#if you don't love me when i disappear for half a month and roll out with the most random shit ever

[ruby-cloud]

  👁️

[cassidyandonlycassidy]

tornadoes aren't more important than you

tyler owens (twisters) x reader

words: 1.5k

warnings: pregnant!reader, married!reader, established relationship

“be careful, yeah?” you place your hands on tylers cheeks, tilting his head down to look you in the eye.

“i wish you could come with me.” tyler sighs, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours, his cowboy hat tipping upwards and off his head, clattering onto the hardwood.

“i know.” you miss it. the excitement, the fear, the anticipation of storm chasing. “but i don't think the baby would like me getting whipped around.”

tyler chuckles and presses his hands to your stomach, fully showing now that you've reached six months.

“im gonna be safe and im gonna be back home to you real soon.” tyler kisses you deeply, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you in close.

“uh, not to interrupt-” 

“you are interrupting, boone.” tyler looks up at him as he stands in the open doorway, trucks filling the driveway.

“we were just finishing saying goodbye.” you raise to your tiptoes and give tyler one more peck. 

“i love you.” you whisper against your husbands lips.

“i love you, baby.”

“ew.” boones nose scrunches up, still somehow not used to seeing you kiss despite being married for a year now.

“you stay safe too boone.” you point at him, watching as they head out the door and pile in the trucks.

you wave goodbye to everyone, tyler getting in last as he tips his hat he grabbed off the floor towards you, a silent promise to come back home.

you sigh as you watch them pull away, hand stroking over your belly as the trucks disappear in a cloud of dirt. “it's okay.” you whisper to the baby, but it's mostly for yourself. “daddy will be back.”

--

“hey.” you answer the phone with a smile on your face. “i watched the live stream.”

“pretty fucking cool huh?” 

“pretty cool that you let boone drive the rig.” you chuckle, knowing tyler did that specifically for you, to show you that he can let others take the lead, let them be the one to drive into the tornado.

“how's my baby doing?” tyler asks, ignoring your teasing.

“which one?” you giggle, laying a hand on your stomach. “im good, baby is kicking a lot though.”

“put me on speaker.” tyler requests. you roll your eyes but still turn the volume up and hold the speaker up to your belly.

“it's daddy.” tylers voice is half strict and half high baby voice. “you better stop giving your mama grief when im not there to help her. behave for just a bit longer, buddy.”

“i hope he listens to you.” you shake your head, bringing the phone back up. “how's the storms looking for tomorrow?”

“tracking a couple cells.” tyler confirms. “im coming home friday no matter what they look like over the weekend.”

“mhm, sure.” you roll your eyes, although you don't doubt it. now that you're pregnant, tyler is even more protective over you. he knows you can handle anything, but that doesn't mean he's going to force you to do it all on your own.

“i will. already miss that pretty face baby.” his country twang is music to your ears as you hum out.

“i miss you too. miss kissing your lips.”

“you're killing me, sugar.” tyler groans. you hear dani shouting something in the background.

“i-”

“you gotta go. i know. love you.”

“love you more, darling.”

--

you have tylers livestream on in the background as you clean the house, feeling the urge to nest and get everything prepared before you're too pregnant to do anything, and tyler certainly wouldn't let you lift a finger when hes home.

you always dreamt of a beautiful old farmhouse like this all your life, but before you could move in tyler insisted on building a proper storm shelter to keep you safe.

you unpack some of the boxes of things you bought for the baby's room, sticking to yellows and oranges to keep everything brightly colored and cohesive, in contrast to the darkening sky.

you're not right in the path of tornados, but they have been known to swing up and hit the closest town every couple years.

you know the cloudy sky is just a result of all the activity further to the west where your husband currently is.

you look back to your phone, watching for a moment as his handsome face turns to look out the window. you can see the reflection of the twister in his eyes, a mix of awe struck and fear that any man within his right mind would feel.

“god-” you look up to the ceiling. you're not the biggest believer, but growing up in the south has you always reverting to whispering a prayer. “keep my husband safe.”

--

you let out a yawn as you adjust, not knowing for sure the sound that woke you up until you hear it again, your cellphone vibrating on the nightstand.

“hello?” your voice is groggy as you answer. you didn't bother to look at the contact name, there's only one person who would be calling you at this hour. “tyler?”

“baby, get to the storm shelter right now.”

“what?” the words have you instantly awake, hopping to your feet and looking out the window of your second story bedroom. “it looks fine.”

“im- just trust me! are you going?” you can hear the nerves in tyler's voice as well as the roaring of his truck no doubt speeding down the road.

“yes.” you confirm, grabbing one of tylers sweatshirts and slipping it over your head before finding a pair of shoes. “im going down the stairs right now.”

the second you step outside, you can feel the shift in the air.

“im tracking it on the data. we reported it but they said it's not on their maps as if our equipment isn't ten years newer.”

you listen to tylers rant as you round the house to pull open the storm shelter doors. it's not a glamorous area, small and tight but completely concrete and filled with a couple boxes of supplies.

“im in the shelter, ty.” you reassure him as you close the latch. “im safe. the babys safe.”

“it's building.” tyler says, no doubt looking at the radar or getting reports fed to him from boone. “im coming home to you, ill be there in two hours. fuck it, make it an hour and a half.”

“it's wednesday.” you state, although its just after midnight so technically thursday. “you said you weren't coming home until friday.”

“that was before a torando was gonna hit you. baby, i don't want you to go through this alone when you're pregnant.”

“ill be fine.” you reassure tyler. “but if you want to come back and make sure, you're more than welcome. like i said, i miss your lips.”

“gonna give you lots of kisses to make up for being gone.”

“i won't argue with that.” your phone beeps and you pull it away from your ear to realize you're losing service. “i think we are going to disconnect soon.”

“stay on as long as you possibly can.”

you try, but your phone beeps again and the call drops out.

sitting alone in the darkness heightens your other senses, feeling the cold air sneaking in through every available crack as your ears pick up the sound of the wind roaring.

you close your eyes and press your hands against your stomach, softly singing a nursery rhyme that your mother sung to you when you were a baby, your eyes sliding closed as you fall back asleep.

--

you're startled awake suddenly as the door rips open, only for tyler to quickly enter.

“is it over?” you ask, standing up and wobbling slightly. tyler grabs your hips, holding you up and looking at you up and down, his eyes examining you. you watch the stress and fear and anxiety melt away to be replaced with softness and love.

“it's over.” he confirms, tugging you in close. 

“the house?”

“a busted window and a downed tree blocking the driveway. that's all.” tyler presses his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent.

“wasn't bad then.” you wrap your arms around his waist, enjoying the warm embrace.

“no, but i got so fucking scared knowing you were here all alone.” tyler pulls away only to help you up the stairs, hating seeing you confined to the shelter even if it is to keep you safe.

“i just… i can't do this while you're pregnant. i can't leave you here, or anywhere, alone knowing something could happen to you.”

tyler pulls his phone out of his pocket and navigates to his youtube channel, going live and waiting for a couple users to join.

he holds the camera up so he can see himself and you, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulders.

“as you folks know, my lovely wife here is pregnant with our first child. as much as i love tornado wrangling, i love my girl more. for the next six months im going to be taking a step back, but don't unsubscribe, boone is taking over to keep the excitement coming.”

he doesn't even say goodbye, simply ending the livestream, knowing one of his followers surely recorded it to spread the news around.

“ty, you didn't have to do that.”

“yes, i did.” tyler bends down to lift you up, carrying you across the threshold of your house just like he did the day you got married. “im gonna be with you throughout everything. tornados aren't more important than you.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Rather Be With You

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has been away for six months and he just hopes you waited for him.

Warnings: cursing. I think that's it.

Notes: this was inspired by an ask (💐) from a bit ago. Sorry it took so long. So much happened in the last week and a half, some good some bad, and it just got on top of me. Writing had to come second. I have probably written better in my life haha, but I tried.

Words: 1972

---

“You know he's only messing with you, right?”

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees as he wrung his hands together. Surely it had been a while. For the entirety of the morning, perhaps? Rooster had made his teasing comments at seven a.m. sharp and they were due to dock at noon. Had it been that long? Or had he really managed to shove many hours worth of painful thoughts into just a few short minutes? Somehow, he figured, it was one or the other. No in-between.

When his eyes flicked up, Nat’s face seemed to hint at the former. 

It made sense, he supposed. Spending hours thinking about you wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually, though, those thoughts were a bit nicer, with you naked and smiling, laughing, or whispering sweet words to him. He liked those better than the ones that had plagued him for…well, however long he’d been sitting there.

“He knows what he said isn’t true,” she continued. “He wouldn’t have had the balls to make jokes like that if he thought they would hold any weight. Trust me, no one particularly enjoys pissing you off.”

He wasn’t pissed off, though. He was devastated at the seeds of doubt planted in his head; at the pain and insecurity that came with the twisted knife to his gut. He hated the images forced into his mind at his friend’s words; the ones of you with other men; the ones that made it terribly clear how little you considered or missed him in his absence. 

“Jake, she waited for you. I know she did.”

“Yea? How?” he asked. 

Phoenix opened her mouth quickly, just as he would have had someone asked him a few hours ago if you loved him like he loved you—ready to confirm with a smile on his face. But if made to think of the answer for more than a half-second, without the hope and giddiness fueling his enthusiasm, he realized he couldn’t actually say for sure if you loved him, just as Nat now could not say with certainty that you had waited for him. 

Her mouth closed. 

"Exactly. You don't know," he said. "It’s not like I was smart enough to ask her to be my girlfriend before we left. She has no obligation to me, so why would she have bothered to wait six months to have me when she could have anyone?"

The brunette shook her head. “I don’t believe she's like that."

Leaning back against the bench and crossing his arms, Jake just barely held himself back from a scoff. "Like what, Nat? That wouldn't make her anything other than a woman who found someone new to sleep with after the guy she was sleeping with disappeared for half a year.”

“But you didn’t—”

“I know I didn't disappear. But I’ve been gone longer than we’d been together," he said, his voice drifting as he imagined what he hadn't stopped to consider before; a nightmare that, if proven true, would cleanly snap his heart in half. "Joke or not, Rooster could very well be right.”

—

"You're overthinking,” Penny’s voice snuck in from your left. 

She reached out to take the beer glass from your hand, polished almost too clean after the twenty minutes you spent absentmindedly running a rag over it. Your mind had been too occupied with troubled thoughts to notice your unceasing drag of the dishtowel around the cylindrical shape of the glass. 

It came free from your hand with ease, and as Penny placed it back on its shelf, you spewed, "What if he hooked up with someone? What if he decided six months was too long to wait for a woman that isn't his girlfriend?” You finally faced her just to find her rolling her eyes. “He likes sex, Penny. A lot. There are plenty of willing women and he's practically insatiable."

"When it comes to you, maybe."

The tenseness in your shoulders from well-formed stress was heavy with your exhale, forcing your shoulders to fall forward and your posture to take a hit. "Penny…" you groaned.

"I'm telling you, there's no way he messed around with anyone,” she swore, leaning back against the bar. "Besides, it's frowned upon to get involved with your coworkers."

"You think that's ever stopped Jake?"

She pursed her lips and tilted her head from side to side as she considered. "Ok, fair enough,” she agreed. “Once upon a time, that definitely wouldn't have stopped him. But after meeting you, he hasn't looked at another woman."

You couldn’t say that provided you with any relief. Jake had always presented as an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ type of man. He wasn’t a worrier. Once something exited his periphery, it promptly left his brain, discarded with all past challenges or predicaments. And wasn’t that what you were? An obstacle? He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend for a reason. Holding on to you for more than just the night didn’t necessarily make you more special than any of the other women. Perhaps it simply made you convenient.  

"You don’t know, Penny. You’re not with him 24/7."

Penny muttered something under her breath. Her fingers rose to rub at her temple and when they dropped back to her side, the stare she shot you was imbued with determination. "Look, my bar is where Seresin used to do his "best work," as he liked to say,” she said, and you made a face. "But the only work he's been putting in since he met you has involved getting you to like him and making you happy after you two started your little…thing." 

"You may not pay attention, but I do," she practically scolded. "Now, a month ago you were excited to meet him when he got back, and then you let your thoughts get away from you and it’s fucking everything up." 

To your own shame, you couldn't deny that. So you didn't bother, rather opting to nibble on your thumbnail.

"They'll be back soon, so are you coming with me or not?"

—

He didn’t know what he was doing, standing there with his bag over his shoulder. But he felt like a heavy weight, an anchor in a sea of levity. Looking around, the men and women he’d been packed in with for the last six months were thrilled, the room sprinkled with smiles and laughs of giddiness in anticipation of having their families in their arms again. 

He didn’t have that. 

He wanted to have it, but that was fully reliant on you. Your feelings. Your wants and desires. Your plan for your future. Jake could imagine a world where he had the strength to beg to be a part of your life—to plead as desperately as if fighting for enough air to fill his lungs—but reality made that entirely out of his will and control. So he didn't shove his way forward when they made it home. He couldn't bring himself to jump in front of the others who had people waiting for them upon their return. Instead, he let them file out, his team included, until he was one of the final few to step back on dry, solid land. 

As he walked by couple after couple, family after family, his already weak composure began to crumble at its edges. The people milling around him felt like a mocking montage of the life he didn’t have. Men and women kissing their partners or spouses, hugging their children with no intent of letting go, their tears coating the ground with joy. 

Jake's chest constricted. He needed to get himself on the other side of it, but weaving through the mass of bodies proved harder than he expected. 

His shoulders bumped into theirs, his chest skimming across backs and limbs when he turned to his side to sneak through narrow openings. Little kids ran into his legs like spinning tops on the loose from their wound-up energy finally releasing, though each one quickly recovered and returned to their parents, maintaining the same level of enthusiasm they had prior to smacking face-first into a muscled calf. 

With each unintentional nudge, he apologized, but no one so much as noticed, too engrossed in their relief at making it home unscathed or in seeing their loved ones still intact. Somewhere, his teammates were doing the same. They’d found their partners, and he thought he’d found his, but his overconfidence in your feelings kept him from ensuring you were actually together. And maybe it was too late. Maybe he would have no choice but to watch you move on from him.  

Finally breaking through the edge of the crowd, Jake took his first deep breath. He didn’t look back as he made his way to his truck. He didn’t turn when rushed footsteps grew closer until they sounded as if right on his tail. 

“Jake.”

He paused and sighed. He should’ve known he would imagine your voice. Six months without that lovely sound, his only chance at hearing it being within his dreams, took its toll. It haunted him like a ghost on that ship. Of course it wouldn’t cease just because he was home.

“I was calling you, but you didn’t hear me.” There was a soft chuckle, then, “Well, at least I hope you didn’t hear me.”

He spun on his heel and was greeted with your smile. It lacked its carefree nature, instead just barely failing to conceal a twinge of nerves, but beautiful nonetheless. He couldn’t help but smile back. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a few steps closer. 

“I came with Penny.” The roundness of your cheeks turned pink from your blush. You lightly shrugged. “I missed you.”

With those words, Jake knew Rooster was deserving of a swift smack upside the head, one he very well may deliver. You cared. You missed him, even. 

Fucking Rooster.

“Oh, I, um,” you continued, your eyes falling down to your hand. “I got you these. It feels silly now, but at the time I thought they would be nice, I guess.”

He followed your line of sight to the small bundle in your hand. Five long stems were tight in your grip, the bulbs on their ends made up of layers of silky red petals. 

"I was thinking," you swallowed hard and met his gaze, "I don't actually know if you like flowers. And if you do, I didn't know your favorite. I just picked mine." The sweet grin that returned to your face practically demanded he kiss you. Your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. All of you. Every little bit. 

And you weren't wrong. He hadn't had a favorite. 

He did now. 

Jake swallowed through the tightness in his throat, fighting back the stinging in the corners of his eyes. 

He didn't get gifts, and certainly not from the women he was with. But then again, with the exception of you, he hadn't chosen to be with a woman for more than a night or two in the last decade. 

"I like the yellow ones but they symbolize friendship and that wasn't really what I was going for, so I—"

"I love you.”

Your smile, your jaw, your hand, fell. "You…what?"

He let out a chuckle and reached for you. "Come here."

You didn't hesitate sliding your hand into his and he quickly pulled you to him, your chests hitting, lips meeting with an intensity that he hoped expressed even just a lick of how much he missed you. You draped your arms around his shoulders and the petals of the flowers tickled the nape of his neck. 

"Six months was too long," you whispered when you separated. 

He nudged his nose against yours. "Way too long."

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @leila22rogers

[jasntodds]

can i request a jason fic 🥺 i was reading through the prompt list and saw two ("here's a spare key, so you don't have to keep coming through the window" and "i didn't know you could cook this good") and i thought they'd make a cute setup for a friends to lovers moment 🥺 sorry for not being around! i've been struggling with reading on my phone for long periods of time the last few months 😭 -guiltywaves

@guiltywaves omg hey!! I love friends to lovers so much dkjf but no no it's totally okay!! No worries!! I totally understand!! It happens to me all the time lmao I'm so sorry this took so long!! I wanted it to be perfect and make sure it wasn't super long!! I hope you like it!!

Maybe I'll do a part 2

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,045

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of injuries

masterlist | tag list | requests: open

Jason climbs through your window. A routine of sorts, really. After patrol, he comes by and always through your window. Sometimes he’s injured and lets you help him before you offer your couch to him. Sometimes he just stops by with a snack. But, he always comes in through the window.

Tonight is no different.

It’s after three when your window creaks open, Jason noting to himself to fix it for you. He crawls through your window, your apartment dark as it usually is when he comes by this late. He flips on the floor lamp to your living room before taking his helmet off and making his way to your kitchen to rest it on the table. He finds a note, your handwriting scribbled across the page containing Nightwing symbols at the corner.

Jason rolls his eyes but reads the note.

Leftovers in the fridge please eat

A smile tugs itself onto his lips before he pockets the note, folding it neatly beforehand. He’s quiet, reaching for the fridge where he finds the leftovers already in a bowl for him with a note that has his name on it, something that almost always makes him laugh. He's the only one you ever save food for.

This note has the Robin symbol.

He doesn’t think you even own anything with a Red Hood symbol and a very large part of him knows it’s because you do it to fuck with him.

It works every time.

He grabs the bowl, pulling the plastic wrap from it before he pops it in the microwave. He grabs a fork from the drawer and leans himself against the counter with hooded eyes, sleep tugging at his chest and bones. Patrol wasn't too bad tonight, that's not really it. He's standing in your kitchen and it's comfortable here. He's allowed to breathe with ease in your apartment and sometimes, that alone can make him crave sleep. The white noise of the microwave is only contributing to the heaviness of his eyes until it’s suddenly interrupted.

“Knew you’d be hungry.” Your voice tugs Jason from his almost sleep.

You look tired.

You sound tired.

“Thank you.” Jason’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of red as he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “Just gonna eat and head out.”

“You can stay.” You roll your shoulders.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “‘M fine.” He gives you this toothy grin as some sort of proof he isn’t injured tonight though you’ve already pieced that together with him heating up his food.

“It’s late. You’re just gonna be more tired after you eat, Jay. It’s not like you don’t stay half the time anyway.” You roll your eyes at him before you disappear down the hall.

The microwave dings and it sends Jason quickly reaching for the handle to get it to stop. The noise is so jarring in your quiet apartment it sounds like his ears might bleed. The bowl is hot on his fingertips as he grabs it, quickly stirring before he puts it back in for a bit more time.

“I got you something.” You state as you reemerge from the hallway.

Jason’s brow quirks up. “What?” He let out a half-scoff half-chuckle.

The microwave barely gets a ding off before Jason grabs it and removes his bowl. He places it on the counter before you approach him. Jason faces you, eyeing you carefully before he sticks his fork into the pile of pasta.

“Here’s a spare key.” You stick out your hand and open your palm, revealing a painted red key. It matches his helmet. “So you don’t have to keep coming through the window.”

Jason thinks he might have a panic attack.

He’s comfortable around you. You’re his best friend. You’ve been friends for years, long before Red Hood. You know everything there is to know about him. It’s why he’s so comfortable walking into your apartment and grabbing his food. It’s why he can get some sleep when he’s here. But, having a key feels serious. It feels like a large responsibility. It feels like a commitment to something he’s not sure he knows what to do with.

He's staring at your palm like the key might try to bite and you have to hold your breath. There's always a chance he says no and it really shouldn't be a big deal because he's your best friend but you hold your breath anyway. You tell yourself it's just a key because Jason Todd deserves to feel welcomed somewhere at all times and that somewhere is here.

“Jay, you’re here all the time.” You tell him before you grab his hand and put the key in it. “Just use the damn key. And whenever you want.” You shrug. “I know sometimes you just don’t want to be alone so you can just come over whenever. I don’t know. You’re just always welcome.” You glance to the key in his hand and then up to him, hoping he takes it.

“I can’t do that.” Jason shakes his head, still holding out the palm of his hand.

“And why not?” You challenge.

Jaosn’s different than he was when you were kids. He’s guarded, cautious, you think he’s scared. When he was a kid, he was a little fearless and a little reckless. It wasn’t anything too crazy but a little reckless. He was open and welcoming. He was still cautious but it was more that caution just came from needing to survive from one day to the next. Jason’s caution today makes him look over his shoulder, look at every single person near him to see if they have a weapon. It makes him hide a gun under your couch and in one of your cabinets. He has a stash of food in his apartment he thinks you don’t know about. He’s different now than he was. So, you offer patience while still testing him. He doesn’t need to be different with you.

