’ve got to help them break the equipment down. Do you think I can stop by your place when I’m done?”

Pulling her phone out of her purse, she checked the time. It was only 10:30pm, so she nodded and told him she’d be waiting for him in the bakery.

With a final thanks to everyone for coming to see him perform, Luka strode off to join the band and clear the stage of equipment.

When they all left the club, Alya and Nino were hesitant to leave Marinette and Adrien alone, especially considering Adrien’s erratic behavior earlier and his questionable sobriety. But Marinette told them not to worry and sent them on their way, giving Alya a pointed stare that managed to convey that she was going to be having a very serious conversation with Adrien about what had transpired that night.

So it was with a little concern – and a promise to text when Marinette made it home safely – that Nino and Alya made their way home, watching as Marinette and Adrien walked in the opposite direction towards the DuPain-Cheng bakery.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

Chapter 19 (Coming Soon!)

*This chapter gave me soo much trouble. The first half I just absolutely hated, but I absolutely flew through the second half. I've been wanting to write Luka's concert for like, ever and personally, I love how it came out. And while I wasn't planning on Adrien acting like a possessive jerk initially, I think it kinda fit. So, I'm sorry if he seems OOC, but I love it and that's all that matters haha. BTW, this is the longest chapter I’ve written so far, by nearly 1,000 words! Yay for progress and longer chapters!

I'd like to apologize for it taking me so freaking long to get this out. Now that I'm not dying of the flu anymore, I'm working so much more, picking up all sorts of shifts to cover for the people who can't work now because they don't have childcare and the kids here are still out of school. I count myself extremely fortunate that I'm still able to work (I'm a home healthcare provider), so I'm not taking that for granted.

Special thanks as always for those who have reblogged, liked, and replied to this story of mine. It sincerely touches me that you like this utter trash that I'm creating and I couldn't be happier. I'm always so excited to see what you guys have to say about the new chapters and I so look forward to your feedback. I love you guys so much!

The next chapter will be exciting for me to write. Marinette confronts Adrien with his stupid behavior and Luka sees something he shouldn't.

Until next time, my lovelies XOXO*

@write-for-your-life2

[checkurwindow]

Crash and Burn

3 months.

That’s how long it’s been since Tony and y/n’s once close relationship had deteriorated to absolutely nothing.

3 months of longing, heartbreak, and regret, yet he only had himself to blame. She had tried, she tried so hard to make things work between them. Every time he changed his mind, every time he hesitated, she was the one who compromised to satisfy him, yet she never complained, not even once. He was too much of a coward to admit it, to admit how much he cared about her to her, and himself.

He kept coming up with reasons why they shouldn’t be together, why they couldn’t be together, why they would be better off apart, because that was what he wanted...right? He wanted this, he kept assuring himself that this was the right thing to do, that this was the only way he could keep them both safe. Everything had been fine for a while, until one late night.

Making his way downtown to a bar he knew y/n frequented with her friends, he should’ve known that he was bound to run into her, but as fate might have it, he was immensely drunk and rational thoughts had been thrown out the window quite a while back.

He should’ve known that she’d be there, laughing and chatting happily with her close group of friends, the frequent clueless guy walking up to their booth and offering to buy her a drink.

Fools. He thought to himself, they were all fools, thinking they could be with her one night and come out the next the same. That night, he unknowingly tested the theory himself.

She had caught him staring, but instead of looking away, she held his gaze, the tension between them agonizing for both parties, so it wasn’t long before one thing led to another and they were stumbling around his room in the dark. The next day when he woke up albeit hungover but more importantly sober, he realized what he had done, what he vowed to himself he wouldn’t. He told her it was a mistake, a night that couldn’t possibly happen again. Seeing as mere seconds later she stormed out of his place with tears brimming her eyes, she didn’t take it too well.

“Are you even listening to me?” Fury’s voice brought him out of his flashback.

“No, no I wasn’t,” Tony admitted, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I said that I need the team in Quebec, take London, Y/l/n and Knightly with you too,” He explained, “you leave in 4 hours , go tell y/l/n , I haven't been able to reach her comms, ” he finished and gestured for Tony to leave the room.

He sighed as he started his search for her. When he finally found her, and with her was Eli London, a fellow SHIELD agent of hers. He said something to her, making her almost burst out in laughter. Oh how Tony had dreamed of being the one to constantly be the one to make her laugh. His thoughts stopped along with his feet when Eli leaned closer to her, their lips dangerously close.

He quickly stalked towards them, anger building up inside him, yet he knew he had no right to be angry or jealous, they weren't together, he had made it clear to her that night, yet he can't help but long to be in Eli's position.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat behind them, they instantly sprung apart.

"Y/l/n, we're due in Quebec, be at the runway in 4 hours," he said and turned on his heel, starting to walk away.

"What's the mission in Quebec for?" she asked and he reluctantly turned around.

"Fury will brief us on the way, so I suggest you stop flirting and get your priorities straight, because I don't need another incident like Boston on my conscience," he spat out, venom laced his words even though he didn't mean it.

She winced at those last words, a look of hurt flashed across her eyes as memories of how she failed to save all those people because she wasn't focused washed over her. He knew that he had struck a chord he didn't mean to, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that last part," he grabbed her hand before she was out of reach and apologised but it was no use, the damage had been done.

"No, you shouldn't have," she stated and pulled free from his grasp before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving him stood there dumbfounded and angry at himself for letting it slip out.

4 and a half hours had passed and yet only one of the agents had arrived. Tony was worried, he had started fidgeting with his watch, his hair, anything to take his mind of her.

"Sorry we're late, we got caught up with training," Y/N said as she and Eli rushed onto the tarmac.

"Good, I was starting to get worried about you," Tony said, locking eyes with the only person in the group her cared about.

"That's no use as you lost the right to care 2 months ago," she said and brushed past him and into the awaiting quinjet.

He walked in last, his eyes scanning the jet for empty seats when his eyes landed on the only open one, of course, he thought as he slipped into the seat next to her.

She took out the book she was planning to read on the flight over when her phone vibrated. It was a message from her brother, Jaden.

Good luck with the mission! I'm buying you dinner when you get back! Love ya!

She smiled to herself as she began to write a reply when she noticed Tony's eyes on her.

"Is that Eli?" He asked quietly.

Normally it would've been a natural question, seeing how close she and Eli had grown these past few months, especially when her relationship with Tony, whether it be professional or romantic, had crumbled.

"I don't want to do this right now, Tony," she warned, "and frankly, it doesn't concern you who texts me and who doesn't, as I'm sure you know you've made abundantly clear time and time again. And no, it wasn't Eli, it was my brother," she didn't bother giving him the chance to explain, simply putting on her ear buds and opening her book.

He let out a frustrated sigh, this wasn't how he wanted this conversation to go, he wanted to apologise to her, about everything, and tell her how deeply and overwhelmingly in love he was with her.

It was an hour into the peace and quiet when Jace, another agent, pointed out the looming weather in the distance. "It looks pretty bad," he said.

Y/n, of course, didn't hear him with the music playing loudly in her ears.

Tony turned towards her, tapping her shoulder lightly.

“What?” She growled, very obviously annoyed. He could hear the voice of Lin Manuel Miranda blasting through her earbuds.

“Definitely Hamilton” he thought to himself. She had always been obsessed with the musical, constantly trying to get him to sing along.

He opened his mouth again to speak up but everything went dark.

“Jace? Jace wake up!” Tony heard Steve say a few feet away from him as he sat up, propping himself up with his elbows.

He coughed loudly into his blackened sleeve, his throat dry and hoarse and his ear ringing.

“Tony, are you okay? Can you walk?” Natasha asked as she stood up, slightly limping.

Tony stood up, his leg working somewhat fine, “Yeah, I’m mostly fine, but my chest hurts like hell,” he explained to her.

“Guys? Guys where’s-“ Eli stopped himself to breathe as he felt an overwhelming sensation of pain run in his leg, where a large gash visibly cut across his left thigh, “fuck,” he breathed deeply, “ where’s y/n?” He questioned.

