#just caramelized sugar for the first time in my life. fucking hell

[kubo-kubo]

just spent 4 hours baking a birthday cake 😭

[camillemontespan]

forever and eternity [drake x camille AU] [chapter one: life goes on

@mvalentine​

@notoriouscs​

@twinkle-320​

@saivilo​

@sophxwithers​

@katedrakeohd​

@jovialyouthmusic​

Stepping back into the writing pool and seeing what I can come up with..

*********************

Drake Walker could remember the first time he saw her. In a cloud of smoke, their eyes had met and she sang her song to him. 

It had been in a basement bar. Drake had been sitting alone, nursing a glass of whisky, wishing his life could just end. 

He wasn't suicidal, no. He was just bored. Bored, alone and wondering what he was actually supposed to be living for.

Until he saw her.

She was standing on the little stage. A pianist was setting up to play behind her. With the microphone in front of her, she threw her shoulders back and exhaled. She looked nervous. 

'Good evening,' she breathed into the microphone. 'I hope you're having a fabulous time.'

Her voice was like caramel. Smooth, low and sweet.

She was wearing a silk gold dress that hugged her delicate curves. Her skin was like mocha and her hair was pulled back into a chignon, a more sophisticated style of a bygone era. Everything about her screamed elegance. 

She surveyed the room and that was when her eyes settled on Drake's.

He gave her a small nod.

She smiled softly and turned to the pianist.

'You ready, Bertrand?'

'Always darling,' the pianist replied. 

The audience - of which there were only about twenty people - chuckled and sipped their drinks.

'My name is Camille,' she told them. Her eyes lingered on Drake's. 'And I hope you enjoy the little songs I've prepared for you.' 

********** 

Drake woke up in a cold sweat. The bedsheets were tangled around him. Groaning, he managed to pull himself free and clambered out of the bed. He stumbled into the ensuite bathroom and turned on the light to survey himself in the mirror, wanting to calm down.

Why did he always dream of her? Why did he always dream of that night? 

She was gone. She was lost to him. 

Drake studied his face and looked for any signs of new wrinkles. None. He hadn't had new lines form in years. No grey hairs. Nothing.

It had been a long life.

He thought back to the dream he had just had. Or perhaps he should just call it reality? 

Because that moment in that bar had happened. He had seen the most beautiful woman, watched her sing and life, as always, had went on. 

Life goes on.

It did.

He hadn't seen Camille for 96 years. 

And yet Drake remained unchanged.

************

'I dreamt of her again.'

Drake waited for Leo to respond. But as usual, Leo poured him another drink and let out a sigh.

'You gotta get over her, man,' Leo said.

Drake smirked. 'Its been 96 years. I think the time to get over her has passed.'

Leo shook his head and poured himself a drink. He shouldn't drink on the job but in Leo's world, he was fucking immortal. He could do what he liked. He was 352 years old. 

He leaned across the bar and studied Drake. They had been friends for centuries. Leo knew everything about Drake.. or so he liked to think. But he had a feeling that Drake held a secret universe inside himself that he never let anyone into.

Except maybe Camille. That girl had a hell of a hold on him and Leo didn't know how that was possible. Drake had built a fortress around himself that kept him shielded from everyone he knew. Maybe it was this life that had made him do that. That made sense. But Camille had managed to knock that fortress down. Then she left and the walls were built back up, more solid than ever.

'Camille is a footnote,' Leo said, not bothering to sugar coat. 'You've lived all this time and only knew her a tiny fraction. If you had a normal life, she wouldn't have this hold on you.'

He knew he sounded like a dick. But that was only because Drake hadn't listened to him for the past 104 fucking years. Try being patient with that. 

Leo was different to Drake. He didn't mind being alone, if anything he preferred it. This life demanded no attachments and for Leo, that suited him just fine. He bedded women and didn't call them after. No responsibility.

The fact he moved around a lot and changed his identity every ten years meant nobody could stay with him anyway. 

Being 352 years old meant Leo had to be very careful. 

He had been born in a tiny country called Cordonia that now no longer existed. He had travelled the world, gathering riches, losing riches, loving women, leaving women behind. He left chaos in his wake and that was how Leo liked it.

Now he was a bartender working in New York, having lived this life for five years so far. In another five years, he would move onto the next city, the next identity. 

Leo was a nomad. 

Drake, however, was not. 

Drake didn't change his identity. He was always Drake Walker. 

***********

Drake Walker had been born in a tiny ramshackle cabin in Texas in 1845.

His father, Jackson, had died fighting at the Battle of Gettysburg in 1863. Father and son had fought together until the last.

Drake should have died with him. The stab wound to the chest was fatal. Anyone else would have died but Drake did not. He fell unconscious on the field by his dead father’s side and the world went dark. His heart stopped beating.

Ten minutes later, he woke up in a fit of terror. 

The wound had healed.

Drake returned home from the war changed. He couldn’t explain how he was alive. 

And now, 177 years later, Drake still couldn’t explain it. 

*********************

After Leo finished his shift at the bar, he demanded food. 

Drake found Leo to be like looking after an overgrown man child. He was energetic and unpredictable; Drake was the exact opposite. 

‘Let’s go get burgers,’ Leo cajoled Drake. ‘I’m craving a double cheeseburger with all the jalapenos.’ 

Drake rolled his eyes but went along with him.

The two of them had met fighting during the Battles of the Meuse-Argonne in 1918. They were in the same battalion. Leo, terrified out of his wits,  had taken a sip of Drake’s whiskey that he had kept in his hip flask.

‘This is hell,’ Leo had told him. ‘And I’ve seen hell.’

Drake grimaced. ‘You get used to it.’

Again, when Drake woke up from a fatal head wound, he found Leo slumped against one of their fellow soldiers and he was staring at him with wide eyes. Blood covered his tanned face and his blond hair was slicked back with blood.

A bullet wound had embedded itself in Leo’s neck, yet he was still alive. 

You… you’re like me....’ Leo croaked.

Drake and Leo stayed together after that. 

******************************

They found a booth and settled down. Leo swiped at the menu and decided he wanted the burger, loaded fries and a milkshake.

He went to the gym every day so he could eat what he wanted. But he knew he wasn’t going to die of heart failure. 

Drake was reading the menu when a shadow fell over their table. 

‘What can I get you guys?’ 

He looked up and instantly felt like his world was collapsing in on him.

The waitress standing at their table, who was staring at Drake in shock, was Camille.

She looked exactly as she had 96 years ago. Youthful. Beautiful. Unchanged. 

Drake could feel his heart hammering in his chest. She continued to stare at him, her eyes wide and terrified.

‘Camille?’

Leo looked between the two of them with an open mouth. ‘What the fuck…’

‘Camille?!’ Drake’s voice came out strangled. 

She stepped back. Her hands were shaking.

‘Drake, how… why..’

She dropped the menu on the floor. Tears were forming in her eyes and she looked like she was going to throw up. Before Drake could react, she turned on her heel and ran out of the diner. 

[racerchix21]

Coffee Kisses

Word Count: 869

Summary: Don’t get him wrong he loves Roman’s kisses but Dean has a way of rocking his world that Roman just doesn’t. Ro’s are sweet as sugar and innocent while Dean’s are like a wildfire that consumes you immediately.

Tagging: @sunnyfleur23 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @gobbersworld

A/N: Chapstick just came out with the coffee collection of coffee flavored chapsticks and I got inspired 🖤

Work Text

Sitting on the bench in the Shields locker room waiting for his boyfriends, Seth pulls out his chapstick and suddenly gets hit with inspiration. He’s gonna make at least one of his men do the chapstick challenge with him and if he’s being completely honest he’s hoping that Dean is the first one out of the showers.

Dean Ambrose kisses much like he does everything else in his life, a little rough, a little wild but oh so fucking thorough and Seth’s just a little obsessed. The only thing outside of wrestling that Dean does with any sort of grace is fuck and holy shit is he fantastic at it.

Don’t get him wrong he loves Roman’s kisses but Dean has a way of rocking his world that Roman just doesn’t. Ro’s are sweet as sugar and innocent while Dean’s are like a wildfire that consumes you immediately. He’s so lost in his own little world, he startles when he hears Dean and Roman talking, even though he can still hear at least one shower running.

“Seth! Hey earth to Seth! What are you out here thinking about that’s got you blushing like that?” Dean singsongs as he struts over dropping into Seth’s lap, “Hmm what could my pretty baby be thinking about?”

“I wanna do the chapstick challenge with you and I was thinking about your kisses, D. Thinking about the fact that you rock my world without really trying and how much I’ve missed you since I got hurt.”

“Chapstick challenge? You don’t wanna wait for Rome to come out here so he can participate?”

“Nope, I wanna play this game with you. I got an idea of what I wanna do with him. Now close your eyes and I’m put this on and kiss you, okay?,” Seth says grabbing the first chapstick and putting it on. He leans forward to kiss Dean and gets pulled into another one of those all consuming mind blowing Ambrose kisses.

“Tastes like caramel macchiato but I say we just sit here and make out. Forget the game and see how far we can get before Rome comes out here and yells at us.”

“Or we could do the chapstick challenge and you stop trying to distract me, Ambrose. You’re right though it was caramel macchiato. Come on just a couple more and I’ll let you off the hook with this game,” Seth says even though Dean’s idea sounds a hell of a lot more fun and Roman yelling at them does tend to make things even hotter.

Judging by the look on his boyfriends face, Seth can see that Ambrose knows that he’s definitely gonna get his way. “Sethie, Sethie, Sethie just admit that you wanna ma-,” Dean’s sentence is swallowed by Seth surging up to kiss him again.

“Yes, dammit Dean,” Seth softly admits nipping Dean’s bottom lip before pulling away. “I wanna do a lot more but we gotta wait until we’re back at the hotel because I ain’t looking to get caught again. It was a mess the last time, we both got lectured about hooking up in a public place and Cesaro and Bryan still have trouble looking me in the eye when we talk. Not that I don’t enjoy you fucking me D. But…”

“But you don’t want our smokin hot Samoan to walk out here and find your pretty ass bent over this bench getting fucked. Okay baby boy but I’m calling dibs on you first when we get back to our room. Now let’s get back to your game before I actually do bend you over and do unspeakable things to you.”

“Close your eyes then Ambrose before I beg you to do something else.”

“Nah Sethie I think I’ll sit here and watch you. You’ve got the prettiest eyes when your getting all wound up. Yeah like that right there. And god Rollins stop looking at me like that, I’m barely hanging on to my sanity as it is.”

Pressing in against Dean for one last kiss, Seth feels the way he always does when he’s got either one of his men at his mercy… powerful, sexy… lucky as hell to have them. Grabbing another random one he puts it on and chews on his bottom lip and sees as Dean’s eyes follow his every move.

Leaning in and stealing a quick kiss, Dean can taste hints of vanilla and coffee and knows immediately what it is, “It’s Vanilla Latte and it tastes just like you do after one of your absurdly large coffee on cheat days. It tastes like home, it tastes like you and Roman.”

“Home, huh? Well Deano I can’t argue against that sentiment because that’s what the caramel macchiato tastes like to me. It tastes like sticky ice cream, it tastes like the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat but knowing that regardless I’ve got the best boyfriends in the world. It reminds me of our first kiss in the back of a ring truck in a middle of nowhere Illinois when we’re mere kids still trying to break into the business. More sugary sweet and less whiskey burn but still it’s like our first kiss.”

[ficsforeren]

Hi Kana!!!! Just wondering a lil about levi in The Last Song. What are some headcanons about him, like any tattoos what does he wear, is he a fuck boy.... I HAVE TO KNOW...Okay love you 🙃

Oh, interesting! No one has ever asked about Levi before!

okay here you go

wears suit 24/7. and not just your typical white shirt and black suit either. he's either wearing Hugo Boss slim fit pinstripe suit or Tom Ford navy blue three-piece suit. my man isn't cheap.

smells fucking expensive too. like money probably

and aftershave. he showers five times a day. if he's not taking any calls, he's taking a shower.

he has his hair slicked back during meeting with the higher-ups.

cannot handle spicy food.

one time eren mixed up his coffee with his and he swore levi said he was drinking americano but nope. that man was drinking five fucking spoons of sugar with a bottle of caramel sauce and a tiny, tiny, tinyyyyy sprinkle of coffee.

likes bubble tea (a HUGE FAN even) but he never buys one in public because it's gonna make him look childish. one time, jean caught him ordering two large cups of brown sugar boba tea and levi "accidentally" ran him over with his audi. it's okay, jean didn't have any schedule for the rest of the week so...

wears insoles (i'm sorry), three of them at the same time, probably, so he won't look like a fucking dwarf around the boys.

does not have a tattoo, but has a huge scar on his left abdomen. reiner asked about it once and levi said "you don't wanna know." and reiner was like, "boss, try me." and when levi told him about it, he said, "I wish I didn't ask."

NOT a fuck boy. hell, this man barely has that much sex to begin with ("which is why he has a stick up his ass all the time", said jean). he's not the type who can just wham, bam, thank you ma'am like jean the imbecile. he needs to be in an actual relationship where he feels like he can get emotionally connected to the person before he takes it to the next level. stan manager levi for clear skin.

is a workaholic. he hasn't had a good night sleep in 6 years, poor soul.

has a soft spot for eren. he thinks of him like his own son. after Eren died, levi could barely step into the studio as it reminded him of him. for the first time in his life, he took a few days off from work, trying to deal with his thoughts.

[turtle-steverogers]

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

-

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

-

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

-

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

-

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

-

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

-

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

-

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

-

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

-

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

[thunderheadfred]

💥Bakugou HC's💥

Aged-up pro hero Katsuki for all of these. Some NSFW beneath the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

He’s scary good at everything he tries. Every. Single. Fucking. Thing. It’s infuriating. Has zero patience when other people can’t immediately master a skill. Never let him teach you anything. Not that he’d offer, nerd.

He WILL offer, though. A lot. He can’t believe you still can’t Do That Thing. Tsh. Like THIS. You're gonna hurt yourself, Dummy.

But hold on. Of course you have unique skills of your own. You work hard to improve yourself. Trust me, he's the first person to notice. He doesn't praise anyone lightly, so when he raises his eyebrows and whispers he's impressed, your heart will go thermonuclear.

Perfect spelling and fully punctuated texts. Never uses abbreviations. Employs a grand total of four emojis, all of them angry faces. Constantly leaves you on read. He's busy, dammit.

Doesn’t smile or laugh in public (except sarcastically). His real smile is a crooked, fragile thing. Never make him feel self-conscious about it, or you might not see it again for weeks.

He does not talk about his private life to the press. Ever. Will K.O. rookie reporters who can't keep their big mouths shut.

HOweVER: he's intensely kind to his fans. There is a whole photographic sub-genre of little girls in cosplay hugging Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight like he's a Disney Princess.

Too smart for his own good. Emotionally hyper-vigilant. Overthinks every interaction to hell and back. Will act like he's not listening but actually hears every single word in a ten-block radius.

INSECURE AF. 110% convinced he will never be good enough. Terrified of his loved ones leaving him behind. Does he do anything to assuage his fears? Like... talk to anyone about it? Hell no. That would require admitting he has fears to begin with.

Seeing people upset makes him upset, especially if he doesn't know how to fix it.

The epitome of being mean because he cares. He genuinely does not seem to comprehend that monosyllabic grunts and lopsided shrugs are not actually that comforting.

Because he was such a brat growing up, he wants to make up for it now. Sort of. In his own way. Look, he's trying, okay?

He smells - so - good. Obscenely good. He doesn't wear cologne; are you joking? There's the burnt-sugar caramel candy smell of his quirk, for starters. And since he sweats deadly ammunition, he showers and wipes himself down almost constantly. He always smells clean. Like a fucking meadow.

Never got that growth spurt he was hoping for. He’s a short man - not even THAT short - but he has a Napoleon complex anyway. If you’re taller than him, the collars of your shirts will all be stretched out. He’s constantly dragging you down to his level. He will assert himself all the fucking time; the pissing contest is never-ending. Don’t wear tall shoes unless you want him to drag you around on a leash. If you’re shorter than him, that’s good. That’s very good. He likes that.

He’s an incredible cook, but everything he makes is a nuclear fire challenge. Adapt or starve.

- - - - -

Dating

Makes artisanal, nutritionally flawless bento lunches for both of you. When people assume his S.O. makes them, he gets fucking pissed. Damn right your co-workers are jealous of my cooking.

Your pet name is Dummy. Don’t like it? Fine. You can be dumbass.

There will be zero PDA in this relationship. His hands are shoved so deep in his pockets you can’t even try.

Intensely private with the press. But with his friends, he will brag about you nonstop. Bakugou Katsuki has the most talented and attractive and intelligent S.O., and anyone who doesn't recognize that is blind. Were you assholes even listening?

A mutual buddy definitely recorded one of these drunken brag-rants and sent it to you for safekeeping. Do not let Katsuki find out about it, unless you enjoy having an ash pile for a phone.

Gets jealous about everything, at least at the start. He calms down eventually. Kinda. He stops saying shit to you about it, anyway, because he learns to trust you. But anyone who so much as looks at you in a too-friendly manner will get the death stare of a lifetime.

He’ll throw all kinds of temper tantrums and the two of you will argue about every tiny fucking thing. He’ll scream out car windows, he’ll ball up his shirt and gnash on it. But he will never raise his voice at you. He’d rather die than make you feel unsafe.

Honestly, the constant bickering is really just... uhh... passionate communication. Eventually you both hash out the important things. You'll learn how to step around his landmines and actually make your points, and he'll learn to open up. A little.

Once you meet his mom, Katsuki starts to make a lot more sense. His family just... emotes like that. Eventually, you and his dad form a spousal support group consisting of exactly two lifetime members. He teaches you the Bakugou family semaphore you need to survive a long-term relationship.

Katsuki can dish it out but absolutely cannot take it. The only person who can level with him about serious issues without explosive fallout is his dad. Or, on a lucky day, Kirishima.

If you give him a legitimate criticism (even gently!) he will take it about as gracefully as a knife to the gut, because it confirms everything he hates about himself.

To your never-ending shock, you’ve made him cry. Yes, CRY! You monster! More than once! His lip gets all *trembly* and his eyes get all *watery* and all you want to do is hug him, but. No. He’ll storm out and wander around for a few hours before coming back with the problem perfectly solved.

He always takes your advice to heart. No, he will NOT talk about it, stop asking.

Gets mad if you don’t snuggle him on the regular. Will drag you into his lap with a pissy little grunt. There might be two seats on this couch but you will not be needing both of them.

Takes pictures of you while you sleep.

Takes even more pictures of you when you're awake but think he's out of the room.

He looks at all these pictures when he's away on high-stakes jobs. He gets all bleary eyed and sleeps in a salty puddle without you. NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW.

You don’t have to meet him at the door or anything, but when he says “I’m home,” you’d better answer fast. If he doesn’t know your precise location in 0.05 seconds, he will assume you’ve been kidnapped. He never checks the fridge for notes. Never assumes you've gone down to the konbini for a snack. No, it’s kidnapping every time.

A terrrrrrible bed partner. He goes to bed at senior citizen hours and will never fuck you after sundown. He snores SO loud. Runs hot and sweats through the sheets. Slaps and elbows you in his sleep and aggressively spoons you with his loud, sweaty body. You WILL want to suffocate him. Separate bedrooms aren’t such a horrible idea......

BUT HANG ON, because in the morning he transforms into an honest-to-god angel. He's half awake, his guard is non-existent. Morning Katsuki is a doting kissy-faced marshmallow man.

If you can wake up before the ass-crack of dawn, he will pamper the fuck out of you. You are royalty for one (1) hour only, and he is your bleary-eyed slave. You want a cuddlefuck? You got it. Hugs? Kisses? Take as many as you need. You want a perfect, fluffy, NON-SPICY omelette with a heart drawn in ketchup? Here it is, gorgeous.

Then he gets in the shower and the spell is broken.