“Not trying to impose.” Jason tries to play off his own fears. “The window’s fine.” He tries to deflect. “It’s not even a bother anyway and—“

You let out a sigh cutting him off. “You’re not imposing if I’m inviting you which I am. The window’s fine until someone spots you and wants to know what the fuck is going on. The door is right here.” You point over your shoulder to the door. “Just take the key and use it.” You offer him a soft smile. "I want you here." You clarify.

Maybe it’s not the key itself that makes Jason want to run through a window. It’s the implication of what a key could lead to. And what if you ask for it back?

What if you change your mind?

“I painted it to match your helmet.” Your eyes soften, a hint of innocence behind them.

Jason's eyes go to the table, spotting his helmet and his chest feels like it’s on fire. Most of the stationary you own has to do with the bats. You have random collectibles of theirs, too which may have actually been gifted to you but you have them regardless. But the key to your apartment is Red Hood red.

You think you see a smile forming.

“Fine.” He caves, curling his fingers around the key before stuffing it deep into his pocket. “‘M gonna thank you for it then.”

“Okay, Jay.” You shine, relieved he took it.

“Can I eat now?” He points to his bowl of food that's no longer steaming.

“Yes, yes you can.” You chime.

Jason picks up his bowl, leaning his lower back against your counter before he twirls the pasta around the fork. You sit in front of him on your table just watching him. He’s your best friend but it’s hard not to notice how the armor compliments his muscle. It’s hard not to notice how pretty he is even in the low light of your apartment. You think he’s always been pretty but since reconnecting, you can’t help but think he’s stunning and tall and big. Your mind wanders to his hands, the way he holds the fork with large but delicate fingers as if he could break the metal with ease. You think how it would feel to hold his hand in yours, knowing Jason’s always radiated heat. You think how his palms are probably calloused and how they’d feel against your skin and—

Nope.

You shake your head of your own thoughts. He’s your friend and you’re just extra tired and touch-starved lately.

“How was patrol?” You ask with ease, kicking your feet in front of you, just missing his legs.

He shrugs. “Not too bad.” He answers. “Stopped a few robberies.” He states as he twirls his fork around his pasta.

“You look tired.”

He hums softly before taking his first bite, not even realizing how hungry he was until now.

“You look tired.” Jason quips back with the nod of his head towards you.

“That’s because it’s four in the morning.” You laugh softly. “Most people are tired at this time.” You widen your eyes at him to tease him.

"You can go back to bed, don't have to watch me eat." Jason widens his eyes back at you in response.

"No, that's okay." You smile back at him, not wanting to go back to bed when you could be out here with him.

“You know,” Jason starts as he points his fork at you. “Gotta get you different stationary. Tired of your Nightwing, Red Robin, and Robin bullshit.” He changes subject, a little relieved you want to stay up a little bit with him. He feels guilty you're up with him but he does really enjoy your company.

“Aww,” You give him a pout. “But don’t you just love Dick and Damian and Tim?”

Jason blinks at you a few times as he keeps a straight face before taking another bite.

You let out a laugh and Jason thinks your laugh could cure him of all of his sadness.

“They’re your brothers.” You giggle.

“Exactly.” Jason answers.

“I could have painted your key Nightwing blue or the Robin colors.” You tease him with a cheeky grin.

“Can’t pick Spoiler or Orphan?” Jason says it more sarcastically than anything else.

“No, you like Steph and Cass.” You laugh.

“Swear, if I show up to Batman shit, I’m out.” Jason laughs back.

You make a mental note to pick up a Batman mug tomorrow just to fuck with him.

“Of course not.” You scoff but Jason knows he's given you the bad idea.

Jason laughs softly before taking another bite. “Go to bed.”

You let out a sigh before you hop down, noticing Jason is almost done eating anyway. "Pillow and blanket are already on the couch for you."

Jason glances to the couch, seeing a pale blue blanket peaking out from the arm of the couch.

"Thank you." Jason offers you a sincere but small smile. "Goodnight."

“Goodnight, Jay.” You smile softly before heading back to your room.

The next morning, you’re awakened by the smell of something cooking in your kitchen. For a few seconds, you think you’re either dreaming or hallucinating. But the longer you lay in bed, the more you become positive there’s definitely food being made.

It smells a little sweet and warm. It actually smells warm. And yet, it’s almost completely silent in your apartment. You figure it’s Jason because Jason can cook but you have no clue how he manages to be so quiet about everything he does. Sure, it’s his training and his life depends on it, but every time you try to cook anything, you drop at least one pan onto the floor and utensils usually go flying somewhere. You feel bad for you downstairs neighbors.

You grab your phone from the charger, pocketing it before you head out to the kitchen, still wiping sleep from your eyes. The smell grows stronger and you finally figure out it’s your favorite breakfast food. A smile pokes at your lips because, in all your years of friendship, you and Jason have only done breakfast a handful of times but he remembers anyway.

He’s attentive. That’s also something that comes with his training because his life depends on it. But, you knew him before Rd Hood. Before Robin and Batman. Jason Todd has always been attentive and you don’t think it’s something about living on the streets. It’s something that’s embedded into his DNA, pay attention to small things. Maybe that’s because of his mom, his overall childhood of having to take care of her but maybe it’s also just him.

“Morning.” You greet as you stretch your arms over your head, bending your back back a bit.

“G’morning.” Jason greets as he turns around from the stove.

He sounds well-rested.

He looks well-rested for once.

“You’re making breakfast?” You question as you walk over to your coffee maker, an empty cup already ready sitting there for you.

“Told ya I’d pay you back.” Jason states as he continues cooking.

“You really know the way to my heart.” You joke as you get your coffee going. “Always food.”

You watch Jason continue to cook and you think you could probably be mesmerized by everything he does. He's not really doing anything special but it seems that way because it's him. He could trip over a rock and fall into a lake and you'd still be mesmerized.

"Hello?" Jason calls, waving a hand in front of your face. Your eyes snap up to his as you feel your cheeks starting to burn. "I asked how you slept." Jason chuckles as he starts to plate the food for the both of you. "You alright?"

You shake your head, almost fumbling for words. "Yeah, sorry. Zoned out." You clear your throat before you start to pour your cup of coffee. "Good, to answer your question." You let out a breath with the roll of your shoulders. "You?" You ask with a soft smile before you make your way to your spot at the table.

Jason always tends to sleep better here. Your couch isn’t exactly the most comfortable or the biggest but he still feels like he gets real sleep whenever he’s here. He could sleep a few hours and still be more rested than had he just slept at his place.

Jason doesn’t mind being alone, it’s always a bit safer if not for him then for the people around him but being alone gets pretty lonely. He doesn’t have to feel alone here. You’re here and he thinks he’d never be lonely again if you were always around.

“Good.” Jason answers, not willing to elaborate on his thoughts. “Your breakfast is served, princess.” Jason smirks at you with his quip as he sets the plate down in front of you.

“Ass.” You retort with the roll of your eyes just as Jason goes to take the plate back. Your hand grips his wrist. Your hand is no match for him, it’s tiny compared to him and his strength alone is enough but he stops anyway. “No, no, I’ll take this thank you.” You push his hand away and guard your food.

He laughs with the shake of his head and you hope the walls are absorbing the sound. Jason stays at your apartment a few days a week but he’s never here when you wake up. The blanket is always folded on the arm of the couch with the pillow placed perfectly on top. There’s always some sort of note thanking you for letting him crash. Sometimes, if you sleep in because work sucked or you're sick, he picks up some of your favorite snacks and takeout, leaving it in the fridge for you for when you wake up. But, he’s never here.

You find yourself thinking you could get used to this though. His laugh in the early morning and him looking so comfortable.

His hair is all tousled from sleeping. He looks a little disheveled. You see him disheveled all the time because he always has helmet hair and he’s always getting himself into trouble. It kind of comes tih with territory, you think. But, today, it’s just because he slept here. He looks disheveled because his hair is messy and he’s comfortable. He looks comfortable and warm and you’d go as far as to say he looks beautiful.

You hope he chooses to stay more.

“Okay, I didn't know you could cook this good.” You states after taking a few bites, genuinely surprised. Is there anything Jason Todd is bad at?

A rosey shade of pink dusts over his cheeks as he shrugs. “What? Thought I only eat pasta and whatever else you managed to save me?” He quips, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through his ribcage.

“Well…yes.” You let out a laugh while Jason offers you his fake glare.

“Like to cook sometimes, got good at it.” Jason shrugs a shoulder with his minimal explanation.

“Well, now you have to cook more.” You shrug easily as you offer him a grin.

“I have to?” Jason raises a brow at you, taunting you to rethink your words.

You don’t.

“Yes. I said so.” You laugh back at him.

“Not sure I want to now.” Jason shrugs his shoulders dramatically.

“Awww, pretty please, Jay.” You give him a pout and not even a single ounce of him actually believes he’d ever be able to say no to you about anything.

“What’d ya want for dinner?” Jason asks before he goes back to his food.

“Wait, really?” You beam and Jason glances back to you.

There’s always this sort of pull in his chest when things feel good, like he’s undeserving and he needs to wait for the other foot to drop. It feels like this now. He feels comfortable here. He’s happy here with you. You’re his favorite person and you're always the person he wants to talk to you about a new book he read or something insane one of the bats did. You’re the first person, the only person, he goes to when he’s been hurt on patrol. Jason swears you’re his best friend despite the beating and rumbling through his ribcage.

“Unless you’re bored of--”

“I’m never bored of you.” You cut him off immediately. “Okay, I’ll think of something and I can help.” You beam back at him with excitement before going back to your food.

A smile tugs at the corner of Jason’s lips and despite the worrying and fear of this whole thing blowing up in his face, he finds himself thinking he could get used to mornings with you, just like this.

[strstab]

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 — 𝐭.𝐛.

summary ; tom decides to ‘propose’ to you during a dinner with your cast members

pairing ; tom blyth x fem!reader

notes ; TBOSAS cast, fluff, v light mentions of alc? kinda pda, idk js some sweet stuff

a/n ; guys i’m so badly in love with this man like… also this is so short pls forgive me🥲

you and some of the cast from tbosas were back in nyc, celebrating the wrap up of the film at a restaurant with one of the most gorgeous views ever. the city lights, buildings, people, and cars were all visible, and it truly was a sight for sore eyes. you wouldn’t stop babbling about how pretty it was to tom while you waited for the waiters to seat you guys. although he didn’t mind. he simply just nodded along with a smile as you spoke with passion in your eyes.

currently you sat next to your boyfriend, his hand resting lightly on your thigh as you conversed with rachel about how difficult it was to play the guitar. it was something you were always fascinated by but never quite understood.

you felt the warmth of tom’s hand disappear from its place on your thigh. glancing over at him, you saw him fumbling around with a napkin in his hand. you shrugged it off as nothing and continued your conversation with rachel.

“yeah! like it’s just so hard, and don’t even get me started about how much worse it is with nails..” you complained.

“speaking of nails, i need a manicure.” rachel noted, laying her hand out to look at her nails which were in perfect shape.

“oh, don’t remind me.” you chuckled and leaned your head on tom’s shoulder. wiggling your fingers around, you spoke again. "my ring fingers looking quite bare as well... don't you think, baby?"

rachel and josh laughed quietly when tom raised a brow at you, obviously confused as to what you were trying to get at. you shook your head, dismissing him with a laugh.

the waitress poured vodka cranberry into each of your glasses before rachel began to discuss what her dream wedding would be like. hunter piped in, giggling about how cute it'd be for her walk to down the aisle with her dog. you began teasing josh about when he was going to pop the question, earning a playful eye roll from him.

"i should be asking you that! well, tom. you guys have been dating for centuries." he retorted.

the brunette next to you looked up at the mention of his name. the corner of his mouth twitched up into a slight smirk. "actually, its been four years and 9 months."

"so almost half a decade?"

"don't tell me you've got the days and seconds," hunter teased, a grin on her face. you giggled to yourself quietly. knowing how your boyfriend was, he probably did.

tom pressed a kiss to your head and went back to messing around with his napkin as he and josh shot snarky jokes at each other. they settled down when the food arrived, placed in front of you on beautiful tableware. the borders of the plates were painted with golden patterns. the thought of stealing the plate and taking it home had even crossed your mind.

the cold liquid of your cranberry flavored beverage sliced your tongue when you felt a tug on your dress, followed by a familiar accent besides your ear.

“psst. sweetheart,” tom whispered. with a turn of the head, you looked down at his hands. in his hold was a paper napkin shaped into a ring. "will you do me the honor of becoming my... wife? fiance? wait which is it?" he glanced at josh, eliciting a soft laugh from you.

a breathy laugh came from his lips and he brought the ring closer to you. a sweet smile covered your face as you held your hand out. "I would love to be your wife-fiance."

tom slid the paper ring around your ring finger, bringing your hand up to his pink lips and kissing it gently. your friends squealed and clapped, someone groaned and told the two of you to 'get a room'. your lips met tom's for a second before whispering into his ear.

"its wife, by the way."

"stop. i knew that!" he rolled his eyes, nudging you away.

you giggled and wiggled your fingers around, putting your ring out on display for everyone to see. "oh yeahh, I'm an engaged woman now."

"only took four years and 9 months," nick joked from the other side of the table.

you brought the wine glass to your lips, taking another sip. "haters gonna hate."

rachel laughed. tom's hand was back on your thigh, his thumb rubbing against your soft skin. everyone was back to eating and light conversation was heard around the table. strands of brown hair tickled your neck and warm breath hit your ear. "how about we work on making you a pregnant engaged woman?"

you gasped, smacking his forearm. "tom!"

he chuckled against your ear before leaning back. “that wasn’t a no.”

i wanted to write for this man so bad but had no ideas and no motivation so here’s this.. anyways i LOVED the hunger games and im so happy they turned tbosas into a film.

apologies for how poorly written this is LMAO

update: i’m currently working on an enemies to lovers tom blyth little story so pls come back for that

— enjoy your day and have a happy new years!! 🫶

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 8

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 |-| Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

AO3

Summary: After an encounter at Coombe House leaves Frankie and Rosie's relationship fragile, they seek to repair it when she is given leave for Christmas

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 6.5k (BUCKLE UP FOLKS)

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

The sun disappeared as soon as it had come, and as the weeks rolled steadily into December the men at Thorpe Abbotts learned the truth of the great English winter. At sunrise, the grass lay encrusted with frost, but by midday the ice was washed away by downpours, leaving the fields a muddy marshland. Every day was dreary, cold, and damp, and Rosie was beginning to feel mocked by it, the outside world mirroring the misery he felt within.

Frankie was avoiding him. She wouldn't admit to it, but she hadn't spoken to him alone in weeks. Sure, she would sit with the Riveters in the pub or come to see them before a mission, but since their trip to Coombe House, he couldn't get her alone. Whenever he thought the chance had arisen, some pressing matter would suddenly arise that she had to attend to, and she was gone as soon as she'd arrived.

He missed her. He missed her so badly that it hurt - he missed her face being the first he saw after every mission, missed being able to tell her everything, missed making her laugh. Rosie didn't care that she hadn't kissed him anymore. He just wanted her back.

"Tell me what happened again," George demanded, perched on the edge of her bed, watching Frankie as she brushed the stubborn knots out of her hair.

Frankie sighed. "I have told you a million times already."

"I know. I'm just still trying to fathom how you could be such a fucking idiot!" She cried, grabbing one of her pillows and throwing it across the room, colliding with Frankie with a soft thump.

"Oi!" Frankie exclaimed, lobbing it right back, a shriek escaping George as it smacked her in the face.

"He's so obviously in love with you - has been for months - I just don't get it. Coombe House was the perfect opportunity. Bit of a snog and a shag, yunno."

"Jesus Christ," She muttered, shaking her head. "You're the one who warned me against getting too attached. I'm just... starting to think you were right."

George's smile dropped, and she swore she felt her stomach lurch. "Oh, Frankie, no-"

"What? Am I seriously supposed to just go for it knowing what will happen if he doesn't come back?"

Frankie hadn't uttered a word of this to her, but it was clear it had been plaguing her for some time. "I'm not supposed to be a cautionary tale, I'm supposed to be your friend. Which means I want you to be happy - find it where you can, don't just avoid it because of what happened to me."

Her entire face furrowed with her frown. "I'm just... I'm in too deep already. And I'm scared, George."

"Oh, c'mere," George sighed, rising to stand as she gestured for Frankie to come closer. Enveloping her in an embrace, her nostrils inhaled the always-lingering scent of engine oil. "I don't regret Curt. I miss him like hell and sometimes it feels really really shit. But I wouldn't trade the time I had with him to make it hurt less - if anything it's more special to me now. Don't hold back because you're scared it'll hurt later, because if anything does go wrong you'll regret it more than anything."

Frankie frowned, chin burrowed into the crook of George's neck. "You think so?"

"I know it."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The pub was packed as always, the sea of faces ever-changing with the constant stream of replacements. It didn't matter that it was just as busy as it had always been, the place felt half-empty with so many familiar faces missing. Rosie's Riveters were always guaranteed a table, their reputation as the 100th's finest flyers preceding them - boys would actually give up their chairs when Rosie came in, and he could never dissuade them, no matter how much he cringed at the attention.

Half-empty pint glasses littered the table, conversation and laughter flowing freely among the team, but Rosie couldn't help but let his gaze wander. She was usually here - usually posted at the same spot at the bar with George, hogging the space in front of the beer taps so they could always get the bartender's attention whenever they needed another round. But when he looked up now, their spot was taken by a pair of replacements who scarcely looked old enough to fly.

"Rosie agrees, dontcha?" Bailey's voice came, and it was as if he'd been forcefully dragged back to reality.

"Hm?"

"Brooklyn's better than Queens, ain't it?"

"Oh. Definitely," He nodded, attempting to be as subtle as he could as he continued to scan the room.

Suddenly, the piano in the corner started up, thumping out a raucous tune. He'd only seen it used once or twice the entire time he'd been at Thorpe Abbotts, but the nearing advent of Christmas seemed to be putting the Brits in much higher spirits. A crowd of RAF and WAAF staff had formed around the piano player, drinks in hand as they began to perform a sequence of rowdy old drinking songs, more yelling than they were singing.

The words were foreign to American ears, but the English seemed to know them all by heart, belting out sordid tales of prostitutes and the like in a jolly, musical fashion. The pilots seemed roused by the scene, and Bailey began to clap along to the beat in encouragement, grinning as he watched the crowd. There was a sense of joy in the air, enough even to make Rosie crack a smile, elbow resting on the back of his chair as he listened.

And then he saw her.

Frankie was leant against the lid of the piano, pint in hand, belting out the words with the rest of them, grinning as she sang. She was wearing her proper WAAF uniform, her hair curled tight beneath her chin, lips painted a deep red. He never saw her in dress uniform, and for a moment he was taken aback by how well it suited her. Before Rosie had formed any sort of plan for what he was doing, he had risen to his feet, and was crossing the room towards her, weaving his way through the crowd.

A hand seized his arm. George was certainly strong when she wanted to be, and she wanted to be now, dragging him sideways away from the group, gnawing at her bottom lip, her teeth coming away with lipstick stains.

"It's my fault," She stated firmly, speaking loudly to be heard over the music.

Rosie's brow furrowed in confusion. "George, what're you talking about?"

"It's my fault Frankie won't talk to you - I only just figured it out, I'm sorry."

His shoulders squared, a frown forming. "What do you mean it's your fault, what did you do?"

"I... I told her that I haven't been speaking to the pilots since Curtis Biddick died - you don't know him, but he was... kinda my boyfriend."

"Oh, George, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, it sucks. But I think she took it to heart, and now she's scared to get too close to you in case something happens."

"... She told you that?"

"Not explicitly, but I'm not an idiot. And I know her very well."

Rosie nodded hurriedly as he considered this, passing his weight from one foot to the other as he debated approaching Frankie. Sucking in a deep breath, he nodded determinedly. "George," He held her by the shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "Thank you."

"Don't ever do that again."

"I am sorry," He nodded, hands held up in surrender as he backed away, turning on his heel to make a beeline towards Frankie. George watched him go, brow raised at the sudden spring in his step.

"Weird bloke," She muttered.

They were halfway through a frankly awful rendition of Three Jolly Rogues when Frankie heard someone calling her name. Her gaze travelled across the crowd, words trailing off as she noticed Rosie at the edge of the group, unable to penetrate the mass of people as he craned to catch her eye. Eyes widening for a moment, she instantly felt her heart begin to beat faster as she chugged the remainder of her beer, abandoning her empty glass atop the piano as she tried to shove her way through to him.

"Frankie!" "Rosie!"

They spoke simultaneously, words to rambled and quick to make out, especially over the din of the pub. "Let's - let's go outside, yeah?" Frankie called over the music, and he nodded in agreement. His hand on her back came as a reflex, an instinct as they moved towards the door. She didn't step away.

Stepping out into the night air was like running head-first into a wall of ice, the sudden cold almost making Frankie gasp, her breath erupting in a visible cloud in front of her face. The sheer number of bodies inside the pub kept it permanently warm, so much so that it was easy to forget they were in the thick of December. Sucking in a breath, she rubbed at her arms to generate some warmth, her uniform jacket offering little in the way of insulation.

Rosie opened his mouth to speak, but she got there first. "I'm sorry. I've been treating you like shit and you don't deserve it, I was just being a fucking coward and-"

"Hey - no, no, no, you're ok. George told me what was going on and I get it. I get it, ok?"

Her expression was contorted in something like fear. "You do?"

"Of course," A smile flickered across his face. Of course he did. "I have no idea how hard it must be for you to wait for us all to come back, knowing what can happen up there. But... I don't wanna sound selfish Frankie but I can't stand the thought of dying without us being friends. You make coming back worth it and I- ... I miss you."