“I-I don’t know, I was still conscious a few seconds into the crash, I saw her face but then I blacked out again,” Jace confessed anxiously.

“W-wait, I-I hear something, something banging against metal,” Eli panted as he finally caught his breath.

They followed the sound to about 20 feet away from where they were before. Below a large metal piece of the plane lay y/n, a large gash on her right cheek.

“Oh god, y/n!” Tony rushed to her side, kneeling beside her, “W-What hurts?”

“You mean what doesn’t hurt?” She quipped weakly before coughing again, blood staining her cut lip.

He glared at her,letting her know that it wasn’t the time to be making jokes.

“I-I can’t feel my chest, my head is throbbing, I think my right leg is bleeding, honestly everything hurts,” she said and sucked in shallow breath, her body not allowing her to do any more.

Tony was panicking, his supposedly genius mind unable to find a coherent thought for the first time ever, “E-Eli! I need you to help me here!” He yelled at the younger agent, “On 3, we have to lift this up,” he said, his eyes trained on the metal frame that held y/n down.

Eli nodded, his hands finding a place on the frame, “1...2…”

“3!” They pushed together with all their might, desperate to do something to help y/n, but to no avail, even with their combined strength, it wasn’t enough to lift it off of her.

The other gathered around, injured but not nearly as severe as y/n.

Tony tried again, this time without Eli’s help, as he was sitting next to him, applying pressure on his own wound.

“Why are you guys just standing there? I need your help!” Tony pleaded with them, almost out of breath.

“They know...Tony, it’s too late…” her soft voice said, volume barely above a whisper.

“N-no, there was to be something we can do, I can’t let you just…I won’t let you just leave me like this! Not…” he sucked in a deep breath, “ not after I left you,” he conceded.

She reached out, taking his hand with hers, “It’s okay, Tony, I-I…” her breathe became softer, her eyes fluttering close.

“No-no,” his thoughts clouded and his vision became blurry, tears rolling down his face, “you can’t just- Fuck!” He yelled at no one in particular, “pl-

\

Tony woke up in a cold sweat, his heartbeat racing and his mind all over the place.

It was a dream.

He looked over to his bedside clock, 2:36 am

He jumped out of bed, throwing on a nearby t-shirt and ran down the hallway, rapidly knocking on her door. After 15 seconds of silence, he tried knocking again, his head hanging but he still had the slightest bit of hope.

He heard the sound of a door opening and looked up, the door still closed.

“Tony, what are you doing?” Rhodey, who was sleeping over, asked.

“W-where is she? I need to talk to her,” he said, furiously knocking on the door again. His knuckles were starting to hurt but he kept knocking as fast as he could.

“Tony…” Rhodey started, but Tony didn’t look at him, his attention trained on the door in front of him, “Tony, stop…” Rhodey said, grabbing Tony’s hand and pushing it back down.

“W-where’s y/n?” Tony asked desperately.

“Tony please, don’t do this-”

“Tell me, please. I need to talk it out with her, I know I’m wrong but I need to tell her I love her and I need to make everything right, I-”

“Tony…” Rhodey’s voice becomes softer, “the crash was 2 years ago…”

It wasn’t a dream.

Author’s note: Welp, I uh, I wrote my first one shot?? I’m not used to writing one shots so do let me know how it was!

Your favourite Tumblr (well this is new, I’m usually on wattpad lol) author,

CheckUrWindow

[stahlop]

Winner Takes it All (1/1)

Must Love Dogs is not going to be ready today, hopefully it will be ready by tomorrow. But in the meantime, here is a little one shot I wrote. 

So this was a prompt I had sent someone when I first got onto Tumblr and never had any intention of trying to write fanfic on my own. But now I am writing fanfic, so I decided to write the idea myself. Enjoy.

And as usual, thank you @profdanglaisstuff for being my beta and helping me make this fic come to life!

Ao3

Rated: G

It was ridiculous is what it was. Emma Swan and Killian Jones were most definitely dating. Ruby had seen them cuddling in a booth together at Granny’s. Mary Margaret had seen them sneaking away from one of the town meetings together. David said that Killian had brought Emma as his date for a work function, but Emma claimed they were just friends and she was  only there for the free food. Duh! And that was the rub, Emma and Killian claimed they were just friends. Friends who did everything together, including sleeping over at each other’s apartments and (according to Emma’s roommate, Elsa) sharing a bed on most nights.

Their friend group had been betting for months on when Emma and Killian would finally let them know they were dating. It had started small. Ruby claimed they were dating and David said they weren’t. She’d bet him 20 bucks that they’d be kissing in front of everyone by the end of the week. But it never happened. David wanted his 20 bucks. Ruby doubled down. Then Mary Margaret wanted in. She believed they were dating too. Eventually, everyone in their little group of friends became convinced it was true, even David. So now the bet wasn’t about whether they were dating or not, it was when the hell Emma and Killian were finally going to come clean about it.

It was Ruby who laid out the rules of the bet. Each person involved would pick out a date for the month. Whomever got the closest would win the money. And no one was allowed to try to manipulate Emma and Killian into revealing themselves or tell them about the bet to increase their chances. After five months, the pot was up to $2000.

Elsa was sure that she had it in the bag in February because of Valentine’s Day (month three of the bet). How could two people so obviously in love not share that with everyone? But no, they joined the group for the late night drinking binge they always went on after the couples in their group (David and Mary Margaret and Ruby and Mulan) had their obligatory dates and came to join the singletons. Emma bitched as usual about not needing a man and what a stupid, made up holiday it was, and Killian nodded in agreement and went home early to wallow. Emma and Elsa went back to their apartment, both as single women.

David really thought he’d had it in the bag with that work function Killian brought Emma to in month four, but Emma seemed to be flirting with Graham of all people. Graham who was most definitely dating August from accounting. And Killian seemed to be flirting with Tink, whom David was pretty sure also had a boyfriend. When David had asked Killian why he had brought Emma even though a) a date was not required at this event and b) they seemed to be ignoring each other the whole time, Killian had simply shrugged, run his fingers through his dark hair and said “Who better to ignore at a party than your best friend?”

“I think they know about the bet.” Elsa said once they started into month seven, sliding into the booth that contained David and Mary Margaret on the other side. Mary Margaret knocked her coffee mug over.

“Shoot, sorry.” Mary Margaret said grabbing some napkins from the dispenser to clean up the mess she’d just made on the table. “Why do you think she knows?” Mary Margaret continued.

“Because Liam made some comment to Killian about setting him up with Aurora, kind of as a thank you, and Killian said he wasn’t interested.” Elsa and Liam, Killian’s brother, had recently started seeing each other. It was still new, but they were already pretty obsessed with each other. Emma and Killian, of all people, had set them up.

“So why does that mean he knows about the bet?” David asked, taking a sip of his Coke. Liam was not part of the betting pool, having just learned about it from Elsa when they started dating.

“Because then Liam suggested that maybe Killian wasn’t interested because he was already seeing Emma, and Liam said his eyebrows almost flew off his face with how high he raised them, ‘quickly schooled his features’ --Liam’s words, not mine-- and told Liam he was being preposterous.” Elsa finished explaining.

“Again,” Mary Margaret began, grabbing the soiled paper napkins and throwing them into a garbage can near the entrance of the diner, “that doesn’t tell us they know about the bet. Just that someone else thinks that he and Emma are dating and they won’t admit it.”

“And then,” Elsa said, getting frustrated at Mary Margaret for all the interruptions, “Killian responded with, I bet you think you’re so clever.”

“They totally know about the bet.” David agreed.

“They totally know about the bet.” Elsa repeated.

They called an emergency group meeting at The Rabbit Hole after that revelation. David, Mary Margaret, Elsa, Ruby, Mulan, and Will (he was their regular bartender, but even he could tell they’d been shagging for months now).

“We need to force this out in the open. They know about the bet. Who knows how long they’ve known about it. I think they’re just messing with us now.” Elsa said.

“Did we just step into an episode of Friends, because I swear I’ve seen this one,” Ruby stated.