- - - - -

💥bang BANG💥

Let’s get the obvious out of the way: this here is an ASS. MAN. He'll spank you with his quirk; doesn’t matter if you’ve been good or bad. Wants to see you wince when you sit down later.

Likes pounding you face down with a vice grip on your waist.

Unfortunately, even with all that said... he doesn't exactly have the feral beast sex drive you were expecting. He’s married to his work and has the fuddy-duddy habits of a once and future valedictorian. Only fucks you when he has the time and energy to fully dedicate himself to it.

But ohhhh. Shit. When it's time? It's TIME. The man will rush for nothing. Stamina for days. Making you cum as many times as possible is a point of pride. Yeah, you passed out once.

You’re gonna need those days off when he’s done with you.

That dick THICC.

Sends unsolicited dick pics. Only after you’ve been dating a good long while - he doesn't show that shit to just anyone. But yeah, don’t check your phone at work. He won't cum without you; those pictures and videos are time bombs. You better get home. Now.

Physically dominant as FUCK, but won’t verbally degrade you unless you ask. Well, let’s be honest. Unless you beg.

Praise him and reap the rewards. A long hard ego stroking will get him off more than touching his cock ever will.

Will grab your hair and fuck your throat. Will also stop immediately if you need him to.

The two of you have safe words and gestures. Even for vanilla stuff. He’s paranoid about scaring or hurting you. He insisted you both sign a color-coded ‘love contract’ that he meticulously formatted in a word processor. When you gave him guff about it, his blush was the darkest crimson you’d ever seen.

Coin-flip: he will sometimes be unbelievably gentle in bed. Doting and affectionate, taking perfect care of you. Like, it’s baffling. There��s no warning, the switch just flips. When you want him to be extra-rough and mean, he’ll sweetly worship you instead. For hours.

Bonus: he likes being penetrated. But of course he’s got a complex about that too. Super intense power bottom. You will never fuck him hard enough. He’d like to see you try. Hit his prostate just right and he might literally explode.

You'll live happily ever after but he will say he loves you out loud exactly once. Maybe. If you're lucky. And you're both about to die.

[hillariat]

Bubbline fanfic rec list

I did it. I made a master rec list of good Bubbline fanfics. Will keep updating this until I leave the fandom.

Grouped by setting (eg. Highschool AU, AT universe, Family AU etc.) in alphabetical order. They’re all romantic bubbline unless stated otherwise. This is a living document so I’ll be updating it every now and then with new fics and stuff. For any questions, changes or additions, please feel free to pm me on reddit/tumblr @hillariat

*SMUT = A significant portion of the fic is dedicated to SMUT

*some SMUT= A part of the fic has explicit smut, but it isn't a major part of the story

*UwU=personal faves

calamitous love

Author: lexaproeighty

Setting: Astronaut AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 1,173

Tags: Fluff, emotionally stupid PB.

Summary: Author’s summary: bonnie's in her feelings. oh, and about to go into space.

what was missing

Author: spookyscaryskeletons (Buttons15)

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 8,678

Tags: Fluff, emotionally constipated PB.

Summary: Honestly the most solid, canon compliant take on their relationship. I loved this shit and half my headcanons are from here.

Author’s summary: In which Bonnie has feelings, she does, but feelings are hard and complicated and she rather ignore them until they punch her in the face.

Let you Lead

Author: purplebutterflies

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 1,225

Tags: Fluff, Mild comedy,Marceline being an idiot

Summary: Marceline being a useless gay and Bonnie taking the lead. Writing gets better after the inciting incident, trust me.

After UwU

Author: 61wisampa

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 23,888

Tags: Major character death, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Moving On, Friendship

Summary: This shit be an intense feels trip yo. Like an "I stayed up ‘til 6am" kind of intense. I had to reread this fic twice in order to emotionally process everything. It definitely isn't your average bubbline angst.

Author’s summary: It was hard, having someone similar yet different. It kept Marceline stuck walking along the line that prevented her from moving on.

Everybody Knows Your Name

Author: Sunshine18

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 8,671

Tags: Exes, Discussion of past abuse, past Ash being an asshole, pre-bubbline

Summary: Solid exploration of PB and Marcy as exes and how they started becoming "civil" post breakup. References to major events in early AT and how PB and Marcy were affected. Can be read independently of “Contact” even though it is a sequel of that.

Bitter Sugar UwU

Author: QueenOfTheRevue (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Discontinued | 72,000

Tags: Political drama, Arranged marriage, Political Conspiracy, fantasy

Summary:The plot's so intense it deserves to be in a goddamn Kdrama. Literally never read anything else like it in the fandom. A well done, intense drama set in a unique  political landscape. Hybrid democratic monarchies, Age old conspiracies, fandom references, Marceline in military uniform, c'mon just read it!.

Musicology series

Author: CountingWithTurkeys

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 625,723 (as of 06/02/2021) 

Tags: Canon compliant, angst, fluff, mindfuckery, sociopathic people, some SMUT

Summary: Set in a possible but not probable AT universe. Darker and heavier overall tone. It's the kind of fic that will give your brain a workout. Dysfunctional Bubbline that becomes healthier. Solid portrayal of dysfunction with a believable interpretation of PB and Marcy

VR

Author: deltau

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 7,004

Tags: Fluff, SMUT, virtual reality, shapeshifting

Summary: Bonnie gets her VR machine working and the couple delves into the realm of Marcy's mind. Bonnie makes some pleasant discoveries and afterwards they have some fun time. 

Our perfect disease

Author: JupiterDelphinus

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 112,000

Tags: Non-chronological, anthology, some SMUT, fluff, hurt/comfort, canon divergent

Summary: Past, present and future scenes from the pair. Tone and ratings (G to EXPLICIT) vary according to the chapter. Each chapter is a self contained narrative that helps build the overarching Bubbline story. Very cute, very uwu feels.

Apples after Midnight series

Author: Xekstrin

Setting: AT universe

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 18,565

Tags: SMUT, feels, fluff

Summary: Starts off smutty but then has a lot of feels. Has a legitimate exes romance plot.

The One Where There's No Gunther

Author: ijemanja (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: Coffee Shop AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 8,899

Tags: Comedy, Fluff

Summary: Has very good AT-esque dialogue.I can actually imagine the characters saying the lines.

Author's summary: All are welcome at the Coffee Kingdom, even pain in the ass vampire queens. (No Ice Kings, though.)

Double Sugar, Extra Whip

Author: amphitrite

Setting: Coffee Shop AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 4,067

Tags: College, Fluff

Summary: Classic coffee shop AU. Think a Vanilla latte. You know what you're getting

Palpitations

Author: ValhallaKoala

Setting: Coffee Shop AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 6,298

Tags: Comedy, College, Adorable af

Summary: Author's summary: Black coffee tastes just as good as a caramel macchiato, right? Right!?

Or

Bonnibel is socially inept and makes some questionable decisions.

Viscosity UwU

Author: The Denominator

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 9,049

Tags: Feels, non-chronological, sexual references

Summary: College AU but definitely not a classic college AU. It's one of a kind, makes you feel

C's get degrees

Author: megapidgeots

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 102,550

Tags: Comedy, fluff, feels, just college roomies getting along

Summary: Classic College AU, you get what you see. 

Author's summary: Bonnie has just started her first year of University, and finds she has a mostly neutral-verging-on-hesitantly-positive opinion of her new roommate, Marceline.

Cliché

Author: Abadeerly (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 67,493 (06/02/2021)

Tags: Comedy, fluff

Summary:College AU but you try to cram as many tropes in as possible. It's fun

Five.

Author: Abadeerly (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 7,883 

Tags: Fluff

Author’s summary:The other woman hesitated, eyes doing that thing where they narrowed and seemingly judged Bonnibel for existing, and then she sighed. “I don’t hate you,” She murmured and Bonnibel felt a weird feeling of what felt like relief come over her.

Escort

Author: breeeliss

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 21,058

Tags: SMUT, sexual tension, teasing, build up

Summary: Marcy is a tease and Bonnie is a thot.

Show and Tell

Author: Abadeerly (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 1,527 (as of 06/02/2021)

Tags: soon to be SMUT, Camgirl, toys, strong sexual references

Summary: Character interactions (so far) are adorable and endearing. Really makes you ship them

Entry 38 UwU

Author: deltau

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 5,969

Tags: SMUT, sad feels, strap-on, car sex

Summary: Smut and sad feels

Happy Birthday, Kitten

Author: Abadeerly (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: College Party AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 3,030

Tags: SMUT, car sex, praise kink, Top! Bonnie

Summary: Cop Bonnie and Party girl Marcy. That is all. Come get your Top! Bonnie smut

Coincidence

Author: mellish

Setting: College AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 5,932

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Break up, Sad ending

Summary: “It’s like holding a test tube and not knowing what’s inside it, not knowing how much damage will be done if it breaks apart.” Traces their relationship from beginning to end. Has my fave ending line of all fics on this list.

Groupies Wanna Get Fucked

Author: Abadeerly (on both Ao3 and FFN)

Setting: Concert, human AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 4,973

Tags: SMUT

Summary: Author's summary: Bonnibel's NOT a groupie. Except, she is because this is smut. Enjoy! :)

Chemistry

Author: laurenjauregui (Ao3) / we4retheincrowd (FFN)

Setting: Concert, human AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 2,784

Tags: First meeting

Summary: Very cute character interaction. Short and sweet.

40 Weeks

Author: Plesiosaur

Setting: Family AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 221,000

Tags: Pregnancy, Cavity inducing fluff, Slice of life, sexual references

Summary: Domestic grown adult bubbline? Check. Hella extra know it all Bonnie? Check. Snarky Marcy? Check. Some deep feels and backstory? Check. Tooth rotting bubbline fluff? Check. Why the hell aren't you reading this?? This story is really good, starts slow but really picks up after like chapter 12

Pray for the Preacher's daughter UwU

Author: reliquiaen (Ao3) / ArcaFeretory (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 232,197

Tags: Slow burn

Summary:THE fic for the Bubbline fandom. Its the fic that everyone knows and recommends and for good reason. Strong execution of the Punk x Goody two shoes formula.Just... read it if you’d read HS AUs

Anonymous UwU

Author: laurenjauregui (Ao3) / we4retheincrowd (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 229,681 (as of 27/03/2021)

Tags: Slow burn, fluff, TW for abuse

Summary:The second coming of Pray for the preacher's daughter. JK. Seriously though it's a good slow burn with quality that is as good, if not better than, Pray for the preacher's daughter. The bubbline duo in this fic are just,, pure. So pure I can feel the cavities. Also the author updates every week (as of 6/02/2021)

High School Confidential

Author: gloss

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 1,085

Tags: Fluff, Flirting

Summary: Marceline never gets too attached to one place or person. In fact, it's probably for the best because her family constantly moves from place to place like nomads. She might stick around this time though. Cute interactions and flirting.

Variants

Author: laurenjauregui (Ao3) / we4retheincrowd (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 4,918

Tags: Fluff

Author’s summary:Every species has its variants. Bonnie's just trying to figure out which ones are good and which ones are bad.

A love like war

Author: laurenjauregui (Ao3) / we4retheincrowd (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 433,715 

Tags: Slow burn

Summary: Bonnie moves from New York to some tiny af town in the middle of nowhere. She is not happy.

Different UwU

Author: laurenjauregui (Ao3) / we4retheincrowd (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Discontinued | 25,022

Tags: Cavity inducing sweet Fluff, Autism, discrimination

Summary: Very sweet and fluffy. Like an I will need to go to the dentist level fluff. Characterisation is a bit OOC but it's a very well written piece. I would send this to people who aren't in the fandom and say it's an original piece. It's that good.It ends off in a good place too.

Tourniquet

Author: alizarin_scribbles

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 7,883 

Tags: Mutual Pining, Angst, Sad ending

Summary: Star crossed lovers that were so close.

Author’s summary: How they were now was normal enough, not too intimate or indifferent in any respect. Back then, their relations simply didn't have any room for change. Now, Bonnie couldn't help but wonder exactly how such casual acquaintanceship had led to the ghostlike fire currently trickling through her veins.

Glandular Fever

Author: reliquiaen (Ao3) / ArcaFeretory (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete |3,740

Tags: Comedy, Fluff

Summary: Author's summary: In which I bundled all the awkward situations I could into a oneshot... and then made them worse.

the secret admirer

Author: laurenjauregui (Ao3) / we4retheincrowd (FFN)

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete |4,724

Tags: Fluff, tooth rotting fluff, Bonnie being a disaster, Marceline being soft

Summary: Author’s summary: #ohsconfession220: To the girl who always hangs out in the library with the red hair and round glasses and freckles i think you’re the cutest person i’ve ever seen pls date me

Bonnie has a secret admirer... and she kind of hates it.

Will You Sign My Cast?

Author: bigpinkbaguette

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing |22,122

Tags: Angst, slowburn, childhood friends, enemies to lovers

Summary: The slow burn that hurts so, so much. Otherwise known as Bonnie is too emotionally constipated to deal with the baggage she has with Marceline.

Slacker

Author: CandiedSweets

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing |36,806

Tags: Fluff, angst, Bonnie being the most useful gay ever, Useless gay Marceline

Summary: *gasps, a multi-chapter high school AU that isn't a slowburn?! Yep you heard right!

Author’s summary: Marceline’s missed a few days of school and a certain pink haired classmate brings her the work she’s missed, but accidentally finds out something about her in the process.

Bass Guitars and Grandad's Ashes

Author: LastOneFromHometown

Setting: Road trip AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 41,448 (as of 27/03/2021)

Tags: Comedy, feels, trippy af, slight angst

Summary: Somehow makes even a funeral comedic. Has a very wild and funny charm to it whilst still having moments of feels. Trippy af, really has some AT vibes in it. Fun read.

Hooligans on the Highway

Author: Valverbek

Setting: Road trip AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 13,123 (as of 27/03/2021)

Tags: Comedy, fluff, established relationship

Summary: A lighthearted and fun read about the gang going on a road trip for Finn’s 21st. Cute & chaotic vibes.

Slaughterhouse UwU

Author: Plesiosaur

Setting: Serial Killer AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 6,846

Tags: Murder, police, gore

Summary: Who'd be the best match for our beloved serial killer? Why, another psycho of course. One of my personal favorites

The Prolific Works of the Arctic Butcher

Author: HaveFunStormingTheCastle

Setting: Working adults AU

Status | Wordcount: Ongoing | 40,627 (as of 27/03/2021)

Tags: angst, feels, exes, murder mystery,serial killer, slow burn, reunions 

Summary: Bonnibel is the mayor of Kingdom city. When seemingly unconnected and unsolved murders begin popping up left and right, Bonnie starts doing her own investigations, believing that there may be more than meets the eye. Somehow that brings her on a collision course with Marceline, successful rockstar extraordinaire and her ex. Circumstances force them both to examine their shared past and revisit the destruction they each left in their wake as they investigate a sinister killer with seemingly devious intentions for them both.

There she is (Or what to do when your ex is back in town)

Author: durantesknight

Setting: Working adults AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 11,586

Tags: Exes, feels

Summary: A fascinating translation of the Bubbline relationship into a modern setting. This shit legit got me feeling.

Author's summary: Its been seven years since the last time Bonnie and Marceline saw each other, things weren't okay back then, they're not better now.

40 Weeks prequel series (can be read independently of each other and 40 weeks) :

Author: Plesiosaur

Setting: Working adults AU

1)This Could Be The Start Of Something

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 8,214

Tags: Graduation, first meeting, mild homophobia, anaphylaxis

Summary:Marceline and Jake crash a graduation party for free drinks. An ambulance was called.

2)To Fall, Gently And Otherwise

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 4,628

Tags: Fluff

Author's summary: Set between chapters one and two of This Could Be The Start Of Something. After three years of sharing an apartment Marceline really should know better than to take Jake's date advice.

3)Counterpoint

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 3,065

Tags: Hurt/comfort, intellectual rivalry, differing opinions on alternative medicine, historical character death, feels

Author's summary: Even the most perfect couples can clash when they believe in fundamentally different things. But is Bonnie ready to swallow her pride and apologize even when she thinks she's in the right?

First and Last

Author: Plesiosaur

Setting: Working adults AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 15,351

Tags: hurt/comfort, feels, family, repressed gay

Summary: Just....intense feels

Orion

Author: NightBearrors

Setting: Working adults AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 8,750

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, feels, exes, ambiguous end

Summary: Their reunion was like a tangent, colliding once only to depart again.

Dough

Author: ArrowOvis

Setting: Working adults AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 1707

Tags: angst, feels, exes, implied rape

Summary: Author summary: Dough can be a lot of things - wet, dry, fluffy, flat, pre-mixed, under-mixed...a lot. But most importantly, it can be shaped into something it wasn't before. Whether that is a good or a bad thing, only time can tell.

Alternatively titled: Bonnibel Buchman got screwed over and doesn't deal with it well.

Stripped

Author: Asharyn

Setting: Working adults AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 14,708

Tags: Fluff, some SMUT

Summary: Where Bonnie be whipped for Marcy. And vice versa. Honestly, just fluff and smut stripper AU.

End Of The World

Author: Plesiosaur

Setting: Zombie Apocalypse AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 3,465

Tags: Death, Gore, feels

Summary: zombie apocalypse AUs are basically non-existent for this ship, so here's a good one.

Experiments

Author: spookyscaryskeletons (Buttons15)

Setting: Zombie Apocalypse AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete | 9,194

Tags: Death, Gore, feels,angst

Summary: If you’ve ever wanted to read a zombie AU written by an actual doctor this is it. It's good. Set in The Last of Us (TLOU) universe though you can go into this without knowing anything about TLOU and still have a good experience. 

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.7)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Seven) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 4,457 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior, drug use Author’s Note:  **This chapter starts with a very angry and violent Tony. If that is triggering, do not read it. Plus, it mentions him doing cocaine and with RDJ's past, that may be offensive to some! Head's up! You have been warned**

Part Six || Part Eight || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Three months ago (cont.)…

You were happy you had arrived in a bathing suit already. Cassandra already had a handful of people over – luckily all people that you knew – swimming in her pool.

“So, what’s up?” Cassandra asked you, leading you towards the bar.

“Nothing just… wanted to come over.” She stared at you and you said, “God, fine. Tony pissed me off. You wanna take some shots?”

“What? Why? I am… Y/N, I am high.” She laughed. “I cannot be drinking. You know I do not do well crossfaded.”

“I’ll do one myself then.”

Walking around the bar, you grabbed one of the bottles of rum off the mantel and poured yourself a double. Cassandra snorted and you told her, “I needed that.”

“What was it about now?”

“I don’t really wanna talk about it. It’s just gonna make me mad all over again. Let’s just hang out and have fun and relax.” You spotted a picture on the counter. “Oh my god. Is this from your new video?” you asked picking up the photo. Cassandra nodded excitedly. “Oh my god, you look great. Your body looks amazing. How did he feel?”

Cassandra snorted. “Like every other male pornstar ever? His cock was hard, and he was plowing me.”

You shook your head, placing the photo back down on the counter. “You really are brave for doing that.”

“Brave?” she laughed.

“Yeah. I mean. God, doing escort work is one thing. It’s just you and a john – or two or three, depends. But it’s just that. There’s no cameras or anything. You though? You’ve got cameras all around, a whole crew watching the whole thing. You’re taking direction while getting dicked. That’s gotta be a lot of pressure.”

Cassandra started laughing. You realized how ridiculous you sounded, and you started laughing too. “Oh god, let’s go out to the pool. I obviously need some air.”

“Obviously,” Cassandra agreed, linking arms with you.

The shots hit the blood stream quick and consequently opened the flood gates too in a short amount of time. On your way upstairs, you stopped to take another shot. Cassandra was telling you about the trip she was going to take with her sugar daddy and you groaned, remembering why you were so mad at Tony all over again. The two of you walked up the stairs, arms linked to the bathroom. She continued telling you about the things they had planned while standing outside the bathroom, giving you privacy.

“I think I’m starting to come down,” she said to you. “I’m gonna have to light up another one. Do you want to share a joint?”