Frankie was silent for a long moment, and Rosie braced himself for whatever she was going to say.

"Come to my house for Christmas," She said. His mind had been racing trying to predict her response. He had not expected that.

"... What?"

"I got a forty-eight-hour pass for Christmas, I'm going over to my Dad's house. You can't spend it with your family, and we've got plenty of room... Well. You'd probably have to sleep on the floor but-"

She trailed off as she realised he was laughing, her brow furrowing as Rosie chuckled, nodding continuously. "Yeah," He beamed.

"Yeah?" The corner of her lips curled upwards in that wonky smile he so adored.

"Yeah, I'll come," Rosie grinned, taking a step forward and enveloping her in a hug, arms wrapped tight around her shoulders and she instinctively reached around to hug him back, her head resting against his chest.

"That would've been really awkward if you'd said no," Frankie said, her voice muffled against his jacket. Rosie laughed again, and she felt the vibrations through his chest.

"I was never gonna say no."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They took a train on Christmas Eve, each carriage so packed with servicemen and women on leave and families visiting each other for the holiday that they were forced to stand, shuffling awkwardly out of the way whenever someone had to squeeze past. The pair had nothing to do except for a single pack of cards, although it soon became evident that the lack of space forced them to stand so close that they could always see each other's hand, and every game rapidly became pointless.

"So George isn't coming? Or Ken?" Rosie asked, fiddling with his watch as they plodded steadily onwards through the countryside, plumes of smoke from the coal engine partly obscuring the view of the trees and fields outside.

"George's family lives down in Dover - though you'd never guess it from her accent," Frankie chuckled. "She's got a pass too, so she's gone down this morning. Ken got invited for dinner by the parents of those lads he's always looking after - he'll be over there tomorrow."

He nodded along as she spoke. It had been almost an hour since anyone had tried to shuffle past them, so they'd taken to sitting on the floor, legs outstretched as far as they could go across the dirty old carpet. "Say, how'd you and George meet anyway? I never asked."

"We were both working at RAF Docking from about the middle of '41. There were a lot more WAAF there than at Abbotts, so we didn't bunk together, but we just sort of stuck, I s'pose. She only came here because of me - I got asked to come 'cause of your manpower shortage, but she reapplied so she could come too. Good thing too, I'd have been fucked without her. I think we got a bit co-dependent," She smiled to herself as she spoke, and he couldn't help but mirror it.

There was not a single sign or announcement to indicate where they were on their journey along the way. Frankie had told him it was a part of the government's anti-invasion measures, so that any would-be invaders would be unable to find their way, but really it just made him paranoid that they had missed their stop. Nevertheless, the moment they pulled into their station, she was up on her feet, a sudden air of excitement about her as she scrambled to gather their belongings. Rosie followed her out onto the platform, trying not to cough at the puffs of coal smoke that filled the station.

"Not far now," She assured him, a suitcase full of clothes in one hand, a satchel of presents in the other. It was a surprisingly sunny afternoon, although the biting cold would have suggested otherwise, and he trailed after her as they descended the high street, Rosie's head turning this way and that to take in his unfamiliar surroundings.

Frankie breezed through the place with practised familiarity, letting out a huff as she realised she'd almost lost him to the Shakespeare memorial as they passed. He had become entirely distracted by it, peering closely at the engravings that lined the base of the statue.

"Oi! Don't go all tourist on me, flyboy - I won't be late for dinner," She teased, and Rosie held up his hands in surrender, scurrying to catch up.

He could tell they were close when her shoulders drooped, excitement replaced by a comfortable calm. They reached a row of short, terraced houses, set back slightly from the main road, the thin strip of shared lawn still wet from the morning's blanket of frost. Frankie had begun grinning as she approached the house on the far end of the row, a spring of holly tied to the knocker with a messy knot of string. She shot him a smile, knocking firmly upon the wood, before spying an elderly woman a few doors down, struggling under the weight of her shopping bags as she fumbled with her door keys.

"Let me help with that, Mrs Higgins!" Frankie called, leaving Rosie alone on the doorstep as she hurried to help the old woman, gently prying the bags from her grip.

"My, Frances, haven't you grown!" Mrs Higgins declared, beaming up at her, made tiny by her stooped shoulders.

"Not since I was twelve, dear," She assured her, helping her in through the door as she carried the shopping behind her. Rosie smiled, watching on with his hands in his pockets, and he wondered how he could feel nostalgic in a place he'd never seen before.

Suddenly the door to Frankie's house swung open, and he found himself faced with a red-faced man, peering down at him with a frown. "Can I help you?"

"Dad, that's just Rosie! Let 'im in!" Frankie cried from down the street, hurriedly exiting Mrs Higgins' house as she scurried to catch up.

Mr Bevan was a huge man in every sense of the word - so tall and wide that he practically filled the entire doorway, and it almost seemed a miracle that he and his daughter were even related. But the moment he heard Frankie's voice, his face lit up with such love Rosie wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything like it, unleashing a hearty, belly laugh as she ran into his arms, practically throwing herself at the man.

"Rosie? Who's Rosie?" Another voice rang from inside - a girl's voice, high-pitched and certainly familiar. "I thought you were bringing the pilot!"

"Rosie is the pilot!" Frankie called down the hall, chuckling as she broke free of her father's embrace. She ushered Rosie inside, piling her bags at the bottom of the narrow staircase. As he entered, a girl was peering suspiciously at him from the kitchen doorway. She couldn't have been older than thirteen, a crop of golden hair flowing from her scalp, and at her hip cowered another child, a little girl of about three of four, hair so blonde it was almost white.

"But Rosie's a girl's name!" The older girl protested.

He chuckled. "Well, in fairness, my real name's Robert."

"Alice, be nice," Frankie scolded gently, lifting up the smaller child with one arm as Alice's cheeks bloomed a bright red. He realised she must have been Jill, recalling her name from the phone call all those weeks ago at Coombe House.

The Bevans' house was inescapably narrow, the five of them struggling to pass each other as bags were brought in and Frankie's father bustled through to the kitchen to put the kettle on. But as she sidled into the living room, she let out a gasp, a grin creasing her cheeks.

It was a sparsely furnished place, but in all honesty there probably wasn't room for anything else. A thin pine tree was propped up in the corner, strings of tinsel and chipped old baubles hanging from its branches, and newspaper chains hung from the curtain rails.

"Oh, isn't this just wonderful," Frankie remarked as Jill wrapped her chubby arms around her neck in a sideways hug. She turned her head, nodding at Rosie, prompting him to say something.

"Oh! Yeah. Very nice, it's just like back home," He nodded in agreement, slightly tense under the eyes of strangers, even if they were both little girls.

"Rosie, d'you want a cuppa?" Mr Bevan's voice boomed from the next room. For a moment he panicked, staring at Frankie with wide eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

"Tea. Do you want tea?" She whispered, putting Jill down on the sofa.

"Oh, uh - Yes! Thank you, Mr Bevan!"

"Oh, bloody hell, it's Allen, son," He shook his head, carrying in a teapot on a tray to place on the small table in the middle of the room.

"Even the boys at the garage call you Allen, eh Dad?" Frankie pointed out, pouring a cup of tea and straining the leaves before passing it to Rosie.

"Reason I hired 'em," He agreed, lowering himself into one of the armchairs with a heavy grunt. Rosie accepted the tea with a smile, and had just brought the cup to his lips when Allen leant down and unstrapped his foot, pulling it off and propping it against the wall. He almost choked. Alice let out a snort that sounded remarkably like Frankie's.

"Christ, sorry lad," He laughed, red face turning even redder. "Probably should've warned you about that."

Rosie forced out an awkward chuckle, nodding along. Jill was sat beside him on the sofa, staring up at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging slightly agape. He smiled down at her, noticing Frankie as she smirked at the whole scene.

Their dinner was a meagre feast of beans on toast, and Rosie suspected they were saving everything else for Christmas Day, saving it up to put on a true banquet. He and Frankie had been relegated to the living room to sleep, and she took the sofa whilst he lay on a pile of cushions and blankets on the floor. It wasn't a house built to serve any more than three - after all, it had only ever intended to house Frankie and her parents.

He was staring up at the picture frames that lined the wall as she came in - messy childhood drawings on aged paper, a laboured scrawl captioning each one with things like 'Me and Daddy' and 'My House'. Frankie had been putting the girls to bed, and padded across the carpet with a sigh, the sofa springs creaking as she collapsed backwards onto them.

"Did you draw those?" He asked, pointing up at the wall.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "God, they're so awful, I keep telling him to take them down."

"No! They're great! I think it's really nice."

Frankie stared down at him for a moment. He'd changed into his pyjamas already, lying straight across the living room floor, blanket tucked under his arms. She began to giggle, cheeks flushed from the cool draft that filled the room.

"What?" He asked.

"It's only nine. You look like you've had mummy come and tuck you in for bed," She teased, unable to look at him without collapsing into giggles again.

"I'm tired!" He protested, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Yeah, yeah. So am I, to be fair. And - fair warning - Jill will be in here at five in the morning tomorrow to open her presents. She's so excited, I don't think she'll sleep a wink."

Frankie lay back along the sofa, feet propped up against the armrest as she draped a blanket over herself before reaching out to turn off the lamp. "They're sweet kids," Rosie spoke into the darkness.

"Alice is cagey around new people - just tell her a good flying story tomorrow and she'll love you. I think Jill loves you already. She doesn't talk much, but she'll want you to play with her toys, so you'd better do it," She instructed him, and he let out a chuckle.

"Alright. I promise."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Rosie was awoken by the thunderous sound of little footsteps barrelling down the stairs, a shriek escaping Jill as she streaked into the room, making a beeline for the sofa as she hurled herself on top of Frankie. She let out an agonised groan at the sudden weight, retaliating as she tickled under Jill's arms, eliciting a series of squeals from the girl.

He groaned, grabbing one of the cushions and pressing it tight over his head to dull the sudden noise. He heard Frankie laugh, and felt her warm breath against his ear as she bent down to whisper "Told you so."

It was a half hour before the rest of the family made an appearance, time which Frankie spent desperately trying to prevent Jill from tearing open her presents, insisting she had to wait for her sister.

"Just one? Please? Please!" She whined, feet dangling off the edge of one of the kitchen chairs. Rosie wandered in and the girl went suddenly quiet, nervously pursing her lips.

"Hey Jill, why don't you show Rosie your cars, yeah?" Frankie said, pausing mid-sentence to let out a yawn as she put the kettle on the boil. The child's brow furrowed, considering this, and when she looked up at him she spoke with the seriousness of a businessman conducting an important negotiation.

"Rosie, will you play cars with me?"

"Absolutely I will," He nodded, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Jill grinned, pushing herself down from the chair as she scurried back into the living room. Rosie shot Frankie a glance, brow arched in confusion. "How does she have so much energy?"

"She's a kid," She shrugged. "I think they're all like that."

The cars were rusted and chipped, paint peeling off to expose the tarnished metal beneath, and Rosie couldn't help but suspect they must have been Frankie's years ago. He could picture her as a girl, playing with tiny tin cars on the floor of a garage somewhere whilst her father worked away fixing the real thing. The idea made him smile.

Jill made little whooshing engine sounds as she wheeled the cars around on the rug, occasionally ramming one into the table leg as she mimicked a crash - there was a groove in the wood from years of games such as this. Rosie found he did not know how to play with a child as small and as quiet as Jill, but he lined the toy racing cars up in a nice, neat row for her, quickly discovering the girl much preferred to destroy that work than admire it.

"This one's yours," She declared, holding out a chubby hand to present him with a tiny metal biplane, half of its propeller long since broken off.

"Why thank you," He grinned, accepting it gladly. They had been playing for a long time before Rosie realised he too had begun to mimic the sound of engines, lips pressed together as he tried to replicate the hum of his B-17.

Allan and Alice appeared after a while, and once the girls had opened their Christmas presents it was all hands on deck to prepare for their midday feast. The children were placed in charge of the bread stuffing, a charge they appeared to take incredibly seriously, and Rosie was presented with a pile of carrots and potatoes to peel. He sat at the table, dutifully toiling away, the kitchen gradually growing hotter and hotter as the chicken they'd bought from one of the neighbours slowly roasted in the oven.

The creak of a chair beside him caught his attention, and Rosie looked up as Frankie sat down, sliding a glass of sherry towards him. "Frankie, it's ten in the morning," He pointed out.

"If you're not at least halfway drunk by lunchtime, you're not doing Christmas right," Frankie shrugged. He noticed her father had already finished a glass. Taking a sip of her drink, she reached across the table, seizing one of the unpeeled potatoes from his pile, using a knife to whittle away at the skin. "You're very slow at this," She pointed out.

"Sorry, I'm not a practised potato peeler, dear."

She chuckled. "Guess we'll just have to train you up... Merry Christmas, Rosie."

He tore his gaze from his work, nicking the skin of his finger slightly with the blade, although he couldn't make himself mind. "Merry Christmas."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A myriad of wonderful smells had filled the kitchen by the time they sat down to eat, his chair perched on a corner of the small table between Frankie and Jill. The girls had created little paper crowns for the occasion, crafted out of scraps of wallpaper and decorated with old buttons. Rosie's sat far too small atop his head, but he fought to keep it balanced on his scalp, replacing it every time it fell off. It was a simple banquet, but after the work they had put into creating it, he could've sworn it was the best food he'd ever eaten.

"This much like your Christmases in the States, Rosie?" Allen asked.

Rosie nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yeah. Good food and good company, that's what it's for, ain't it?"

"I'd offer to let you call your family, but we don't have a phone," Frankie admitted, reaching across him to take Jill's plate so that she could cut up her chicken for her.

"It's no trouble, really. This is all wonderful," He nodded again, and Alice snorted as his paper crown slipped off of his head, tumbling to the floor.

Frankie shot the girl a look, brow arched in warning. He suddenly remembered what she had told him the night before. "Say, I haven't told you any of my flying stories yet, have I?" It was as if Alice were a dog, the way her ears pricked, intrigue suddenly lacing her expression.

"No. You haven't."

"Please do!" Jill added, and her older sister nodded in agreement.

Rosie began to recount some of his most interesting missions - the narrow misses, the daring manoeuvres - every detail embellished for dramatic effect to such an extent that he was at times bordering on fabrication, and he could tell from Frankie's smirk that she knew not everything he was saying was strictly true. She was smiling at her father across the table, the two of them enjoying the utterly transfixed expressions plastered across the children's faces, so enthralled that they almost forgot to eat.

Any scepticism Alice had shown before was long gone, staring wide-eyed across the table at him, her cheeks blooming red as if she'd come face to face with her lifelong hero. Either that or she was developing a crush. Frankie was beginning to suspect the latter. When dinner was finished, the girl approached her as she was filling the sink with water to wash up, leaning over to whisper in her ear.

"Frankie - Is Rosie your boyfriend?"

"What? ...No, honey, I don't think so."

Alice's brow furrowed, a look of absolute horror painting her face. "What do you mean you 'don't think so'?"

Frankie chuckled. "You'll get it when you're older."

She rolled her eyes, golden curls bouncing as she gathered the dirty dishes, stacking them in an orderly pile beside the sink. Bing Crosby came over the radio on the windowsill in front of her, the faint drawl of the King's Christmas speech coming from the main radio in the living room. Her dad had taken off his false leg again, revelling in every moment he didn't have to wear the thing, and Frankie was elbow-deep in soapy water by the time Rosie reappeared.

"Where'd you go?" She asked, looking up as he came in through the back door, paper crown still balanced atop his head.

"Getting rid of leftovers - the neighbour took the chicken scraps for her dogs."

"Ah," She nodded, suppressing a smile as he sidled next to her, seizing the dishcloth and beginning to dry the plates and cups she had finished scrubbing.

"... Yunno. Alice thinks you're my boyfriend."

Rosie nodded, laughing softly. "I think Jill thinks we're married."

"Oh she loooves you," Frankie teased, knocking against him with her hip. "She'll be wanting you to put her to bed later."

She wasn't wrong. The adults sat around the living room that night, the children long since sent to bed. Empty glasses covered the coffee table as they held their hands of cards close to their chests, finally able to have a proper game - albeit a slightly addled one. The room itself smelled of sherry, and their cheeks were all flushed pink, laughing as they played, the radio still turned on in the corner, although nothing came from it but static.

They were having such a good time that they didn't hear the little patter of footsteps trailing down the staircase - didn't look up until she was stood in the doorway, a ragged old teddy clutched in her hands. Jill's voice came out meek and exhausted. "I can't sleep."

"Well, I'm not surprised, my lamb," Frankie's dad spoke warmly. "You ate a whole month's sweet ration today."

She rubbed tiredly at her eyes, and Frankie pushed herself up off the sofa. "Alright, let's go, eh?"

"I want Rosie to do it," Jill insisted, sleepy brown eyes looking back at him. "Please?"

Frankie glanced over at him, shrugging as if to say 'I don't see why not'. "Sure thing," Rosie nodded, grunting slightly as he hopped up from his seat. Jill grinned, clutching at the cuff of his sleeve with a tiny hand as they headed up the stairs together.

Returning to her seat, Frankie grinned, watching them go until they were out of sight. It was quiet for a long moment, and she reached over to turn off the radio. Her father cleared his throat slightly. "You never mentioned - how long have you been with yer fella then?"

She had been halfway through a last sip of sherry, and choked suddenly on it, almost spitting it back out. "Who, Rosie? No, dad, we're just-"

"Oh, bloody hell, petal," He shook his head, and she wondered how he could make a term of endearment sound so frustrated. "I'm not blind as well as legless."

"You've still got one leg Dad-"

"Don't gimme that. That lad's in love with you, else he wouldn't have crossed the bloody country on Christmas Eve to come eat old carrots with you. And you! Christ alive, you look at him like you used to look at Danny-boy from down the street when you were goin' out with him. Except worse."

Frankie let out a long, agonised groan, slumping so far back against the sofa cushions it was as if she were hoping to melt into the furniture. "Dad!" She exclaimed. "... He's American."

He snorted. "Bloody hell, didn't think I raised you to be a snob."

"No! Not like that! I just... he lives in America. I can't leave you, Dad."

"Oh, piss off, yes you can. You think I'll grow this feckin' leg back overnight through the grace of your presence, love? If I let you waste your life sittin' around here, then I've failed as a Dad. I've failed your mum, n'all."

"Don't say that," She shook her head, tears forming and clouding her vision.

"No. I mean it. If that lad is gonna make you happy you go with him, dammit. Gettin' to raise you has been the best thing that ever happened to me, but you're your own woman now, Frank. And I've got a couple more little-un's to deal with. Can't have you hanging around, there's not bloody room anymore."

Frankie laughed, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Her dad made to stand, groaning as he put weight on his false leg, and she jumped to her feet to help him, but he raised a hand to her, and she had no choice but to back away.

"I love you, petal," He beamed down at her, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. "And now I'm going to bed. Too much bloody sherry." She squeezed his hand, stepping out of the way so he could hobble past, grunting slightly as he hauled himself up the stairs.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time Rosie returned, Frankie was lying on the floor atop the pile of cushions and blankets he had used as a bed the night before, staring at the pictures on the wall.

"You're in my bed," He pointed out.

"I got the sofa last night - your turn."

"No - no. It's your house, you take the couch."

"Look, Rosie, we are going back tomorrow and I'll not return you to the boys with a bad back. Make me look like a bad host n'all."

He let out a sigh. "Fine," It was dark in the living room, and she couldn't wholly tell what he was doing until she felt the blanket lift up, and he burrowed beneath it beside her.

"... What are you doing."

"Compromise," Rosie shrugged, their shoulders pressed together. "... Who's Danny?"

"Oh my God!" Frankie exclaimed, covering her face with her hands, voice strained in embarrassment. "How much of that did you hear?!"

"Just a little. I was waiting for Jill to brush her teeth. So?"

She sighed, arms dropping to her sides in defeat. "He was my boyfriend for a bit when I was seventeen. It wasn't a big deal, but Dad loved him so he brings it up all the time."

He chuckled, nodding. "You were right, by the way. I do like your dad."

"Told you."

Neither of them said anything for a long time, the room plunged into silence save for the sound of them breathing. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could make out his features, her head lolling to the side as she stared at him.

"Actually, I lied," He confessed. Her brow furrowed in confusion, watching as Rosie rolled onto his side to face her. "I heard everything."

Frankie did the same, the pair facing each other properly. "You sneaky shit," She teased, and he let out a huff of laughter.

She heard him take a deep breath before he spoke again. "Was he right?"

"About what?"

In the dim light, she could see his brow furrow. "You know what."

Rosie's hand moved to cup Frankie's cheek, but before he could make a move she had closed the gap, and he felt the warmth of her lips press against his, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. The blankets rustled as she pressed herself against him, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck as he lifted his head up off the pillow, moving to hover over her, their lips never parting.

After a moment, she pulled away, and they both took a second to catch their breath. "Jill's probably gonna get up again in a minute. She's a nightmare to put to bed, I swear."

"Understood," Rosie nodded firmly like a man on a mission, peppering kisses from her cheek down to the crook of her neck as she squirmed, trying not to laugh as she planted a palm flat on his forehead, prying him away.

He sighed, and a bubble of laughter escaped her throat. "I'm serious! We will scar that child for life."

"Alright," Rosie huffed, lying back down beside her. He raised his hand to her face once more, her skin sticky with sweat as he pushed her hair out of the way, getting a proper look at her as best he could in the dark.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

Frankie hummed. "No. Don't think so."