“Maybe we should just give everyone their money back and just let them be,” Mulan asserted.

“No way!” Elsa exclaimed, “We’ve been invested in this for too long now.”

“Well, what are you suggesting? Setting them up with other people? They’ll either say no or they’ll agree and flirt like crazy with the person. We’ve already seen it happen.” David said.

“What if we can get them to admit it to someone not associated with us at all, and then we can, I don’t know, catch them in the act,” Elsa proposed.

“And how, exactly, do we plan on doing that?” Mary Margaret asked, getting frustrated over this whole thing.

“Well, Liam is pretty sure that Killian and Emma go on dates out of town. If we can figure out where and get someone from the restaurant to get us pictures, then we have them!” Elsa concluded. She knew they were having sex. She shared a wall with Emma for crying out loud. And ever since she started dating Liam, Killian had been out of the apartment a lot more.

“I’m sorry, what?” Mary Margaret balked at the notion of spying on Emma and Killian, “When did we become private eyes? Isn’t that Emma’s department? Seriously, Elsa, this is getting way out of hand.” Emma was Mary Margaret’s best friend. She hated that Emma hadn’t told anyone about dating Killian, but it was still up to Emma to let them know on her own time, not when Elsa decided to out them by playing super sleuth.

“What do you suggest then, Mary Margaret?” Elsa said, turning on her with an annoyed glare.

“How ‘bout asking them why they’re holding hands right now.” Will butted in from the bar.

The group turned toward the entrance. There were Emma and Killian, casually walking in holding hands and mooning over each other as if no one else in the bar existed.

“Hey you two.” Elsa said trying to sound casual. The rest of the group also mumbled their hellos as if they hadn’t just been discussing the two obvious lovebirds.

“Look,” Emma began, “I know you all have suspected that Killian and I have been dating.” The group held their breath waiting for the excuse that they knew was coming. “And we are here to officially tell you that we are in fact dating.” Killian finished. He and Emma looked at each other, smiled, and then shared a chaste kiss on the lips for their group of friends to see.

Elsa’s mouth was agape. “You’re just admitting it? I mean,” she tried to recover gracefully, “how long has this been going on? We had no idea.” Ruby started cackling in the background. Mulan gave her a good elbow to the ribs to quiet her down.

“It’s been going on for a few months.” Emma said a little anxiously, “We just didn’t want to say anything right away because it was new, and if it didn’t work out we didn’t need you guys all up in our business.”

“Of course. Emma, Killian, we’re so happy for you.” Mary Margaret said, practically in tears. She went to hug both of them.

“Too bad Liam isn’t here.” Elsa stated, “He would love to know that you two were together. He’s been rooting for you.”

“Um, yeah, about that,” Killian said, scratching the back of his neck, a nervous tic they all knew about, “He does know, Elsa. We asked him not to tell you because we were keeping it to ourselves.” Once again, Elsa’s mouth dropped.

They decided drinks were in order for the newly-outed couple. No one said a word about the bet. Elsa claimed she’d be having some words with Liam when she saw him later that night, but she’d had quite a bit to drink, so by the time Liam came and joined them, she was in no position to even form a coherent sentence.

“I’m glad you two have finally decided to stop this nonsense and share your happiness with us all, little brother,” Liam said clapping Killian on the back and giving Emma a quick hug.

“Younger brother,” he said but with very little bite.

It was just Emma and Killian and Mary Margaret and David left by the time the bar closed.  Will was in the back counting out the till and David, who had barely drunk anything, left to go get the car.

“So,” Killian said, quirking his eyebrow at Mary Margaret, “how much did you win?”

“I think the pot was up to $2500. So,” Mary Margaret calculated in her head, “$1250 is half. I’ll let you know when I get it from Ruby. She’s been in charge of the money,” she said as if this were an ordinary, everyday financial transaction.

“Good job on getting Liam to make Elsa suspect,” Mary Margaret said to the happy couple.

“She’d been driving me crazy!” Emma said, “Dropping hints left and right about Killian and me. But I knew we could hold off longer until the pot was more significant. Thanks for letting us in on it.” Emma grinned.

“Well, it’s not like I meant to. It was a simple slip up. Besides, you know how well I can keep a secret,” Mary Margaret said, trying to defend herself. Emma and Killian had told her and Liam after they’d been dating for two months, needing someone each of them could confide in. Telling them about the bet had been a complete accident.

“I’m so happy for you two.” Mary Margaret told them. And she was. They had basically been living a rom-com for the past year; one about best friends who were seriously pining for one another.

“Darn it, I guess Ruby gets the money.” Mary Margaret added absent-mindedly.

“What money?” Emma had asked. Mary Margaret turned bright red.

“Um….” She wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Did you have a wager with Ruby about us getting together?” Killian asked looking appalled.

“Not exactly.” Mary Margaret said looking down at her hands.

“Then what exactly?” Emma asked getting agitated.

“Um ...the whole group was betting on when you two would finally admit you were dating. Even Will was in on it.” Mary Margaret confessed.

But instead of getting angrier, Emma and Killian had turned to one another and laughed.

“Mary Margaret, how would you like to make some money?” Emma said, green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You ready to go, Mary Margaret?” David asked coming back in from outside startling Mary Margaret out of her reverie.

“Yep.” She said, scooting off the stool and walking over to her husband. They exited the bar leaving the happy couple behind.

“Well, that was exciting.” Killian said grabbing Emma’s hand. He took it to his lips to kiss the knuckles.

“We’re really going to need that money, considering.” Emma said taking her other hand and brushing her slightly rounded stomach. “I’m surprised no one noticed you drinking my shots tonight.”

She grinned at the new secret they were hiding.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future fics!

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89

[comfortmarvelimagines]

When You Can’t Find the Quiet pt 3

thank you guys so much for being patient for this! I will preface this with a warning that there is an implied slur (r word) mentioned in here, but is resolved with much fluff. Other than that, hope you enjoy! 

part 1 | part 2

“Y/n”

“Hey, y/n”

“Dude, the bell goes, in five minutes, are you gonna start packing up or what,”

“Y/n!” Peter jabbed you in the arm. “You look dead.”

You ducked your head, uncomfortable with his staring.

“When was the last time you slept? Like, properly slept?”

In lieu of an answer, you turned your attention to shoving your pencil case and notebook into your backpack. The same stationery that had sat unused on your desk as you drifted half into unconsciousness, head buried in your arms, throughout the period. Sleep and functioning and, well, humaning, weren’t really happening today.

“Okay, we can talk about that later when you come to my place so me and May can make sure you actually sleep and eat. We gotta go to decathlon practice now, before MJ roasts us for being late agaaaaaain,” Peter drew out the last syllable as he shoved his chair back under the desk. You stood in imitation, wishing that you could just leave already. Sitting up the back of a class when the teacher couldn’t care less about how engaged you were was one thing, but decathlon meant people were actually expecting you to, you know, do things. Think actual thoughts.

***

It wasn’t a fully Bad Brain Day, not really. The input of school wasn’t painful, per say; more like it was turning into brain static, like your processing filters were on strike. Even thinking was hard, an effort. Talking was an absolute no-go. Even though that wasn’t unusual, it was never easy trying to communicate that communicating was hard to people that didn’t get it. Peter and MJ and Ned got it. Tony got it, after the whole situation of the last Bad Brain Day you’d had at school. The decathlon team, apparently, did not.

“Look who decided to turn up late after promising not to. Next time you’re going alternate, loser.” “Wow, thanks MJ. Nice to see you too.” As Peter and MJ talked, you chucked your bag onto the ground and slouched into a seat. Ned turned to you.

“Hey, y/n!”

You held your hand up in greeting, a half wave. As Ned turned to move on, Abe interjected before he could join in MJ’s roasting of Peter. “Hey, y/n, shouldn’t you say hi to Ned? He was being nice to you,” “They said hi, they waved,” Ned responded.  