“Mhm, maybe,” you called as you pulled your suit bottoms back up.

Movement outside the window caught your eye.

Oh no.

Tony’s car was outside Cassandra’s house, right behind yours. You saw him get out of the car, followed by Mikhail and Louis.

“Fuck me!” you hissed before turning around. You completely forgot he could track the car and now he was going to cause a scene.

“You gotta hide me!” you exclaimed, coming into her bedroom, grabbing her hands.

Cassandra’s eyes widened and she returned alarmed, “Wait, what?”

“Tony! The driveway!”

“Okay? Is this bad?”

“Yes! I might have… driven not entirely sober over here. And left without telling him. After we had gotten into an argument.”

You heard some commotion downstairs and you looked at her pleadingly.

“Fuck!” Cassandra spat.

“Y/N!” you heard Tony bellow from downstairs.

You looked around wildly in the bedroom. “Fuck, do you have somewhere you can hide me and pretend I left? Like, I just left my car. Took an uber!”

“Y/N, there is nowhere to hide you in here that they aren’t going to find you. I don’t have secret rooms like Tony has! I’m not a goddamn billionaire!” Cassandra hissed at you.

Tony’s shout echoed up the stairs, “Y/N! My patience is running really fucking goddamn thin!”

Cassandra pulled you close and stared deep into your eyes. “He’s going to find you, Y/N!”

“I don’t want him to. He’s so mad,” you said pathetically.

“Yeah, sounds like you did a bunch of shit to make him mad!”

“Don’t be mean!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gone and pissed your daddy off. I don’t do that shit, Y/N. I keep mine happy.”

“He likes pushback—”

Something shattered downstairs and there were cries of alarm as Tony’s voice rang up the stairs – he was closer now. “Y/N, if you don’t come out by yourself, you are just making things worse for yourself!”

“He’s breaking my shit, Y/N!”

“I’ll replace it,” you hissed.

The pair of you stiffened hearing his footfalls on her wooden stairs and both of your gazes shot to the closet.

“Get in your closet,” you told her in hushed tones. She looked at you confused and you said, “Just do it! I’ll just stay out here and he won’t bother you!”

She did as you asked, closing the door as quietly as she could. Before you really had time to think, Tony appeared in the doorway. Your eyes immediately fell to the gun at his side and your stomach turned. His pupils were blown wide, and you knew he was high as hell. Cocaine no doubt; it was his favorite.

“Hey,” you tried weakly, eyeing the gun worriedly.

Tony stomped across the room, his hand closing in on your arm like a vice, tugging you to him.

“Daddy!” you cried out, wincing against his grip.

“Don’t ‘daddy’ me!” Tony growled. He shook you as he continued furiously, “How fucking stupid are you? Huh? Driving drunk? Do you not care how much that car cost? Do you have no regard for your own life? You have absolutely lost that fucking car!”

“I didn’t crash!” you argued, drunk ‘logic’ getting the better of you.

Tony laughed humorlessly, “You didn’t crash. You didn’t crash…” He threw his hands out, letting you go. “Right. Right. That’s true. You know what? Everything’s forgiven. Forgiven. Slate wiped clean.”

You asked uncertainly, “Really?”

He suddenly yanked you to him again causing you to yelp in alarm, your noses almost touching. “Your ass is going to be black and blue when I’m done with you!”

“Daddy, the gun—”

“I’m not gonna fucking shoot you, Y/N! Don’t be a dumb bitch.”

“Just be careful!” you pleaded.

“Oh, you are telling me to be careful?” Tony spat before his fingers dug in even further on your arm. “Why didn’t you come when I called?”

“I was going to the bathroom!” you half lied. “I wasn’t going to run out there with my pants down! Daddy, you’re hurting my arm.”

Tony chuckled darkly, ignoring what you said. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“I don’t know!”

“Because I know you’re fucking lying!” He snarled, shaking you again. “You knew you were in big trouble and you were trying to avoid me!”

He began pulling you out of the room and towards the stairs. The two of you clamored down the stairs. You were wincing against how roughly he was handling you, the drugs doing him no favors in remembering to be gentler.

Louis was holding your purse having found it while Tony was upstairs searching for you.

“Drive her car home,” Tony ordered Loius who nodded in acknowledgment.

Tony only hesitated for a moment coming up to porcelain statue he had shattered. His gaze flicked to your bare feet and he guided you around it. You felt a sliver of relief seeing the thing he had broken was something Cassandra had gotten at Home Goods and was not attached to. The relief was short lived though, Tony dragging you down the steps of her house, across the porch towards the driveway. Mikhail was on your heels.

When you got to the car, he opened the back door and shoved you roughly into the backseat. “Get your ass in there!”

<><><>

At the elevator back home after eating dinner a couple nights after arriving in NYC, Tony led you onto it and pressed two different buttons. You eyed him suspiciously because one was the penthouse and the other was a different floor before it. He caught you staring.

“I need to go to the office first. You don’t have to go with me; you can go upstairs.”

“But—” you began to protest.

Tony hushed you with a deep kiss. “Come now, you can stand to be without me for a little while, yeah?”

Exhaling disappointed, you shrugged. You had gone shopping earlier in the day with Louis, picking up Tony one of his favorite bottles of bourbon and gourmet salted caramel to go on some ice cream. You had planned to give it to him tonight and even more so after the disappointing dessert the two of you had had at dinner. It was going to be perfect and now he was going to probably take forever and you would pass out before he would come upstairs.

“I’ll be up in a second,” Tony told you, giving you a kiss on the forehead. You gave him a sad look and he chuckled, “I promise. I’m not going to be working. I just need to send a quick e-mail.”

“That sounds like work to me…”

“It’s not. Trust me,” Tony assured you, giving you a light pat on the ass as the elevator dinged for his floor. He gave you another kiss and said, “Seriously. Fifteen minutes tops.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you muttered, much to his amusement. He waved at you before the elevator doors closed.

Scowling you, crossed your arms as the elevator started up again. When it opened at the penthouse, you walked in, tossing your purse on one of the chairs near the door and kicked your heels off. You sighed in relief, your bare feet on the marble. Making your way down the hall towards the kitchen, you thought about what you wanted to watch until Tony decided to show up again.

You stopped at the entrance to the kitchen seeing things on the counter that were not there before the two of you had left.

“What’s this?” you asked no one, frowning.

You walked closer and your eyes widened on one thing in particular. There was a large piece of fancy cheesecake on the counter with a large vase of your favorite flowers beside it along a gift bag.

“Oh thank god,” you said to yourself about the cheesecake.

You immediately went around the counter to grab a fork and came back to dig in for a big bite before hesitating. Maybe you should wait for him. But he also could take forever. You pivoted, looking towards the staircase, thinking. Putting the fork down next to the plate, you went upstairs quickly to grab the bags from earlier. If he got upset about you eating the piece before he got back upstairs, you would have his gift ready to placate.

You set the bag up nicely next to yours on the counter before picking the fork back up and taking the container lid off the piece of cheesecake. You took the first bite and sighed happily. As you chewed, you thought this could not have been sitting on the counter for long. He must have had someone grab it on the way back from the restaurant after he saw how put out you were by the piece of chocolate cake there.

After a few more bites, you put the fork down again and reached for the gift bag that had been left there. Tossing the tissue paper aside, you found loungewear from an online shop you liked.

You jumped at the sound of Tony’s voice. “That’s the right shop, right? That ethical one you were talking about?”

He came up from behind you and wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck.

“Mhmm,” you confirmed, picking up the fork and digging into the cheesecake again. You held it up to him and he took a bite. “It’s their new line.”

“Now you’ve had authentic New York cheesecake. Supposed to be the best,” he said as he chewed. You smiled at that, taking another bite. “Far better than that shit at the restaurant. Sorry about that, baby. Hoped this might cheer you up.”

“It did, tremendously. Speaking of that,” you said putting the fork down and unwinding yourself from his embrace. You reached for the other bag and held it out to him.

“What’s this?” Tony asked, taking it from you. He pulled out the bourbon and snickered. His eyes though lit up at the caramel.

“See, you can put that on ice cream tonight to also make up for the shitty dessert. It’s like I saw the future!”

Tony hummed in approval, popping the lid off the jar. He took your fork and dipped in it, licking it off. He got some out for you and you licked it off tantalizingly, not breaking eye contact.

“I think I can think of something better than ice cream to put this on,” Tony commented, running his tongue along his lip.

You snorted, pushing away from him. “I already took a shower today.” He screwed the lid back on the container and placed it back on the counter, following you, trying to grab you. You slapped his hand away and said, “Ugh, let me finish my cheesecake!”

“It’ll be there after I’m done finishing you,” Tony said. “I haven’t returned the favor from the other day.” You let him grab you, yanking you close, smiling wildly. “I wanna taste you, kitten.”

Sighing, you said, “I suppose I can allow it.”

Tony rose his eyebrows, playfully, “Oh, you are gonna allow it?” You nodded, running your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. “Who put you in charge?”

“Me.”

“That’s cute, kitten,” Tony said, dipping down to plant a deep kiss on your lips.

He began guiding you backwards towards the living room, your lips never leaving the other’s, until your legs hit the back of one of the couches. You fell back onto the couch and Tony followed, hiking your short skirt up past your hips. Your panties were torn down your legs and he laid a trail of kisses up one thigh and then the other, nuzzling slowly at your sex between. He was taking it slow, working up to pressing his tongue in. Your fingers curled up in his hair, bucking towards him when he gave a suck at your pearl. Tony slipped two fingers in, curling them to hit your g spot. He was good at alternating between the two and had you coming down around his tongue in record fashion.

Coming up, his lips were glistening, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. You beckoned him to you tiredly and he did as you asked. You sat up to meet his lips, kissing him slowly.

“Thanks for the gifts. All of them.”

“You know I’m never going to complain about seeing you in tight yoga pants,” he said, his lips brushing yours with a smile. “Those were a gift for the both of us.”

“Ass,” you said hitting his chest and he laughed in return.

<><><>

The following evening leaving an event, your fingers tip toed up Tony’s arm, trying to bring him out of his concentration. He had been on his phone since the moment the two of you had gotten into the back seat of the Escalade.

“Yes, kitten?” he asked, his eyes still trained on his phone.

“Can we go to this address I have?” you asked, holding up a slip of paper.

“What address?”

“A sightseeing place.”

Tony sighed, still not looking at you, “Y/N, we have dinner being delivered to the penthouse.”

“Yes, but there are people there to bring it up for us. And they can put it into the fridge. It can wait!”

He did not say anything in response, and you shook his arm. You saw Mikhail’s lips twitching in amusement at your persistence in the seat in front of the two of you.

“Why do we need to go to this address?’

Exasperated, you said, “I just told you. It’s a sightseeing place.”

“Of course it is. But why?”

“Daddy, it’s my first time in NYC! I just wanna see things and you’re not being nice about it.”

Tony finally put his phone down and looked you in the eyes.

“You think I’m not nice to you?”

“Not right now,” you returned, looking pitiful. Tony cocked his head, staring at you. You rested your chin on his shoulder, peering up at him. He said nothing and you moved up, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Please? I won’t ask for anything else.”

He snorted loudly, “I find that really hard to believe.”

“I promise. For the rest of the day.”

“There’s the catch,” Tony nodded. He exhaled loudly and relented, “Fine. Tell the driver.”

You did not waste a second to reach forward and hand the piece of paper to Mikhail. “Can you pass this up to Happy so he can put it into the GPS for the driver?”

“Why aren’t you just telling me where we are going?” Tony asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Because it’s not really your thing.”

“Perfect,” Tony said sarcastically. You snuggled back up against him, and your hand brushed across his lap. He caught your hand and whispered, “Not right now, you little minx.” You stuck out your bottom lip and he smirked in response before leaning down and giving you a kiss and then going back to work on his phone.

When you were getting close, Tony began to realize where you were going and he asked just as you pulled, “Why here, though?”

You gestured up at the building. “Because it is beautiful? Look at it! Imagine what the inside looks like!”

“It’s a church, Y/N. There are thousands – millions, probably – like it all over this country.”

You stuck out your bottom lip. “Daddy, please. There’s not many churches like this, that’s a lie!”

“Christ.”

By his tone, you knew you had broken his resolve. You slapped him in the chest, a smile coming across your face. You gripped his collar and pulled him close. “That’s the spirit!”

He realized what you said and got the joke just as you pecked him on the nose and let go of his collar.

“Where can we get out?” you asked excitedly, and you did not miss the amused look on his face at your happiness. You felt butterflies at his adoration and then a sinking feeling, anxiety creeping back in like it had been ever since you had found out you were pregnant. Shoving it away, you tried to think about the beautiful photos you were going to take inside.

<><><>

“Hey,” you said walking up to Pepper’s desk and placing the iced coffee you had bought her in front of her.

“Afternoon, Y/N,” Pepper said eyeing the coffee.

“Oh, I got that for you. I got an extra shot because and it’s almond milk.” Pepper seemed surprised and you added quickly, “I remembered that time I heard you order it.”

“That… is sweet. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you said before taking a drink of your own coffee. “That cathedral was amazing.”

“Oh, you actually went.” She sounded shocked.

You nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah. Not last night but the night before. You said it was nice, so I begged. I actually didn’t tell him what it was before we got there, he just told me to give the driver the address. Tony’s not really a church going person so he wasn’t entirely thrilled. But he enjoyed himself.”

“I can’t imagine Tony inside a church for any reason,” Pepper told you, taking a drink of her coffee.

“He did say ‘Christ’ before we went in. So, the energy was there, it was just misguided.”

She actually snorted at your joke. “Now that I can imagine.”

Silence fell between the two of you and you shifted uncomfortably, looking out her window. You had come in here for a reason but it was not easy to shift gears.

“Are you alright?” Pepper asked hesitantly.

Biting your bottom lip, you thought about how to approach what you wanted to say. But there really was no easing into it, especially since you were not going to be around her all the time. “I know this is really sudden and weird and I don’t want you to think I only got the coffee to try to make you happy and listen to me. The coffee is really a thanks for all the suggestions and taking it seriously when I asked you for the suggestions.” You inhaled deeply and then said slowly, “But, I was thinking – hoping, really – that maybe you can talk to Tony.”

You had her attention. Her hands fell from the keyboard, looking concerned.

“About?”

“Uh you know… having a baby… like… at all.”

Pepper was staring at you flabbergasted and you sucked in your lips, staring at her in return, wanting her to say anything. Uncomfortably, she said, “Y/N. That is a conversation you need to have with Tony. Not me.”

You flopped into her chair opposite her desk. “It would be better coming from someone else. Especially someone close to him like you are you. Happy sure as hell won’t.”

“Um, okay,” Pepper said. “W-why does this need to happen?”

“I’m sure he’s gonna get tired of me, find someone else, and then I’m just gonna be stuck with this baby. That I have no idea what to do with.”

Again, she looked floored by what you said and you had a sinking feeling this conversation was not going to go the way you hoped.

“I don’t think Tony is going to leave you, Y/N. I would actually be shocked,” Pepper said carefully. “And he’s excited about the baby. Really excited. He won’t shut up about it actually.”

Great.

Sighing heavily, you explained further, “I think he’s gonna regret it. Because it’s completely going to destroy my body. Like my stomach and my hips are never going to be the same. And my breasts.”

“Is that what you’re concerned about?’ Pepper asked, unable to keep the disdain out of her voice.

You shrugged quickly. “I’m worried about a lot of things that I don’t have time to get into detail about. But I mean, he didn’t get with me because of my intelligence.” Pepper narrowed her eyes and you pressed on quickly, “But, I just thought maybe you could try to talk to him, you know, some sense into him about it? He would listen to you. If I tell him having a baby is a bad idea…” you paused and then shook your head, shrugging. “He’ll think I’m just having a moment and won’t take me saying we shouldn’t have the baby seriously. He’ll think I’m being dramatic. Which is something I am a lot of the time, so it’s a good point normally. Can’t fault him there. But if you talked to him, he would choose—”

Happy walked in then and you immediately shut up, leaning back. He was not looking at you and you bit your lip, wondering if he had heard anything.

You noticed Pepper was watching you with curiosity about how quickly you had gone silent at his presence.

“Do you have that file for Tony? He’s about to call Gene.”

“Yeah,” Pepper nodded. “I’ll e-mail it to him. Sorry, I got busy this morning.”

“Hey, Happy,” you greeted, trying to play it cool. Happy turned his head to look at you and you asked, “So, um, I’m kind of hungry. Is there anything I can have from the lobby?”

“Y/N. Tony already has lunch plans for you. You know that.”

“Right,” you said. You did not miss the confused expression on Pepper’s face at his response, even if it was only there for a moment. You decided to try to press your luck. “But, I meant, Tony usually takes a lot of time in his meetings and I’m pregnant so…” Happy stared back at you in silence and you moved. “Okay, I’ll just go do it—”

He held up his hand and shook his head. Sighing, sounding reluctant, he asked, “What would you like?”

“Like… a banana. Or something. Something healthy.”

Nodding, Happy said, “Right. I’ll be right back.”

He turned and walked back out of the room.

You turned your attention back to Pepper, who was still looking at the door suspiciously where Happy had walked off before meeting your gaze again. You joked weakly, “Maybe being pregnant isn’t so bad. Everyone kind of just waits on you hand and foot.”

“I think you should talk to Tony, Y/N,” Pepper reiterated. “It’s perfectly normal to feel nervous. I’m sure most mothers to be do feel nervous. And I don’t think he’ll brush you off.”

“Sometimes he does,” you muttered, taking a drink of your tea.

“I think… with something important like this, he’ll actually listen. He’s not a complete ass.” You smiled softly at that and she nodded. “Trust me.”

Knowing how excited Tony was about the baby – Pepper did not need to tell you that herself, he made it abundantly clear to you. He had been asking you if you had thought about how you wanted to decorate the nursery already – made the thought of a conversation difficult. Tony was not one to be dissuaded from something he wanted, especially something important. He was stubborn to a fault. But maybe she was right.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try,” you admitted.

She nodded encouragingly.

Happy returned with the banana from the communal space outside their offices.

“Are we going to go soon? Do you know?” you asked him, as he handed it to you.

“Tony’s got another meeting and then we’re going.”

You sighed, leaning back on the couch. You knew ‘another meeting’ could range from five minutes to an hour depending on who it was. “Thank you. This will help,” you said holding up the banana, weakly.

Happy nodded, “Of course.”

“Emailing it,” Pepper told him and he thanked her before walking out of the office.

You blew out a raspberry as soon as he was gone. “I suppose I should go out and leave you to your work. Plus it’ll be easier to find me whenever Tony does want to go. I don’t want that to take longer than necessary. I’m serious, I’m starving.” You stood up from the chair and told her sincerely, “I’ll figure out how to approach this.”

“Good,” she said, nodding again. “It’ll be fine.”

You wished you felt as confident as she sounded.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21

Fic tags: @kvzctam, @farihafangirls, @teenageregression, @mrsnegan25, @lilacs-lavender, @agustdowney, @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @emmariexx 

[anightflower]

Come and Find Me

Chapter One: I’m Stuck 

I won’t lie when writing the cute parts of the story I listened to “I’m Stuck” by Noah Cyrus.  

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: None 

Read Prologue here   Masterlist

You stumbled into your favorite coffee shop. You were a mess this morning and it’s all because your alarm decided to fuck you over and not wake you up on time. Luckily your body didn’t completely betray you, naturally waking up an hour later than you had planned, but still giving you a half hour to get to your meeting. 

You had screamed when you saw the time, this meeting could be your next big break, and getting there late was not how you wanted to start a new design deal. At a mere 23 years old you were still making your way up into the world. After graduating college a semester early you had worked your ass off and started your own independent interior design business. You focused on designing office spaces for big businesses using workplace psychology to create an environment that brought up productivity and reduced the stress of workers. 

Your business was slowly gaining traction, but the company you were meeting today could really put your name out there. 