"You are beautiful," He mused, winding a strand of her hair around his finger. "Even in the dark - even when you smell terrible and I say I don't care. Which I don't, by the way."

She snorted with laughter, briefly pressing her lips to his once more. "Well, I also don't mind when you smell like shit."

"Aw, that's sweet."

A small voice came from the doorway, and for a second both of their hearts stopped, hurling themselves away from each other as they tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. "I still can't sleep," Jill protested, frown audible in her voice. Rosie felt the urge to laugh at the accuracy of Frankie's prediction, and she clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

"That's ok sweetie, I'm coming," She called. The blankets rustled as she moved to stand, pressing her forehead against his just long enough to whisper.

"I told you so."

[leeofthevoid]

Did we or Did we not?

Part Two of Not so Meet-Cute

Farleigh x Reader

a/n: I did think about adding SMUT. I really did. I just don't have the heart to make half-assed SMUT scenes that people would dislike anyways, and I kind of wanted a Fluffy Farleigh fic that still had his usual sass. I love you all so much!

Word Count: 3635

Warnings: Explicit content, Mature Content, Strong Language, 16+

Annabel and India never gave up on your dating life, but you sure have for months now. It's just the same damn thing over and over again, and it was stupid. The boys are all okay at first, but then they disappear from the area. Farleigh swoops in and asks you to make out again, and you just entertain him. It sucks having to bruise your ego every now and then. 

What's worse? Farleigh points that out whenever you two are on each other's nerves. 

"Annabel and India won't stop setting me up for dates." You passively say while lying on his bed, his head on your stomach. He had your shared cigarette in between his fingers while chuckling. "It's getting sadder and sadder by the minute. Are you that desperate?"

You smack him on the forehead, earning a pinch on your thigh. "Farleigh!"

"What? You did it first." You rolled your eyes and stole the cigarette, inhaling deeply to calm your nerves. "I mean, did you tell them you want to stop?" He asked, raising his head to make eye contact for a split second before settling on your stomach again. 

You puff out and sigh. "Well, that's the thing…I kind of don't want to stop? If you get to have sex, why can't I?"

"Because you don't want us to?" 

"And get all your diseases? Bitch, please." You hear a low chuckle from him, reminding you that he is still the same American bitch you dislike. "But be honest, why do you not want to take it up a notch? Am I just your designated boob sucker? Or am I not too English for you? Oh, oh, oh! Maybe you prefer ugly men." You scoff and push his head off, but he is pretty adamant about lying down on it. 

"Eugh, it's just weird, okay? You had your chance, but you blew it last year." You sat up and looked down at his stupid face. 

"And why can't I have a second?" He mockingly fluttered his eyelashes. "Because you dragged me to your bed just because one of your little toys can't come in this morning." He scrunched up his nose and groaned, "Touché." 

You push him off to stand and fix yourself in front of the mirror in his room, a burst of annoyance nagging at you when you see your reflection. "Farleigh! I said no fucking marks!" It was everywhere. On your neck, chest, back?! Not even a single place untouched by that little shit. 

Farleigh walks up to you with a grin, placing his chin on your shoulder, hands wrapped around your waist. "I know a place I could put them where no one can see." He hummed. You rolled your eyes and shoved him away from you. 

"You don't deserve it." He raised his eyebrows at you, leaning on the cabinet next to you and checking the time. "We have class, babes. Time for you to cover that up." He got a sweater from the cabinet, threw it at you, and fixed himself. 

Another day, another regret of wearing a strapless top you had to cover because of Farleigh. What a dreadful day for fashion. 

Walking down the hallway, India fell into step with you with another juicy gossip. She paused and looked at the sweater that clearly did not match the black pencil skirt and spiky boots you had going on. "Farleigh made you do his homework again?" You nodded and sighed. 

"Babes, this is a sign to sit next to that smart kid in our class. He could totally at least get homework out of your hands." She had this impressed look on her face and linked her arm around yours. "Imagine the power couple of the year!"

"No way. Do you not notice how he picks his nose?" Farleigh pointed that out when the guy walked past you a few weeks back. "Oh. Ew, alright, never mind." She scrunched up her face and started to talk about the other guy.

It was a few hours after classes, and India had this giddy smile. She separated from you when you went to class and quickly looked for you when you were dismissed. "India, hiding something from me?" She giggled and walked you to a table with Annabel, a boy beside her. Oh fuck.

"And he just threw it?"

"Yes! He had this whole speech about being able to afford another one!"

You and Farleigh laugh while sitting on the bed of another house party you were dragged to. "There's no way he could replace that. You know that kid got here because his mother was hot?"

Your eyes grew big, and a gasp came out of your mouth. "No way!"

"Yes, way. One of the board members had a huge crush on her, and when she begged him, he didn't think twice." You both laugh as you gossip about that guy you had a terrible 'date' with three weeks back.

"I still can't get over how he insulted your sweater and my ring. He went on and on about how cheap the fabric was, how it washed out my 'beauty,' and how my ring seemed to have a fake red diamond." He gasped, eyes in disbelief. He sat crossed leg with a pillow he clutched tightly when you told him more about the disastrous date. 

"Oh god, how dare he? That sweater probably costs more than his flat." He scoffs, clearly irritated by the dislike of his fashionable clothes. "I know right! You're horrible, but you at least have taste in clothes." You both burst out laughing, Farleigh shoving you while you tried to breathe.

"Fuuuuck! Annabel and India are such idiots. How could they not tell the fake Piaget he was flaunting." A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back on the headboard. "Trust me, I've been to worse. I just didn't appreciate the casual flaunting and the insulting." Farleigh raised an eyebrow and scooted next to you to sit back. "He told me, "What is that bloody junk doing on your delicate hand? Someone must really hate you for giving you a fake." Like, seriously?" 

Farleigh made an amused sound, and then a smirk followed. "The wicked witch and the fake ass bitch. Sounds meant to be." He smirked, earning him a ton of smacks and slaps. It ended up in you two play fighting, grunts, and victorious laughs tossed here and there. When you both settled, sprawled on the bed, heaving air, you got to thinking. "I need alcohol and a line or two…Maybe even a joint." Farleigh craned his neck to you and shuffled to stand up. "We're at a party for a reason; stand up, my dear! This party needs us!" You giggle and take the hand he outstretched to pull you up. 

You were totaled, and the amount of things you took was wild. And you sure as hell did suffer so severely the next day. You wake up in someone else's bed, your head pounding and your body sore. Fuck, this soreness was definitely not from partying too hard. "Fuck!" 

"Shut up." You shot your head to look at the space next to you, moving from under the covers to avoid the sun. You were too groggy to retaliate and can't even register your surroundings yet. It was just sore and not in a terrible way. Just the sore you get when you've spent the whole night having…Sex. 

Fuck! The panic set in, and you checked under the covers. Yup, that is your naked body under there. What a fucking idiot, how could this happen? There were a ton of drinks, but were you that shitfaced you couldn't even remember?

You wasted no time pulling the covers to wake the stranger, which might have made your blood run cold. 

"Ahhhhhh!" You couldn't stop screaming bloody murder when Farleigh shot up and looked around to check what the commotion was about. "What! What!" 

"You!" You clutched the cover to your chest and threw pillows at him. "Farleigh, what the fuck is happening!" 

He paused for a moment and then realized," Shit, how? When?" 

"I don't know!"

"Did we…"

"I'm fucking sore, so yeah, we definitely did." He groaned and quickly got up to run into the bathroom, snagging his clothes from the floor on the way. 

You huffed and pulled the covers up to look for your clothes, carefully picking them from the floor. Your legs were wobbly, but you could still wear your clothes again…Or what's left. There were weird tears on them, and you hated the party even more now. I guess you were glad to at least wake up in the familiar space of Farleigh's dorm room instead of the house where the party started. 

You sat down on the bed again when he came out. "So…"

"Do you remember anything, Farleigh?" He sat down on his study chair, creaking under his weight. "I don't remember much, to be honest. I just remembered playing many games with Felix, and we absolutely crushed that idiot's ego. I saw you making out with two guys at once, too. Uhm…” 

You choked, eyes widening, not believing the last thing you did. It may be best not to remember much. "I'm sore." He looked at you, and a slight smirk plastered his lips. 

"Well, I'm going to take that as a compliment." 

"Oh, shove off!" His face rested on the palm of his hand, looking as smug as ever. "As if you totally didn't imagine me as one of your gross professors, you weirdo."

"And you must have fantasized about being under one of Felix's blonde posh friends." Still triumphant as ever, this ass. "As if! Did you know Ellis didn't use deodorant until Felix gave him a spare? Or that Matthew doesn't bel-"

"Believe in condoms? Yes, I do. Little Matty wanted a piece of your man, but I refused." You can't help but crack a grin at his twisted form of acknowledgment that he was not an easy catch.

You wanted to look at him longer when his door suddenly opened, Felix crashing in, looking excited. "Holy fuck, Far. You guys were at it the whole night the fucking R.A. almost went in due to noise complaint." You sighed and sat up. "Felix, best to shut the door before telling your fun little story."

Felix chuckled and closed the door behind him, then sat on the floor, his body trying hard not to bombard you with gossip. "Holy shit, guys, one of the T.A.s went to the party, and the dude was a massive lightweight. Even dunked his head in the fountain on the way back just to wake him up." Farleigh barely listened, but you loved blackmail so much that you could not let it pass. 

"I'm actually kind of interested as to how we fucked?" Farleiigh pointed at you and himself, getting even more excited that he had to stand up. "Okay, okay. So basically, you two were just partying and playing some games with us when India told her," He pointed at you, "To chug like, what? A whole bottle of Vodka! By the way, I respect you so much for that." You chuckle at his boyish daftness that you can't even comment. 

"Then holy fuck! When we all got out of the party, Annabel and I were kind of doing our thing when Farleigh almost broke my door demanding for an extra condom!" Farleigh turned and massaged his temple. At the same time, he bit his lip in surprise. You could only cover your mouth to hide yours. "Holy shit! You guys went on for hours, and I had to switch locations because we could not get our thing going!" The annoying thing about Felix was that he was so passionate that even his arms could not stop moving to emphasize whatever he deemed interesting. 

"Stop, stop, stop," Farleigh said, eyes shut and index fingers plugged in his ears. He's right. This was a ton of information on a Sunday morning. 

"Felix, let's grab breakfast first. This is just a one-time thing; it won't happen again. Go and tell Annie we'll be at the café in a bit. "Alright, mate. See you later, wild ones." 

A beat of silence finally returned to the room when you and Farleigh looked at each other. "See you later." He nodded, and you went to who knows where to get fresh air. 

How did this happen? You guys promised to the one thing off-limits, and all crashed down in one night. Oh well, it won't happen again.

Right?

Farleigh was groaning beside you for the nth time while you gave him headache medication to ease up his pain. The class hasn't even started yet, but most of the students looked like they were about to pass out.

It was almost like the world hated you. You get your fix of sexual need, but the catch is you don't know how it went. The only thing you know is that you do it with Farleigh. Happens every two weeks. 

Compared to India and Annabel, who was passed out in last night's clothes, you at least had the decency to change into new ones that were more decent but still screamed 'Hot bitch’.

"Babes, this lecture is killing me." You shake your head as he grumbles more about how he probably did all the work last night that's why you were in less pain. Little shit. 

"Shut up, you little baby. We both know you're a whiney fuck that likes to be bottom." He shot you a glare and continued to silently nurse himself back to health. Silently whimpering while he basically put his whole body weight on you. 

It felt weird. It was like the night you two do it, you can't remember a thing. He doesn't either. In fact, that bitch sometimes blames you for 'touching his beautiful body' like a dramatic fucker he is. It happens every two weeks, and at this point, you don't mind anymore. 

From someone you hated so much, you two became closer friends than India ever was with you. Farleigh had all the gossip and snide remarks you never got from your girlfriends. You matched his energy and were very candor about the people he talks about. 

Class ended and you had to wake Farleigh up. "Farleigh, wake up." 

"No." He whined. 

"And if I pour water on your new velvet shirt?" 

His eyes shot up and sat back, glaring at you. "You'd never." 

"I would." A smug look on your face as you stood up and followed the wave of students walking out the class. 

Felix all texted you to meet up at the pub later that night. Farleigh decided to get ready together at your dorm, a decision you never had a chance to stop. 

"Hey, Farleigh, do you think I'm sometimes trying too hard to get a guy?" He looked at your reflection as he was fixing his hair. "Don't we all try too hard?" He used his hands to make his curls more prominent and kept. 

You creased your forehead, thinking too deeply enough to draw blood while biting down your bottom lip. "I mean…It just feels like I'm doing things to amuse you a lot. I feel like I gave up a long time ago."

He turned his head to look at you, stopping whatever he did and sighed. "Hey, not feeling like partying?" You nodded and sat on the bed, slumping your back. "No. I don't feel like doing anything much to be honest." 

Farleigh's eyes flashed recognition, and he sat next to you, placing his head on yours. "It's your time of the month, isn't it?" Confusion shot in your mind but you still nodded. How the fuck did he know? "...How?" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. '"You get all sentimental and overthink. I'd rather stay in too. If you're not there, what's the point of being in a boring party." You don't know what wave of emotion came over you, but you felt so nice that tears welled up in your eyes. 

In a twisted way, this idiot got to your heart in his own way. Without Felix or India to force you to be together in a room or a park date that they concocted just to play cupid. You liked seeing this side of him that was far from that asshole you met in first year. 

You appreciated him so much that you were afraid of the possibility that the asshole got his second chance of 'shooting his shot'. He was too good to be true, and you didn't want to lose that. He was too important just for your measly feelings to ruin what you had. 

Even after that whole ordeal, Farleigh became more attentive and he looked more beautiful in your eyes for some reason. He always makes time for you and was never shy to ask for your help in his essays and other things he knew you excelled at. 

The one time you knew you were disgustingly in love with him was when you were at your weakest during the year. When your grandfather died. 

He was so kind and so loving. He was the one who pushed you to still hangout with people so you won't die of loneliness in your dorm room. The one to lie next to you when you had to cry so much that you got sick at night. The one who took notes from your classes that you missed while you grieved. He was also kind enough to teach you about the rock tradition his family had, which helped you a ton. 

He was just so imperfectly perfect. 

When you finally got better, finished finals, and was in the time of the term to get ready for summer break, you had the courage to confess.

He lounged on your bed with that bitchy bored expression of his as you paced the room back and forth. "Baby, stop doing that and just tell me what's up. You're making me fucking dizzy, love." You stopped and rolled your eyes before sitting at the edge of the bed beside him. 

"Farleigh, I have to tell you something. It's really important that you don't fucking make fun of me or else I will kill your whole family and leave the country afterwards." He crossed his arms over his chest and breathed out. "Go on then, I'm listening."

You paused and took out a small bottle of tequila, downing it quickly to gain some liquid courage that you badly needed. "Woah morning drinks already." You glared at him as he stuck his tongue out at you. 

"So! Farleigh Start. You shitty bitch that replaced me with another person while we were on a date last year. The idiot that asks me to make-out with him that I can't say no because you're undeniably good. The asshole that I fight with all the time."

"Wow, it's like a proclamation of hate." You covered your hand on his running mouth while clearing your throat. "Farleigh…" He rolled his eyes and sat back. You removed your hand and slowly fidgeted with your sheets. 

"Farleigh, I think I like you." 

You ran all scenarios in your head for what reaction you will get but probably missed this one. He scoffed. The type of scoff that makes you think he knows for a long time now.

"Fucking finally." You gave him a confused look, he simply rolled his eyes keeping up with the bitchy act. 

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for this? You know you're such an oblivious prick sometimes it hurts my head." You gave him a look while he went on, "Um…What the fuck?"

"Babes, everything I did for you. It was my shot to try and redeem myself for a second chance. The moment you called me out in that bathroom I realized what I lost." You smirked, "My beautiful face and striking personality?" 

"That and… You're you. You don't try too hard. I did! I tried so fucking hard to actually get you to talk to me more. And you know what's worse? Kissing you makes it hard to kiss other people!"

You rolled your eyes yet again because it sounded way too condescending for someone who wants you to like them. Idiot. 

"No, listen. You don't get it. Kissing you felt like something that wasn't lust or boredom. You knew how to kiss well and I was bewitched!" 

"Exaggerating won't help your case after downplaying my confession." You crossed your leg over the other to add a bit more sass in your words. 

"I like you too, Y/N. I like you so much that I stopped doing my American slut façade and just wanted to be there for you. Unlike Felix and my supposed family, I felt like I was seen for who I was." 

It was touching and honest. You saw his eyes getting glossier while emphasizing his own twisted confession. You held his hand and kissed it. "You know. I'm not a jealous person, so I probably missed the part where you ask for forgiveness for doing the tango with other people." 

"How could I when I do it with a ninety-year-old by soul bitch who had sex with me multiple times when we were black-out drunk." You smiled and pinched his cheeks hard. 

"I hate you, Farleigh." 

"I love you too." He said with a genuine smile. 

You looked into his eyes and sighed. This asshole really made you do all that just to make you realize he liked you. What a prick. 

But he's your prick now.

a/n: What if Farleigh Racer AU next?

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Now Presenting...

Starring Suguru Geto in a curseless AU set in the early 2000s.

Synopsis: Neither one of you are quite over your "Relationship" If you could call it that. You had been avoiding him since the breakup for that very reason. He was the last person you ever expected to see at this party.

The wind was bitterly cold. You blew the smoke out of your lungs, watching it swirl into the clouds and praying it would take you with it. You didn't want to be here. You hated parties. You hated this town.

"There you are!" Your friend groaned as she came outside. "God, you're way too good at disappearing. I've been looking for you everywhere." You took a moment to take her in. Her eyes were filled with worry for you, frustration etched into her eyebrows. You hated to admit it, but you liked that she worried. It made you feel loved again. A small smile tugged at your lips. 

"Yep. I'm here. You should have guessed," you chuckled, throwing your cigarette onto the concrete and stomping it out. 

"Come inside," she insisted, "it's freezing out here." She was right. October nights had always been bitter, but tonight had a particular edge to it. You nodded to her as you slipped your hands into your hoodie. 

"I'm coming." 

"Try to look like you don't hate it here" your friend teased, "miserable is not a good look on you." You disagreed. You thought misery was your default. It was glamorous. It was vintage. It was hand tailored for you. At least, that's how it felt these days. Since things had ended. It had only been six months since your relationship failed, but it felt closer to six decades. Suguru’s ghost clung to you, haunted your body and mind. It felt like you were never not thinking about him. You wondered what you’d do if you saw him again.

“Ah, but that's the thing,” you half laughed, “I do hate it here. Frat parties are for people who like other people. And that's not me.”

“While true, they’re also for people who want to get black out drunk and forget their ex, which is you.” Your friend argued. I mean, shit when she was right she was right. The two of you walked back into the party, the music blasting top twenty pop hits into the air and shaking your soul out of your body. You tied your hoodie around your waist, the heat becoming thick faster than you expected it to. Your friend yelled…something you couldn’t decipher into your ear before disappearing into the crowd. Fuck.

 You sighed and made your way through the ocean of college kids, all swaying, making  waves in time with the music. You found your way to the kitchen, mixing yourself a vodka redbull. You drank it far too quickly, made yourself another one, and got about half way through it before you took another breath. You tuned back into the music, just to roll your eyes. Who burned the CD for this party anyway? You were sure this party couldn’t get any worse. Then it did.

You made eye contact with him the moment he walked into the kitchen, looking tired and disinterested. Satoru was going on and on about something inconsequential, you were sure, and Suguru was looking for a drink to help make his best friend bearable. His corpse eyes found a light in them as they connected with yours. You were sure whatever light you may have had left in your eyes faded instantly. You finished your drink. 

“Dude, are you even listening to-..oh.” Satoru cut his own sentence off as he realized what, or rather who his best friend was staring at. Shit. There was a solid five seconds of the three of you just staring at eachother in a fucked up standoff. Each waiting for the other to make a movie while Brittnay sang about genies in the other room. He looked better than you were fully willing to admit, wearing tripp pants and an old Korn tee over a mesh shirt. Your breath felt heavy in your throat. Memories of the last night you saw him exploded in your mind like war flashbacks. The tears, the fighting, the begging. The goodbye. Fuck.

He made a b-line to you and you b-lined to the back door, your closest escape. “Dude, stop!-” You heard Satoru call, no doubt chasing after Suguru. You were thankful for him. He was rarely the rational one between the two of them, but he was normally able to bring Suguru back to earth when he lost his mind. Maybe that was why they worked. You didn't really care to give it much thought anymore honestly.

“Y/n!” you heard your ex call for you. Fuck he sounded close. You could hear the chains on his tripp pants rattle as he made his way to you. You started to run. You hated making a scene but you couldn’t see him. For all the times you wondered what you’d do if you saw him again, running wasn’t ever really one of the options, but you’re here now. You made your way out the back gate and to your car. Your salvation. You picked up the pace, unlocking your car and falling into the seat with a swiftness that shocked even you. You let out a sigh of relief as your car door closed behind you. Finally, safe. You took out your phone to let your friend know you were leaving.

“Y/n!” Suguru called out as he plopped down in your passenger seat, scaring a squeal out of you. What the fuck?!  

“Get out you bastard!” You yelled at him.

“I just want to talk!” He said back, not yelling, but definitely talking louder than he normally did.

“You’ve fucking lost it Geto!” You matched his tone, “This is breaking and entering!”

“I’m pretty sure that only applies to buildings, Gorgeous.” He grinned, and it was so charming you almost forgot you hated him. 