“What, you haven’t trained your pet idiot to speak yet? That’s pathetic, what a re-” Flash was cut off by a pen colliding with the side of his head. He turned to find MJ standing, fuming, hands planted in fists on the desk as if in lieu of planting them in Flash’s face.

“You don’t say that word, ever, especially not about them. Some things are harder for y/n, like talking, but that doesn’t… Not that it’d matter if they didn’t, but they know what’s going on. They’re their own independent person. We don’t… They…” “We don’t own them,” Ned finished. Peter had since sat down and taken your hand, rubbing his thumb in circles. You tasted salt, and only then realised you were crying.

“Do you wanna leave?” Peter whispered. The nod of your head was almost imperceptible, but you felt frozen. The whole team had disintegrated into a rambling mess of arguments, half wanting to punch Flash and half agreeing with him in a weird way that tried to avoid coming off as blatantly mean. You heard all of it, and it hurt. They were talking about you, not to you, and as much as you hated it you realised that they didn’t really see you. They saw what you couldn’t do, what you didn’t do, but not who you were.

“Okay, lets go,” Peter slung both your backpacks over his shoulder and gently tugged your arm upwards. You allowed him to lead you out, not paying attention to where but following anyway.

“I texted May, she’s leaving work now to pick us up. I’m guessing the subway wouldn’t be a great idea right now.” You shook your head, meaning no. Meaning May shouldn’t have left her shift, meaning you could get the subway, meaning neither of them should drop everything for you. Peter interpreted it as confirmation that you didn’t want to take the subway back to his apartment. That was one of the worst things about days like this; even your best friends didn’t get it right all the time, and it really wasn’t realistic to even try to correct them. You folded over, head on your knees, gravel of the school stairs digging through your jeans, right hand still encased in Peter’s left. It was humiliating.  

***

You’d met May several times before, but definitely not to the point where you were expecting her to come running up to you and Peter and envelope you in a hug. She pulled back and held you at arm’s length. “Hey sweetie, Peter told me what happened. Are you okay?”

You tilted your head, a non-committal nod. You weren’t okay, not really. Not when that word that Flash almost said was bouncing around your brain relentlessly. She accepted it regardless. “Alright, let’s go home. The two of you deserve a break, I know Peter’s been studying constantly for finals!”

Peter ducked as she reached out to ruffle his hair. Pulling open the door for you, he climbed into the back seat next to you. “You kids okay with pizza?” May asked.

“Sure, May. You’re still okay with y/n staying over tonight, right?”

“Of course, how could I forget?” She pulled the car out of the school’s parking lot, merging into traffic. Peter pulled out his phone.

“MJ texted me to say she’s sorry Flash was a dick, and to make sure we get you ice cream to make up for it.” He pulled his hand out of your grip to type a message back, and you giggled, reaching up to wipe the last of the tears from your eyes with your sweater sleeves.

You missed the sad smile Peter gave May in the rear-view mirror. The kind that said ‘I got this, I’ll fix it later’. You missed the hesitation in Peter’s eyes when he looked away, wondering if he really could.

***

From then, you managed to push the Bad Thoughts to the back of your mind, smothering them in the Parkers’ easy banter and cheese-drenched pizza. Hours had passed and seeing as neither you nor Peter were wanting to follow a complex plot, it was a night of easy sitcoms followed by a David Attenborough documentary (part of May’s thinly veiled attempt to get the two of you to sleep- it was no secret that insomnia plagued you both more often than either of you’d admit). It was nearing midnight when you moved from the worn couch to Peter’s bunk, you on top, staring at the ceiling, headphones on. Even music couldn’t drown out your obsessive rumination.

“Hey, y/n!” Peter’s voice came out as more of a stage whisper than anything else, loud enough that May could probably still hear through the thin walls if she was awake.

“Mmmn”

“I know you’re awake”

“Obviously, dummy, I responded to you.” You almost surprised yourself; it was the first fully coherent sentence you’d managed all day. Amazing what being in a supportive and calm environment could achieve. “I don’t know, sometimes I talk to you and you actually do make weird noises in your sleep,” Peter paused, shifting the tangent of the conversation. “Anyways, about what happened…”

“It’s fine.” “No, it’s not, and you’re not fine.”

“I just don’t like that word. I’m being a baby over nothing.” “You’re allowed to not like that word. Flash shouldn’t have even thought about using it. You know he’s… Wrong, right?” “No he’s not. Are you forgetting why I am the way I am? It’s practically the definition of… That word.” You blinked, trying to force the hot tears back into your eyes. It wasn’t worth crying over twice in one day, not in front of your friend.

“That’s wrong and you know it. That word does not describe your diagnosis, and your diagnosis doesn’t describe you- I mean- Wait, what, I’m confusing myself, that didn’t make sense, uh…” Peter trailed off, leaving a second of silence.

“I get what you’re trying to say, but it’s still… I guess he’s not exactly far off the mark.” You rubbed your hands together anxiously. “They were agreeing with him, Peter.”

The way your voice cracked at his name was enough to send you into sobs. The awful, silent, curled-in-on-yourself, fist-in-mouth to stop yourself from screaming kind. You barely registered Peter half-helping, half-carrying you down the bunk ladder, sinking onto his bunk, hugging you.

“They don’t matter. They’re not half as smart, and intelligent and brave as you are. You get out of bed every day and...You know what? You kick ass,” he poked your shoulder with each syllable, and you sniggered into his now tear-soaked pyjama shirt.

“No! I’m serious! This world isn’t… The city isn’t made for your brain but you still manage to get to school every day. The school system isn’t built for your wild cool brain, but you still do-” “The school system isn’t made for anyone’s brain. Unless they’re a robot.” “Okay, fair, but you get my point. You know MJ and Ned would kick your ass if they heard you say that about yourself, and they’d kill me for letting you think that. You’re worth so much more than what that word means.”

At some point, the two of you had ended up laying on the bottom bunk, Peter’s chin on your head and your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt (in your defence, it was soft and a much better stim than your default hand-bone-rubbing distressed stim). It was entirely platonic, but that didn’t make it any less needed; if there was one thing Peter was trying to convey, it was that he had your back, and if there was one thing you were trying to respond with it was that you trusted him wholeheartedly.

The last thing you said before sleep took you prisoner was a whispered, “Thanks, Peter.”

And if May Parker was standing behind the door frame and overheard, before sneaking a picture of the two of you curled together like sleepy octopi? Then that was certainly, definitely blackmail material, and not confirmation that in her heart, that she loved her strange adopted children more than anything.

[redhoodieone]

Don’t Tell Me

A/N: I honestly don’t know how this came to me, but I can say this is a serious fic. If it’s well-received, I’ll write chapter 2, and so on.

 SUMMARY: Tim Drake discovers his longtime girlfriend, Y/N, is cheating on him with Jason Todd. But after Tim finds out about everything: relationships are tested, friendships are burned, and those who made mistakes will suffer from the consequences. Even happy endings aren’t guaranteed for everyone.

 WARNINGS: Cheating, betrayal, smut, language, and more later.

 Tim Drake knows something is going on. He’s usually on top of his game; he’s always 12 steps ahead than the Batfamily, and even his enemies. He was trained to always know the consequences and the outcome for everything, that’s what makes him a better detective than Bruce (who even admitted Tim was a better detective than him). But even being the best Red Robin and detective takes a toll on him; sleepless nights, obsessive compulsive habits on the computer, and even many cups of coffee to where he’s a shaking caffeinated addict. But that was before Y/N. For the past two years of his life, he knew he’s become a little better at taking care of himself because of his girlfriend, Y/N Y/LN. Instead of drinking five pots of coffee, he’s down to three cups at night. For sleeping, he’s in bed at ten o’clock beside Y/N. And the obsessive-compulsive disorder? He’s back on his medication, and he now he knows to ask for help when he needs it.