You had planned to wake up early, put yourself together and center yourself over a cup of coffee, however, life can never be that simple. So here you were, quick light makeup and your hair in a simple bun rather than the elaborate “I am a professional” look you planned. The one thing you did have going for you was your outfit, a white blouse that complimented your figure and tan capri pants, with a strappy heeled sandal. You had made sure it was spotless and ironed before your big day today, so at least you had that going for you. 

“Oh darling, you look a bit out of it, are you alright?” Your favorite barista and dear friend Ava, asked, her green eyes filled with concern. 

“Av, you would not believe the hell of the morning I’ve had.” You groaned. “I woke up late today and I have that huge meeting I told you about and all of the things I had planned to keep me grounded and ready flew out the window.”

Ava let out a tsk sound and patted your hand. “Oh babe, in that case, coffee’s on me. Take a deep breath. You’ve been planning for this meeting for weeks and with that amount of work and dedication, you’re definitely going to knock’em dead.” 

“Ave, you are the light of my life.” You said, already feeling lighter than you did when you first entered. 

“Oh babe, I know.” She winked, brushing a stray purple bang out of her eye. “I want an update on everything afterwards, you’ve got my number! James will have your coffee ready for you at the other end. Good luck!” 

“Thank you! I promise I will!” You grinned and made your way to the other end of the counter, where your coffee was waiting. 

Knowing your order by heart, James had already started your latte the moment you walked in, you thanked whatever God listening that it was ready so fast. James gave you a shy smile and handed you the coffee. “Here you go.”

“Thanks James.” You gave him a kind smile and turned to leave. Glancing down at your watch, you realized you had ten minutes to get to your meeting, but luckily it was just up the block so you would get there right on time. 

But like you said nothing is ever easy. You weren’t exactly paying attention as you walked out of the store, you were double checking your bag to make sure you had everything, so naturally you slammed into someone, causing coffee to get all over your blouse.

You let out a yelp, while a large hand came out to steady you. “I am so sorry! Are you alright?” A male voice asked. 

“Well, aside from the fact that I have a meeting that could change my life in 5 minutes and now I look like a disheveled mess with coffee on her blouse, I’m fine.” You grumbled finally looking at the face of your accidental attacker. Your heart stopped for a moment. 

He was stunning. Shoulder length curly brown hair, caramel eyes, and a TALL, fit body.

He was clearly flustered as your eyes met. His face had a gentle dusting of pink across it and his eyes could barely meet yours. “I really am sorry, I wasn’t paying attention- uh- here!” He began to shrug off his cardigan. “This should be able to cover up most of the stains.” He thrust the sweater towards you. 

Now it was your turn to be flustered. “Oh no, really, I can figure something out-” 

“You said this meeting is supposed to change your life right?” He interrupted before you could stutter out anymore excuses. You nodded. “While I don’t want to be the person that ruins your life. Just wear it to your meeting and uh, how about we meet back here tomorrow morning and you can just give it back to me then?” He blushed a deeper crimson, as a big smile grew across your face. 

“I would love that, thank you so much.” You put on his cardigan and buttoned it up. He was right, almost all of the stains were covered. “How do I look? Professional?” You asked him.

“Beautiful- I mean yes, professional, you look great!” He smiled, pushing a shoulder length curl behind his ear.

You blushed, but quickly forced yourself to regain your composure. “So I’ll meet you here at 7 tomorrow-” You paused looking at him for his name. 

“Dr. Reid, well, Spencer, call me Spencer.” 

“Spencer.” You smiled. “I will see you tomorrow then.” 

That was the first time you met Spencer Reid.

________________________________________________________________

The next morning, Spencer arrived 30 minutes early to the coffee shop to get a table, he felt fidgety and nervous. He hadn’t even caught your name yesterday before you left and he felt like an idiot. Of course he bumps into the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, spilt coffee all over her, AND forgot to ask her her name. Part of him was worried you wouldn’t even show up, it’s not exactly the best first meeting. 

30 minutes later when you walked in, he thanked a God he didn’t even believe in. You looked less bewildered than you did yesterday, but no less beautiful. 

You had chosen to go for a business casual look, your hair curled and flowing past your shoulders, a deep red blouse, black denim jeans, and black heeled boots. You had Spencer’s cardigan draped over your arm, you had made sure to wash it before giving back to him. 

You searched around the patrons until your eyes met Spencer’s, your whole face lit up as you made your way over to him. 

You had no idea that somebody else was watching you as you made your way over to him. You were too distracted by Spencer to feel the angry gaze that burned into your back.

“Hi.” You said shyly as you sat down. 

“Hey.” Spencer said smiling at you. 

“Were you waiting long?” You asked, a concerned look crossing your face.

“Oh no, not at all, I just came a few minutes early to get us a good seat.” Spencer lied, not wanting you to know how early he actually came. 

“Well you choose right, this is the best seat in the house. It’s right by the counter where you pick up coffee, but it’s the perfect window seat to people watch.” You explained. 

“Yeah, did you know coffee is actually a fruit?” Spencer asked you. “They’re actually the pit of a berry and grow on a bush. 

You let out a giggle, “No, I had no idea that was even a thing. At least I can use that as an excuse when I get chastised for drinking too much. Where did you learn that?” 

Spencer blushed. “I tend to pick up random knowledge here and there. Which reminds me, I never got your name yesterday before you ran off.” 

“Well Dr. Spencer Reid, my name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You grinned offering him a hand. “No fancy title, but I am doing my best for simply being a Miss.” 

Spencer would usually avoid handshakes due to all the germs, however he wanted nothing more than to shake your hand, which was warm and soft. 

“(Y/N).” He tested your name out on his tongue. You smiled. 

“Have you gotten a coffee yet?” You asked him, getting up to head to order.

“I had one a bit earlier, but I could use another one.” Spencer answered, getting up to follow you. 

As you approached the counter you tried to ignore the smug look Ava gave you, praying she wouldn’t say anything. She gave Spencer a not so subtle up and down look, checking him out and obviously finding him attractive. You gave Ava a stern look that told her not to say a word. 

She just gave you a wink. Spencer had picked up on all of this, his profiler skills not missing a thing. A small smile crept across his face and he swallowed back a laugh. 

You gestured for Spencer to go first, “I’m buying, to thank you for letting me borrow your sweater yesterday.” 

Spencer looked at you in bewilderment. “No way! If anything I’m buying for destroying your coffee and spilling it all over your blouse before your ‘life changing’ meeting!”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Spencer, just order the damn coffee. I promise you it won’t break my bank. Especially after I got the design yesterday.” You grinned. 

 Ava let out a squeal. “You did not! Oh my god, I knew you could do it girl! All of your hard work paid off!” 

Spencer’s face lit up. “Congratulations! I’m glad our collision didn’t ruin anything.” 

You let out a laugh. “If anything I think your cardigan brought me good luck, I even got a couple compliments on it. I may just have to keep it.” You teased 

Spencer’s heart warmed at the idea of you wearing his clothes. “Well if it brought you that much luck, maybe I’ll just let you keep it.”

A voice behind the two of you cleared their throat. “Are you guys going to order? Some of us have places to be.” 

You glanced behind you at the woman, a small line had apparently grown behind you and Spencer.  “Sorry about that. Ava I’ll just do my usual. Do not let Spencer pay.” 

Ava raised her hands defensively. “I’m just here to make coffee love.” 

“I’ll just do a large coffee with extra cream and a lot of sugar.”  Spencer said. 

You went to grab your wallet from your purse, but Spencer cut you off, cash already in hand. 

“Spencer.” You whined and Spencer just shrugged. 

As you made your way to the counter, you found it a bit strange that James had just left your coffees there. Usually he would at least wait a moment to say hi before taking off to make more orders, but you shrugged it off, they did have a line right now so he probably had to focus on getting the coffees out to customers. 

Though the two of you only got to spend about an hour together, the two of you had immediately hit it off, completely unaware of the eyes that had been burning through you as they watched throughout what you and Spencer would later consider your first date. 

_______________________________________________________________

From there it was a whirlwind of dates snuck between cases and your design jobs. After a little over a month Spencer had asked to officially call you his girlfriend and you had obviously accepted.  

It was ridiculously cliche how quickly the both of you had fallen for each other, but you had just seemed to click right away. You loved Spencer’s logical mind that went on and on with random facts, he loved your creativity and energy. Your minds worked well together, helping each other out when the other got stuck. 

As your relationship progressed, you found yourself spending more and more time at each other's apartments.

“Ava, he's just a dream. I’ve never felt like this with anyone ever.” You explained joyfully. 

You had sat in your regular window seat, while Ava remained on the  other side of the service counter. It was a bit slow in the shop today, so she had come over to get all the details on “your smokeshow boyfriend.” Since she was the manager of the shop and beloved by her boss, she could get away with it.

“Oh hon, if he has a brother, let me know.” She purred, sneaking a glance over her shoulder to check on James who was holding down the fort for her. The boy stood by the register, poor thing looking a bit bored. 

James was a year younger than you and apparently starting grad school, but his shyness made him seem so much younger that you felt this slight protectiveness over him even if you only knew him from around the shop and stories from Ava. 

His eyes met yours and you gave him a sympathetic smile. He blushed deeply and turned away, scampering to busy himself. 

You looked back at Ava, giving a little nod towards James, “What about James? He seems sweet and he’s cute.” You waggled your eyebrows at her. 

Ava snickered. “(Y/N/N), he is sweet, but way too shy, he can barely look me in the eye. I need someone who’s more of a dom if you know what I mean.” She smirked. 

You pouted at her. “Poor James.” 

Ava shrugged, “He’ll find his someone. Anyway you’re switching the topic, back to your dreamboat. You said he was an FBI agent? That’s heroic and sexy.” 

You rolled your eyes at her. “Yes, he’s part of the Behavior Analysis Unit. They create profiles to help solve different criminal cases. It’s actually amazing. Spencer is giving a lecture about it at a college this Friday if you want to come with me.” 

“I’ll come, but only if I get to officially meet your sexy doctor superhero boyfriend.” Ava smirked. 

“Well obviously.” You smiled. 

________________________________________________________________

The boy’s breathing was heavy as he struggled to control his anger. He watched the Doctor’s tall form strutting across the stage, his long brown hair swinging back and forth as he broke down profiling and the criminal cases he and his BAU team had solved. 

From where he sat in the lecture hall he could watch the doctor while also keeping an eye on you. You were sitting near the front, your friend by your side.  It was hard to miss her with her deep purple hair, that’s how he always found you. Though to him, you outshined everyone in the room. Even the ridiculous doctor. 

He growled to himself as he observed your look of awe. He knew you two had made your relationship official. He knew almost every detail. Like how last weekend, the Doctor had come home early from a case and had surprised you with your favorite flowers: pink dahlias. You had spent the whole rest of the weekend together; you had brought him to your favorite Thai place, then went to both of your favorite bookstores. He knew everything. 

He knew where you lived, your schedule, the design projects you were working on. He watched and he listened. He followed you home some days. Other days, he would simply wait outside your apartment building. He knew what window to watch if he wanted to catch a glimpse of you. 

The worst days are when the Doctor would be with you. He would watch as you two joked around and kissed, it made him sick. 

He didn’t like the Doctor. He hated hearing him ramble on to you. Fact after fact, never shutting up. But he understood him as he had researched him, found his accomplishments; he was a prodigal, graduating high school at the age of 12 and earned three PhDs. He worked for the FBI, catching criminals and profiling them. The Doctor constantly had something to prove, how could you be with a man so weak?

The Doctor was someone who could hardly befriend anyone besides his books, so how had the Doctor gotten you, when he had always been there? The Doctor did not deserve you, the Doctor could not give you what he could. Yet here you were, giving this man a ridiculous moon-eyed look that he did not deserve. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. He got up and left. 

He made his way down the hall towards an all-too familiar office, one that he practically lived in. 

He was greeted by his usual cheery eyed professor, Professor Irving. 

Never one to miss anything, Professor Irving raised an eyebrow. “You’re back early, how was the lecture?” Professor Irving asked. “Isn’t that Dr. Reid something else?”

“He’s alright. Someone worth looking into for sure. I left early to get ahead of these reports you wanted me to help grade, I do have a life outside of classes.” 

Professor Irving smirked at him. “Son, I have known you too long, the only three places you go are classes, your job, and your apartment. I was hoping this lecture would show you how much the world has to offer, I mean look at Dr. Reid! He was one of the youngest to ever join the BAU-”

“ENOUGH about Dr. Reid!” He growled, interrupting his professor. 

Professor Irving just stared at his student, shell-shocked. 

The boy shook his head and rubbed his face. “I’m sorry professor, that was uncalled for, I have just been stressed lately.” The boy began picking up the papers he had to grade. He wanted to get through some of these as quick as possible, that way he could spend his weekend with you. 

Professor Irving solemnly nodded. “I understand. I know you’ve been stressed lately, is that girl of yours acting up still?”

The boy sighed as he shrugged on his bag full of student’s reports. “Something like that. Listen, I know you said Dr. Reid is going to continue to come back and give lectures every few weeks or so. I will go to those ones and actually stay for them. Who knows? Maybe it will help me with my thesis paper. I just- I just can’t focus tonight, but I will do better. I promise.” 

Professor Irving nodded. “Of course, let me know if there is anything I can do to help.” 

The boy nodded then left the room.

________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST:

@andiebeaword @haylaansmi @parkastoria @possessedjoker @amronsparty @generaltheoristexpert @sierraraeck @coniumalces @tamedbyafox @anotherr-fine-mess @adoregin @rainsong01 @canyonnmoonn  @mggshoe @boxofsparklingmuses @richardpapensmuse @deanlenaz​ @rainsong01 @goldentournesol @annesauriol @itsametaphorbriansblog @secretpickleprofessordean @shameleswhorehourstm @stepsofthefbi​ @iifloweringnightsii 

[silverlightqueen]

Blood Lust

silverlightqueen’s SKZ Scarefest

vampire!hyunjin x human!reader - smutty smut smut lmao, fluff, a little bit of angst ig, fwb type vibe except the benefits include Hyunjin feeding on y/n lol

Word Count: 10.4k+ (I got carried away, I’m sorry lmao)

Summary - Having a part time job whilst at university is standard, right? Babysitting, bartending, retail, hospitality? Well, y/n’s job is a little… different. Or maybe a lot different. Depends on whether you find being a hot vampire’s personal blood bag weird or not.

Warnings: biting, blood, blood consumption, unrequited love, possessiveness, toxicity in a not-relationship, unprotected sex, intercourse, rough sex and softish sex, softdom!hyunjin x sub!reader, very brief sub!hyunjin, very explicit dirty talk, asphyxiation, slight body worship, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), hair pulling, teasing, mouth fucking, begging, praise, hickeys, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, lots of soft aftercare, sexual and non-sexual nudity, I think that’s it but please let me know if you notice that I missed something!

a/n: and here is the fourth (and my favourite) instalment of my SKZ Scarefest! I had so much fun writing this absolute filth and I hope you guys enjoy reading it! thank you @silverlightprincess​ for proofreading, I love you! please be sure to check out the previous parts and keep an eye out for the next parts x

taglist: @kodzu-ken​ @cloudsgathering​ @silverlightprincess

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‘Took you long enough,’ Hyunjin says when I answer the door, and I give him an apologetic smile, making my eyes wide the way he can never resist, and I can see him fighting to keep the smile off his face. ‘Sorry. I was just… doing something,’ I say as I move aside to let him in, and he raises an eyebrow, slipping off his shoes. ‘Doing what?’ he asks, suspicious, and I avoid his gaze, locking the door after him. ‘I… um-’ ‘Let me guess. You forgot to have your iron supplements and remembered when I knocked on the door?’ he asks dryly, and I give him a weak smile, making him let out an annoyed huff.

‘y/n, I’m hungry. It’s been over a week,’ he complains, and I roll my eyes, trying to hide how endeared I always get at his complaining – he might be a big bad vampire to his clan, but he’s just a whiny little baby when he’s with me. ‘I’m sorry, Jinnie. It’s hard to remember, because I never used to take them,’ I say in my softest voice, knowing he won’t stay annoyed at me, and he just sighs, heading into the living room of my apartment. ‘And you used to wonder why you fainted all the time,’ he says exasperatedly, throwing himself down on my sofa.

When I first started at university, I was – to put it simply – broke as hell. My student loan funded my school supplies and my travel costs, and the money I earned working at my uncle’s restaurant paid for my driving lessons. I had no spare income to spend on anything else – I was still living with my parents, so I wasn’t homeless or hungry or anything. But I had no money for clothes, or nights out, or… anything other than the basic necessities.

When it got to the start of second year, and my uncle had to close his restaurant because he was getting a few customers a night if he was lucky (at every family gathering, he gets drunk and rambles about how Uber Eats murdered his business), I was desperate; I couldn’t pay for my driving lessons anymore, and I was having to buy a lot more supplies for school. One of my friends, Yeji, knew that I was struggling with money, and decided to confide in me about an arrangement she had with a friend of hers.

Her friend, Chan, was the leader of a vampire clan, she’d told me, and she was his blood donor. They’d meet a couple times a week, and he’d feed on her and pay her for it. I was fascinated – I knew vampires existed, but I never knew one personally, or knew anyone that knew one either, so to hear about Yeji’s arrangement astounded me. According to Yeji, vampires tend to drink from blood bags rather than from humans these days, but they still prefer blood from the source. So when Chan had offhandedly mentioned to Yeji that he was looking for a blood donor, she asked how much he was willing to pay. When she heard, she instantly offered to be his donor, knowing that that much money per feed would fund the rest of her university life after just a couple weeks.

I’d had so many questions for her. When I asked if it hurt, she told me the initial puncture felt a little like an injection, and then after that, she wouldn’t really feel anything other than it being a little uncomfortable to hold her neck at such an awkward angle. It would leave her feeling drowsy and weak, but Chan would feed her a little of his blood, just to strengthen her, and she would feel back to herself within no time. The two little scars on her neck would take a while to fade, but she said they were easy enough to cover up with makeup. I’d heard that being fed on was pleasurable, and almost sexual, but when I mentioned that to Yeji, she grimaced and said that it wasn’t at all like that. For her and Chan, it was a business transaction between good friends, and nothing more.

I was intrigued, to say the least, and I’d gone home that night thinking about the possibility of becoming a blood donor to a vampire. The next day, Yeji had run up to me excitedly, to tell me that one of Chan’s clan members was looking for a donor. Only a week later, I was waiting to meet him at a coffee shop, as though it was a blind date. I felt so nervous, worried that he’d take one look at me and walk straight back out. But the second he walked in and his eyes met mine, my heart stopped.

He was adorable, painfully so – with his soft brown hair falling over his cute glasses, and his light academia boyfriend aesthetic. He looked around my own age, but Yeji had told me that he was, in fact, 318 years old at the time (we celebrated his 320th birthday just a few months ago). He sat down with a shy smile, and I was lost for words. He had none of the pale skin or brooding moody looks or all black outfits – he was quite tanned with a friendly face and dressed in soft neutrals. I couldn’t believe that this harmless looking soft boy was a blood-sucking vampire. There was no way.

He bought us a coffee each, and bought me a caramel shortbread because, he told me shyly, it looked as sweet as me. We spoke for hours, our conversation quickly changing from generic and awkward, to comfortable and deep. I explained how difficult it was to fund life at university without putting pressure on my low-income parents to support me, and he explained his life as a vampire. We left the coffee shop at closing time, Hyunjin insisting on walking me home, and we parted with the decision that I would become his blood donor.

We met again, only a week later, with the same shy smiles and slightly awkward conversation. This time, I’d gone to the house that he shared with some of the clan members, but nobody else was at home. It was just us. We’d slowly worked up to it, and when Hyunjin was stood before me, neck bent so that his mouth brushed against the skin of my throat, I felt relaxed and prepared due to his gentle comforting and support. I tried my hardest not to tense when I felt his fangs puncture my skin, wincing a little at the sharp pain, but before I had time to get used to the feeling of someone drinking my blood, Hyunjin had pulled away, coughing up all my blood over his hoodie.