“Don’t call me gorgeous!” You hissed, “I have nothing to say to you!”

“I have so much to say to you though!”

“Too bad, get out of my car!”

“Give me five minutes!”

“No! I’m going home!”

“You can’t drive like this Y/n! You’re drunk.” You started to yell a comeback, but realized you didn’t have one. He was right. You were starting to feel the drinks of the nights, and we're definitely not good to drive. 

“Then I’ll walk home!” You scoffed. And he laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh. 

“No you won’t.” He chuckled, “You live too far away. Plus, you would never leave your car unattended at a frat party.” He was right again. You hated how well he knew you. “Let me drive you.” He offered.

“No. you’re drunk too.” you scoffed.

“Am not,” He informed you, “I just got here.”

“Then what the fuck compelled you to just…get into my fucking car?” You asked, still flabbergasted by the audacity. The Suguru you knew would never have done that. He fumbled, looking for an answer. Truth was, he didn’t know why he did it either. 

“I miss you Y/n.” was the best he could offer. You sighed, a deep sigh that felt like it was pulled straight out of your sorrow and you threw your head back onto your headrest. You stared at the roof of your car. This was a bad idea. Suguru came with far too many emotions. Wounds that had barely had time to scab over were ripping open in real time, bigger than they ever were before. 

If you were smart, you would have gotten out of the car. You would have found Gojo to have him collect Suguru, and found your friend to have them drive you home. Or at least have them call you a cab. If you were smart, you would have told him to leave you the fuck alone. You would have saved your heart the extra heart break. You would have forced yourself to remember all the fighting that led you to where you were now, the pain, the heartbreak, the neglect. 

But, you weren’t feeling particularly bright that night. And all you could remember was the soft Suguru. The one that held you close at night, and asked before he kissed you. The one that took you out on late night dates in famous cemeteries cause he read it in a romance novel and thought it was just oh so romantic. You sighed and handed him your keys.

He gave a far too enthusiastic Yes! As the two of you changed seats. You settled into the passenger seat, already regretting your decision. You buckled up as he started the car.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, looking at you. You returned the look, though yours was laced with far more annoyance. 

“I’m annoyed.” you respond. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m just saying, food would be nice. Would probably help you avoid a hangover too.” A hangover sounded like a nightmare. Once again, you relented. 

“Fine, but you’re paying.” he grinned.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He said, pulling out to the street. He turned up the radio, a smile spreading across his face as he heard the song. Everlong, by the Foo Fighters. It made you smile too. Suddenly, you weren’t in your car anymore. You were sitting on Toji Zenins couch, nervously fiddling with your hands as he weighed out an ounce of weed. He’d been your plug for a few weeks at that point, but you still hadn’t grown used to his aura. 

You jumped when there was a knock at his door, and he looked just as confused before a realization dawned on him. “Oh, shit. I think I okay-ed two people to come over on accident.” he laughed to himself. “Hope that's okay Y/n.” he said, going to get the door. It wasn’t, you wanted to leave. But, you didn’t say that. Sometimes you wished you did. 

“Heyy! Weedman!” You heard a now familiar, but then utterly unrecognizable voice. “Thanks for covering me on such short no- Oh, hello!” Gojo said as he walked into the living room, seeing you sitting awkwardly on the couch. Suguru was behind him, quietly observing you. He smiled softly, raising his hand in a wave. His long black hair perfectly framed his sculpted face. His kind eyes seemed mismatched with his almost mischievous smile. You couldn't help but be sucked into his orbit. You smiled gently and waved back. 

“Hi.” before you knew it, Suguru was sitting next to you while Gojo rambled about..something. Honestly, he was always rambling about something. You don’t know why you didn’t leave after you got your weed. Maybe it was because Toji offered to smoke with the three of you to apologize for double booking, maybe it was because Geto kept managing to catch your eye. Either way, the two of you hadn’t really spoken, Toji and Satoru speaking enough for both of you. 

Suguru passed a joint to you as Everlong came on the radio. Toji grimace. “Man, this song is shit.” He said, going to turn it off.

“Watch yourself Zenin,” Suguru said, pointing at Toji and stopping him in his tracks. “This songs hot as fuck, disrespect it again and we’re gonna have a problem.” You really liked Sugurus' voice. 

“Chillax man, this songs not worth trippin’ over.” Toji scoffed, “Especially considering it’s not good.”

“I like it.” You said, the weed making you feel bolder than usual. “I really like the Foo Fighters.”

“Not you too Y/n.” Toji groaned, finally stepping away from the stereo. Suguru looked at you and grinned. It made butterflies explode in your stomach.

“I knew you had taste.” He praised. It was the first thing he had ever said to you. 

“Here.” Suguru said, handing you your drink and jerking you off of memory lane. You grabbed the drink and thanked him. You realized the two of you were parked now. You looked at the burger he handed you and smiled. 

“You remember my order.” You commented. He scoffed as if that was almost insulting.

“Of course I do. I remember everything about you.” He muttered. The two of you started to eat, a pregnant silence filling the car. That pregnant silence, then gave birth to many other smaller but just as intense silences. Blink 182 played softly in the background, but no matter how many times Mark Hoppus asked what his age was, it didn’t cut through the awkwardness in that car. 

“Look, Y/n, I know I-” Suguru started. Rage and despair welled up inside of you.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Geto.” You said very bluntly, finishing your fries. 

“But I-” he started, but cut himself off. He didn’t want to push his already unbelievable luck. But someone had to say something. He smiled softly to himself. “Hey, do you remember when the Red Hot Chili Peppers dropped By The Way-”

“Album or song?” You cut him off to ask.

“Album,” He clarified, “And we raided 7/11 and drove around all night, listening to it on repeat.” You laughed because you did remember that. You remembered it like it was yesterday. You could still taste the blue slushy on your tongue as you tried desperately to analyze lyrics while Suguru insisted The Red Hot Chili Peppers were not the kinda band you analyze the lyrics too, they’re the band you get high to. 

Still, you remembered getting goosebumps the first time you heard Midnights, the opening verse of “Things will never be the same/Still I'm awfully glad I came/Resonating in the shape of things to come/Never waiting when I know there's only one” Speaking to your soul in ways you didn’t quite understand then, but felt like you did now. 

“Yea, I remember,” You giggled, “I think there's still a stain on my seat from you getting mustard on it.” You said, searching for said blemish, “Yea! There it is, right there!” The permanent mark he left in your car. 

“Hey, it is not my fault that you can't eat 7/11 hot dogs without mustard.” He laughed.

“No, but it is your fault you couldn't keep it on your dog, you dog!” You teased.

“I blame Anthony Kiedis.” He grinned with a shrug. This was nice. This felt like old times. This felt like the moments where he was actually him. 

“I think that album’s still in my car.” you muttered. 

One whirlwind later and you were getting slurpees at 7/11, the cashier looking at the two of you with disdain as you laughed and made a mess of the machine he just cleaned. Blue for you, red for him, just like it had always been. Suguru had to grab sour gummy worms and twizzlers. He still couldn’t leave a convenience store without them. He didn’t even like twizzlers, not really. It just ‘felt right’ to grab them. Whatever that means.

You were looking through your CD case when suddenly, he stopped you.

“We got to listen to a different album.” He said out of nowhere.

“What?” You scoffed.

“We can’t try to recreate the magic of the By The Way album release. It would be disingenuous.” He insisted.

“I thought that was the whole point!” You argued, before groaning. “Ugh, Fine! Umm…” You shuffled through CDs. “Fall Out Boy just released an album.”

“Who?” He asked, squinting his eyes in confusion. 

“They’re a new band out of Chicago. This is their debut studio album, it’s called Take This To Your Grave.” you said, holding up the blue jeweled case. Suguru looked…hurt. Like the cavalry had come and made it their personal mission to trample him into the dust.

“You’ve been listening to new bands without me?” He asked, starting the car. That bitter taste of resentment filled your mouth again.

“Well, yea. Life didn’t end because we did.” Besides, this album had been helping you more than you were willing to admit. He nodded in defeat, biting his lip as the two of you pulled onto the road.

“Play it.” he muttered. You didn’t know if you were thrilled with or deeply regretted your decision to play this album, but the opening verse was cutting. Light that smoke, Yeah, one for giving up on me/ And one just 'cause they'll kill you sooner than my expectations/ To my favorite liar, to my favorite scar (to my favorite scar)/ I could have died with you.

“Well fuck Y/n, Is there something you’d like to say to me?” He tried to laugh, but the humor didn’t make it to his voice. “Feels a little targeted.” you shrugged.

“We all cope in different ways.” you muttered. You thought back on your relationship. A backseat romance that belonged to parking lots and famous cemeteries. A relationship that existed on highways and at dingy basement shows, and always on his terms. It was fun at first, even you had to admit. And, maybe it could have stayed as just fun, if he wasn’t so fucking…sweet! He was always so tender with you in the afterglow of your nights together, even if that just met cleaning you up with fast food napkins in his back seat. He was a cuddler too, insisting on you staying the night with him after your nights together under the guise of it being late, when you both knew it was so the two of you could hold each other.

It wasn’t just the after care though, or the sex for that matter. It was him bringing you candy and setting up a movie marathon when he knew you were struggling with your classes. It was him giving you a copy of Rebecca that he annotated because he wanted to share his thoughts with you about it. It was him giving you a copy of The Color and the Shape album because it had Everlong on it, and that was “Our Song” according to him. How could you not have fallen in love?

It started to hurt. That he was so willing to be so sweet and tender with you behind closed doors, but the moment you wanted to be something more, he froze. Suddenly, he didn't know why you guys needed to put a label on things! You guys were having fun, why did you want to mess up ‘the dynamic’ whatever the fuck that ment. Yea, he was fun. But you were tired of being just another hook up in a dingy venue bathroom. Absolutely sick of having to sneak out of his bedroom window, because his roommates would start asking questions if they saw you there for the fourth time that week. He constantly promised he was going to make things official, he just needed time. But, it wasn’t like you were asking him to fucking marry you, just to change your fucking title and maybe take you out on a real date every once in awhile.

Doubts started to fill your head. There had to be a reason he wouldn’t commit to you, right? Was it another girl? Was something wrong with you? It all came to a head six months ago. The two of you were laying in his bed, Crestfallen by The Smashing Pumpkins softly playing in the background as the two of you shared a cigarette, pleasure still throbbing between your legs as you listened to the steady beat of his heart. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He purred, gently petting your head. You hummed in response, not really believing it at this point. He picked up on your doubt, “I’m serious.” he doubled down. “You’re probably the prettiest girl I’ve ever been with.” He chuckled.

“That so?” You asked, taking the cigarette from him, “Then why aren’t I your girlfriend?” you asked, blowing smoke in his face. He grimaced as he waved it away.

“We’re doing this again? Seriously?” he seemed so…annoyed. Like this whole conversation equated to a nat he couldn’t quite seem to swat. 

“No.” you shut down, “We’re not.”

“Good.” he said, taking the smoke back, “I’ve told you before, we’re perfect as we are.”

“Perfect for you maybe.”

“Y/n.”

“What? You can’t seriously be shocked I don’t agree with you.” you scoffed, rage starting to bubble in your stomach.

“I’m not shocked. I just don’t get it. What could you possibly get out of a title that’s worth all of the fighting you’re doing for it?” you could feel yourself seething, your blood boiling over. Did he ever listen to you?

“Well, for starters I’d get the safety of knowing that you probably weren't out sleeping around with anyone willing to open their legs for you.” It was Getos turn to seethe. You could tell by the way his jaw clenched that you had struck a nerve deep inside him.

“Oh, is that what you think I’m doing in my free time? Just fucking anyone and everyone? That I’m so pussy motivated I just can’t keep it in my pants? Well if that's the case, Babe,” The word ‘Babe” had never sounded so dirty. You would have rather he called you slut, bitch, dumbass, anything. “What makes you think that having a “GiRlFrIeNd is going to magically make me loyal? Huh? What then, Gorgeous? And, not to be that guy, but you’ve let me fuck you in just about every venue, parking lot, and random bedroom this town has to offer, and I’m not even your boyfriend. So who’s to say you’re going to keep your legs shut just because we’re official, huh Sweetheart?” 

Suguru could make you feel on top of the world, or cheaper than dirt depending on his mood. That was the problem with English majors. They had a way with words and more often than not they used them for evil. Any heat you had left drained from your body, replaced only with an inescapable emptiness as you realized the Suguru you convinced yourself was next to you may not have even existed. 

And Geto knew he fucked up. He regretted the words as they were spilling out of his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself and he couldn’t put them back now. The silence was heavy with all the words the two of you wanted to say to each other but couldn’t.

“Y/n-” Geto started, hand reaching for your shoulder, but all it did was break you out of your daze. You snapped, slapping his hand away as you got up and dressed.

“Don’t you fucking touch me. Don’t you ever fucking touch me again.”

“Y/n, wait, please, I didn’t mean that-” He struggled to defend himself, hurriedly putting on his pants. 

“You fucking said it Suguru! Lose my goddamn number, I am so fucking done here. It’s so good to know i’m just a fucking fleshlight to you.” you hissed, rushing out of his room.

“I never said that Y/n! You mean so much more to me than that, don’t go!-” he said, following you out.

“Clearly I fucking don’t!” You snapped. Oh good. His roommates, Satoru and Sukuna, were both sitting in the living room. 

“Yes you do Y/n, I love you!” He pleaded. He had never said that before. Satoru audibly gasped. Your entire body seized and seethed. You turned around and smacked him across the face without thinking, making Sukuna laugh,

“Don’t you ever fucking lie to me again Suguru Geto.”

“I’m not lying Y/n-”

“Shut up.” You cut him off. “I don’t fucking care anymore. You are the worst mistake I have ever fucking made.” You wanted to sound intimidating, but the tears in your voice gave you away. You rushed out of the door before he could see you cry, almost laughing at the “Have a good night!” Sukuna threw your way as you did. 

The sound of a car door closing snapped you out of your day dream. You were at another convenience store. When did you get here? Suguru had just plopped in the seat next to you, handing you a bag. 

“Hold these for me, will you, beautiful?” He asked. You did as he asked, looking into the bag.

“Suguru, these are four lokos.” You pointed out. 

“Yep. best flavors too.” While you may agree with the green apple, he also had a gold flavored one, which was just objectively wrong. Not the point.

“Dude, these will fuck you up, what do you think you’re doing?” You asked as he pulled into a park less than a block away from your apartment. The two of you had spent many a night here on the swings.

“Trying to get fucked up, duh.” He laughed as he took the bag. He handed you the green apple flavored can of death. You sighed as you took it, getting out of the car and moving to sit on the hood with him. You noticed he had turned off the CD, Like a Stone now drifting softly from your car speakers. You wondered when he finally gave up on it. You finally opened the green camo can, and winced as the drink electrocuted your now sober nervous system. 

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as the alcohol saturated your systems. You wondered why you were here with him. What kept you coming back to Suguru Geto. Why couldn’t you just move on? Suddenly, you felt it in your bones when Chris Cornell groaned out “In your house, I long to be/ Room by Room, patiently/ I’ll wait for you there/ Like a stone” 

“I’m sorry.” He finally broke the silence. Your head whipped over to him. He was staring up at the stars. He looked so delicate in that moment. Like a gust of wind would shatter him into stardust. 

“What for?” You thought you knew, but you had to hear him say it.

“Everything.” Oh god, there were tears in his voice. It made you put down your four loko. “I’m sorry about all the shit I said to you the last time I saw you. I’m sorry I just tried to call instead of coming to face you, like a coward. And I’m sorry I couldn’t just man the fuck up and make you my girlfriend.” The words were tumbling out of him faster than he could process them, leaving him more vulnerable and honest than he would have liked.

It shook you. You weren't prepared for him to be so vulnerable with you that night. “It’s fine Suguru.” You muttered. He laughed and shook his head, finally looking at you.

“No it’s not. I hurt you.” He said matter of factly. “And then, I doubled down on it to make it all worse.” you were silent for a moment, staring at your dirty converse.

“W…why were you so against being with me officially?” You finally asked the question that had been weighing heavy on you for so long now. 

“I was scared.” He finally admitted. “I was so scared that if we put a label on it, things would change. That suddenly we wouldn’t be hanging out because we liked to be with each other anymore, that we’d just be doing it out of obligation.”

“Suguru, that's dumb.” You sighed, the booze making you a little more blunt that you otherwise would have been.

“I know that.” He laughed, bringing his knees to his chest. “I just…I don’t know. I thought if I kept you at an arm's length, I wouldn’t have to worry about it. There would be that space. But, I don’t know how to keep you at an arm's length. You’re like my favorite song, you get stuck in my head and I don’t even want to get you out. I just want you closer. So, I thought I’d maintain that space by just…not labeling us. And that clearly did more harm than good. When you left, I tried to just…let you go” he sighed, leaning back against the windshield of your car. He looked at you with love and adoration glimmering in his eyes. 

“I figured it was better that way, I tried to forget you. Yea, turns out that's a lot easier said than done. God, I can’t even think about listening to the Foo Fighters anymore. Which, Fucking Sucks because Everywhere But Here just dropped and I can’t bring myself to listen to it because you’re not there.” he laughed at his own stupidity, his palm meeting his forehead. He still couldn’t believe it took him losing you to realize how much you met. How cliche. 

You felt a lump in your throat. You had been wanting to listen to that album too, but couldn’t without him. It didn’t feel right. It felt like cheating. It was why you had picked up the fall out boy album instead. “You know,” You started, “You really hurt me. Like, you really fucking hurt me Suguru.”

“I know-” He sighed.

“But.” You cut him off, “I’ve also been a mess without you. It’s weird. You don’t really know how much you care about something until you’re missing it. And I thought I really cared about you even before the breakup.” You half chuckled to yourself. “And I mean, I want to still be mad about the fight. I want to hold it over your head. I wish I could hate you even half as much as I hate myself. But, I just can’t. I miss you.” you sighed, feeling foolish.

Suguru suddenly placed his hand on top of yours, pulling you out of your spiral. “I miss you too.” He confessed. Followed by a pause. “It’s not too late for us, ya know.” He finally said. “I’d really love to make you my girlfriend Y/n.”

🎵🎵🎵

Laughter filled the air as the two of you walked to your apartment building, deciding it was best to leave the car after the two of you had downed the alcoholic energy drinks. Buzzing with booze and caffeine was a different type of feeling. “Well, this is mine.” You smiled as the two of you walked up to your door.

“Sure is” Geto nodded, “Mind if I come in?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden gentlemanly persona. 

“Was this your plan the whole time?”

“Not the whole time but it was definitely the end goal.” He admitted, and you couldn’t tell if his cheeks were red from embarrassment or alcohol. 

“And what was your plan if I said no?” You teased.

“Well, plan B was to see if you’d at least let me come in while I waited for Satoru to come pick me up.” He admitted. He really was one step ahead. 

“And if I said no to that?”

“Then I’d have one hell of a walk on my hands.” He laughed. You couldn’t help but giggle along with him. His laugh had always been infections. 

“Well, I’d hate to make you walk.” You chuckled as you unlocked your door, the two of you tumbling inside. In true Suguru fashion, he went straight to the stereo system in your room, looking to see what album you had been listening to. About a Girl filled the air of your small apartment. You chuckled softly as you joined him in your room. Of course he would play a CD he burned for you. 

You took a moment to actually take him in. mesh top clinging to his arms, an Alice in Chains shirt covering up the real action. His hair was messy from the walk, half up half down, and he now sported a slight stubble he hadn’t during your relationship. He looked good. He turned to look at you, dark eyes softening as he smiled softly.

“What?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Nothing.” you shrugged.

“Oh, so you wanna just keep eye fucking me? Ok, cool just making sure.” He laughed.

“And what's wrong with wanting to do that?” you laughed. He turned and smirked at you, moving to close the space.

“Why fuck me with your eyes when you could just fuck me?” He asked, a line you 're sure sounded way smoother in his head. You rolled your eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Yea, real smooth there Cruzan Cassanova, you-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence. Sugurus mouth had connected with you, the taste of pineapple alcohol and cigarettes mixing on your tongue. You melted into him, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair. You felt your pulse quicken as the kiss heated up, the drinks of the night combining with his presence to make your head spin. He bit your lip, using the small gasp you let out as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. 

God, you missed him. Your body cleared up any doubt, if there was any, in that fact with the way it immediately reacted to him. You felt his hands start to wander, moving down your spine to grab your ass. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Your body tensed as you felt his hand slip under the waistband of your jeans and the elastic of your panties.

“Look at you princess,” He pulled back to smirk, lust filling his eyes, “Already soaking wet. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me.” He never missed an opportunity to be condescending in bed, did he?

“Get fucked Suguru.” You groaned, your hips involuntary bucking into his hand as he pressed too fingers into your folds. You needed more.

“I assure you, I’m trying.” He grinned, removing his hand and making you almost scream in frustration. He kissed you before you could get a word in about how insufferable he could be. “I’m gonna take care of you Princess, don’t worry.” He assured you as he took your top off, “But it’s been awhile since I’ve been with my favorite girl. And I want to enjoy it.” he purred.

You weren’t sure how, but at some point he had gotten you on your bed and was taking off your pants. “Hey, no fair!” you panted as you realize. He paused what he was doing to look at you quizzically, trying to figure out when he had been anything other than fair. 

“You’re completely dressed and I’m basically naked.” You clarified sheepishly. Suguru held back a laugh at how cute you were. He finished his task, then took off his ratty band shirt.

“Better?” He asked. You felt like you were going to burn from the inside out as you looked at him. The mesh perfectly outlining every bump and crevice of his perfect body. Greek gods wished they looked like him. You nodded.