Many would say Y/N made Tim Drake a better person. Which comes back to his actual first serious girlfriend Y/N. Tim knew his past flings were just for fun, and never meant to last long or even be ready for committed future plans. But when Tim met Y/N at Bat Burger, he knew his life was just starting. She was an employee, dressed in a Catwoman costume, and served him, his brothers, and Bruce their food. Y/N’s eyes shined beautifully, her smile was full of laughter and fun, and her personality was kind, humorous, and even addicting. Not only was Tim captivated by her, but so were his brothers, minus Damian, who just respects her as a girl, and nothing more. Bruce was even amazed by her and admitted to the boys after dinner that she’s the daughter he’s always wanted (if he had one).

But Dick and Jason were surely sexually attracted to her. And again, like before with many rejections, Tim truly believed Y/N would choose Dick or Jason.

Who was he kidding? Dick was a prince charming kind of guy, who could win any woman over with his looks, compliments, and confidence.

And as for Jason, Jason was considered a “Sex God” by women who lusted after him. He was tall, strong, and literature nerd on the inside. What Jason also had was confidence like Dick, something Tim never fully gained in his life.

Confidence? Tim knew the definition well, but never knew what it truly was. Anyone who knew Tim would say he always resembled a nervous, always on edge mouse amongst lions, never fully speaking up for himself or even defending himself against those who mocked him. Bruce would even try to teach him how to be positive and have better self-esteem, but no matter what, Tim would always put himself down and be ashamed of everything about him. Tim always knew he would never be good enough for anyone.

Tim wasn’t even that tall for a 20-year-old. At just 5’5, he was barely an inch taller than Y/N. While Y/N was three years older than him, he truly feared he would never stand a chance now.

But to everyone, even Tim’s surprise, Y/N asked Tim out first. They’ve been together ever since then.

For two years, Tim and Y/N were inseparable. They were the couple who kissed in public, but never made out in front of others due to Tim’s social anxiety about PDA. They went on dates with other couples, most notably Dick and Barbara, and sometimes Jason and Artemis, when Jason felt like he needed a booty call for the night. But Tim began to finally loosen up, and enjoy himself around Y/N, more.

And for the first time in Tim’s life, he felt as if he finally had someone to live for, come home to, and to love and protect for the rest of his life.

While the girls were in the restroom fixing their makeup and gossiping, the boys were left alone; sipping their non-alcoholic beverages before patrol.

“So, you finally made it to two years with Y/N, Tim? I’m so proud of you!” Dick exclaims excitedly. Pretending to wipe a tear from his eyes.

Tim nods his head; even he can’t help but blush and smile from the news. He and Y/N spoke about it a while ago, and how they should celebrate their anniversary this upcoming weekend. While Tim had mentioned about a private vacation trip to Paris, Y/N had suggested going to Bruce’s beach house in the Hamptons with their friends.

“It is…really great. I’m really happy, and I think she is, too. I still can’t believe it we made it to two years,” Tim says, trying very hard to not lower his voice to hide his nerves.

“I can’t believe it either, Timbo. I mean, I figured you guys would have made it maybe to three months considering you act like a woman too, and that would have been a lot of estrogen in one relationship,” Jason jokes.

“Normally, I would be insulted by your God-awful jokes, but not tonight, Jay. I really think Y/N is the one,” Tim says.

“Really?” Dick asks.

“Yeah, really Tim? How?” Jason asks, equally shocked.

“I think you just know when you’re with someone, who you feel like you could spend the rest of your life with. I mean, I never believed in love at first sight, but when she gave me a chance, I realized it was more like love at the second sight, when truly, you see each other for the first time and learn more about each other. Y/N is just a wonderful, loving woman, and I know I want to spend the rest of my life with her,” Tim confesses.

Dick smiles and fist bumps Tim. “I think that’s great, Tim! Y/N would be the best sister-in-law, ever! Oh my God! I can’t wait for a wedding! Food, cake, and strippers!”

“Calm down, Dick. I haven’t even popped the question yet,” Tim says, smiling at his oldest brother.

“Yeah, why pop the question when you have yet to pop your cherry,” Jason jokes.

“Tim’s not a virgin, Jaybird,” Dick defends Tim, before noticing Tim looking away. “No way…”

“What? You haven’t had sex with your girlfriend of two years, yet?” Jason asks, surprised and joking as usual. But his eyes widen when Tim looks down. “What? Timbo, you still haven’t even fucked her? What the hell’s wrong with you?!”

“We just…haven’t had sex yet. It’s not a big deal, Jason. Most relationships can survive without sex. I wasn’t necessarily ready yet, considering sex is merely for procreation and I find it difficult to bring up the fact that I’m still a virgin,” Tim reveals. “And besides, I don’t really…need sex. I’m not even a sexually being. I just really love Y/N’s company.”

“So, what are you saying, Tim? You’re just never going to have sex ever?” Dick asks seriously. Dick’s a sexually active guy and he can’t figure out why Tim wouldn’t want sex.

“I just don’t see the need for sex. I’m living my life greatly, and I always feel satisfied with her emotionally. She hasn’t brought it up, so why ruin it now?” Tim expresses anxiously.

“Maybe she hasn’t brought it up because she thinks SHE’S not sexy to you! Jesus Christ, Timberly! You’re with the most beautiful girl in the world, and you have yet to fuck her pretty little brains out?” Jason snaps. He literally cannot believe Tim. “I would have fucked her when she allowed me to touch her the first time! I would make it so clear that I want her, and I’d get her to want me too!”

“Enough Jason!” Dick yells at him.

Tim knew sex is important to almost everyone. It wasn’t that Tim wasn’t sexually attracted to Y/N, but he never figured sex was a make it or break it deal with her. She has, a few times, initiated sex with Tim after dating for only five months, but he gently turned her down and insisted he needed some more time.  

Another time was when Y/N wanted to suck Tim’s cock in the Batcave, after he came back from patrol. The second she got down to his zipper, he softly removed her hand from his pants, and went to bed with her. Just sleeping, of course.

And ever since then, sex was never initiated or brought up again. Tim knew Y/N has her sexual urges, and she often resorts to masturbation, sex toys, and even smutty novels. That doesn’t bother him one bit, as long as his girlfriend relieves herself and keeps herself satisfied.  

But still, Tim sometimes wondered what sex would be like with Y/N, but his heart and body would tell him to stop.

“There’s nothing wrong with remaining abstinent, Tim. Just tell her the truth of how sex makes you feel. Y/N will understand. She loves you, and you love her,” Dick comforts Tim.

“I hope it’s enough though,” Tim whispers quietly.

Once the girls return, Dick and Barbara go back to his apartment for the night. Artemis claims to be tired and decides to go home but reminds Jason to go her apartment when he’s ready for bed. After they say their good nights, Tim drives Y/N and Jason back to Wayne Manor for Alfred’s homemade chocolate cake he made earlier.

Tim leads Y/N to the kitchen, with an arm wrapped around her waist tightly, and his lips kissing her forehead. With Jason trailing behind them, they all see the homemade chocolate cake in all its glory chocolate frosting on the counter, waiting to be devoured by all of them.

“Remind me to thank Alfred in the morning. Nothing beats chocolate before bed,” Y/N says, before sitting down on one of the stools by the counter.

“Yeah, chocolate and sex go good before bed,” Jason teases. He cuts three slices, one slightly smaller for Tim, and gives them their plates.

“Or just a night of cuddling goes a long way,” Tim mentions.

“Of course,” Y/N agrees, with a kiss to Tim’s cheek.

The three of them indulge themselves with the delicious cake. Bruce hastily walks into the kitchen, looking more stressed than ever. He’s in his Batman costume, without the cowl. There must be a serious problem.

“Trouble. You three in the Batcave. Now.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Y/N became a part of the Batfamily right after getting with Tim. Although she wasn’t exactly a vigilante, she worked the Batcomputer when Barbara wasn’t available at times. Still in her short black dress, Y/N removes her heels and gets comfortable in the computer chair for Bruce’s orders. She knew she has work to do.

Tim and Jason quickly got into their costumes and were standing beside Batman, while Y/N is at the computer.