‘What’s the matter? Are you okay?’ I’d asked, and Hyunjin had wiped at his mouth, face twisted in disgust. ‘y/n, I’m really sorry, but your blood is… gross,’ he’d said bluntly, still coughing between each word. This had hurt more than you’d expect – somehow, it’s not a nice feeling to hear that a vampire finds your blood disgusting enough to cough it all back up. ‘Oh. I’m really sorry,’ I’d said, feeling humiliated, and Hyunjin had waved his hand in the air, swigging down some water. ‘No, don’t apologise. I just… I was just surprised. Do you not know you’re anaemic?’ he’d asked, and I’d blinked at him in surprise. ‘Anaemic?’ I’d echoed, and he’d nodded, an amused smile playing at his lips. ‘Your blood has, like, no iron in it. Drinking your blood was like… drinking bitter coffee. Just how you’d add milk and sugar to coffee, your blood needs iron.’

He’d left me in his room whilst he went to get me some iron supplements, and I’d eaten two of the gummy vitamins when he’d handed them to me. We’d waited for half an hour, and then we’d tried it again, sat on his bed this time. His fangs slid into the two little holes they’d made earlier, not as painful this time around, and he didn’t pull away this time either, instead pulling me closer with his strong arms. It was a weird sensation, not a… nasty one, but just weird. With each hungry gulp he took, I’d felt myself getting drowsier and drowsier, head becoming light, and my eyes slid shut after around thirty seconds.

I’d felt Hyunjin pull away only a few moments after that, and he’d shook me lightly, just to keep me awake. ‘Let me feed you some of my blood,’ he’d murmured gently, lifting his wrist to his mouth and piercing the skin. He’d held his wrist to my mouth then, and I’d gently sucked at his skin, tasting the metallic tang of his blood on my tongue. Seconds later, I felt wide awake, like nothing had happened at all.

For the next year, I went to his house twice a week for a few hours at a time. We’d usually watch a film or play a video game or just sit on our phones together in his room, when he wasn’t drinking my blood, of course. It didn’t take me long to realise he wasn’t exactly the shy soft boy I met that first day. Don’t get me wrong – he was still a little quiet sometimes, awkward and clumsy, a total scaredy cat, and he’d be shy around new people. But after a few weeks, once he was much more comfortable around me, different elements of his personality came out too. He was flirty and bratty and sassy and he could be a total whore – he loved his loose comfy clothes, but he also loved his tighter-than-skin jeans and slightly see-through shirts, leather and silk and expensive cotton blends, in black and navy tones. But he was also sensitive and emotional, thoughtful and sweet. It was soon obvious to me that he was multi-dimensional as a person, complex with so many levels, and I’d wanted nothing more than to get to know them all.

I met the majority of his clan members over that time, and they were all just as nice as Hyunjin. I spent a lot of time with them, because Yeji and our friends were friends with them too. We went to parties together, had a lot of movie nights or ordered takeout together at their clan house, meaning I spent more time with Hyunjin than I did with anyone else, which did nothing for my hopeless crush on him. But I didn’t mind that my attraction to him wasn’t reciprocated because we were slowly becoming best friends.

He was always so careful with me, so gentle, like I was an antique vase or a fine china teacup. He’d hold me close to him with a firm grip, and he’d take slow and steady gulps, never making more than two punctures in my skin when he fed on me. He would never have us sitting in one position for too long or feed on me for more than two minutes at a time – when he was particularly hungry, he’d feed on me three or four times in one sitting, but only for two minutes at a time. When he’d pull away, there was never any blood around his mouth like you see in the films, and no blood staining my neck either. He was clean and careful, always cautious of hurting me, and I was so grateful for that. Sometimes I’d run into Yeji at the house, after Chan had fed on her, and every now and then, she’d have blood all over her neck and shoulder or her clothes and hair would be a mess from Chan losing his composure and being a little rougher with her than usual. I would thank God each time, so lucky that Hyunjin treated me like a fragile doll.

After a year, I’d made enough money from being his donor – or, as Jisung loved to call me, Hyunjin’s personal blood bag – that I could put a deposit down on an apartment. I’d told my parents that I was working as an assistant at an accountancy firm when I didn’t have any lectures or seminars at university, which is why I was making so much money, and that Hyunjin was the only co-worker my own age, which is why I was with him so much. I moved into an apartment block around ten minutes from the clan house, on the same floor as Chaeryeong, and Hyunjin helped me move in. A couple of the other clan boys chipped in too so that, and I quote, ‘you have to let us stay with you when we want a break from the clan’.

Only a month after living at the apartment, I’d woken up in the middle of the night to someone hammering at the door. I’d jumped out of bed, dressed in just a little vest and satin shorts, arms and legs bare, stepping into my slippers as I rushed to the door. I’d had my phone in my hand and had typed in the number for the emergency services, ready to phone them if this was someone trying to rob me, and I’d opened the door carefully. Before I could even process what was going on, Hyunjin had burst in and thrown himself at me, pulling me into his arms and burying his head in my neck, my legs instinctually wrapping around his waist to keep myself steady.

‘Jin, are you oka-’ ‘I’m really fucking drunk, and all I could think about was you, and how hot you are, and how fucking amazing your blood is, and how much I wanna drain you dry, so I ditched the boys because I missed you too fucking much,’ he’d growled in my ear, making my eyes widen in shock and my underwear dampen embarrassingly quickly. He’d chuckled, taking a deep breath, before whispering, ‘judging by the sweet smell coming from your pussy, doll, I think you like the sound of that too.’

He’d kicked the door shut behind him and, with his vamp speed, we were in my bedroom only a few moments later, the vampire boy dropping me onto the bed and climbing over me instantly. ‘Listen, y/n, I’m not exaggerating when I say that I’m really, really drunk. Like… I’m wasted,’ he’d murmured into the skin of my neck, hands roughly trailing up and down the sides of my body. ‘I can tell,’ I’d replied breathlessly, hands tangled into his soft black locks, fluffy and messy around his forehead. ‘Which means… I’m not gonna be able to hold back. I probably won’t be gentle like I always am, because that always takes a lot of self-control, which I don’t… really have at the moment. So if you need me to stop, say… werewolf,’ he’d said against my skin, saying the last word with disdain. The werewolves and vampires had always had a long-standing rivalry, and he was obviously aware that the word would pull him out of any desire-filled reverie.

He hadn’t even given me a moment to reply before he’d sunk his teeth into my neck, rough and harsh, and I’d let out a gasp into his ear, his hands gripping onto my waist. He’d sucked at my neck, drinking my blood desperately, and I could feel it dripping down my shoulder and chest. And usually, when I wouldn’t be able to feel anything because of how gentle he was, all I could feel was pleasure, pure hot pleasure flooding through my veins. It was heavenly, and I’d let out little moans and whimpers into his ear, making him even more desperate, with my hands on his back, nails digging in through his thin white shirt.

It wasn’t long before his big veiny hands were wandering eagerly around my body, one palming at my breast and rolling the hard nipple between his fingertips, the other slipping under my shorts and pressing against my clothed core, my wetness having seeped through my underwear. He’d moved away from my neck and looked down at me with ruby red eyes, his jet black hair a sweaty mess and my blood dripping down his chin in harsh red lines. ‘Fuck, y/n, you’re so fucking hot. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,’ he’d growled, his pointed fangs on full display, making my chest tighten with desire. ‘Can I fuck you, doll? I need you so fucking bad right now,’ he’d asked lowly, hands both stilling against my body, and I’d instantly replied, ‘yes, Hyunjin, please.’

Now, another year later, it’s pretty common that we fuck when he feeds on me. I found out that it was so difficult for him to feed on me as gently as he used to, desperate to just throw me against a wall and drain me of every drop. But when I’d look at him nervously with my ‘big innocent eyes’, he knew he couldn’t hurt me. But that night, we’d found out that messy and rough feeding just felt… so much better. We’d also found out a lot of other things since that night; Hyunjin loves biting me in places other than my neck – my boobs and the insides of my thighs are his personal favourites – and I love it when he’s fucking me and bites me just as I’m about to cum – it heightens the pleasure a thousand times, making me see white and scream his name out like it’s being torn from my throat.

But, to my slight disappointment, sex is all it is. We’re like friends with benefits, but the benefits include feeding on me as well as sex. A lot of other things have changed though. Hyunjin practically lives at the apartment now – he sleeps here 4 or 5 nights a week. It’s like we share the apartment; he’s got as many of his belongings here as I do. I don’t mind it, though. He is pretty much my best friend, so spending time together is enjoyable, even if it means I’m falling more and more for him. Hyunjin’s paid me enough over the past couple years for me to be able to do my master’s degree, and I also managed to get a part time job at the coffee shop where Hyunjin and I first met, so it doesn’t feel like I’m solely relying on the money he gives me (it’s enough to fund me, but I don’t want him to think I’m like his little blood bag and nothing more – I basically am but we won’t talk about that).

This last week, though, I went away with the girls for a little last minute break to Rome (we’d planned to go for two weeks but then we would’ve missed Jackson’s Halloween party in a few days, and it’s already being called the party of the year, so we decided to just go for a week), and so he’s had to drink from blood bags whilst I was gone. He was sending me all these sad snapchats of him pouting with a straw in his mouth, wishing he was drinking from me instead – I think he wanted me to react to it with pity, but instead it was just turning me on. I landed back a couple hours ago, and I forgot to have my iron supplement vitamins when I arrived at the apartment, so he’s right – I had them when he knocked on the door.

I look down at him, sprawled out on his side of the sofa, his black locks a stark contrast against the grey cushions. He looks like such a boyfriend, dressed in a thin white t-shirt and a pair of grey joggers, white socks on his feet, glasses on his face and a silver chain around his neck. He looks up at me with a small grin on his face, eyes scanning my body. ‘You look hot, doll,’ he smirks, and I feel my cheeks heating up. I’m only in comfy travel clothes but he’s looking at me like I’m dressed up to the nines. ‘Thank you, Jin,’ I reply, sitting down beside him and letting him pull my legs across his lap.

‘I’m being serious. You look all glowy. And you’ve tanned a little. Did you have fun?’ he asks, hands skimming up and down my legs. ‘I loved it, Jin. We should go together. Everything was so beautiful. The sights are amazing, the weather is gorgeous, the food is delicious, the people are so lovely. The vibes there are just perfect. You’d love it,’ I tell him, and he just watches me as I speak, a small smile on his plump lips. ‘You’ll have to take me one day, angel,’ he murmurs, and I nod, unable to keep the shy smile from my face.

‘I saw on Ryujin’s story,’ he begins, and I knew this was coming, my heart sinking a little as he continues, ‘that you guys made friends with the people staying in the hotel room next to you. What were they like?’ ‘They were nice. We didn’t actually speak to them ‘til the fourth day, then we had dinner and drinks together on the fifth day, went sightseeing together on the sixth, and shopping together on the seventh. But, yeah, they were okay. They were a bit too… boisterous and noisy for my liking, but the girls got on with them, so I didn’t mind spending time with them,’ I explain honestly, and he just nods, looking like he still has more questions. ‘How many of them were there?’ ‘There were eight boys, and four of them brought their girlfriends. I got along better with their girlfriends than them, to be honest,’ I say lightly, Hyunjin just looking at me unreadably. ‘So you spent a few days in Rome with four single guys?’ he asks, voice tight, and I let out a gentle sigh.

‘Jin, do-’ ‘Answer the question, y/n.’ ‘Yes, we did. Is that a problem, Jin?’ ‘No, y/n, it’s not. Or, at least, it wouldn’t be, if you weren’t covered in a scent that isn’t yours,’ he says evenly, and my eyes widen. ‘I’m covered in someone else’s scent? Well… it must be Yuna’s, because we shared a bed. Or Lia’s – I wore her hoodie on the flight ba-’ ‘No, y/n. I’ve spent enough time with Yuna and Lia to know what they smell like. That’s not the scent on you. You smell like a human boy. So stop lying and tell me why,’ he says, voice tight, and I sigh. ‘Jin, I’m not lying. I didn’t, like, sleep with any of them, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ ‘Then why do you smell like a human boy?’ he asks slowly, obviously trying to keep his composure, and I take a deep breath.

‘I was sat next to one of them on the flight back, and he fell asleep. His head fell on my shoulder a couple times, and I felt bad to wake him up, so I just le-’ ‘You just what, y/n? You let a random human boy sleep on you? Get his scent all over you?’ he demands, hands tightening on my legs and veins protruding from beneath his honey skin. ‘Are you being serious right now, Jin?’ ‘Yes, I am. You can’t just let random human boys get their scent all over you.’ ‘And why not?’ I demand, voice shaky with anger as I take my legs off his lap, and he glares at me. ‘Because I pay you a lot of money to feed on you, and I don’t want anyone else getting near what’s mine,’ he growls, butterflies exploding in my stomach when his eyes glow red.

‘But I’m not yours, Jin. You pay me to feed on me. That’s all. There was no agreement that I would stay away from any other boy!’ I exclaim, shocked at how ridiculous he’s being and trying to ignore how much my body is aching for him, and he scoffs. ‘You don’t need any other boy. I give you all the companionship you need, I fund you so you buy anything you want, and I keep you satisfied. That’s all you need,’ he says simply, and my mouth falls open slightly. ‘What if I wanted a boyfriend? An actual relationship with a boy who loves me?’ I ask, giving him a chance to say what I so want him to say, and his eyes flash momentarily before he says, ‘you don’t want a relationship.’ ‘What if I did?’ ‘We’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it. But, for now, you’re mine, y/n, and you know it. I don’t want you getting any other boys’ scents on you again, understood?’ he asks, and I just stare at him in shock, unable to believe how unreasonably he’s behaving.

He gives me a few seconds to reply and when I don’t, he moves so quickly I don’t even realise what’s happened until he’s hovering over me, my back pressing into the sofa, and his hand is pressed to my throat tightly. ‘I asked you if you understand,’ he says lowly, eyes glowing red and fangs glinting in the mellow light of the lamp, threateningly sharp. ‘No, Jin, I don’t. I don’t understand why I should have to stay away from other boys,’ I whisper, heart nearly beating out of my chest, and he lets out a harsh scoff. ‘Because you don’t need them. You only need me,’ he growls, tightening his grip on my throat, and I let out a little gasp of surprise, already feeling a slight dizziness in my head.

‘You only want me, too,’ he whispers, ducking his head so that his soft lips move against the skin over my collarbones, releasing my throat and moving his hand to hold my waist instead. ‘You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know how much you want me, doll? You forget how well I know you, much better than you can ever know yourself. I can sense your every thought, your every feeling – I can smell it on you. The way the serotonin rolls off you in waves when you look at me, the way you drip with dopamine when we touch, the way I feel like I’m drunk on your endorphins whenever I’m around. My presence makes you want me, angel, and we both know it,’ he murmurs softly between gentle kisses, fluffy hair tickling against my cheek, and all I can feel, more with each word, is complete and utter humiliation. Never once has he – or any of the other vampires I see on a daily basis – told me that they can do that – can sense humans’ emotions.

He lets out a gentle chuckle, pushing himself up on one forearm to look down at me with a half-smirk. ‘Don’t be embarrassed, doll. I love it – I really fucking love it – that you want me as much as I want you. As much as I’ve always wanted you, since the first moment I set eyes on you. It consumes me, angel, how much I want you,’ he admits, not looking me in the eyes as his hand slowly makes its way up from my waist to brush my hair back from my face, and the butterflies in my stomach are unbearable. ‘How much do you want me?’ I ask without thinking, the words coming out as a whisper, and his eyes flit up to meet mine, both of us silent as I wait for him to speak, hoping to God he’s going to say he wants me just as much as I want him – more than just sexually. ‘More than you can ever know, princess,’ he murmurs, sparkly brown eyes locking with mine, and my heart jumps at the nickname he so rarely calls me – I’m doll every day, angel when he’s in the mood, but I’m only princess every now and then, when his eyes sparkle the way they are now, like he’s looking at the universe and it’s reflected back in those beautiful brown eyes.

‘Let me… let me show you?’ he whispers, the words coming out slightly questioning, and I can’t help the small smile that spreads across my lips, despite not hearing quite what I wanted to. I slide my hand around the back of his neck, fingers pressing into his soft skin as I pull him down to me, eyes sliding shut as his lips meet mine. I never used to understand the hype over kissing. I never had any of the fireworks, the passion, the clashing tongues and teeth like you read in books and see in films. I only ever kissed one boy, once, and it was quite awkward – he practically tried to suck off my face from the get-go, his hands clamped on my shoulders. But Hyunjin, god, is he good at kissing? I could kiss him for the rest of my life, with his soft plump lips and his hands trailing all over my body.

He barely waits a second before parting my lips with his, tongue sliding into my mouth without a moment of hesitation and his big hand pressing against my waist. I tangle my hands into his hair, soft locks sliding between my fingers, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me, as close as physically possible. Before I even have a chance to start feeling uncomfortable, I feel a rush a movement, and not even a few seconds later, I’m on my bed beneath him, our lips still pressed together.

He turns us over, my body laid on top of his, and I forget momentarily that my weight atop him is nothing in comparison to the kind of weight he can carry. I practically melt into him, my body melding into the curves and contours of his body, fitting us together like puzzle pieces. He slides his hands into my hair, the feeling of his fingers against my scalp making me let out a soft whine. ‘You’re fucking perfect, doll,’ he groans against my lips, my entire body tingling as our mouths move in sync, slow and passionate, not nearly as rushed and desperate as usual. His touches are gentle, careful and tender, where he usually holds me in a bruisingly tight grip, rough and possessive.

I slide my hands under his t-shirt tentatively, and he doesn’t even hesitate to sit up, breaking away from me momentarily as I pull the top over his head, throwing it over my shoulder as he reattaches his lips to mine. I slide my hands over his torso, fingers roaming over the ridges of his hard abs, his skin radiating heat. Vampires might have no circulation but the rumour about them being freezing cold all the time is false – their body temperature automatically regulates to the temperature around them, meaning he’s just as hot as I am right now.

His hands slide under my shirt, and we break apart again for him to pull it over my head, instantly leaning down to suck at the exposed skin of my breasts as he cups them, big hands covering them completely. I let out gentle whines, head falling back, and one of his hands comes to rest at the base of my exposed throat, asserting his dominance – I might be on top of him right now, but we both know who’s in charge here.

He doesn’t wait long before turning us over, kissing me for a few more moments before he climbs off me, standing at the foot of the bed. He gently grabs my ankles, pulling me down the bed, and I let out a gentle giggle, a smile on his face at the sound. He pulls off my socks, momentarily tickling the underside of one foot, and a startled laugh is forced out of me as I kick at his hand to make him stop. He reaches for the drawstring of my joggers with a grin, tugging it open deftly and pulling them down my legs swiftly.

My black underwear isn’t anything special, just a plain cotton bra and my high-waisted comfy granny pants, but his eyes trawl over my body like I’m in the finest lingerie, the bulge in his joggers becoming a little more noticeable, making my mouth water embarrassingly quickly – I could live on my knees for Hyunjin if that’s what he wanted me to do. His eyes meet mine, a small smirk on his lips as he drops to his knees, pulling me further down the bed so that my legs are slung over his broad shoulders, heels resting against his strong back.

His hands grab at my pants, ripping them away from my body effortlessly, reminding me again of just how strong he is – he could literally crush my neck without a single hair of his moving out of place. He spreads my legs further, eyes locked onto my core, and he lets out a gentle groan. ‘Fuck, so wet for me, angel,’ he murmurs, running a finger over my slit, a desperate whimper falling from my lips. ‘I don’t need prepping – just want you, Jin,’ I murmur, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. ‘That’s the spirit, doll, but I don’t wanna rip you in half. We’ll see how well you take my fingers first,’ he says amusedly, not giving me a second to reply before he plunges a finger into me.