“Much.” you said as Suguru dragged you to the edge of the bed. You felt needy and helpless under him. He dropped to his knees in between your legs, kissing your inner thighs with intent to bruise. More than once he ghosted himself right where you needed him the most, filling you with frustration. “Suguru please..” You moaned out.

“Please what Princess?” He asked, smirking up at you.

“Please Sug, I need you to touch me.” You begged.

“But I am touching you Darling.” You almost kicked him.

“Suguru Please!” You begged.

“Princess, you can’t already be fucked stupid. I’ve barely touched you, Pretty-”

“Yea, that’s the problem!” you whined. He chuckled darkly at your pain, but relented.

“Where do you want me Princess? Right here?” he asked, fingers ghosting over your clothes core. Your breath hitched and you nodded frantically.

“Use your words Babygirl, you know the rules.” You took a deep breath.

“Yes, please Sir, I want you to play with my pussy.” You felt red hot saying all of those things out loud, but god the look in his eyes was fucking worth it. He was taking off your panties in an instant, marveling at the sting of slick that connected you to them until it snapped. 

“Fucking Christ.” He moaned to himself, one of his hands going to grind on his hard cock. “I’ve barely fucking touched you and you’re fucking gushing.” He chuckled, his hands finally moving to where you needed him to be. The moan you let out as his fingers finally found your clit was embarrassing. “Can anyone else do this to you Doll?” you shook your head almost violently.

“No, no sir. No one but you.” You panted softly, getting lost in the bliss currently filling your bloodstream. Shit, you 're not going to last long. 

“That’s what I thought.” He chuckled darkly, two fingers abruptly darting into your cunt and making your entire body tense. “My slutty girl only puts out like this for me, isn’t that right?” 

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” he said, rewarding you with a third finger. You gasped at the feeling, your soaking pussy taking anything it could get and more. He curled his fingers, sending a rush of electric endorphins through your body as he graced your g-spot. You moaned out his name, your hands curling into your sheets. 

“Just out of curiosity, what have you been doing for six months without me?” His eyes were dark, letting you know he wasn’t just asking what new books you’d read.

“Thought of you.” You moaned, a tight knot forming in your stomach. 

“Oh?” He asked, pausing his actions. He wanted details.

“I thought about you fucking me.” Right answer, he started moving again, “I thought about how good your cock stretched me out, and how good it felt inside me. I pretended it was you fucking me whenever I used my toys, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing feels like you do Sug,” You moaned out your sloppy confessional. His thumb had found your clit and was massaging it in time with his relentless fingers. His free hand groping himself through his jeans, needed even an ounce of friction. “I’m so fucking close..”

“You’re goddamn right nothing feels like Me princess.” he groaned to distract himself, least he cum in his jeans like a fucking teenager. You felt yourself speeding off a cliff, his words only aiding in pressing the accelerator. “You think a fucking toy could make you feel even an ounce of what I make you feel? That's naive at best Darling. You’re fucking mine nothing and no one is ever going to make you feel the way that I do. Cum for me Princess.”

A few strokes later and you came hard on his fingers, pussy clenching around him in beautiful ways. Suguru didn’t know if he wanted to watch your cunt or your face, but it didn't matter really. He didn’t plan on letting up anytime soon. He finger fucked you through your high, removing his fingers only after you had semi-calmed down. 

He moved over you, slipping his fingers into your mouth which you gladly cleaned off for him, always eager to show him how good you were. You pulled off with a loud pop, looking at him with doe eyes for approval. You assumed he approved, because he was very quickly freeing himself of his tripp pants and boxers with the efficiency only a mall goth could ever possess. He was in between your legs before you had even fully processed what was going on.

He leaned down to leave rough kisses on your neck, the blissful pain of the bruises forming almost distracted you from the feeling of his cock pushing into your soaking wet cum. Almost. Nothing could ever fully distract you from the euphoria of Suguru Getos cock stretching you out in ways only he could. You moaned out his name, hands flying to claw at his back through the mesh shirt. 

He faltered, letting out a shaking breath as he felt your warmth for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. “Fuck Y/n. I swear to whatever god there is this pussy was fucking made for me.” He said through a breathy laugh, pulling back just to push back in, stroking your g-spot beautifully and earning himself an embarrassing moan from you.

“So fucking good for me.” he groaned. Every stroke of his hips sent a new wave of electricity through your core, your body reacting to his every move and begging him for more. If Suguru Geto was a drug you were an addict. The pleasure sent your head swirling and your nerves on fire. 

“God you feel so fucking good,” he groaned as he rolled his hips into yours, “I can’t fucking believe you forgot you we’re mine.” He said, his movements suddenly becoming rougher, forcing you to yelp out his name. “You tried to leave me and then couldn’t even get yourself off Doll, it’s almost cute.” He mocked. “You’re mine do you understand? This cunt belongs to me, Do you get that?” you nodded, trying desperately to take in all his words while the coil in your stomach began to tighten again. He had never been so possessive before. 

“Answer me Slut.” He demanded with a rough buck of his hips. You nodded violently.

“Yes! Yes Sir.” You groaned. You wouldn't argue even if you could have. 

“Say it.” He demanded, “Say my name, say you belong to me.”

“I’m all yours Suguru, You’re and only yours. I’ll never leave again.” You said, your second climax coming on faster than you would have liked. Every stroke of his hips hit your g-spot dead on. He really did know your body better than anyone else.

“Damn right you won’t.” He groaned, his hind falling between your bodies to massage circles into your clit. Your entire body tensed with pleasure as you started to come undone again.

“Sug-”

“I know.” There was no mistaking the way your pussy fluttered around him. He knew you were close. “Cum on me, cum on cock.” You didn’t need to be asked twice. A few more strokes of his dick and you were coming undone all over it.

“You’re so pretty when you cum Princess.” He said darkly, somehow picking up his pace. He wasn;t worried about your pleasure anymore, you got yours. He wanted his. And you felt so good around him, warm and velvety. He could stay in between your legs forever and be happy. He moved your legs over his shoulders, managing to fuck you even deeper than he was before. Your overstimulated moans only adding fuel to his fire. 

“You’re so pretty whenyou’re fucked out, you know that?” He said, condescension dripping from his voice. “So fucking pretty, You’re gonna look even better with my cum dripping out of your pussy, you know that?” The way you moaned and the way you clenched around him was enough to send him over the edge, filling you to the brim and somehow still finding the energy to fuck some of it back into you before collasping onto you.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, him inside of you and holding you close to him. You felt more thankful than ever to be on the pill as you played with his soft hair.

“I…is fucking Closer playing? Nine Inch Nails?” You asked, suppressing a laugh as you tuned into the song. Suguru lifted up his head to listen, laughing as he registered Trent Reznors distorted growl. 

“Oh my god, I think it is.” He laughed, “I forgot this was on here.”

“Helluva song to hook up to.” You laughed. He nodded in agreement. 

“Yea, definitely not the best for a hookup. But maybe not bad for a round two?”

[fetishfairytales2]

Under the Bed, Pt. 2 (Story)

I smirked at Connor, "Thank you Daddy.” I said, bowing my head submissively; “I’m your kinky bitch." I turned my attention to Brandi, who was too scared to move now. "You see, cupcake, I asked my friends for a little favor. They've been saving all their used condoms for the past three months, just for you." As Brandi's eyes widened in horror, I disappeared into the closet and returned with two plastic containers, both half full. I explained that they attach to the dildos too. “When the microphones hear me moaning just right, not only will I be getting filled with spunk, but you'll get to experience it too." I laughed as Brandi's gagged face paled at the thought. "Looks like you'll be getting cream pied along with me, whore."

"Remember this, Brandi?" I asked with a grin, rolling eyes, holding up her old VR headset. "You used to love this when you were a big boy. But now that you're a sissy little girl, it's just a useless toy. Thankfully, Daddy helped me fix it to be more suitable for you. Now I can force you to listen to sissy hypnosis, turn on the noise cancelation and sensory deprive you entirely, or turn on the microphones up here and then you would be trapped listening to the sounds of me and Daddy fucking while you’re trapped down there, hot right?”

"That’s not all though! The headset can do one more super special trick," I said with a giggle as I placed it over her eyes. "Watch this," I said slyly as I switched the camera to video mode and crawled onto the bed. "Are you crying? Poor thing, is your little cock aching in its cage?" I teased as I twerked for the camera, giving her a perfect view of my ass in my skimpy g-string under my skirt. "Daddy made it so the camera is always tracking me! So imagine what else you’ll have a front row seat to! You’ll be able to watch me get fucked from so many different angles!”

I crouched down next to Brandi again; "don't worry, Mommy's got something even better for you to watch," I said, flipping a switch and causing Brandi to panic immediately. I let her suffer for a few minutes before turning off the headset completely. "Complete sensory deprivation," I explained to the trembling sissy. "The headphones will block out all noise and the screens will surround you in darkness." I booped her on the nose. "Just imagine how terrible it will be when I lock you down there like that for hours on end... and trust me, I will."

"Mmm," I purred, tapping my finger on my chin and savoring the thought of my final surprise for the little sissy slut. "Oh, can’t forget about this…" I pulled out a silicone mask from the drawer, which was wide enough to hide the wires of her dildo gag, cover her nose and mouth, and had a long hose running out of it. "I know it might be hard to breathe down there for you Brandi, but that's all part of the fun, hmm? This fun little toy here will allow you to fill those little lungs…when I allow it." I smirked as I attached the hose to a small mechanical box. “This hides under the bed too!” I explained with fake excitement. “Anything I put in this box? All of the air you breathe will smell just like it! How exciting is that?”

I held up a very dirty diaper in one hand and two pairs of panties in the other. “This disgusting mess, Brandi,” I said, showing her the full diaper, “this is from you last week. If you're a naughty sissy, you'll be breathing in this stinky diaper all night. “And these,” I giggled, “are my very dirty thongs. I've been wearing each one for an entire week, and quite a few of Daddy’s loads have probably leaked into them by now. I even wore the black pair to my workout earlier today, so they're extra nasty. If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you breathe in my nasty cum filled panties instead!”

"Come on, sweetie, don't you wanna try your new toy?" I asked, sliding the mask over Brandi's face. She was so overwhelmed that the poor sissy didn't even try to fight back. "You're going to watch, hear, and feel every bit of the mind-blowing sex that you can't have anymore!" I chuckled, giving a nod to Connor who lifted Brandi up by her arms and took her to the bed. " Time to get our little princess ready for some playtime," I giggled.

I gave Connor a wicked smile as we saw the bed return to its normal height. "This is gonna be a blast," I giggled playfully while he pulled me in and kissed me passionately, easing me onto the bed. "I want it from the back tonight, be rough baby," I moaned, feeling his hands wander under my skirt. "I want her to feel you inside him, fucking her hard and fast while she watches my face. I need her to know how obsessed I am with your cock." 

“Wow you're twisted, babe,” Connor laughed as he pulled off my dress. He teased me, tracing his finger along the waistband of my thong. “But whatever you want!” He flipped me on my back and grabbed me by the hair, pulling me to my hands and knees. I felt him tug down my thong to my knees. "Get ready, slut," he whispered. Fuck! I was moaning just feeling his hard cock teasing me, rubbing against my 

clit. “Tell me how much you want it bitch.” It was so hot when he treated me this way. I couldn't even decide if I was more turned on by Connor dominating me or by thinking about how Brandi was suffering.

This was the best idea Connor ever had. I got all the dick I could want and poor Brandi was stuck, watching every second up close! Of course, before we sealed her cucky coffin, I made sure to add lots of Brandi’s dirty diapers in with her and taped the messiest one around her face. Connor started deep thrusting into me and I screamed for more. “Harder, daddy! Harder!” Fuck I was horny. I needed every inch of him inside me. The harder Connor fucked me, the more our sissy cuckold would be spitroasted by those massive cocks. “Don’t stop baby please,” I screamed right into the camera; “I want you to fuck me all night.”

The end.

[twig-tea]

Love Senior: Final Thoughts

I've been putting off making a post about this because I don't like trashing things that are small efforts and especially not GL because we don't get enough of it to begin with. But I was enjoying Love Senior through episode 7. The leads were lovely, they had chemistry, their characters were both interesting, and one of them had casual sex with someone else before they got together and it was fine! They even talked about it! And they were thirsty! I love it when women get to have sexual desire in shows.

After episodes 8-9, the narrative took a serious turn and I broke and wrote a content warning post because of how gross the turn in the plot was. With one episode left, I watched to see whether it would undo any of the damage it had done, but instead it doubled down on awfulness.

The last episode is truly a smorgasbord of some of my least favourite tropes all rolled up into one miserable finale, and makes the show truly unwatchable even though it delivers a "happy ending". It didn't make sense, it wasn't good characterization, it served nothing but unnecessary angst, and it meant we didn't even get satisfying reconciliation or dealing with the issues laid out in 8-9. After this ending, I was extremely unconvinced these two would last, or that they should.

I know this isn't the worst there is in the world of QL. I've watched a lot of stuff. I used to just stay quiet if I didn't like something, but honestly, I want folks looking for info about this show to know what to expect, and I also want folks creating content to know that audiences expect better these days. I don't want people to think GL flops because nobody wants to watch it. We're so desperate for good, or even half-decent content (the viewing numbers for GAP should have made that obvious)! But things need to hold together at least somewhat, and this very much did not.

Most of the cast in this show is in a girl group together, so you can support them, continue past the cut if you want details on what makes this finale suck (I've kept it vague but obviously there will be spoilers), and I hope this is taken as it's intended--to help inform the watching decisions of us who love GL and want more of it, and to give information to those making it.

[I'm just going to note also that this show was by StarHunter Entertainment which is not known for its queer rep or good treatment of its people, so I don't feel like I owe this production company any loyalty].

Details about the last episode under the cut.

In episode 10, the following happens:

we get told the SA that I warned about in my 8-9 post was just staged for the purposes of blackmail/breaking up the leads

[the show doesn't acknowledge that the characters were still left in a position that they could have still been sexually assaulted, and that they were put in that position by someone they trusted]

Someone gets hit by a car

One of the leads falls into a coma, and on waking, gets amnesia

Her friends and family conspire to lie to her, not just erasing her girlfriend from their picture of her life, but saying that one of her other friends who has a crush on her is her boyfriend. They all go along with this lie for months

On finding out that her girlfriend had been told that she's actually dating some other guy, her girlfriend decides to noble idiocy and disappear from her life

More time passes, and they see one another at the amnesia girl's graduation, and hug for a happy ending.

THE END.

No conversation. No reconciliation beyond acknowledgment that they still have feelings. No mention of their breakup before the coma. Nothing that convinces me this couple will actually last at all, or reason (in the form of character growth, or narrative purpose) for why they've gone through this. Nothing about the main character being lied to by all of her friends and family for months. This ending says 'everything is fine as long as the two people you want to be in a relationship are in a relationship at the end of the story', and that doesn't fly with me.

[eclipsedrgn]

𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐩, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩, 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

you are the daughter of the dark knight, the batman, and all your life you've been trained to make a difference in the world. you made a lot of sacrifices and felt pain you shouldn't have. you were darkness... that until you met marc spector.

⚠️ swearing, mentions of death, mental health, DID

‎

‎

‎

The world called it The Blip, the snap of an alien that made half of the population disappear within a blink of an eye. Families lost their love ones as did the heroes, lost themselves.

We called it The Split, the combination of two worlds with their own heroes. A split between their reality and ours. As the Blip gave back their love ones after a sacrifice of a beloved hero, they gained us, new heroes. Darker, unlovable, dangerous.

All heroes of both universe, the big ones anyway, gathered at the UN to talk responsibilities. They both agree to stay within their cities, like for example no one can enter Gotham without Batman's permission. Something the Avengers argue for, but completely agreeing after seeing the horror of the city can offer.

During the Split (5 years before Tony Stark snapped his fingers), I decided to travel to the deserts of Egypt for a little relaxing trip. The two worlds colliding took a toll on everyone's mental health, and wanted to take a break. As much as a hero can. Luckily for me, my family took my shift. I joined a group of archeologist on a dig site, searching for missing tombs and temples.

Then I met Marc Spector.

His face was covered as him and his partner held everyone hostage. Our hands tied behind our back, all of us on our knees. Marc tugs down his scarf, that was covering the bottom part of his face, I see the sharpness of his jawline and the stubbles of his beard starting to grow. He looks depressed, angry, worried. Like he didn't want to do what he did.

It was the final shot to the guy next to me that caused me to duck and roll under the jeep that's parked behind me. Marc tackled his partner trying to stop him when I hear two shots. A shot that ended his partner's life and a shot that would end Marc's. You stayed hidden under the jeep, gasping for breath as your anxiety spikes. You hear the sand crunching under someone's feet, turning your head you see someone with white, bandaged shoes walking around the jeep.

"Come out" he said, "Your safe"

Slowly, you trusted the man and scooted out. You see him standing there dressed all white, wraps around his body with a cresent moon sported on his chest. He wore a mask that covers his whole face and a hood with glowing red eyes.

You slowly stood as the mask from his face dispersed showing his true identity. "Y-You won't kill me?"

"No. I'm done killing inoccents. Now, come on we have to go" he mutters cutting the ropes around my wrist. "I'm uh... I'm Marc by the way. Marc Spector"

"I'm Y/n... Y/n Todd" you lied through your teeth.

And that was the story of how my life changed forever.

‎‎‎

‎

‎

‎

‎

‎

"I'm worried Marc" I mumble into the phone, "It's been months, a year even- I don't care if your out and about but I need to know that your okay. At least let me know your alive"

The beep on the voicemail made me sighed.

A year ago, Marc left in the middle of the night. I woke up to an empty, cold bed with no note and half of his clothes gone. I thought he got a job and didn't say anything, then I realize he truly left when he didn't say anything after a week. Of course I was angry at first, but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Still not answering?" I hear my brother Tim ask from behind me.

"I don't get it. Did I do something wrong?" I depressingly asks. "I know we all have our secrets but-"

Tim grabbed my face with both of his hands, "Sis you are extrodinary. He's a dumbass for not seeing that. I still have the divorce paper on my desk. Just say the word"

"I actually need his signature" I muttered and pulled away.

I was about to make my way up the manor when my phone rings- no, not my phone. It was the burner phone between Marc and I. I look at Tim, rushing towards it and answered.

<<; "Yeah?" >>

"What do you mean "Yeah"? Where the hell are you? Fuck- Thank god you're alright" I practically raise my voice.

<< "Yeah, alright" >>

"That's it?" I said in disbelief, "That's all you have to say. A year of no contact, no call, no note. All you have to say is "Alright"?"

<<; "Uh..." >>

"Marc-" I sighed rubbing my forehead, "Please, just tell me your alright"

There was silence on the other side.

"Hello?- Marc, baby please tell me your okay?" I stressed out, giving Tim a look at the corner of my eye. He nods and went into typing into the Batcomputer, tracking the phone call, it pinged to London.

<< "Sorry, I just found this phone in my flat and I'm just trying to figure out whose it it" >>

I paused hearing the distinct English accent, "Marc, why're you- why are you talking like that?"

<< "What?" >>

"The accent, Marc" I insisted, sweat slowly forming on my forehead.

<< "Sorry. Who do you think I am?- Why are you calling me Marc?" >>

I hung up the phone. I looked at Tim, who pinged the phone to the exact address where my husband is.

"Thanks Timmy, tell Dick and Jay I'm headed to London tonight" I said kissing the top of his head.

[pollymorgan]

Oh my God, how embarrassing... I did it and translated my German fanfiction into English... into bad English! Don't be too harsh on me, but rather make suggestions for improvement: So now a little phone sex with Coach Negan. 🙈😌

Warnings: arrogant Negan, frustrated woman, explicit phone sex

Today is one of those days again, where nothing seems to work as it should. Just like so often lately. Why couldn't I transfer those damn photos to the laptop? I've never been very tech-savvy, but the modern world practically forced me to. I'm actually a cookbook author and used to be quite successful with it. Some of my books were bestsellers and I even had my own cooking segment on a nationally broadcasted morning show. But then I was suddenly replaced by a younger, "cooler" colleague and ever since then, I've been struggling to keep afloat with social media, more or less. If only the technology would cooperate..

Even in my personal life, I have been replaced. Four months ago, my husband left us. By us, I mean my three children and me. After 19 years of marriage. But love goes where it goes, right? Nothing can be done against that. At least, those were his words when he got into his Porsche with a blonde woman who could be his daughter and disappeared.

Since then, he has managed to do something with his children exactly twice. But in exchange, he has already disappointed them seven times by canceling the meetings at short notice. Yes, I'm keeping count. At least for now.

My oldest daughter Penny is 15 years old and fully immersed in puberty, and it seems that this situation is hardest on her. She and her father were always a unit, his little princess. But there's no trace of that at the moment. Most of the time, he doesn't even bother to answer his damn phone when she tries to reach him.

I see her suffering. She's lost interest in school, and her circle of friends is dwindling visibly. I would love to help her, but how? At the moment, I just can't seem to reach her. Our communication mostly consists of doors slamming.

But back to my current problem. These damn pictures! The article is supposed to go online today. I cooked an Indian dish and had to drive halfway across town to get these damn spices. Thursdays always bring an international post, and now, of all times, nothing is working again. My laptop doesn't recognize the memory card, and the camera won't connect either. I keep plugging and unplugging the cable, hoping the error will magically resolve. Which of course it doesn't. Suddenly, I glance at the small display in the lower right-hand corner. Damn it! So late. I won't be picking up the kids on time again, the second time this cursed week. Annoyed, I close the screen. Grabbing my purse, I walk quickly to the garage. Where's the damn car key? Nervously, I rummage through my chaotic bag, spilling half of its contents on the floor. Finally finding it, I get into the car and speed out of the driveway.