“People have reported sightings of Deathstroke by the docks. He is possibly working alongside Bane because there was a reported shipment of weapons from an unknown source. I currently have Nightwing and Batgirl at Arkham in case anyone tries to break out to join Bane’s team up. Red Robin, I need you to go the docks and see what’s exactly being shipped in tonight.  Do not engage in any fights; this is only a recon mission for you. Robin and I will see if Deathstroke will be anywhere near the docks and see what he’s planning. Red Hood, I need you to stay behind in case we need backup. You can assist Y/N on the computer. I need you two to watch our backs and make sure there isn’t a planned attack tonight,” Batman commands.

“But I can stay behind and help, Y/N. I know more about computers than Jason,” Tim says, slightly offended by his father’s order. “No offense, Jason.”

“I’m already offended, Timberlina,” Jason says sarcastically.

“Jason could use the extra practice. I rather have him learn now then when the world’s already in danger, Tim. You either do as I say, or you are benched,” Batman threatens. “You know how I work. I get the final say.”

“I’ll do it your way then,” Tim mutters under his breath.

“Good, because for a second there, I was beginning to wonder if you needed to remember who’s in charge of this family.”

Batman growls under his breath and goes to the Batmobile where Robin is waiting for him. As soon as the Batmobile’s gone, Tim strolls over to Y/N. He slips his mask on and helps her to her feet. Tim embraces her tightly, and he kisses her cheeks before one peck to her lips.

“Be careful, Tim,” Y/N whispers in his ear.

“I will. I’ll always come home to you, sweetheart.”

And with that final peck, Red Robin jumps onto his bike and drives off.

______________________________________________________________________________

The night is slow. Red Robin wondered if the shipment was a rumor for tonight. He seriously doubts whatever Deathstroke and Bane have planned is for another night. All Red Robin was doing is sitting on the rooftop nearby, hanging along the edge for amusement, and tossing bread crumbs for the rats below.

He figures since it’s almost one in the morning and hasn’t heard back from anyone, he’d head back home now.

If anything, maybe tomorrow night is when they’d show up with the weapons, and attack Gotham right then and there.

All Tim could think about was a hot shower. The summer nights in Gotham are scorching hot and humid, and wearing a thick armored costume can make a guy sweat a lot as if he’s ran a marathon. He could just imagine Y/N, in her short pajama bottoms and tank top, snuggling with her back to his chest, as he holds her until he’s fast asleep.

Tim knew Y/N is the reason why he sleeps now. He always looks forward to bed now.

By the time he gets into the Batcave, Tim’s completely silent. He wants to surprise Y/N; sneak up on her with his arms around her waist, squeezing her until she surrenders, and carry her upstairs for a nice hot shower.

Just the way Y/N likes.

Tim parks his bike far away from the other bikes, so Y/N wouldn’t hear him. He slips off some of his armor and removes his mask and boots. When he’s down to his boxers, and t-shirt, he grins playfully as he makes his way to the Batcomputer.

Moans.

Skin on skin slapping.

Panting, breathing heavily.

Wet noises.

Is that…Y/N moaning?

Is she really relieving herself in the Batcave?

Tim slowly approaches an area to continue to hide but can see the Batcomputer where he’s standing. He sees his girlfriend, Y/N, naked on her back; lying on her back on the computer table with Jason, still in costume but with his cock in Y/N, in between her legs, fucking her hard and fast.

Tim freezes. His chest suddenly tightens to the point where it hurts, and he feels as if he can’t breathe.

How could they do this?

How could they do this behind my back?

He’s not even ashamed to cry. Wouldn’t anyone cry if they saw their loved one cheating on them with someone who’s clearly better than them?

Jason grunts, and lowers himself down to capture Y/N’s lips. Tim watches how her breasts bounce up and down, and how her back arches when Jason begins to rub her clit viciously. He’s seen Y/N naked a few times, but never saw her naked the way she’s lying down and getting fucked like how she likes it. Y/N bites her bottom lip, and moans Jason’s names as if it’s the last thing she’ll ever say.

She even giggles when Jason bites and sucks her hard nipples.

“You-you like that, baby girl? You like how my cock fills you up so perfectly? F-fuck! I love how you tighten around me!” Jason moans louder than before. “Your pussy is so fucking perfect!”

Tim watches in horror how Jason gently slaps Y/N’s vagina. The way he’s treating her dirty and talking to her is repulsive to Tim. How could Y/N let Jason fuck her like that?

Or just fuck her in general?

But I’m her boyfriend…Tim thinks to himself.

Maybe sex was important in their relationship. Was Tim really making Y/N miserable without having sex with her?

“Yes! F-fuck me harder, Jason! Fuck me faster!” Y/N begs. Tears at the corner of her eyes threaten to fall. “I-I need this so bad!”

“I know you do, doll. I’m gonna make you cum so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

“J-Jason! Oh my God! I-I think I’m going to cum! Keep fucking me!”

“Fuck yes, doll! I’ll fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked!” Jason growls. “You’re mine now!”

Jason’s hands lift Y/N in a sitting position and slams her down onto his cock, as he fucks up into her. They kiss again; more passionate and sexual than Tim’s ever kissed Y/N.

Y/N wraps her arms around Jason’s neck, and cries out in pleasure as a powerful orgasm goes through her body. Jason’s thrusts begin to get sloppy, and then he releases inside her, with a groan in her neck as he squeezes her tightly.

Y/N removes her head from Jason’s chest. He lowers his head and kisses her again. Tim watches the way Jason pulls out of her but keeps Y/N’s legs around his waist.

They don’t know but Tim can hear them speak.

Jason even says three words he’s never said to anyone.

As for Y/N, she says them back.

And this just proves to Tim, how this wasn’t the first time they’ve fucked behind his back.

______________________________________________________________________________

[Tim’s point of view]

 So, that’s it then.

The trust was already broken.

Y/N cheated on me with my brother.

Jason. Of all people, it had to be Jason.

It’s been two months since I saw them fucking in the Batcave.

I didn’t say anything to them. I wouldn’t even know what to say, anyways.

I know they’re still fucking, though. Y/N seems a lot happier nowadays. She kisses me more, and she’s even living with me in my room at the Manor.

And as for Jason? He’s not seeing anyone now. I was the first to figure it out, since Y/N’s got him wrapped around her finger.

But in those two months, I’m starting to see some changes in Y/N.

She’s moody. She’s hungry a lot. She hasn’t even started her period. The list goes on…

I know what’s wrong with her before she does, and it kills me to the point where I want to tell her; and catch her in her own lies.

But I don’t.

I don’t say anything because I know when the truth comes to light, it’ll all come back and hurt them.

And let’s just say I’m done with being treated like shit.

I’m done with being cheated on.

I’m done with everything Y/N and Jason are putting me through.

Oh…but it’ll all happen in good time. I’m just going to sit here, smile at them both, and wait for my chance to expose and hurt them.

Because I only have one shot at this, and I’m going to take it.

Joker’s out of Arkham, and maybe it’s time he’s heard the news that the former dead Robin is going to be a father.

And Jason deserves to go out with a BIG BANG.

[forever-rogue]

Ruin My Life

A/N: Here’s a little something for y’all while I’m away for a few days since there was no Supercut this weekend and Lover Boy isn’t till Friday! Enjoy! I’ve become obsessed with the song that gave me inspo for this! I hope you guys enjoy! xx

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warning: innuendos

MASTERLIST

"Y/N?" Joe's voice was barely above a shocked whisper as he stared at her. It nearing midnight, and he had been home alone, once again, in a self imposed exile. But here she was, standing on his porch, drenching from the pouring rain, shivering, and staring at him nervously.

"I can't do this Joe. I want you to ruin my life," was all she managed to choke out between sobs as he pulled her into the house. He stared at her wordlessly for a moment, reaching over wiping the tears that had mixed with rain away, "I love you way too much to let you go. I can't do this without you by my side. I can’t let you do this.”

“Y/N,” he said quietly, as he felt his eyes start stinging, “I-I...you’re here.”

“I love you, Joseph. This is a huge mistake,” she cried, the air between them stiff. She wiped at her eyes, giving him a small, sad smile, “please don’t say this is this end. It can’t end like this.”