I gasp loudly, but the pleasure disappears with his finger which he lifts to his lips, eyes locked with mine as he licks his finger clean of my essence. His eyes flutter shut momentarily as he lets out a low moan, my pussy flooding at the sound. ‘You taste amazing, so fucking sweet. This pussy was made for me to eat, wasn’t it, angel?’ he asks, and when I take a second to reply, he raises an eyebrow, prompting me. ‘Yes, Jin, only for you,’ I reply hastily, and a satisfied smile spreads across his lips.

His finger slips between my folds again, and he doesn’t give me a second to react before he adds another, trying to work me open a little. ‘You’re so tight, doll. And you said you didn’t need prepping,’ he laughs, curling his long fingers inside me, making me clench around him. He slowly pumps in and out of me, rocking his hand against me gently, and I let out moan after moan at this completely foreign feeling. He’s always so quick, so desperate to have me fall apart on his hand as fast as I could, but this? This is different, this is slow, heavenly, like he wants me to enjoy this blissful feeling.

He adds another finger, just about fitting inside me, and I throw my head back against the bed, back arching up as I let out a loud moan of his name. ‘Fuck, angel, you’re killing me. Love your pretty moans,’ I hear him murmur, his voice just about breaking through the pleasure that rolls over me like waves crashing, and his thumb appears at my clit, rubbing slow circles that make me whimper desperately. I look down at him, stomach turning when I realise he’s been watching me, eyes studying my face for my reactions as his fingers work their magic, and I can barely maintain his eye contact, hearing him chuckle when my head falls back, mouth falling open in a moan.

His fingers disappear from inside me after a few minutes, giving me a momentary reprieve from the overwhelming pleasure as he moves closer to me, warm breath fanning out over my core. ‘Oh, god,’ I moan out when he licks a long stripe up my slit without warning. My hands instantly reach down to tangle into his hair, tugging at the locks as he sucks at my clit with his plump lips, making my toes curl. He flicks his tongue over my folds, whimpers spilling from my lips as I squirm, and Hyunjin puts one arm over my waist, pressing down to hold me in place.

He pokes his tongue between my folds, gently pushing into my core, and my mouth falls open into a silent scream when he begins to slowly rub at my clit with his thumb, my legs slamming into his back and pulling him even closer, as close as possible, his head completely buried between my legs. Wet and obscene slurping sounds drown out my desperate moans, and Hyunjin begins to let out grunts and groans against me, lapping at me like a man possessed.

I feel myself getting closer, the knot in my stomach tightening as Hyunjin sucks at my clit, pushing two fingers into me and pumping them at a mind-numbing pace. ‘Gonna cum for me, angel?’ he hums against me, and I can’t even muster up the sanity to reply, just moaning out his name, and he lets out a low chuckle before flicking his tongue over my sensitive bud, fingers curling against the spongy spot inside me. I tense up completely, head pressed back into the bed as I call out his name in a moan, releasing all over his hand and tongue. He works me through my orgasm, gently rocking his hand against me as he laps at my folds. ‘God, you taste amazing,’ he murmurs once I’ve come down from my high, licking the last bit of my release from his fingers, and it takes all my effort to lock my eyes with his as he does so, his lips quirking up into a smirk.

And then he lifts his wrist to his mouth, and I know what’s coming, stomach turning with excitement as he bites down into the skin. When he pulls his wrist away from his mouth, I push myself up onto my hands shakily, leaning forward to his wrist that he holds out to me, blood blooming from the smallest little wounds in his skin. I hold his arm to my mouth, sucking at the dots of blood, the metallic taste exploding on my tongue, and not a second after swallowing it down, I feel my energy coming back, regaining my strength quickly.

He pulls his arm away after a few seconds, his focus returning to between my legs, but when he lowers his head, his lips land on my inner thigh rather than my pussy, and I brace myself for the initial sting. His sharp fangs puncture into my soft thigh, the smallest sharp pain making me wince, but it quickly disappears when he hungrily gulps down my blood, messy and desperate. He lets out groans against my thigh, my blood dripping down my skin as he drinks me like a man starved, and I can already feel myself weakening, the pleasure making my head light and dizzy. He lifts his arm up again after a few moments, the two tiny puncture wounds still bleeding, and I lick it up, the weakness disappearing instantly.

He pulls away after around a minute, my blood dripping down his chin in two lines from the corners of his mouth, as though he’s greedily taken more of me into his mouth than he could handle, and he smirks at me as I wipe it up, putting my now bloodstained finger to his lips. He licks my finger in one swift motion, eyes closing as he savours the taste. ‘It’s not fair, angel. You shouldn’t have such a sweet pussy and delicious blood. You’ve got the whole package,’ he murmurs lightly, making me laugh as he rises from his knees, a small smile playing at his lips.

He looks down at me, dark eyes flitting over my body, and I feel conscious under his intimidating gaze. He seems to sense that I want to curl in on myself, shield my body from his view, and he gives me a soft smile. ‘You’re so fucking beautiful, y/n, and you don’t even know it. You’re heavenly, angel,’ he murmurs softly, holding out a hand to me, and I take it, letting him pull me up from the bed and into his arms. He holds me so tenderly, so gently, that I can’t help but bury my head into his chest, his soft and floral scent flooding my senses.

‘Gonna let me fuck you, angel?’ he asks, voice low, and I take a step back from him, a small smile on my face. ‘Wanna suck your dick first,’ I reply, his eyes darkening instantly, and I can’t help the grin on my face when he groans, ‘you’re one of a fucking kind.’ I take his hand into mine, pulling him around to the side of the bed. I kneel on the bed, hands on his shoulders to steady myself, and once I’m comfortable, I pull the drawstring on his joggers open, slipping my hands under to push them halfway down his thighs. He’s wearing a pair of plain black boxers, his bulge straining against the material, but I don’t pull them down just yet, instead moving my attention to his torso.

He’s so perfect, sculpted by the Gods, and I can’t help but admire his body every time I see it, hands running up his stomach and chest, and over his big shoulders. I bring my lips up to his collarbone, kissing and sucking to leave a mark, threading my hands into the hair at the nape of his neck. He waits patiently, hands on my waist, lips letting out gentle sighs every now and then, and I can’t help but respect his self-control. He’s always so patient, putting me before himself, and I can’t even imagine how difficult it must be for him.

I take pity on him after a little while, moving from his neck and looking up at him with a small smile as my hands trail down to his underwear. I slip my hands beneath the waistband, pulling his boxers down just enough for his hard length to spring up against his stomach, Hyunjin letting out a gentle hiss. He’s so long with a perfect curve (he has the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen), and his head is painfully swollen and red, the tip leaking with milky white precum. My mouth waters at the sight.

I lean down and press a kiss to the tip, tongue sliding out to taste some of his precum, and he lets out a shaky breath. I spread his wetness down his length with one hand, his hands coming to tangle into my hair. I place my tongue at the base, licking up to the tip against the vein on the underside of his cock, and he tenses as I do so, gripping my hair tightly. I take his head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around him as my hands slowly rub the rest of his length. I look up at him through my lashes as I take him further into my mouth, feeling him hit the back of my throat, and his head falls back, a soft moan falling from his lips.

I gradually build my pace, steadily bobbing my head on him and taking him as far in as possible. ‘Such a good girl, doll,’ he groans, gentle moans falling from his lips more and more often now, and I know it isn’t going to be long before he loses all control. I’m just beginning to adjust to having him hit the back of my throat with each bob of my head when his hips start twitching, and he begins thrusting into my mouth, controlling my head movements with his hands fisted into my hair. All I can do I grab onto the backs of his thighs as he fucks my mouth, my eyes beginning to water. His tip hits the back of my throat harshly, and I gag around him loudly, making him curse as he bucks into my throat.

‘Swallow,’ he instructs, voice not nearly as gentle and soft as a few minutes ago, and I try my best to do so, my throat contracting around him in noisy gags. ‘Come on, doll, you can take me further than that,’ he says teasingly, before pulling my head forward, his cock pushing down my throat and my lips wrapped around the base of his cock, and he can barely thrust back and forth because of how tight my throat is around him, desperately gagging to push him back out. Tears stream down my face, saliva running down my chin, and my choked gags and desperate breaths mingling with his soft grunts and whispered words of comfort in the air.

I can feel him getting closer, his cock twitching in my throat, and I ready myself to feel his hot release hit the back of my throat, but he pulls me off him with a loud sigh, looking down at me with tender eyes. He wipes the saliva from my face with gentle fingers, tilting my head up to kiss away the tear tracks that stain my skin, hand stroking my hair soothingly. ‘Always so good for me, angel. Gonna let me fuck you now?’ he asks, our eyes locked together, and I nod eagerly. ‘Please, Jin, want you,’ I breathe out, throat hoarse, and he grins, pressing his lips to mine in a brief kiss.

‘Lie down for me,’ he says, and I do so, watching as he pulls his joggers and boxers down his legs and kicking them away impatiently before he joins me on the bed, hovering over me. ‘You’re still in your bra, doll. This won’t do,’ he grins, slipping a hand beneath my body to expertly unclasp my bra. I pull it off me quickly, throwing it off to the side as Hyunjin ducks his head, flicking his tongue across one nipple as he rolls the other between his fingers, toying and tugging at it gently. I let out a gentle whimper, tangling my fingers into his hair, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. ‘Want me to bite you, angel?’ he asks teasingly, and I let out a low moan as confirmation, feeling his sharp fangs slide into the soft flesh of my breast not a moment later.

I gasp loudly, pleasure flooding through my veins as he swallows down my blood hungrily, the heady haze of bliss settling over me more and more with each gulp. Whimpers and moans fall from my lips every few seconds, my hands in his hair pulling him closer and closer, one of his big hands gripping onto my waist, fingers rubbing against my skin comfortingly. He doesn’t drink a lot this time, having had more than enough from my thigh, so I don’t feel too weak, but he still feeds me a little of his blood when he’s done, making me smile up at him.

‘Are you sure you still want me to fuck you? Have you got enough energy?’ he asks softly, brushing my hair back from my face, and I nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. ‘I want it, Jinnie. I want you,’ I whisper against his lips, and I feel him grin, resting on one forearm as he rubs his head against my folds teasingly. ‘Jin… please,’ I breathe out, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and he lets out a low chuckle. ‘I like hearing you beg, doll,’ he murmurs, smile playing at his lips as he continues running his head up and down my folds, tapping the tip against my clit every few seconds, the wetness gushing from my core soaking him. ‘Please, Jin, need you to fuck me, fill me up with your cock, bite me and drain me dry, need it so bad,’ I plead pathetically, and his eyes darken at my words, the boy letting out a gentle ‘fuck’.

He sinks into me slowly, and I gasp as he inches in, enjoying the burning stretch and gripping onto his strong shoulders as I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me with my ankles locked together. He lets out a low groan when he bottoms out, our bodies lined up perfectly, and he brings his hand up to my mouth, slipping two fingers past my lips. I roll my tongue around them as he gives me a moment to stop clenching around him and adjust to the stretch. He pushes his fingers a little further in, making me gag around them, and I shoot him evils, Hyunjin trying to look apologetic, but failing miserably and looking amused instead.

‘Can I- fuck, angel, you gotta stop clenching, gonna make me cum. Can I move? Doll, please, I need to move,’ he pleads, the words coming out as a low whine, and I feel a thrill in my stomach. I can’t help but feel pride at being able to make Hyunjin – someone so dominant – whiny and submissive because he’s that desperate to fuck me. I hum out permission around his fingers, and he pulls all the way out before pushing back in, slow and deep, the drag of his cock against my walls making us both moan. ‘Fuck, so tight, angel. So wet and tight. Fucking love this pussy, doll,’ he growls as he fucks into me, dark eyes locked with mine as I moan around his fingers.

‘How’d you want it, y/n? Want me to fuck you slow, doll, or so hard you can’t walk tomorrow?’ he asks in a low voice, hips stilling as he pulls his fingers out of my mouth, and I let out a gentle whine, not quite sure what I want. ‘Anything, Jin, just need you,’ I whisper breathlessly, and he grins a cocky grin, his ego satisfied. His hand comes to the base of my throat, pads of his fingers resting against my blood vessels, and he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty, before slamming all the way back in, knocking all of the air out of me in a desperate moan, his balls slapping against my ass.

‘You were only gone a week but, fuck, I missed you so fucking much. Missed your sweet pussy and your sweet blood, angel. Couldn’t stop myself from jacking off to the thought of this tight, wet little cunt, doll,’ he growls against my ear, his hand at my throat tightening just a little, and I let out a pathetic whimper in reply, his words sending a fresh wave of arousal gushing out of me, coating his thighs and abdomen. ‘So wet, doll, gushing around me. Did you miss my cock, angel?’ he asks between thrusts, my hands tangling into his soft locks, gripping tightly. ‘Missed your cock so much, Jin. Wanted you so fucking bad while I was gone. Never wanna leave you again,’ I try to say, half of it coming out as garbled nonsense and moans, and he lets out a low groan, his thrusts becoming even harder and deeper, his silver chain brushing against my chin with each thrust.

His hand tightens even more, completely cutting off my airflow, and my head instantly starts to become light, the pleasure increasing endlessly with each second. ‘More,’ I barely manage to breathe out, and he lets out a gentle chuckle, doing as I say, fucking me so hard that the bed creaks with each thrust. ‘My dirty little girl. Can’t even handle what I’m already giving you, and you’re asking for more. You forget how strong I am. I’m gonna tear you in half as this rate, angel,’ he murmurs against my ear, hand still tight at my throat, silver rings digging into my skin, and I don’t even feel fear, like I probably should. All I can feel is pure, hot need.

He moves one of my legs from around his waist, bringing it up between us so that my ankle rests on his shoulder, the new position allowing him to go deeper, so much deeper, and his tip scrapes against the spot inside me that makes me scream. He reaches down to rub at my clit, bringing me closer to my climax, and I can feel my vision beginning to go blank when he ducks his head to suck at my neck with his plump lips. The mixed sensations of his hand at my throat, his cock filling me up perfectly, his thumb at my clit and his mouth sucking marks onto my skin makes my eyes flutter shut, the pleasure overwhelming me.

‘Look at me, angel. Wanna see those pretty eyes while I fuck you,’ he growls, cock dragging against my walls, and it takes all my energy to open my eyes. His jaw is clenched, sweat dripping down his face, lips swollen, eyes dark and dilated, glinting red every few seconds, his chain dangling in my face. He looks like sin incarnate. ‘Fuck, you’re so pretty. So fucking pretty,’ he groans, releasing my throat from his tight grip, and I take a deep gasping breath, not even realising how much I needed to breathe. He holds his wrist to his mouth, biting at it again and pushing it against my mouth. I lick up the small drops of blood, quickly regaining my strength, and he presses his lips to mine once I’m done, in a brief passionate and sloppy kiss.

He breaks away from me with a grin, continuing to fuck me hard and deep, swollen tip scraping against the spongy spot inside me, and I let out desperate moans and whimpers of his name, Hyunjin grunting and groaning sinfully softly as tears stream down my face, blurring my vision. I clench around him sporadically, knowing my high is nearing, and he knows it too, his hand slipping down to my clit and rubbing slow circles with his thumb, making me call out his name. ‘Gonna cum for me, doll?’ he asks, and I can’t even bring myself to reply, just nodding along with loud moan, and he grins, his cock still hammering into me.

‘Want you to cum for me, angel. Cum on my cock, y/n, soak it up like a good little girl. So good for me, angel, wanna feel you cum around me,’ he prompts, pushing me closer and closer, the knot in stomach becoming tighter and tighter, and I’m so close, practically there, hanging on the precipice of my high. He grins at me, his lethal fangs sliding out and his eyes glowing red before he ducks his head, biting into the soft flesh of my neck and pushing me over the edge. I scream out his name as he gulps down my blood, numbing bliss flowing through me like morphine, his cock still rocking into me and his thumb toying with my clit. My vision is completely blank, neither white nor black, just… blank, pleasure exploding within me, and I feel my consciousness slipping away until Hyunjin’s finger slips between my lips. He must have bitten it because I taste his blood on my tongue, bringing me back to this moment with him.

He breaks away from my neck when I’ve come down from my high, lips and chin covered in my blood and his eyes still flickering red as he grins, both hands digging into the mattress on either side of my head, the pace of his thrusts increasing once more, his cock slamming into me as he chases his high. I wrap my legs around his waist tightly, arms around his shoulders and nails digging into his skin, hard enough to leave marks. I try not to let the overstimulation stop me from getting him to his climax, my pussy clenching around him with sensitivity, and when I feel his cock twitching inside me, desperate moans falling from his lips and face scrunching up with desperate desire, I know he’s about to cum. I dig my heels into his back to hold him deep inside me, and his head drops down to my neck.

‘Cum in me, Jin. Wanna feel you cum in me, please. Fill me up, Jin. Cum for me, baby,’ I murmur into his ear and he does as I ask, moaning my name loudly against my neck as his entire body tenses up. He bites into me again as he releases inside me, his hot thick cum painting my insides as he slowly moves his hips against me, leisurely sucking my blood. He gently rocks into me until he’s finished and I’m completely out of breath, both of us covered in blood, sweat, tears and cum.

‘God, you’re so good for me, angel,’ he murmurs gently after pulling away from my neck, his fangs retracting before he presses kisses to the skin he’s just bitten, sucking and nipping to leave marks. I play with his hair, body still tensing with aftershocks, and he runs his hands up and down my body, caressing my sweaty skin. Every movement, every action, every featherlight touch of his is so comforting, so tender, that I feel like I can stay here with him forever, letting him worship my body so gently like this, my hands playing with his soft, fluffy locks.

But after a while, I can feel myself drifting away, and I know I can’t sleep like this – covered in various… liquids, with completely soiled sheets and a vampire practically drunk on my blood lying on top of me. ‘Jin… I gotta get up. Clean myself up before I sleep,’ I murmur, and he whines, making me smile at his bratty behaviour. ‘No, wanna stay like this,’ he mumbles against my breast, having ventured down to leave marks on the soft flesh beside my nipple. ‘We can after. Just let me have a quick shower and change the sheets,’ I say softly, and he sighs, waiting a few moments before he pulls out of me and gets up off me, standing up beside the bed.

‘Wait here a second,’ he says before heading towards the bathroom, giving me a view of his cute little ass as he goes. I lie there in silence for a couple minutes, focused on the feeling of his thick cum trickling out of me, before he reappears with a smile, making my heart stop momentarily. His hair is pasted to his forehead with sweat, the bottom half of his face is covered in blood, his lips are swollen and his eyes are lidded with the drunken tiredness of being full on blood, but he looks like the most beautiful man in the world to me.

He scoops me up into his arms, bridal style, and carries me into the bathroom, my eyes on his face the entire time, a small smile on his lips because he knows I’m watching him and admiring him. When we walk into the bathroom, my eyes flit to the bathtub, which is now full. I realise he’s drawn me a bath, my heart swelling when he gently puts me down, not letting go until my feet are firmly on the floor. ‘Go to the toilet first. Don’t want you getting a UTI,’ he says, and I let out a bratty whine, making him raise an eyebrow. ‘Toilet. Now,’ he says, and I pout, stomping to the toilet. His eyes stay locked with mine as I piss, and I let out a laugh after a few seconds – the fact that he’s stood there naked and covered in blood watching me as I wee naked and covered in blood is just so funny to my sleep deprived and jet-lagged mind – and he just rolls his eyes with an amused smile.

Once I’m done washing my hands, I practically bound to the bath eagerly, and he helps me to climb in. I sigh happily as sit in the tub, the temperature of the water perfect to cool down my burning hot skin. I lean back against the edge, my eyelids drooping with tiredness as I watch him wash his face in the sink, cleaning away all the blood. ‘What a waste,’ he murmurs as he watches the red-tinted water wash down the sinkhole, making me let out a little laugh, and he smiles softly at the sound. He climbs into the shower and I watch as he turns the dial, the glass fogging up as the water rains down over him, soaking his honey skin and his pitch black hair.