The first stop is the kindergarten to pick up my youngest. She's a real bundle of nerves, but so sweet that you can forgive her anything. Of course, she throws a tantrum right at pickup. It's a real struggle to get her into the car. Like a madwoman, I drive on to the elementary school to pick up my 9-year-old son. He is the calm one in our family and thankfully waits with his best friend relaxed in front of the school. At least one who's not mad at me. Lucky me. And off we go, heading to my daughter's high school. From a distance, I can see her and immediately know that - once again - something is wrong. She stands all alone and pretty annoyed on the street, looking out for me. When I park the car right in front of her feet, she angrily drops onto the passenger seat.

"Penny, I can explain, you know what a loser I am when it comes to technology..." I try to justify myself.

My eldest rolls her eyes in annoyance. "Mum, this time, for once, it's not your fault..." I see tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and automatically, I feel a lump in my throat.

"Mister Smith... he..."

She doesn't need to continue speaking; just hearing that name fills me with such anger again. Right from the start, there have been issues with her physical education teacher, Negan Smith.

I've only seen him twice so far, at parent-teacher conferences, but Penny's stories are enough for me to know that he's an absolute failure as a teacher. He has his favorites whom he praises to the skies, while the less athletic students suffer under his authoritarian ways. My daughter already feels uncomfortable in her own skin, and that jerk doesn't even realize the impact his remarks have on the young girls.

A few years ago, his wife passed away from cancer. A terrible tragedy, but apparently that did not make him more empathetic; quite the opposite.

I'm currently looking in the rearview mirror to avoid hitting anyone in the chaos outside the school. That's all I need on this crappy day. Then I catch sight of none other than Penny's physical education teacher.

"Isn't that him?" I ask excitedly.

My daughter buries her face even further into the backpack in her lap. "Yes, Mom, it's okay, please just drive..."

The anger that had been building up recently had just found a good release.

With the words "Nothing is good...", I yank open my driver's door and head purposefully towards my daughter's physical education teacher, who is just stowing his bag in his car.

"Who do you think you are?" I stand behind him with arms crossed, eagerly awaiting his reaction.

Confused, he turns around to face me and suddenly a big grin spreads across his face. "Negan Smith, nice to meet you, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

What a cocky jerk!

"The mother of a rather offended young girl, because of you..."

Can't he just drop his arrogant smile for once? Quite unimpressed, he closes the door of his car.

"Penny has so much potential and she's wasting it on the damn bench..."

Such an idiot, he clearly knows who I am.

"Maybe you should listen to the young students as well, instead of just spouting off random remarks at them?"

Amused, he shakes his head. "I did... her excuse for skipping today's P.E. class was menstrual cramps..."

"And in your opinion that's not a valid reason or what? How dare you even pass judgment on that? Your students' bodies are going through changes and such discomforts should be taken seriously..." I respond a bit too loudly, causing some students to turn towards us.

Resigned, he raises his hands. "Of course, but not every damn other week. Maybe you should give your daughter some biology lessons again and explain to her that her P.E. teacher isn't completely from another planet."

Oh God, what does this man think he is..

"And you should work on your teaching skills... Otherwise, maybe I should consider contacting the school board!"

„Oh wow, you're actually a bigger drama queen than your dear daughter!".

Did he really just say that? Did he just seriously insult me? My daughter's teacher. I look at him in disbelief, but he just grins.

"And now she's quiet... I really have to go now, but I'm pretty sure we'll meet again soon." With these words, he jumps into his car and drives off.

Completely perplexed, I walk back to my car and am greeted by my daughter with the words "That was soooo embarrassing.."

7 hours later

Finally peace! Why does it always have to be such a struggle to get the kids to bed? Isn't it unfair that you are a thousand times more tired than the dear little ones? What a crappy day! I'm glad to be freshly showered in my bed and finally have some time off. Just me and my phone, no one else. No more whining, arguing, and crying. As much as I sometimes curse technology, I also love being able to connect with people over the internet. It's fun to respond to comments, the direct exchange with like-minded people is the only positive thing about social media. As I scroll through Instagram, I suddenly see comments coming in at a rapid pace. Confused, I open them. From "Do you always look so good when you cook?" to "Can you cook that for me sometime?" to heart emojis, and they all come from the same account. As I read the name, a shock runs through me. Can this be for real? "Coach Negan" is he not only a tactless asshole, but also a real psychopath? Excited, I click on his account, but apart from a profile picture where he is clearly recognizable, there is no further information.

I quickly open the messaging function and type "What is this???" into my phone. It only takes a few seconds and I receive a response.

"I am a fan 😉"

For a while, I stare at the screen, unable to believe what is happening here.

Suddenly, he sends me a picture. I open it and see a photo of me from my highlights, showing me from my post "Valentine's Day." I had cooked a three-course meal and written a pretty cheesy text back then. It's one of my most liked posts.

"Red lipstick suits you. Matches your fiery nature.." he writes.

What does he want to achieve? Did the confrontation before school hurt him so much that he is trying to provoke me? But to be honest, it seems like he's the one giving me a warning. Well, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the best defense is a good offense.

"Oh, do you think so? Most men say I look better without wearing anything...I mean, without lipstick, of course.. 😉".

"Are you already in bed?" he asks next. What a bizarre situation? Why does my daughter's teacher want to know where I am? The same teacher who called me a ‚drama queen‘ just a few hours ago.

I keep trying to type a suitable response on my phone and then delete it again. Finally, I write briefly, "Yes, and you?"

"Yes, and I'm studying your profile. Do you realize how crazy you can drive a man with these pictures? Why am I even asking, of course you do. 😉"

The feeling of small electric shocks runs through my body. The whole thing feels strangely forbidden. Maybe what I'm doing here is damn wrong, but right now, the consequences seem pretty irrelevant to me.

"How mean, you can look at my pictures, but you don't have any online yourself."

"That's true, but how about you hear my voice instead?" Attached to this message was his phone number. Okay, this is all moving pretty quickly, in a pretty strange direction. I'm so excited that I can feel my heart pounding wildly in my chest. But what do I have to lose? I haven't felt like this in the last 20 years. Okay, it's a damn bizarre situation, but I'm an adult and single. So I can finally talk to whoever I want. Even with the biggest jerk I've come across lately.

Feeling totally tense, I dial the number and as it rings, it gets even worse. I take a few deep breaths, and suddenly the deep voice on the other end answers with a "What took you so long to decide?" and I can practically feel his grin.

"Well, I had to think for a moment about what would be so sensible about calling my daughter's narcissistic gym teacher in the middle of the night," I say calmly.

"And what would be sensible about that?" he asks with interest.

"I haven't really found a solid reason yet, but maybe you can tell me?"

He thinks for a moment, and I imagine him lying in his bed. A slight tingling sensation spreads in my stomach, which is intensified by his response.

"Well, I can make sure you feel a little better... forget all the everyday crap that's weighing on your pretty shoulders right now."

I briefly close my eyes to focus more on his voice, which really manages to relax me a bit with just that simple sentence.

"And how do you plan to do that?" I ask softly.

"When was the last time you were really well fucked?" As soon as he says it, my lower abdomen tightens, and I automatically press my legs together.

After I take a moment to collect myself, I honestly respond, "That was much too long ago..."

"Oh, poor girl," Negan provocatively replies, but instead of getting upset about it, it triggers completely different feelings in me. "Tell me about what you imagine when you stroke your lonely pussy at night."

I have to swallow briefly to get rid of the extremely dry feeling in my throat.

"I can tell you what I think about when I do it in a moment..." I say softly but firmly.

And his tone changes too. His breathing becomes heavier. "Then tell me, come on," he commands.

"I imagine it's your fingers running over my body and finally sliding my panties to the side and penetrating deep into me..." My cheeks feel like they're glowing. I've never talked like this with anyone before, and now I just did it with a man who is actually a stranger to me.

"Come on, sweetheart... touch yourself for me and tell me if you're wet," he interrupts.

Without thinking, I click on the speaker icon on my display and place the phone next to me on the pillow, then I slide my right hand under my nightgown into my panties and I'm surprised at how aroused I already am, how swollen my clit is, and how sensitive my whole intimate area has become. I sigh softly.

"Fuck, the sweet little sounds you're making... they make my damn cock twitch in my hand with joy..."

Just the thought that he's so aroused by me on the other end sends waves of pleasure through my body.

"I'm already so wet because of you, Negan..." I admit breathlessly.

"You dirty, pretty lady, if I were with you right now, I would slowly penetrate deep into you... you need that now, don't you?"

"Yes!" I can only whisper.

"Okay, now do everything exactly as I tell you, understood?" he demands.

"Yes, please tell me what to do.." I focus solely on his voice, completely tuning out everything else.

"Take off your panties. Use your index and middle fingers to gently stroke over your mons pubis and then slowly over your outer labia, but not more, just right there.."

Immediately, I follow his instructions. The air feels cool on my bare lower abdomen. I feel strangely exposed, even though I am alone in my bedroom, but it's not uncomfortable, quite the opposite. I begin to caress myself gently.

"How does that feel?" his voice breaks the silence again.

"Good, but I want more.." I plead.

"I already knew that.. Bend your legs and spread them wide.. as far as you can.." He gives me a brief moment to comply with his instructions. "Now push your pelvis even further forward.. Imagine I'm between your legs and you want to present me with your beautiful pussy, you would like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes.." I say and nod vigorously, even though no one can see me.

"Such a good girl.. and now run your index finger through your slit, spread your juices.."

I can't and don't want to hold back my moans now. There is silence for a while at the other end, then I speak heavily.

"Are you also pleasuring your cock for me?" I ask as I continue to touch myself.

"Oh, sweetheart, so your thoughts are currently only about that.." he says snappily. "Yes, I am, and if you keep moaning so sweetly into the phone, it won't be long, so it's time for you to start massaging your clit, but don't be too timid, circle it with two fingers and use some pressure, even if you're very sensitive now, you can take it.."

Oh God, that was exactly what I needed right now. My body felt like in ecstasy and I could feel the orgasm slowly building up.

"Don't come yet," he commanded, and on cue, I immediately removed my fingers from my most sensitive spot.

"Now, bring your knees close to your body!“

"Yes," I replied, completely exhausted. "You're doing it perfectly, how much I would love to see you in this position right now, just the damn thought!" I could clearly hear him softly moaning. This sound made my body twitch with excitement.

"Penetrate yourself with two fingers... nice and slow. Focus entirely on the feeling of stretching your pussy wide... Tell me when you're all the way in!"

"Now," I whispered, already quite spent.

"Then add your ring finger, once you've done that, you can come intensely as a reward, I promise."

Slowly, I press the third finger into me, which initially causes a bittersweet pull, but I'm so wet that it's not a problem.

Without me telling him, Negan knows that I fulfilled his request.

"So perfect, sweetheart! And now, pleasure your clit! Bring yourself to climax and don't hold back any sound, I want to hear every sweet noise from you."

With the first gentle touch, my body twitches like crazy.

"Negan, please come with me," I stammer into the phone.

"Yes, I promise, beautiful," he replies breathlessly.

And these words are enough for me to come as intensely as I haven't in the past years. My thighs tremble uncontrollably and my heart almost jumps out of my chest. My lower abdomen contracts in waves and I can barely breathe. It feels like I am weightless for a few seconds.

"Do you feel good?" he asks after a short pause.

"Perfect.." I reply and can't gather my thoughts yet.

"Okay, then I expect you tomorrow at 3:30 p.m. for a parent-teacher meeting at the school, and, by the way, without panties.. Good night!" After these words, I only hear a beep on the line.

[my-status-single]

The One Where Peter Parker Has a Baby Chapter 4

He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. 

They won’t let him run to him.

He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy.  He can’t go to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s safe with Happy. He’s safe.  His name is Ben.  He’s four.  He’s Peter’s. She had been pregnant.  It had been early.  So early that it had been months before she even realised. Half of the universe disappeared, Peter included. And months later she had given birth to their son. Their son. Ben.

Fic Summary: Mostly canon compliant fic that centres around the relationship of Tony Stark's daughter and Peter Parker.

From the Author: This is a Peter Parker/Reader fic. 

It jumps back and forth between the "present" (after the blip is reversed) and the past (pre blip reversal). 

The main focus is Peter and our girl Y/N, but there will be exploration into other relationships as well. 

These include but are not limited to Tony/Steve Peter/Harley Harley/Harry Peter/Harley/Harry Steve/Bucky Tony/Stephen.

Each chapter will have content warnings listed that are specific to the chapter just for added security, there will also be a summary of the chapter if the content is something you don't want to engage with but would like to continue to the next chapter. There will also be a comprehensive list of warnings. The severity of these topics varies from very intense to simply implied. Be sure to check the individual chapters for more detailed descriptions of how these themes are used.

Fic Content Warning: Underage sex, unplanned pregnancy, teen pregnancy, polyamoury, child abuse/neglect, parental death, suicide, self harm, Tony Stark in Endgame

Please, if there is ever something in this or any of my fics that you feel needs a content warning, feel free to message me and I will make sure to add it.

I want this to be a safe place for everyone.

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From the author: Taglist is OPEN, just leave a comment or send me a dm xxx

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Wordcount: 1554

Chapter Summary: We get a bit of Peter’s back story. We get the basic story of how he got his powers. We see a glimpse of his relationship with YN. And we see the consequences of his powers.

Chapter Warnings Anxiety: Peter mentions his anxiety Family death: Uncle Ben. There are no explicit details of this just mentioned briefly Spiders: yeah Overstimulation: Part of Peter’s powers involve heightened senses, these cause him to have something akin to a sensory overload where he ends up passing out.

Detailed Chapter Summary: This chapter takes place in 2015, about a week after Peter gets his powers. He is 14. We learn that Uncle Ben has already passed. We learn that Peter’s powers cause severe sensory overload that he hasn’t learned how to manage yet. YN is a Good Friend

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October 2015

“What’s with the sunglasses?” She teases lightly, looking over at him. “Hungover or something?” She grins, reaching up and pulling them off.

“Hey wai-“ he starts, but he doesn’t finish because her face falls. She goes from happy and teasing to very clearly concerned. He doesn’t love that.

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.” She says softly.

He sighs and rubs over his face. “Wow, thanks for that. You really know how to make a guy feel special.” He mumbles, brushing her off. He puts the glasses back on when she gives them back.

She rolls her eyes. “What’s got you so pleasant this morning?” She hums.

They were on their way to school. Peter goes every morning to the tower so they can walk together.  Despite the fact that he passes the school in order to get to the tower.

He just wants the time with her. 

He sighs. “Headache. I haven’t slept. Not well, anyway.” He says. She nods a bit, adjusting her bag. “In how long?” She asks. It’s not uncommon for him to have trouble sleeping. He has trauma. Peter shrugs. “Six days?” He says. She stops walking then. “Six?” She asks, voice a bit of a gasp. “Relax. I’m fine.” He says.

Spoiler alert

He wasn’t. He’s pretty sure he was slowly losing his mind, actually. 

He’d been bit a week ago.

They’d gone on a class trip to Oscorp. They’d go every year, Harry hated it every year. Harry hates just about anything involving his dad.

Because they had been before, and because Harry tends to do what he wants when to comes to his father’s company, they had gone off on their own to look at the more exciting projects that were being worked on. Rather than the run of the mill stuff some board had decided was appropriate for students.

Midtown Tech was full of geniuses and they really thought they would be able to enthral them with half assed attempts at green energy. Embarrassing.

One of those more exciting projects involved bioengineered spiders. Which in the moment had been cool enough. A little underwhelming maybe, without the context of what was actually being done with them. They hadn’t stayed there long. Less than ten minutes. But those ten minutes had changed literally everything for him. He hadn’t told anyone what had happened. He wasn’t really all that sure what had happened, if he was honest and he convinced himself that’s why he’d stayed quiet. At some point in the lab he had felt a sharp pain on his neck. Which he ignored. When he got home he saw the bite. It was barely there. Barely red, skin barely raised. If he hadn’t been looking he wouldn’t have seen it. He didn’t feel anything, it didn’t itch, he wasn’t fatigued or nauseous, no fever. So he really thought it was fine.

He took a Benadryl, just in case, and went to sleep

Then he woke up the next morning and nearly threw up because everything was too much. And everything has been too much since then. Everything is too loud, and too bright.

He can hear things he should not be able to hear. Like the conversations two blocks ahead of them. And the car alarm going off probably 5 miles away. And…her heartbeat. Somehow, though, that one wasn’t painful. That one was comforting. Steady Familiar Soothing It grounds him, so he’s been focusing on it. He can hear other’s heartbeats, too. Anyone in the same room as him. But hers is the one he can always recognise. The only one he can pick out in a crowd. If he focuses hard enough, he can find it even if she’s not in the same room as him.

Her heartbeat may be soothing but this conversation is not.

He really just wants her to drop it. But he knows her better than that. He knows she can’t mind her own business to save her life.

“I’m gonna help you, what can I do?” She asks, taking his wrist.

His skin has been hypersensitive. He can feel every seam, the weight of everything on his skin. The way different fabrics rub against each other. It makes his teeth itch. So being touched has been Very Not Okay the last few days. It luckily hasn’t been much of an issue because he’s never been overly touchy. He’s a bit awkward with physical affection, and people have seemed to pick up on it over the years and more or less leave him alone. But her touch is welcome. It’s always welcome.

“Please just drop it.” He pleads, taking her hand and squeezing it. He is so fucking careful as he does. “I just have a lot going on, I’ll tell you later.” He says.

She sighs and studies his face for a moment before she finally nods. “I’m gonna hold you to that.” She says. And he sighs because he knows she will. She won’t forget, never does.

The aggressively heightened senses weren’t his only symptom. They were by far the most bothersome, but there were other things as well. His strength was suddenly off the charts. He’d ripped his bathroom cabinet door off its hinges a few days after the bite. Which is why when holding YN’s hand he’d been so focused on not crushing it.

He was suddenly…sticky? Pages of his textbooks kept getting stuck to his fingers, which was fun to try and explain. And his phone had attached itself to his palm the other night. He ended up just having to go to sleep holding it.

Along with all of that

His anxiety was…bad. It had gotten really bad. It’s been intense the last year or so. Since his uncle Ben died very unexpectedly… But it was on an entirely other level now.  He’d dealt with anxiety for most of his life and had been in therapy for it off and on. It manifested for the first time when his parents left. But even after upping his medication after talking with his doctor, it was becoming nearly unmanageable. He was sometimes hit with these overwhelming senses of dread. Like something horrible was imminent.

It was worse when he was out alone with May. Especially if it was dark out Worse still when he was out with YN. He was always a bit anxious when out in public with her because she was…popular.

They’d been mobbed once or twice when someone had shared her location.

They arrive at the school and head inside, meeting up with their group of friends. Michelle, Gwen, Ned, Betty, Harley, Harry, and Flash. He was lucky to have found a group of, mostly, good people. Flash was still a bit of an asshole. He loves his friends. But this morning, he tunes out their chatter because he really just can’t deal with it. He flinches when the bell rings to send them all to class. Too loud. YN looks over at him, furrowing her brow, concerned.

He ignores it.

For the first few periods, he focused on his classwork. It helps to tune everything out and just focus on one thing. YN’s in his classes, so her steady heartbeat keeps him grounded as he reads over his textbooks or works out equations. He’s okay. He just has to be diligent about not getting overwhelmed.

Things go badly after lunch.

The lunch period had been particularly loud, as it tends to be. And it’s still warm out so his friends insisted on eating outside. It was so bright. The sun, the students, his overly excited friends, and the sounds of midtown New York had nearly broken him. Michelle and Gwen had both been oddly touchy with him the last few weeks. Taking any opportunity to touch some part of him. YN had explained that they had crushes on him. He ignored that too.

He was flattered, really, but he just…wasn’t interested? He couldn’t explain why. And now he had too much going on to worry about it. By the time he made it to his next class, he was exhausted.

He tried to focus, and he thought he was managing well enough. Chemistry had been a favourite subject of his for a long time, so he thought he’d get through it fine. But today had ended up being a lab. Normally he found these days fun. He loved to watch the reactions in the experiements, loved to do them himself. Loved to work on some of his own formulas when he inevitably finished his work early. Most students enjoyed lab days, and were reacting loudly to the exciting experiments and demonstrations their teacher was doing. He registers YN saying his name from her seat next to him. He hears her voice, can’t make out anything she says though. Probably not the best sign. He feels her touch his shoulder, a comforting weight on his skin. But he feels like he’s vibrating. He’s too hot, he feels sticky with sweat. His ears are ringing. And his vision starts to tunnel. He’s overwhelmed. He’s had panic attacks before. But they’ve never come on unprovoked like this.

He stands up to leave the room, he just needs somewhere quiet, and then he’ll be fine.

Needs to maybe throw up too.

He’s halfway to the door when everything goes black

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Taglist: @bitchy-bi-trash @lou-la-lou

[wrencatte]

I don't know about you, but that "I'm so scared." panel is haunting me....

Please excuse all the weird errors of all kinds. I once again wrote this on my phone in tumblr drafts...at work (😅😅).

I won't know how many words this is until I can get it in a doc and clean it up for ao3 posting

Bruce closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, steeling himself.