"I love you so much," was all he choked out before wrapping his arms around her as tightly as possible. He rested his head on her shoulder, letting his silent tears mix in with the wet fabric, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything."

The Week Prior

Y/N stared at Joe with the most hurt and upset look he had ever seen. His heart broke at the sight, but in his mind he was convinced he was doing the right thing. But why did it feel so wrong? Why did every word sting, and sound wrong as they left his mouth. Right decisions weren’t supposed to hurt this much.

"Joey?" she asked quietly, her lip trembling as she fought back her tears. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her, "why are you doing this? We’ve never fought about anything. You never said anything...”

"Y/N, sugar, this is for the best," he sighed as he bowed his head, starting intently at the floor. She was standing there, watching him, hoping he would tell her this was all some sort of joke, "if we stay together I'm just going to ruin your life. I love you too much to do that. I won’t be the one to do that to you.”

"How could you possibly ruin my life? You’re the best thing in my life. I love you, Joey. It doesn't have to be like that like this," her voice was so low and fragile, and every word broke his heart a little more. She thought this much have been some sort of nightmare. Her Joe would never do something like this, "please don't do this. If it’s me, please, just tell me what I did.”

"It’s not you, please don’t ever think that. But this is the best decision for us. I'm not good enough for you, Y/N. I don't deserve you," she looked at him, tears running down her face as she pulled her sweater tighter around her. He took a step closer to her and reached to wipe her tears, but she just swatted his hand away, "you're way too good for me. I could never give you half of what you deserve and you deserve the universe."

"I don't care about any of that, Joey. I don’t care about things and baubles and all that. I only want you. I knew what I was getting into two years ago, and that's never changed. All I’ve ever wanted was to be with you," she just dabbed her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater. She couldn't believe her world had just come crashing down around her. Her perfect, blissful existence was gone, in the blink of an eye.

"I'm not here for you half the time, and there's so much going on, I can't give you time you deserve. I'd rather see you if someone who will be there for you, even though it'll kill me," he said quietly, “I’m doing this for you.”

“No, you’re not. You’re being a stupid fool,” she spat at him and he just nodded. He couldn’t deny that.

That had been the crux of his whole decision. Joe felt like he would never, ever be good enough for Y/N. He wondered why she had even chosen him in the first place. There was a whole slew of men in the world she could have chosen from, but she picked him. He had considered himself beyond lucky.

But now? He felt like he had betrayed her. He felt like he was never around for her and she didn't get of attention. With all the film projects he had going on, and the fame from Bohemian Rhapsody, he was often away from home, and didn't get the chance to Y/N nearly as often as he desired. She had a "normal" job which often required her to remain at home.

"T-t-that's not what I want, Joey. You, you're all I want or need. I knew what I was signing up for when we first started dating, and I'm okay with that. I love you and support you every step of the way. You know that," she took a step back towards the door, slowly realizing that he was not about to back down from his decision, "please don't do this."

"Y/N," he was all he managed to choke out, and she could see that there were tears running his face too, "this is already hard, please don't make it harder than it has to be."

"You know what, Joey? This is the dumbest decision you've made. I can't believe you'd just make this decision without me. We're supposed to be a team, and a team supports each other every step of the way," she walked over to him, grabbing his face with her hands, forcing him to look into her eyes, "I would go to the ends of the earth for you. I don't care that things aren't perfect, at least according to you. We should be able to talk about these kinds of things."

"I'm so sorry," he choked out as he but his lips, "I love you, that's why I'm doing this."

"No," she said as she let go of his face, "you're doing this because you're scared and worried. And that's okay - but doing this isn't. You’re allowed to be scared and worried, because that’s how life is. But you’re supposed to navigate that together. It’s supposed to be us.”

"Please, just go for now,” his voice was high and almost cracked.

"Do you love me? Truly?"

"Yes."

She reached over and slapped him across the face, surprised the both of them as the sound resonated through the otherwise quiet room, "then don't be so stupid!"

"Y/N-"

"Don't! You want me to go? You don't want me anymore? Then fine, I'll leave, since that's clearly what you want," she gave him one last tight lipped smile before running out of the house and into the dark evening. 

"It's not what I want," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He was suddenly hyper aware of how alone he was in the house. The chilling loneliness crept into his bones as he realized the magnitude of what be had just done.

"Hey Joe!" Gwilym greeted his friend warmly as he pulled in him for a hug. Joe only murmured a quiet hello in response as the rest of his friends stared at him. Gwil was throwing a little shindig at his place and had invited everyone over. Joe and Y/N included; but to everyone's surprise, Joe had shown up by himself, "where's Y/N, aka your better half?”

"She's, ugh, she's not coming," Joe responded quietly, knowing everyone's attention was focused on him.

"Is she coming later then? I've got something I've been wanting to tell her!" Lucy piped in, but judging by the looks on everyone's faces, she had missed something. Joe's face remained in a frown as the rest of the boys exchanged nervous glances, "Joe? What’s going on? Where’s Y/N?”

"No. Y/N's not coming later," was all he would admit as he walked into the kitchen, making quick work of grabbing himself a beer. Ben, Gwil, and Rami all exchanged worried looks as Lucy mouthed her discontent wordlessly at them.

Joe walking into the living room, flopping down on the overstuffed armchair. He looked up and saw everyone staring at him anxiously, clearly waiting for some sort of clarification. He raised his eyebrow at them and took a long sip of his beer before finally indulging them, "what? You all look like you're about to burst!"

"What's going on, Joey?" Rami asked, giving his friend of over a decade a small smile. Something was clearly wrong - Joe was never this down or quiet.

"What do you mean?" he asked, feigning innocence. He knew he was doing a bad job of acting normal, no matter how hard he tried. Truth was - he didn't feel normal. He felt like a man that had just made the worst decision ever.

"You're here without Y/N, and you're moping about like Frankie when I don't give her an extra treat. What happened, mate?” Ben finally asked the question that had been silently hanging in the air.

Joe remained silent for a few moments, setting his beer on the coffee before running a hand over his face. He let out a long sigh, trying to keep himself together, not wanting to completely fall apart in front of his friends, "I...I broke up with her."

"What?!" came out collectively as they all stared at Joe. This was probably the last thing they had expected from him. He adored Y/N - he treated her like she was the one who hung all the moon and stars. Ben always claimed that he was they were the reason that he still believed in true love.

"I- I had to do it," he said quietly, feeling the searing gaze of everyone on around him. Rami gripped Lucy's hand tightly as Gwil and Ben exchanged concerned looks, "I'm not good enough for her. She deserves the world and I can't give her nearly enough."

"Joe, and I cannot stress this enough, how daft are you?" Gwil asked as Joe's head popped up to look at him unquestioningly, confusion etched on his face, "she's absolutely in love with you.  Smitten. And, ugh, you can kind of seemed to be too."

"I am...I love her so much. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me," he admitted putting his hands in his face, rubbing at this temples, "I'm not here enough for here. I want her to have someone that's always there for her. Not some fool who's coming and going half the time."

"Oh my God," Lucy said as she walked over to him and removed his hands from his face, "men are so stupid. Joe, look at me."

"If you're trying to help, it's not really working," he said weakly but she only shook her head in response.

"I'm not trying to make you feel better. I'm trying to get you to understand the mistake you've made," she scoffed at him. He definitely wasn't deserving of their sympathy right now.

"So you all think I've made a big mistake?"

"Yes!" they all concurred loudly.

"I just-"

"Shut up!" they all echoed at him, a frown growing on his face, as Lucy propped herself on the arm of his seat. She took one of his large hands in hers, as she gave him a gentle smile. 

"Love, you and Y/N have been together for almost two years. What suddenly brought this on? You two are perfect for each other,” was all she said. It was enough to make him want to curl up and cry. But he had made his choices. His very wrong choices.

"I just feel like with everything going on that I've neglected her and don't give her enough of my time. And that's not fair to her. I feel like if I keep on going like this, I'm going to be ruining her life, her chance at happiness.  I don't want to do that,” he explained but it sounded pitiful. Y/N had been already been through thick and thin with him, her devotion to him never wavering. Why did he suddenly feel this way?