I love watching Hyunjin do anything, my eyes not leaving his face as he gently scrubs at his skin with my passionfruit-scented shower gel, but I’m so tired that, without even realising it, I fall asleep after a few minutes. Hyunjin wakes me with a tender smile, once he’s out of the shower, wearing fresh underwear and joggers, his chest bare and a towel around his neck to gather the water that drips from his dark hair. I’m too tired to even speak as he washes me, soft hands rubbing gently at my skin, cleaning away the sweat on my body, the blood stains around where he bit me, the dried release around my thighs and the echoes of tear tracks on my face. Neither of us speak the entire time, but we don’t really have to – his touches on my body say everything he wants to say, and my gaze locked onto his face says anything I want to say.

He drains the bath, drying me carefully and carrying me back into the bedroom once he’s done, redressing me in a clean pair of underwear and a soft t-shirt of his that I’ve claimed as my own. He must have changed the sheets whilst I was asleep in the bath, and we climb into my bed together, his arms holding me close. I almost fall asleep the instant my head lands on the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as my body lines up with Hyunjin’s, his front pressed to my back and his arms around my waist. I stay awake just long enough to hear him whisper something, something that sounds suspiciously like what I’ve wanted to hear from him for nearly as long as I’ve known him, but sleep takes me before I can reply.

When I wake in the morning, the other side of the bed is empty, and his bedroom is empty too. And when I see that his shoes are gone from beside the door, I realise he must have left whilst I was asleep. I practically turn the apartment upside down, but he hasn’t left me a note. I check my phone, but he hasn’t texted or called. I can barely make it back into bed before I dissolve into tears, sobbing as though my heart would break.

[loveinterestcastiel]

erosion

I wrote some endverse fic based on a @lateral-org post asking a FANTASTIC question:

When/why/how did endverse! cas get rid of the trenchcoat and what was dean's reaction?

Rated M. Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence. Word Count: 4.1k

tagged some mutuals and people I thought might be interested in this under the cut, if you want tagged in this/future fic or want me to remove your tag dm me!

erosion

Of course, Sam said yes in Detroit. So why dream about that? He lived it every day. The redundancy was irritating at best.

Where the fuck did I leave my boots last night? Cas cursed under his breath and embarked on a thorough search of their cabin, the coarse words warm and familiar on his tongue as he yanked on his socks. I really am starting to sound like Dean.

Dean’s boots were already gone, his gun and thigh holster absent too. He’d left his green jacket behind, tossed carelessly aside last night and hidden under the trenchcoat on the floor at the foot of their bed. He slipped his coat on over his clothes and shoved Dean’s jacket into their pack- he knew he’d want it later, even if it was just for the drive back. He slipped on the worn coat, habit- he’d stopped wasting Grace on its upkeep a while ago, but it was still important. It felt like comfort, in some strange way, so he kept on wearing it despite the worn-through elbows or the stubborn little bloodstained spot on the hem.

He’d dreamed of Detroit, last night, again. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to dreaming, as unsettling and involuntary as it was. It felt like the unfair hijacking of an otherwise enjoyable human bodily function, and he resented it altogether. He snagged a bit of weed from his stash and tucked it in next to his flask, sweeping out the cabin door and into the frigid morning sunshine, giving Chuck a lazy wave as he ambled past his cabin to the truck lot, kicking little pebbles across the packed dirt at imaginary targets with a super-human precision that grated strangely on him today.

“Big run today,” Chuck said with a tentative smile, his hands clasping a chipped mug filled to the brim with his ridiculously indulgent tea, wafting a cascade of steam out over the railing of his cabin porch before dissipating into the air. “Don’t forget the perishables if you can get at them, ok? We’re seriously low on-”

“Toilet paper, milk, cheese, butter,” he interrupted, “plus sugar, flour, canned fruit, hygiene products, toothpaste, toilet paper, coffee, meat if we can get it, .35 and 9mm ammunition, mechanical oil, gasoline, propane, rubbing alcohol, gauze, surgical tape, toilet paper, paracetamol, and oh, toilet paper again!” Cas recited dryly, rolling his eyes. “You gave us a written list yesterday. Twice. Couldn’t fuck up blackout drunk.”

Chuck snorted, shaking his head in self-deprecation. “Just doing my job, Cas.”

“We’ll do ours,” he called over his shoulder, continuing down the central path briskly. “We’ve all got our part to play.”

What was it Lucifer had said to Dean, that night Zachariah stole him out from under Cas’s nose and threw him into the future? No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter… we will always end up here.

It certainly seemed like he was right. Most days, it seemed like they were all hurtling towards the exact same place Dean had caught a wretched glimpse of, once, with the brakes slashed and emergency failsafes offline, and no indicator that the impossible choices they were making every day were anything but inevitable. He knew that Dean still had nightmares about his ending, but he didn’t know much else about Dean’s nightmares anymore but what little snippets he could garner from what Dean mumbled and cried out in his sleep. He’d lost the ability to dreamwalk a while back. Three nights after the Croatoan virus wiped out Fort Worth and they were forced to fall back, he tried to enter Dean’s sleep to watch his dreams in the dubious refuge of a closed down Motel 6 off of interstate 70 as they ran west, to see if there was some piece of information they’d missed, some new choice they could make one day that could change the path they were on.

It simply hadn’t worked. He mourned the loss of one more skill in the darkness of their room that night as Dean slept uneasily in the bed beside him, one more thing which, in its absence, made him ever more useless to Dean, much like the loss of his ability to time travel, or to smite their enemies with ease. Flight was becoming difficult by the day, and he knew in some part of his mind that his wings would be the next to go, and he would be grounded, permanently, on Earth and not in Heaven.

And so it goes.

Anyway, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice about anything these days. Once Michael had taken Adam, they lost their only trump card. Heaven didn’t need Dean anymore, but Hell desperately needed Sam. It was a shame, it really was, that Sam’s gamble hadn’t paid off.

It was a miracle Lucifer let Dean go. He had brushed him off as a non-threat. Unimportant on a cosmic scale, however important Dean was to the vessel. To Sam. So Dean walked out of that run down building alive, and he was the most beautiful, terrible thing Cas had ever seen. His soul shone brighter than even an archangel’s grace in his rage and trembled with the fierce sharpness of grief, and it was glorious, righteous.

Godly.

Even as Cas’s memories softened and blurred, becoming tinged with a mortal haze, that memory of Dean remained in a sparkling clarity. He could imagine no life, no moldable version of the past, in which he did not choose Dean. From the very first moment his soul had reached back to cling to Cas’s Grace in Hell, Cas had fallen, was falling, would fall, for Dean. It was inevitable, his love. They were inevitable. They fell together in the time after Detroit, into battle, into bed, and into cosmic obscurity. Soon, too soon, their losses began to outnumber their wins, and they had to make more and more certain regrettable sacrifices just to stay alive. Cas was used to collateral damage, far more than Dean was, but whatever the other humans in their ragged camp believed of him, he wasn’t unaffected. Just the opposite, in fact. He had never felt anything before, not for billions of years, an incomprehensible existence of light and intent and obedience and war, and now he felt everything. That- not Dean’s disappointment, or the slow loss of his Grace, or his Father’s unyielding silence- was undoubtedly the worst part of becoming something like human.

Some days were better than others, of course. Some days he took precious little blue or white or green pills, all different shapes and sizes and he felt good. Numb, pleased, far away. Quiet. Others, fewer than the days he had his pills, he took shrooms, LSD. Molly, twice. Often he took nothing at all, craving the wicked pain and emptiness it created in him as his sobriety enhanced the ache his dwindling Grace left behind, needing the punishment to feel real before forcing himself into a tumultuous sleep after days spent horribly awake with half a bottle of rotgut sloshing in his stomach. He still liked joints, rolled meticulously, their verdant smoke curling up deliciously in his lungs and setting him up on a lovely little metaphorical cloud the best, and then, they were even more so lovely when he shared them with Dean. There was nothing, nothing like passing it between them, before transitioning into trading hit after hit between their mouths, brushing against his soft lips, breathing his air, watching Dean’s cheeks flush a stunning pink and holding tight to his deep golden hair, dragging him down into slow, languid kisses that desire deepened and turned into a precious sort of holy consumption as the high hit its stride in them both.

He was sober today, mostly, just riding out the last of some gorgeous pink pill from a nearly full bottle he’d just scavenged out a few days before. It made him feel floaty, focused, fearless. He felt almost like he did two years ago, before his reeducation stint in Heaven. Angelic. It was nice. He’d take another, later. Maybe Dean would want to take one, too, and they could fuck high out under the stars on their quilt again like they did last October and feel like the real Gods of this stupid little planet, on top of the world, on top of Dean, cradled in the soft embrace of his thighs, and worship each other.

Take that, brothers. Castiel smiled viciously at the sky. You’ll never fuck God like I have.

Standing impatiently among their motley caravan of vehicles in the sickly yellow light of a midwestern April morning sun, his back to Cas, Dean’s silhouette and the flashing imprint of his soul- the only one Cas could still see clearly- caramelized into a sweet union of tangible and not that pulled at his stomach and swept him into the siren song of Dean’s being and woke up the hungry creature that lived in his heart and craved DeanDeanDeanDean.

No one else was there yet, probably all still dicking around at the camp mess and drinking shitty chicory. His feet fell silently on the earth, leaving behind the sound of the universe and the vibrant humming of Dean’s soul- and oh, he hoped he could always hear that symphony, even when all the rest of his powers had run dry.

Just as he reached out to take Dean by the shoulder and turn him around, Dean moved with a sudden burst of energy, like a coiled snake striking out. He whirled around and met Cas’s eyes, took him by the neck and the waist, and kissed him. His lips moved with a gentleness that contradicted the intensity of the grip of his cold-fingered hands as they worked their way into his hair, wormed their way under his trenchcoat, and touched the bare skin they found where the hem of his t-shirt met his jeans. He met the kiss eagerly, licking teasingly at the seam of his lips, biting down gently and coaxing Dean into opening his mouth. He pushed Dean back until his back hit the nearest rusted army-green truck with a small thudding noise, pressing himself up against Dean and tugging on his hips so they were pressed flush against each other, the contact sending and electric thrill racing up his spine.

“Cas,” Dean gasped out at the sensation of their bodies meeting, the air punched out of his lungs.

“Mmm, morning,” Cas murmured between kisses. “You’re out here early.” Dean’s neck was uncharacteristically bare above the neck of his rough brown sweater, creamy and invitingly unmarked. Cas indulged in the impulse to change that, working his way over the tender skin, sucking and biting until a bruise began to bloom below the junction of Dean’s jaw and neck, worrying it with his teeth until it was a deep reddish-purple.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Dean whispered, letting his head fall back against the truck window, baring his throat further, and closed his eyes. He seemed almost happy, today. He seemed to light up in the lead-up to their more dangerous missions, and Cas didn’t want to think about that right now. Didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Didn’t want to wake you up,” Dean elaborated.

“I appreciate that.” Satisfied with the rather outrageous hickey he’d created on Dean’s neck, Cas pressed it with one last kiss. “How’d you know I was behind you?” he asked, pressing their foreheads together and slowly grinding their hips together lazily, just breathing Dean in.

“Felt you,” Dean said, bringing their lips together again briefly. “Always can.” One more little kiss.

“Dean, last night, when you couldn’t sleep, I dreamed again about Detroit-” Cas started to confess feverishly, almost against his will, Dean stiffening up at his words in his arms, and was interrupted by the sound of people approaching, footsteps, voices, and an earsplitting wolf-whistle directed at their compromising position.

Dean’s face shuttered immediately, and Cas felt every scrap of easy bliss flee his body.

He pulled back with more than a little reluctance, his stomach twisting as a fakely jovial grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Let’s go, fearless leader. We’ve got a mission to run, don’t you know?”

“Don’t start with that fearless leader shit,” Dean said tightly, rolling his eyes away from Castiel’s face and fixing on a point somewhere over Cas’s shoulder. “Who’s driving?”

“Looks like Cas is driving,” Joe called out mischievously.

Risa smacked him in the chest. “Get in the truck, idiot.” She turned her gaze to Dean, an odd glint in her eye. It felt sticky and wrong in his core but Cas stamped the feeling down. “Group brief over the radio on the way?” she asked.

“Yeah, at 8,” Dean said, sliding into his unshakeable militaristic persona with a firm nod. “Should be fairly straightforward in and out supply grab. Intel says the Croats cleared out of Roanoke a couple days ago, left major infrastructure and commerce sites relatively untouched. It’s a good thing too,” he added, “we were getting spread a little thin with most goods.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

———————————————————————

It was not, in fact, easy.

Their intel was wrong, so wrong, and Cas didn’t know how the fuck it happened, but they were fine, they were almost finished, closing up the trucks in the alley behind the supermarket and waiting for Dean and Trish to return from sweeping the perimeter, when out of what seemed like thin air and with no more than a broken shout for warning there were more Croats swarming them than he’d ever seen in one place before, and Joe and Maya and Kris were dead, and Dean was nowhere to be found.

The Croats had the remaining seven pinned down against the main truck, snarling and screeching and reeking of blood and gore, strips of flesh and clothing that once adorned their companions now dangling from their teeth. Their single-minded need for the endless consumption of human flesh and that it was currently being denied drove them to a terrifying frenzy, but the hunters were starting to push back, and the Croat numbers were thinning slowly but surely. Cas thought he saw Allen get bitten, but next he glanced at him he looked fine. He’d need to check on that if they made it out alive. He resigned himself quickly to the idea of killing the man before they got back to Chitaqua- Allen was a nice enough man, quick-witted and skilled with a blade and a loom, but nothing was worth bringing a Croat back to camp. He owed it to the man as a human being to grant him a swift death if he’d been infected before Allen himself could realize it. A shot to the back of the head, unawares, had to be better than a clumsy battle and inevitable stab to the chest (Cas knew he would always have the upper hand against a human, even when he had fallen in full) with fear in his heart.

He buried his angel blade to hilt in yet another Croat’s throat, yanking it out and ducking out of the way of the spray of blood that followed in a well-practiced motion uncanny in its speed. They would win this one.

But still no Dean.

Cas felt a bubbly panic rise up in his chest through the haze of battle as it became clear to him that Dean wasn’t coming back. Even from the other side of the building or from inside, there was no way that Dean had not heard the commotion of such a large fight.

Something was stopping Dean from coming back to him.

“Risa,” he shouted over the din to the woman on his left. “Dean and Trish-”

“I know,” she interjected tersely, hacking the head off of a skeletally thin Croat in a tattered suit. “Retrieval? We’ve got this handled here as long as this all the fucking bastards around.”

“I’m going in,” Cas said quickly, slicing at a particularly bold (stupid) Croat trying to charge him. It crumpled to the ground and twitched once, and was still. Some of its companions fell on the body ravenously, and were subsequently cut down in turn as they began to tear at the corpse. “Leave as soon as you’re able; I’ve got the keys to the main truck. Cover your right,” he warned Risa, and, sensing an opportunity in the parting sea of Croats before him, ran.

He was through the service doors of the building before the Croat hoard could even begin to respond to his escape, and their noises were quickly muffled by the service door as it locked automatically behind him, leaving him in relative quiet.

There were a surprising number of crates and boxes remaining in the storage and unloading zones, either empty or nearly so, and he quickly ascertained the area was, apart from himself, devoid of life or anything of interest to the camp.

Cas.

Dean's sudden prayer hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut.

Aisle... his mental voice trailed off for a second into indistinct sounds, colors, and waves of pain. Aisle seven. It's bad.

Cas shoved through the access door into the freezers, and out into the store with a recklessness he would have been ashamed of had he been so terrified.

He turned down aisle seven and skidded to a halt, frozen at the sight that greeted him, and tried to make sense of the hideously macabre tableau.

Trish's decapitated body lay the furthest from him, her ribcage torn open, her organs spilling over her arms and scattered in pieces over the floor. Three dead Croats, all headshots, around her remains. Then a bloody lake on the cheap linoleum tile, thick and viscous and so, so red, two more dead Croats, clearly more hard-won victories, their arms hacked at, heads partially removed, and nearly blocking the last body from view, wedged up against the shelves and bloody as it was.

"Cas," Dean wheezed, lifting his head laboriously to meet his eyes, blood bubbling up between his lips and staining them. "Cas, I'm so sorry-"

"No, no, don't talk like that," Cas said desperately, kneeling beside Dean. He took their pack of his back with shaking hands and shoved his angel blade somewhere inside. "We can fix this. You'll be okay."

"Cas-"

"You will!" he said, too loudly and startling himself.

"My ribs," Dean panted out in pained little gasps. "Broken. There's something in my back." He twitched minutely as if to show Cas the problem and immediately convulsed involuntarily at the pain the movement caused him, a horrible rattling moan in his throat. "My leg. Right one. Broken too." His jaw was clenched so tightly it was a miracle he could speak at all through the teeth-grinding pain he was in.

"Okay," Cas said faintly.

Cas...

Oh, he hated feeling. Sometimes he thought it made him useless. He missed being cold. Brutal, uncaring about pain or death. But this was Dean, and he'd never actually been particularly good at being a machine, anyway. "Okay. Dean, I need to see your back," he warned him, before moving him as gently as he could and angling his body so that he could get an unobstructed view of his back.

There was a crude metal stake wedged just an inch to the left of his second and third thoracic vertebrae, rusted, twisted and cruel-looking.

"Dean, I- I have to try to heal you," he said slowly, knowing that Dean wouldn't want him to be wasteful with his Grace. But this was beyond what human field medicine could help.

Dean didn't respond. He'd fallen unconscious.

"Oh no, no, no, baby," he babbled under his breath, trying to figure out the best way to extract the bar of metal. "Hold on," he muttered, grasping the stake firmly and bracing Dean's body against his own, trying to avoid fucking his broken ribs up more.

"Father, please, if you're still here, if you're listening, if you care at all," he begged, "help me."

Of course, his Father didn't answer. Gritting his teeth, Cas yanked out the stake and tossed it aside, immediately covering the wound with his hand. He summoned his Grace together and it responded sluggishly, but his hand was glowing and Dean's back was knitting back together.

As the skin merged into a puckered, raw-looking pink scar, Cas dropped his hand away from the wound and found himself utterly breathless, gasping for air and drained.

Dean was still unconscious.

He leaned Dean back up against the shelving and took a moment to figure out what to do next. Dean was still dying. He was still in danger. He couldn't be moved, nor could they stay put. He quickly opened up their pack and realized in horror that all the medical supplies were with Risa and AJ on the trucks and so, so far away by now.

He yanked his coat off with a twinge of regret. It was bloodied and worn and what he was about to do with it felt like a milestone he was loathe to reach.

He shredded it into long, wide strips, not letting himself think of how it was the last piece of Jimmy Novak, or how he had repaid the man's sacrifice by being party to the end of the world they both wanted to protect, or how Claire Novak had stopped praying to him weeks ago, now. He got on with the job, this is just a job, I can fix this-

He managed to wrap Dean's leg up decently tight, straight and stiff, but he had quickly discovered it was broken in several places. He didn't know what he could do for Dean's ribs, and he felt, as if from a distance, how Dean's breath was coming shallower and shallower, and he made his choice.

He laid his left hand on Dean's broken leg, as gently as he could. Leaning forward, he smoothed the wispy little baby hairs he loved to tease Dean about back, off his sweaty, pained, precious face, and, placing his right hand on Dean's crushed ribs, near his heart, touched their foreheads together. He looked at Dean's soul, his shining, beautiful (fading) soul and knew.

"I love you," Cas whispered, his voice wrecked. With that finally said, he grabbed his exhausted, weary Grace, and though it fought him and slipped through his grasp, he got hold of it and he pushed everything he could, everything he was into his hands, into Dean.

When he had done it, when he had drained himself down to mists and vapors, and had saved Dean, he gathered him in his arms, and carried him back to the truck on numb feet, leaving the scraps of Jimmy's coat behind in aisle seven.

When the truck broke down thirty miles from Chitaqua, and their radio too, he turned to Dean, pulling on a blue-ish jacket they'd picked up earlier during the run. It fit well.

"It's a good look for you," Dean said gruffly, staring at Cas with an expression he could not recognize. There was blood still smeared on his cheekbone, he noted absently.