Dick had a tendency to go high. Jason's tendency is to go low. He tucks himself under tables and in small spaces that adults usually can't fit into. The Cave has a lot of places to hide under (and has a lot of places to climb onto, high into the sky where fear is just a memory and your parents bodies seem so far away) and Bruce has scoured the more obvious places before finding this one: the work table, where he dismantles and fiddles with gear.

And where Jason has taken to messing with his own gear, absolutely fascinated by the intricate mechanisms that made it all work. The kid is an absolute gearhead along with his love for literature, several books on different engines and vehicles have started to migrate to his room.

So Bruce crouches on his knees and peers under the table. The table is deep for toolboxes and a set of drawers on top, and Jason has managed to shove himself in the darkest corner, curled up in the smallest ball possible. He's hit a slight growth spurt in the last few months, leaving his elbows and toes sticking out from the shadows. His face is tucked into his knees. His breathing frantic and hitching - but still so impossibly quiet, like he's spent years teaching himself to cry silently and Bruce's heart breaks all over again at the reminder

(This isn't the first time Jason's cried since he came to live in the Manor, and every single time Bruce never knows unless he's right there when he starts or if he walks in on him mid-sob. And Bruce hates it.)

Bruce's broad shoulders block the light, and Jason flinches into a tighter ball, toes disappearing in the shadows.

"Hey," Bruce starts then stops and doesn't continue for a long moment. Jason stills like a rabbit caught in a fox's gaze, barely perceivable quivers. He exhales slowly. His knees ache on the worn thin rug that's meant to keep dropped things from rolling away. He settles down, legs crossed, hands up on his knees to show he's unarmed, though who knows what Jason's actually seeing. "Want to come out from there?"

Jason shakes his head.

"That's alright," Bruce assures him even though it can't be comfortable down there. "You don't have to so anything you don't want to do."

Jason's next breath is the loudest thing he's ever heard since he got hit with the fear gas. A new batch, more potent than the last. Half a dose could give an adult a heart attack. Jason got one-eighth of a dose via a broken mask and a second too late realization. Hell, they didn't even know he'd actually gotten hit until they made it to the Cave and Bruce turned around and he was gone, the analysis beeping behind him with the announcement that their current anti toxins would be ineffective.

He has a new anti toxin slowly being pieced together by a program and under Alfred's watchful eye, but that does nothing for him right here, right now, with Jason too terrified to make a sound.

Bruce doesn't talk much - he's never needed to - but he sits there and he starts talking. First about a case, of a long ago Rogue that had a funnier gimmick than most and did surface level property damage more than anything else - but eventually he found himself talking about the Justice League, about their unprecedented expansion, about various antics some of the newer heroes get up to.

He doesn't know if Jason's listening or even hears what he's saying. The boy doesn't uncurl. Doesn't make a sound. He hopes that he's breaking through the living nightmare somehow, but he also knows that hope doesn't mean anything.

But he keeps talking anyway.

During a lull, when Bruce's mouth is dry and his throat hurts and - Jason shifts just the tiniest bit. He peeks out from behind his knees, eyes glittering in the dark, and stares at Bruce with pupils blown wide from fear and drugs, chin trembling. Bruce feels like the kid is looking into his soul and finding him lacking, but he opens his mouth anyway and croaks out,

"I'm scared," soft and wavering, thick with tears and the type of brokenness that lends itself to helplessness.

It's a little bit like a confession. An admittance he doesn't want to make but he has no choice but to make it.

"I know," Bruce says gently. "We can fix that, though. It may seem like it, but you don't have to be scared forever."

He holds out a hand, warm and inviting in that same way he did towards the kid sitting across from him at a rickety outdoor picnic table, one who'd just finished inhaling a subpar batburger and fries, one who'd just fifteen minutes ago had even caught jacking the batmobile's tires and had the moxie to whack Batman in the stomach with a tire iron.

The kid then had eyed it warily. And didn't take it, just took a sip of his drink and quietly agreed to let Batman set him up in a warm house with warm meals and clean clothes and the most comfortable bed ever with the 'person I trust the most' - which isn't Bruce Wayne, but one Alfred Pennyworth.

The kid now eyes the hand warily. And takes it. Lets Bruce help him from under the table and lets Bruce fold him into a tight hug, his face tucked against the man's neck, breaths sobbing and hitching.

"I'm so scared," Jason repeats.

"Not for much longer, Jaylad. I've got you."

"I'm so scared," he says out loud, but there's no one around to hear it.

Jason's both grateful for it and collapsing inward when there's no assurance that'll all be over soon, that it won't be forever, that dad's got him. He drops to his knees with a gasp, heart thudding so hard he can feel it in his throat.

He's alone.

He's alone and there's a fear in his chest, invading his lungs, burrowing in his bones. It's going to be there forever. Forever and ever until he dies from it because this isn't a new life, this isn't a gift or love. This is a death sentence. Jason puts a hand to the ground to heave himself up but the thought of walking onto those streets makes him gasp and choke and the fear cycles in on itself from fear to adrenaline to fear fear fear. Never ending. Ramping up bit by bit the more Jason breathes and trembles and, fuck, he's terrified.

Jason scrambles backward on his hands until he hits a shelving unit that rattles. It feels like a knee to the spine, holding him down, driving in, and he sobs quietly. Quiet like he always is when he cries because there's never been a point in being loud about it. Being loud just got attention and attention was always bad.

And he's back to where he was fifteen minutes ago before Marquise - Scandal - showed up and dismissed him and walked away before he could explain. Knees tucked to his chest, arms around his legs, trying to convince himself to stand up, to just go already. His chest heaves. The space gets humid from his tears. He feel like he's going to pass out, dizzy and nauseous.

He's too exposed like this, Jason thinks. Realizes. Fears. (And that fear feeds back into itself, and he hates, hates this so much, but that's not enough. The hate isn't enough to override it.) The room is half trashed and covered in rubble, and he's a whole foot taller than he'd been as a kid, but there, right there -

Jason fits there. Here, under a metal table that has his mask sitting innocently on top. It got wedged against a wall, propped up slightly by some concrete. He tucks himself under it and stays there.

And thinks about - nothing. Because if he thinks about anything - like Batman across the rickety picnic table, offering him a warm house and warm food. Like Batman scolding him for doing something reckless and scaring the shit out of him. Like Bruce sitting on the floor, so patient and understanding and telling him that this fear is only temporary.

Like Batman throwing batarang and the thick spray of blood. Like Batman throwing a punch hard enough to shatter his helmet. Like Batman ripping the insignia off his chest and dragging him across a rooftop.

Jason can't help the whimper. He tips over to lean against a table leg and gasps around the vice around his lungs.

He won't make it out of here. He'll hyperventilate himself into unconsciousness and someone will find him, wearing most of his Red Hood suit, and that person will kill him. Or they'll call the cops and he'll end up in Arkham and he'll die there. There is no normal life. No identity in Metropolis for him. Even if he did make it there, he'd be dead at the first villain attack, unable to defend himself as his aderenaline surges and the fear sets in.

He never expected Bruce to be this so fucking naïve. Cynical idealism? Sure. But not this.

"Hood?"

Jason doesn't acknowledge his name, or the voice. Purposeful footsteps crunch on debris, announcing their path from the hole in the wall to Jason, getting closer and closer.

And closer.

Until there's a shadow of legs blocking the scant light. Until the figure crouches down and there's Nightwing, peering under the table with wide, concerned eyes. He's not wearing his domino, Jason notes almost distantly. His body doesn't feel like his own anymore for all that he can feel the cool metal table against this temple and the rough feel of his pants in his clenched fists.

All there is, is the fear.

"Jason," Dick says with his own kinda fear.

He's reaching under the table, not holding a hand out for Jason to take, for Jason to choose for himself - and the man doesn't know the significance of that, but something in Jason settles anyway at the stark difference.

Dick goes all the way, cupping Jason's face like he does with them all - a pinkie under the jaw for the faint hint of a heart beat, a thumb across the cheek for comfort, his palm to lean into and let him carry the weight. And Jason does lean into it, trembling and shuddery, wet eyes closing.

"C'mon, let's get out from under here." He guides Jason forward until he's spilling into his brother’s arms, face pressed into his shoulder. The Nightwing suit is too tight to grip so Jason wraps his arms around Dick instead, clinging to him tightly. Dick hugs him back just as hard, rocking back and forth.

"I'm scared," Jason whispers - an admittance he has no choice but to make.

Dick hugs him tighter, pulling him into his lap like he's a child. Under a difference circumstance it would be comedic - Jason is broader and taller than Dick - but right now he's just small.

"I've got you," Dick says gently.

He doesn't know why, but that juat makes Jason cry harder.

[star-writes-sometimes]

stupid

word count: 867

cw: idiots in love, mutual pining, drugs mention

a/n: i disappear for months and come back with a remus blurb!! its the same remus and r as look after each other but you don't have to read that

---—---

remus didn’t knock on your door. he had stopped knocking on your door a few months after you moved in. 

there was soft, old music coming from your kitchen and a smile crossed his face. he could picture you before he saw you, twirling around the kitchen making some sort of soft pastry he was sure he’d end up ‘taste testing’ before they were all done.

sure enough, when he entered the kitchen there you were, twirling around in fluffy pyjama pants patterned with cartoon characters and a tight-fitting tank top that he couldn't help but linger on. he clumsily leant on the doorframe and smiled as you swayed your hips and sang along quietly to the music.

“i can’t do my homework and i can’t think straight,

i meet her every morning ‘bout a half past eight, ”

you were rolling cinnamon rolls and placing them into a baking tin. your hair was pulled into a loose ponytail causing some pieces to fall out and lay across your face and neck. remus’ smile grew at the way your nose scrunched when a piece got in your eye.

“i’m acting like a lovesick fool, 

you’ve even got me carrying your books to school, ” 

its a song he had heard you listen to you before but never sing along to, so he was thoroughly enjoying it. there was a small homemade bracelet on your wrist that matched one that remus was wearing under his sweater.

“hey hey, set me free,

stupid cupid stop picking on me, ”

you spun around and finally noticed remus making you yelp in surprise, “remus when did you get here.”

it takes him a moment to process your words and slowly blinks, “uh about a minute ago?”

you hummed in response and covered the tin with a towel and place it in the fridge, “how was sirius’?”

“it was good,” he watched you set an alarm on your phone and moved closer, leaning over the bench to observe you.

“did you drive home? i thought you were gonna smoke, i don’t like you driving while high remmy.” you frowned and washed your hands off.

“no james and lily dropped me off.”

“they weren’t high?”

“lily wasn’t there she just came to pick me and james up.”

“good.” you grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug.

remus wrapped his arms around you and held you close. he buried his nose in your hair and inahled deeply. the smell of cinnamon around the room couldn’t compare to the way it clung to your hair and skin.

you looked up at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, scrunching your nose at the scratchy feeling of his stubble. he looked down at you with a similar look of adoration and kissed your forehead in response. 

both of you soaked up each other's presence, just stayed together inside the warm kitchen. 

the song changed over and you had matching smiles across your faces. remus grasped your hands and pulled away slightly to wrap one arm around your waist.

you giggled and wrapped your hand not holding his around his neck, “you gonna dance with me rem?”

“you’re lucky i’m high,” he grumbled.

i know i stand in line

until you think you have the time

to spend an evening with me

remus was a perfect gentleman, you’d thought so when you met him. not in the traditional way - he was a drug dealer - but he always did the little things. opening drinks and doors for you, helping you to bed and holding your hair back when you drink too much, always keeping snacks and water for you in his car, and now, dancing with him in your kitchen, you are certain that in his own untraditional way, he was perfect.

and if we go some place to dance

i know there is a chance

you won’t be leaving with me

he spun you around as gracefully as he could and you let out a loud giggle before falling back into him and he swears his heart grows. if purgatory was where he were bound he was certain the memory of that laugh could keep him sane.

then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place

and share a drink or two

you both moved closer to each other. you could feel his breath on your cheek. his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but the words wouldn’t come to him.

and then i go and spoil it all 

by saying somethin’ stupid like ‘i love you’

he closed his mouth and leaned down to kiss your cheek instead, “you look beautiful.”

the sincerity in his voice caused your breath to catch in your through and it took a second to formulate a response, “you're so handsome remmy.” 

your hand traced a scar on his lip, you wanted to kiss him.

so you pulled away.

you couldn’t. so instead you rested your head on his shoulder and continued to sway to the music with him.

it was better to have him as a friend and suffer the pain in your heart than to not have him at all.

[thechatsmeouch]

Ladybug Blues

Chapter One - Her Last Words

Marinette Dupain-Cheng always had bad luck.

She could trip over a blade of grass, and jumble an entire sentence together. The one thing she always had plenty of luck in, was making friends. She adored her friends, loved them all like they were her own flesh and blood. Even back in grade nine, when Lila Rossi had vowed to make everyone hate her, she never faltered. The truth always comes out, she would tell herself. And that was enough. She could sit through her high pitched rants of being best friends with Ladybug, because Marinette knew the truth. But somehow, her friends would drift away. Waves in the hallway turned into rolling eyes and sneers. All she had left were Adrien, Alya and Nino. Her closest friends, no one could tear them apart!

Right?

**********

Marinette forced her eyes open, groaning as she pressed every button possible to turn off that godforsaken alarm clock. Pulling the covers off, she took a deep breath, and hopped down from the bed.

Rummaging through the closet, Marinette selected her outfit. Her style had changed since she was fourteen, she had thrown out her tacky blazer and pink jeans long ago, settling for a more casual look. Her signature pigtails were gone, and her hair was usually loose. Jeans and a hoodie would suffice for the day, just like any other. Perhaps it was growing up that had prompted Marinette to reshape her entire wardrobe, it had to be. It couldn't have had anything to do with the isolation she'd been experiencing in the past six months, only going out once in a blue moon when Alya and Nino weren't with everyone else who had opted not to invite her. No, that definitely wasn't it! Besides, it gave her more time to design, and draw, and bake!

Not that she'd designed anything since Rose cancelled her commission, or drawn anything since Nathanial suddenly didn't need help with his proportions anymore. She still baked, but that was her job. Nonetheless, Marinette didn't really need to go out and see her friends! She could stay home and watch the bakery while her parents went on a date, or— or do her homework! Yeah, she loved homework!

With a sigh, Marinette pulled on her shoes and opened up her purse for her beloved kwami to fly into. "Let's go, Tikki, Alya said she wanted to talk about something before class, so we have to be there early." She murmured sleepily, opening the trapdoor.

"What do you think she wants to talk about, Marinette?" Tikki chirped, getting comfortable in the soft purse Marinette had made for her.

The girl stepped down the ladder and shrugged. "I don't know, let's go find out.."

As soon as Marinette spotted Alya, her stomach churned. Her best friend gave her the same look everyone else had been giving her for the last six months. She knew what Alya wanted to talk about.

Marinette smiled politely and nodded through their conversation, ignoring the lump that had formed in her throat.

"...I'm sorry, Mari, I.. We just can't hang out anymore, it makes me look bad, y'know? Nobody really trusts you anymore.. You understand, right?" Alya grimaced.

At that moment, Marinette expected to be angry. The lump in her throat faded, and she was left with numbness. She just nodded her head and walked away, entering the school.

Marinette slumped against her locker and chuckled dryly. "I have no one, Tikki."

The kwami slowly hovered out of Marinette's purse and gave her a sad look. "You still have Adrien, don't you?" she whispered, nudging the girl's cheek.

Marinette smiled at that, not a big one, but enough that Tikki knew she'd considered it.

Heels clicked through the hallway, and Tikki disappeared into the lockers. In sauntered Lila Rossi, with a smirk on her face.

"Didn't I tell you I'd ruin your life, Marinette?" she sneered, coming closer to the girl. "I always get what I want. Maybe this time you won't forget it."

All of the rage that Marinette had shoved deep down inside of herself for half a year resurfaced, and Marinette snapped. She rammed Lila into the lockers, pressing her forearm hard against her throat. Three years of being Paris's superhero paid off in this moment; Marinette had only gotten stronger since becoming Ladybug.

She stared into Lila's wide eyes, her mouth agape in obvious surprise. The sound of Lila's body being slammed against the metal lockers must have gotten someone's attention, because the door to the locker room opened, and a small crowd of students filtered in.

"Let her go, Marinette," Adrien's voice cut through the whispering, his tone pleading. Marinette didn't move, her anger burning hotter than ever.

The crowd of students murmured, some clearly on Lila's side, some looking concerned for Marinette. But his voice rose above the rest, and everyone fell silent.

"I think you've made your point," Adrien said, his voice firm but not unkind. Marinette's body tensed as she slowly let go of Lila, who coughed and rubbed at her throat as she slid to the ground. "But you can't do this. It's not who you are, Marinette."

Marinette closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She could feel the weight of everyone's stares, and it was almost unbearable. "I'm sorry," Her voice was barely a whisper.

In an instant, she dashed out of the locker room, not caring about the stares or whispers. She had to get away. She knew she couldn't face Adrien, not now. So, she ran. She ran all the way to the park, where she collapsed on a bench and buried her face in her hands. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to make sense of everything that had happened.

"Tikki," Marinette sobbed, "What am I going to do?"

The kwami slowly floated out of her purse, hovering in front of her face. "You'll do what you've always done, Marinette. You'll be strong, and you'll face your problems head-on."

Marinette sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "But Lila... She'll tell everyone." The thought sent a shiver down her spine. "No, I-I can't do this, I can't keep living like this, Tikki!" She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

The kwami floated closer, her expression gentle. "Oh, Marinette..."

The girl drew in a deep breath, and suddenly, she was overwhelmed with a sense of clarity. The rough sea of waves she'd been in for months calmed, and Marinette, for the first time, felt absolutely nothing.

"I know what I have to do." Marinette spoke, her voice soft as she slowly removed her earrings.

Tikki's eyes widened. "Marinette, wait, what are you talking about?"

She hovered in front of her chosen's face, trying to force eye contact.

Marinette just smiled. "Tikki, I renounce you."

"Marinette-!" Tikki screeched, but in an instant was sucked into the earrings, leaving Marinette completely alone.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, carefully tucking her miraculous into the pocket of her hoodie.

Marinette waited until lunchtime to go home, careful not to draw attention to herself from her parents. She stepped up the stairs to her room silently.

She placed a delicate kiss upon her earrings before setting them inside their box, hoping that Tikki could feel her love.

Her fingers brushed across her notebook, and she picked up her pen. Glittery and pink, as always. How ironic it was that she was about to write the worst possible thing with such a lovely color. The girl let out a breath before writing her last words.

Dear mom and dad, and... everyone I guess,

I'm sorry. Sorry that I couldn't bear the burdens of life anymore. I'm tired, and I just want to rest. I realize I no longer serve a purpose here on earth, in Paris... and I know that my leaving will hurt you. But please, forgive me. I love you all so much, and I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me one day.

She thought for a moment, then flipped to the next page.

Adrien,

I love you. I always have, ever since that first day we met, and you offered me your umbrella. I'm looking at it now, hanging in my room, and it makes me smile. I wish I could say something more, something to make it better, but I can't.

I hope you can forgive me, but I'll understand if you can't.

I love you, Adrien.

As she slipped the note to Adrien into her bookbag, tears welled in her eyes. She knew this would destroy her parents, but Marinette needed this. She needed to be gone. She left the note to her parents on her desk and opened her trapdoor.

Marinette hesitated before opening the front door, taking one last deep breath to steel herself. She knew what had to be done. She slipped out of the bakery door, glad that her parents were in the back. They were prepping for a large order for the following day.

Marinette hoped they would forgive her for not helping.

She walked down the street, her heart heavy, her steps slow. The sky was a perfect shade of blue, but she couldn't appreciate it. People passed her by, oblivious to the pain she was feeling. Marinette wondered if they could see it, if they could see the weight that she carried. She wondered if anyone would even notice if she were gone.

Stepping into the locker room once again, she slid Adrien's note into his locker. Hopefully he'd see it, he deserved a goodbye.

Marinette opened Alya's locker, smiling a bit as she remembered all the times she hid encouraging sticky notes and baked goods in her best friend's locker. This time, it was a box, and a sticky note that read: Guard them with your life, Scarabella.

She couldn't bring herself to look at the earrings anymore, so she closed the locker shut, pressing her forehead against the cool metal. The bell for lunch rang, and Marinette forced herself to walk away, wondering how everyone else would react to her absence. As she made her way through the hall, she saw Adrien standing by Nino. They seemed to be sharing some kind of joke, judging by the angelic smile on his face.

As if on cue, he turned to look at her, his smile suddenly falling. Adrien began to walk toward Marinette, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Marinette?" He mouthed, a hand reaching out to her.

Marinette ran into his outstretched hand, feeling the warmth of his touch as he pulled her close. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice low and concerned. She could feel his eyes darting over her face, searching for answers.

She wanted nothing more than to tell him everything, to make him understand why she had to do this. But she couldn't. She hugged him tightly and pulled away. Before he could say anything else, she placed a kiss on his cheek. "I'll miss you, Adrien," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

With that, she walked away, ignoring Adrien's calls to stop and wait. Her steps fell faster and faster until she had run all the way to the Seine.

She sat down on the concrete railing, watching the water flow past. It was peaceful here, a moment of solace amidst the chaos she will have created. Marinette wondered if her loved ones would ever find peace. Her parents would be crushed, her 'friends' would be hurt, and Adrien... She didn't even want to think about how he would feel.

A light breeze prompted Marinette to stand. She allowed the anxiety of what she was about to do course through her. It wouldn't change anything. Her back faced the water. She closed her eyes.

Marinette breathed in.

Then let herself fall.

The last things she felt was the shock of the cold water, and the burning of it filling her lungs.

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