“She knows you, Joey. She knows what this life is like, and she still chose to stay by your side,” Lucy said as she held his hand, softly stroking the back of it with her thumb, “besides, she’s a tough cookie. If she ever had a problem, she’d let you know. Y/N knows how to speak up for herself.”

“I know,” he always he said, as he kept his eyes trained on the floor. He could tell they were all listening to him intently, “I would just never forgive myself if it turned out I held her back from something. From living the life she wants.”

“She wants you. She wants whatever life has you in it,” Gwil interjected from across the room, “you’ve got such a thick skull, mate.”

“Fuck,” was all he whispered quietly, covering his face with his free hand, running over the stubble he had let grow out in his laziness. He hadn’t been up to much since he had broken up with Y/N. He had taken to feeling sorry for himself, and barely got out of bed, moping around instead. He knew it was wrong, and it was his own undoing, but he couldn’t help it.

“You can still go and get her back,” Lucy said tried to comfort him, but he just shook his head in response. The last look on her face had been of pure heartbreak. He highly doubted she wanted him back.

“I think it’s too late,” he said quietly, wondering if the last time he ever saw Y/N would remain the night he broke her heart. Oh how he wished he could go back in time and change everything. But life didn’t work like that; there was no automatic rewind button, no do overs.

“Why do you say that?” Ben asked from where he was sitting next to Gwil. They hated seeing their best friend like this. They knew that despite his loud and boisterous personality, Joe was actually quite shy and insecure, often doubting his own self worth. But Y/N never doubted him - she was always his number one champion.

“The look on her face. It said it all,” he sighed, taking his hand out of Lucy’s and standing up, “I’m gonna go. I just need to be by myself right now.”

“Joe-”

“It’s okay, Rami,” he reassured his old friend, patting his shoulder as he walked towards the door, “really you guys. I know you all mean well, truly. I think that I need to think things through alone. I think, no, I know, that I’ve made a huge mistake.”

“Call us if you need anything, yeah?” Gwil asked as he gave him a hug before opening the door to let him out. Joe nodded at him wordlessly, his mouth drawn in a thin tight line.

“He’s got it bad,” Gwil sighed as he closed the door, leaning against for a few moments, as everyone collectively nodded.

“I was wondering why Y/N hadn’t been texting me back,” Lucy said as she went back over to Rami and sat in his lap, “but I guess it makes sense now. She’s probably just as bad as him.”

“Maybe we should go and check on her?” Ben suggested. They had been friends with her just as long as they had been with Joe. He had introduced her to everyone early on during the production, hoping she would like them as much as he did and he was right. They all clicked immediately and became one big gang.

“Perhaps that isn’t the best idea,” Gwil commented as he walked back into the kitchen, grabbing another round of drinks for everyone, “we don’t want to make anything worse. And this is between the two of them. Maybe if we don't hear anything from her in a few days…hopefully Joe will come to his senses before then.”

“I wonder what’s gotten into him,” Rami contemplated as he stroked the light bit of stubble on his face, “he’s not usually like this.”

“You know how he gets. Sometimes he’s just too in his own head,” Lucy said quietly, “he knows how much he loves her though. If we don’t hear anything from either of them in a few days, we’ll divide and conquer and check in on both of them.”

“Deal,” they all confirmed, clinking the necks of their bottles together. Even if they couldn’t do anything at the moment, at least they had a plan. They weren’t about to let their best friends just break up and fall out of love.

“I’m so sorry, sugar. I completely fucked up,” Joe mumbled into Y/N’s shoulder as he held onto her for dear life. He honestly thought he’d never get to hold her again. He’d thought he had blown his chance with her, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were scared, Joey,” she said after a few moments of stiff silence. He had finally stopped sniffling, holding onto her, his eyes closed as he inhaled her smell, “I know what it’s like.”

“What do you mean?” he asked quietly as he finally left his head and looked at her. Her eyes were red and her face splotchy; she had clearly been crying too. She touched his touch cheek, giving him a small smile.

“I’ve often wondered over the last couple of years why you stayed with me,” she admitted and he silently shook his head at her. The answer was easy - he loved her to the ends of the earth, “you’re famous and everyone adores you. Here I am, a normal plain Jane working girl. I’m nothing special, but you are.”

“You’re everything, Y/N. My everything. The love of my life,” he said suddenly, taking his hand and putting it up her chin so she was looking up at him, “how could you ever doubt that?”

“How could you ever doubt how much I loved you? How much you mean to me?” she countered and he realized how dumb be had been sounding. He closed his eyes and his nostrils flared lightly as he let our a long exhale, “you know how much I love you, Joey. To the ends of the earth and back. Nothing you can say or do can change that.”

“I should have never doubted you,,” he whispered quietly as he rested his forehead against hers, “I guess it was mostly me that I doubted. I just feel like I never give you enough time anymore, and I didn’t want you to feel like that too.”

“You’ve been so good to me, my love. Even with you all the craziness going on in the last few months, you’ve been more than enough. I’m so lucky to be able to be by your side through all this, and you deserve everything that you’ve gotten. And if this is what it’s always going to be like, then that’s okay too,” she explained, a smile playing on her face. She reached up and held his face between her hands, and he nuzzled into her touch. He felt like the luckiest man in the world.

“What did I do to deserve you, Y/N? Truly,” he posed the question out loud, but she just giggled, and pecked his lips, “I love you so much.”

“I know,” she smiled at him, letting go and walking into the kitchen. She looked at the mess and let out a long sigh as she looked back over at him. He had a sheepish grin on his face as she gestured to everything, “Joseph Francis Mazzello the third, what is this disaster?!”

“I haven’t been...doing much of anything the past week,” he admitted as he walked over to her and surveyed the mess. It was worse than he had remembered, “I’ve been a bit of a wreck...without you.”

“And to think, this all would have been prevented if you’d just talked to me and not just made rash decisions,” she sighed lightly and crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at him, “you’re such a silly man.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, giving her a small smirk, “I can clean it tomorrow. It’s waited this long, it can wait a little longer.”

“Oh, and just what it is waiting for?” she asked suspiciously, but she had a feeling she knew where this was going. He just shook his head as he pulled her close, his hands on her waist, as her hands snaked around her neck, “Joseph, are you teasing me?”

“No,” he said as he kissed her lips softly. It was tender at first, but slowly became more urgent, more needy as he realized how much he had missed this. She fit so perfectly against him, like she had been made for him. Breathlessly, he pulled away from her, a grin stretching from ear to ear on his face, “I’m so sorry, sugar. I never even...I never asked if you even still wanted to be with me. I-I just assumed-”

“Seriously, Joey?” she gave her boyfriend an incredulous look, “why do you think I’m here? Why do you think I just let you kiss me and told you I loved you? Because I want to be with you, you daft fool.”

“But I’m your daft fool?”

“For now and always,” she promised him. He took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back of it, “I love you.”

“I know,” he echoed her words from earlier and just couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Just promise me one thing.”

“If you ever have any doubts about anything, just talk to me. We’re a team, we’re supposed to be doing this together,” she said and he just nodded, “good. And I swear you ever put me through anything like this again, I won’t come back next time.”

“Never again,” he whispered in her ear as he hugged her. “let me make it up to you, my love.”

“And just how do you propose to do that?” she grinned at him, although with how antsy his hands were getting, she had a feeling she knew. His hands had roamed under the hem of her shift and his fingers traced patterns in to her soft, bare flesh.

“I want to show you how sorry I am,” he said quietly, his eyes flicked up to hers and she could see his pupils were blown large with lust, “if you’ll let me, sugar.”

“I think that would be okay,” she gulped, swallowing the lump that had appeared in her throat. He was watching her like a predator that had spotted his prey, “but it better be good, you’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“Have I ever disappointed you before?” he teased, licking his lips a little as he studied her. She just shook her head at him, unable to find any words, “come on. Let me show how sorry I am. And how much I love you, because God, I love you so much.”

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