"Oh. Yes. Well, thank you," Cas answered, adjusting the sleeves.

Dean tugged at the tan fabric strips on his leg, wincing at the pressure.

"You did a good job, Cas. With this fabric splint from your coat-"

"I know you won't be able to walk it," Cas said quietly, unable to meet his eyes even as he interrupted him. "I did what I could, but you'll be weak for days. You need time."

"You can leave me, Cas," Dean said, a strange, pinched guilt-pain-tenderness on his face. "You can come back for me."

"No," Cas said, smiling, and choking, and took Dean's cheek in the palm of his hand with a terrible ache rising in his throat. "I can't."

April 19th, 2012, under the peak of the Lyrids meteor showers, Cas flew for the last time, right up to the gates of the camp.

When they landed, a millisecond and millennia later, his wings burned away into nothingness in a wave of electric, minty-white pain that forced him to the ground. In the aftermath, panting and sweating and shaking in Dean's arms and clutching at his handprint on Dean's shoulder, he realized his Grace, or what was left of it, anyway, had consolidated into a bright little ball in his chest. Like a soul.

The realization was followed by another. Despite his earlier conviction that it would one day be lost to him, he could still see Dean's soul- behind his teeth, in his chest, radiant like a halo around his head, and worth, a million times over, and a million again, falling for.

Tagged:

@heller-jensen @sunforgrace @rambleoncas @adhdeancas @evermorecastiel @holmesemrys @plantdadcas @good-things-do-happen-dean @jeanne-de-valois @autisticandroids @sonder-stars @yana125 @faithcastiel @cascreamtiel @seffersonjtarship @i-sing-for-me @purgatorybi @bibelphegor @cowboyslikedean @gracefuldean @dimples-of-discontent @judaskissdean @wafflehousegothic @icaruscastiel @67chevyimpala67 @lesbianjenderenvy

[thearvariblues]

And They Were Roommates - Chapter 2

Previously | Masterpost

2 – Put It Back Where It Belongs

“I said I didn’t want coffee, Jaskier,” Aiden sighed, pushing his dark sunglasses further up on his nose.

“Of course you do, darling. No offense, but you look like Death personified.”

“Yeah, I feel like I’ve already died,” Aiden murmured, accepting the paper cup from Jaskier with a frown. “Is there any chocolate in it?”

“No, of course not. I know how much you hate it,” Jaskier grinned.

“Oh, good,” Aiden smiled, taking a sip.

“There’s a shit-ton of caramel, though,” Jaskier finished.

Aiden made a face, but took another sip. His hangover really was killing him.

“I hate you sometimes,” he said. “Is this really a good idea, by the way?”

“What, to have a coffee on our way to Geralt’s?”

“To go to Geralt’s,” Aiden elaborated. “I mean, he still hasn’t texted you back.”

“Yeah, but Geralt’s always glad to see me.”

“I should hope so, considering that he’s gonna see you every fucking day for the rest of his life,” Aiden chuckled, wincing when a stray ray of sunshine found its way around the rim of his sunglasses and into his eyes. “Fuck me, I should have taken those painkillers.”

“Told you so,” Jaskier said, sipping his frappe. “Look, don’t be nervous about it. Lambert doesn’t bite, as far as I know. He’s just a little... grumpy.”

“I don’t blame him. I’d be grumpy if two idiots broke into my apartment totally unannounced.”

“I’ve announced us, love. I texted Geralt.” Jaskier rolled his eyes. “But Lambert’s kind of always grumpy.”

“So nice of you to force me to live with him, then.”

“Aiden, I’m not… forcing you to do anything. I’m just asking you, very nicely, to meet Lambert and see if you, perhaps… could share an apartment, that’s all.”

“You know, judging by what you’ve already told me, I don’t think I want to be anywhere near him, let alone share an apartment,” Aiden sighed when Jaskier unlocked the door of Geralt’s apartment building. “You said he really was an asshole.”

“He is, but…” Jaskier shrugged. “Look, I met Geralt after his divorce, I admit, but he’s told me, countless times, that he wouldn’t have made it through that if it wasn’t for his brothers. Eskel and Lambert.”

“So the asshole knows how to act like a normal human being when someone’s whole world is falling apart. Amazing.”

“Well, it can’t be said about most men I know,” Jaskier chuckled, calling the elevator.

“Fair point,” Aiden admitted. “So, is there anything else I should know about this… Lambert?”

“He’s straight, I’m afraid,” Jaskier sighed and stepped into the elevator.

“Fuck. Jaskier,” Aiden whined. “You know what I told you about straight guys!”

“Relax, babe. He’s not… like that. He’s not, you know, straight. He just doesn’t sleep with anyone but women, that’s all. He’s not gonna judge you, I promise.”

“So he’s an asshole but he’s, in fact, a pretty decent guy, too?”

“Well… he certainly is pretty,” Jaskier nodded as they stepped out of the elevator. “Yeah, trust me, him being straight is better for you. At least you won’t be tempted.”

“Tempted?” Aiden frowned. “Why would I be tempted?”

Jaskier chuckled, pushing his key into the keyhole of Geralt’s apartment.

“Oh, my sweet summer child…”

*

“Lambert.”

Lambert groaned and shook off the hand on his shoulder.

“Lambert, wake the fuck up.”

“Piss off,” Lambert mumbled, burying his face into the pillow.

“Shit… Lambert!”

It was the urgency in Geralt’s voice that made Lambert actually open one eye – a decision which he immediately came to regret when he felt a stab of pain shoot through his eye and straight into his brain. He moaned.

“What the actual fuck, Geralt?” he moaned. “Let me sleep, for fuck’s sake.”

“I’d love to, but we’re in trouble. Big, big trouble.”

“Have you set the kitchen on fire again?”

“No, but–”

“Is there an alien invasion?”

“No–”

“A psychotic serial killer on the loose in the building?”

“Not as far as I know, but–”

“Great. I don’t care, then. Good night, Geralt,” Lambert murmured, burying his face back into the pillow.

Which, as he realized, wasn’t really his pillow but a cushion, which probably meant he’d spent the night on their couch.

Oh, well, it wasn’t the first time.

“Lambert!”

“What?!” Lambert whined.

“Jaskier texted. Twenty minutes ago.”

“Mhm. Look, Geralt,” Lambert said, yawning. “I know you’re still awed or whatever the fuck that the little piece of shit not only acknowledges your existence but also loves you back, which I still find totally astounding, by the way, but you don’t need to inform me whenever he texts you, thank you very much.”

“Well, he texted me he’s on his way here.”

“Still don’t care, just try not to be too loud this time, you know Mrs. Nenneke doesn’t like it.”

“He’s on his way here with Aiden.”

Lambert groaned, opening his eye again.

“And who the fuck is Aiden?”

Geralt sighed. He looked like shit, Lambert noticed, his hair tousled, his face pale, eyes unfocused, wearing nothing but his black boxer shorts. He looked as if he’d spend the night on the couch, too. Well, it also wouldn’t be the first time.

“Jaskier’s roommate.”

Lambert sighed and sat up with a groan.

“Fucking awesome. Let me guess. Jaskier just happened to be telling this… Aiden about him having to move out at the same fucking time you were telling me about you moving out of here, am I right?”

“Well, I can’t guarantee it was at the same time, but…”

“Stop the bullshit, Geralt, or I’m gonna shove it so far up your arse that even Jaskier won’t be able to find it,” Lambert growled. “What did he text you, exactly?”

“Ugh,” Geralt observed, unlocking his phone. “On my way to your place with Aiden. Have had the bestest of ideas, explain when we get there.”

“Oh, go to hell, you and your bard,” Lambert murmured, rubbing his aching eyes. “So he wants to make me live with this Aiden, right?”

“Why do you think–”

“Because it’s fucking obvious, Geralt, to everyone with more than two brain cells.”

“It doesn’t seem obvious to me.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

“I… Lambert!” Geralt said, offended.

“When did he text you again?” Lambert asked.

“Twenty minutes ago.”

“And… Just remind me, how long it takes to get from Jaskier’s place to ours?”

“Uhm… Twenty minutes with a stop for coffee.”

A key rattled in the door.

“Oh,” Lambert said. “Fucking fantastic.”

*

When Aiden stepped into the apartment, he immediately thought he’d died and went straight to heaven.

Not because Geralt was standing there in the middle of the living room wearing nothing but his boxers, no. Aiden was used to seeing Geralt like this whenever he stayed for the night, and honestly, Geralt was never quite his type – close, right, but not exactly it.

But then there was the other guy in the room. Tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, wearing only a pair of sweatpants with at least three holes in them – and he was only counting the big ones. The guy was pale and… all the gods help Aiden… ginger.

Now, Aiden had a thing for gingers. He didn’t need his boyfriends to have red hair, of course, but it was a nice bonus.

All in all, this guy was precisely Aiden’s type.

And, logically, it simply had to be the infamous Lambert.

The infamous, straight Lambert.

Aiden felt his mouth go dry.

Oh, no, this wasn’t heaven.

It was hell.

*

Lambert should have expected something like this, of course.

Not the fact that Jaskier would simply barge in with this Aiden at nine in the fucking morning on a Saturday, no. That was totally unpredictable and extremely annoying, no matter how much Geralt always tried to convince Lambert that Jaskier’s unpredictability was endearing or something.

But he absolutely should have expected Aiden to be looking… that way.

The… guy? Lambert settled for a guy in his mind, at least until proven otherwise. The guy was wearing a long black skirt, an oversized dark blue T-shirt which he had tucked into said skirt and way too many gold necklaces and pendants. His brown hair was cut into a style Lambert was pretty sure was called a pixie cut, since Geralt’s fourteen-year-old daughter Ciri had spent her last visit here trying to convince Geralt to allow her to have her hair cut exactly like this.

And then there was the black eyeliner, of course. The black eyeliner is a must, after all.

Lambert blinked and tore his eyes away from the guy or gal or whatever the fuck when he realized that Jaskier was talking.

(Lambert had long since learned to tune Jaskier out a little. He liked the guy, all right, but it was better for his mental health to at least partially ignore him from time to time.)

Before Lambert could start focusing on what Jaskier was saying, Geralt walked up to his boyfriend and gave him a kiss. Lambert groaned.

“I know, I’m sorry, I was sleeping. Next time, you’d better call, love,” Geralt smirked. “Wait a sec, I’m just gonna get dressed. Lambert?”

“You need my assistance or what?” Lambert chuckled. “I don’t think Daffodil would like that.”

“Dandelion, Lambert, it’s Dandelion,” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes, a tiny smile on his lips. This was a game they had been playing for a while. “And I think Geralt was kindly suggesting that you should also go and get dressed into… something more appropriate.”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks,” Lambert shrugged, getting to his feet.

“You’re scaring your potential new roommate,” Geralt said.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Lambert grinned. He took three steps to Aiden, winked and grabbed a coffee cup from his potential roommate’s unresisting fingers. “Hey. I’m Lambert.” He took a sip of the coffee and immediately came to regret it. “Jesus Christ. There’s more sugar than actual coffee in this shit.”

“Hey!” Jaskier protested. “It’s not that bad!”

“Right. It’s worse,” Lambert nodded, taking a long swig from the cup before returning it to Aiden. “Ugh. Disgusting.”

“I know, right?” Aiden chuckled.

“That’s enough,” Geralt growled, grabbing Lambert’s shoulder. “You’re going to get dressed. Right fucking now.”

“Do I have to? I mean, it would be a sin to cover my body with… Ouch! All right, all right, I’m going, no need to be so pissy, Geralt. Fuck’s sake, let go of me you fucking moron…”

*

Five minutes later, Lambert was sitting in the armchair dressed in black jeans and a very fitting black T-shirt and Aiden, quite honestly, thought it was even worse than those sweatpants he had been wearing before.

In those sweatpants, he looked like a hot mess.

Like this, he was just hot.

So he was sitting there, sipping a Red Bull and watching Aiden in the opposite armchair with a cocky smile on his face.

Aiden opened his own can of the energy drink (which was, quite surprisingly, offered to him by Lambert himself) and matched Lambert’s smile with his own.

“All right, boys and whatevers,” Jaskier chimed in. “We’ve gathered here today–”

“This isn’t a fucking wedding, Jaskier,” Lambert grunted. “And we didn’t gather. You just fucking invited yourself in to force a roommate on me.”

“You do need a roommate, Lambert,” Geralt replied.

The two lovebirds were sitting on the couch, their limbs already entangled.

“All right. As you wish,” Lambert shrugged. “So tell me, Aiden, why do you want to be my new best friend?”

“Lambert,” Geralt sighed.

“I honestly don’t,” Aiden chuckled. “And honestly, I’m not even sure I want to live with you. It’s just that Jaskier insisted on dragging me here.”

“Aiden!” Jaskier groaned.

“And why wouldn’t you want to live with me, eh?” Lambert said, cocking his eyebrow. “You know, if you’re afraid of that, I can totally accept the fact that you’re…”

“Non-binary?” Aiden chuckled.

“I was gonna say a weirdo,” Lambert said with a playful smirk.

Oh, so that’s how you want to do it, Aiden thought.

“Are you?” he said, ignoring Jaskier’s protests. “I don’t know, Lambert. I’m not sure I can accept the fact that you’re one of those… soulless gingers.”

“Wow.” Lambert placed a hand on his heart and sighed. “This brings back memories of my childhood. You know, that’s what my dear departed father used to call me, may he rot in hell.”

“Jeez, slow down. It’s a bit early in our relationship to reveal your tragic past, don’t you think?”

“Nah, I think everything should be out in the open from the beginning. For example, what’s really underneath your skirt, Aiden?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Aiden chuckled. “Better yet, wouldn’t you like to see? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Will you? All right then,” Lambert nodded, standing up and reaching for the zipper of his pants. “I’m warning you, though, you might not be ready to face the glory of my mighty dick.”

“I assure you that I have seen dicks mightier than yours, my dear.”

“You think so? Wait for it, babe.”

“All right, all right!” Geralt said. “Lambert, zip up those pants or so help me!”

“You afraid Jaskier’s gonna choose me when he sees the true beauty of my manhood?”

“I’ve already seen it and, quite honestly, it’s not that impressive,” Jaskier shrugged. “Geralt’s right. Put it back where it belongs. Right now.”

“Yes, mummy,” Lambert grunted, rolling his eyes. “Ugh. You two are no fun.”

“I honestly don’t understand your definition of fun,” Jaskier sighed.

Lambert glanced at Aiden, who was currently busy choking with laughter. The redhead grinned.

“All right, whatever,” he said. “I’ll take…”

He raised a questioning eyebrow at Aiden.

“Him,” Aiden said helpfully.

“Him, right. Thank fuck,” Lambert nodded. “I’ll take him.”

“I’m… starting to think this wasn’t such a good idea,” Jaskier gulped when Aiden grinned.

“Quite the opposite, Daisy. It was probably the best idea you’ve ever had,” Lambert said.

“It’s a deal, then,” Aiden nodded. “Nice to meet you, roommate.”

“To living together, weirdo,” Lambert laughed, raising his can of Red Bull.

“Right,” Geralt sighed. “We’re fucking doomed.”

[keeper0fthestars]

Fear and Trust

francisco (frankie) morales x fem reader

2K words

warnings: two idiots in love, language, fluff, so much fluff, cheesy intimate moments, Frankie is husband material

summary: There is only one thing in this world that scares you and that thing is heights

a/n:  based on this trope 

I am so blown away by everyone who reblogs my erratic little scribblings and sends me comments, you fuel me more than you will ever know.  And as always i would love to know what you think. 

~~

In search of your shoes, you walk down the hall in your bare feet, hands occupied with the zipper of your sundress. Rounding the corner into the living room, you find Frankie on the couch tidying the mess books and papers on the coffee table. Focused the space in front of him, he pulls a pair of sandals from under the coffee table, letting them dangle on two fingers. 

“Looking for thes-,” 

And that’s when he sees you. 

He doesn't drop the shoes in your outstretched hand as you expect; instead, they fall onto the couch and he takes your hand, pulling you up to him, knees knocking with his. His gaze is glued to your dress, the way it matches your eyes and fits you in all the right places and flares just above your knees, leaving just enough bare skin for his eyes to latch onto. He doesn't even need to say anything, your skin is already tingling under the weight of his eyes and you forget why you walked into the living room in the first place. His eyes finally drag back up to yours, his throat bobs and- 

“Tell me something, babe,”  leaning back on the couch soaking up the sight of you. "How the fuck am I supposed to wanna go anywhere with you dressed like this?"

You let him tug you down on top of him, content knowing that the effect you have on him is equally disarming, “Hey, this was your idea, remember?” 

Sinking into the worn leather of the couch, you brace yourself on his shoulders, knees hugging him on either side, your dress bunching over your thighs.  His hands settle on your hips, guiding you down, blowing a hot breath out of his mouth when he catches a glimpse of the dark lace between your legs. He looks weak and starved all at once, running his hands up your thighs, curving around your ass, giving you an appreciative squeeze.

“Mmhm...” he hums, hooking an index finger under the one strap, sliding it off your shoulder, he sits up, his mouth focused on the skin of your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your bare skin. “I've got more ideas and all of them include this dress on the floor right now.”

“How am I supposed to resist that?” Sinking your fingers into his hair, you guide his mouth to yours.

His hands slide underneath your dress. “I hope you can’t.”

///

It’s taken all damn day and three caramel apples but he’s finally got you standing in line with him, sharing popcorn and more junk food, and every few minutes when the line advances, his hand finds the small of your back, tracing soothing circles, and you think maybe it’s the way he’s just licked cotton candy off your thumb, or maybe it’s the fact that he could not seem to keep his hands off you all day, but whatever he’s doing is working because the nervous flutter in your chest isn’t so bad anymore. 

From across the pier, it didn’t seem that big, but now that you’re standing directly under it, this is by far the worst ride in the entire park and you blame the sugar high for letting him talk you into this. He senses your jitters again and he tucks you into his side, pressing his lips softly to your temple. Your free hand slides into his back pocket and the brim of his ball cap skims the top of your head, he is warm and solid and more of your tension bleeds away. The next empty bucket that jerks to a halt is for you.

“You owe me for this, Morales.”

“I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He doesn’t answer; he just laces his fingers with yours, that dimple in his cheek melting the rest of your resolve and fuck, it’s kinda hard to deny him anything when he smiles like that. He leads the way up the ramp and into the open metal carriage with the narrow bench big enough for two. 

Everything from your elbows down is hidden from sight inside the swaying bucket.  The sturdy bar positioned across your lap looks like it was painted blue at some point but had long since been overtaken by rust. You resist the urge to look up.

The ride operator steps up, reaches inside and jostles the restraint over your lap, testing its latch before shutting the half-door with a clink. Without warning your bucket is yanked backwards a few feet and your stomach lurches, knuckles turning white on the rusted bar. The bucket then jolts to a stop to let the next people in line a chance to get on. 

Yep. Worst idea ever. 

“Oh god,” Taking a shuddering breath, you would give anything to be as relaxed as he looks, knees splaying, back slouched, “I cannot believe you talked me into this.”

He pulls you into the circle of his arms, his calming, “Breathe, baby, I’ve got you,” is the only thing that makes the next few jolts bearable as you climb higher. He reaches across your lap and gently tugs your knees together pulling them snug to his side. 

Turning your face into his shoulder, you wait for him to tell you this is nonsense and that you have nothing to worry about. 

But he won’t because that’s the thing about fears. They’re irrational like that. 

“Hey,” he coaxes into your ear, “you’re okay, I’m not letting go of you.” 

Forcing yourself to breathe, you relax your grip on the bar in front of you just as another jerk propels you backwards again, then another, and another and now you’re halfway up the back of the massive wheel. Squeezing your eyes shut, your heart is beating inside your throat now and you’re fairly certain your stomach is lying somewhere on the ground below. Frankie has to pry your hand off his thigh.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Watching me lose my shit over the damn Ferris Wheel.” 

“But you’re doing it,” with his nose, he nudges your face up, pressing his lips to yours, “even though you’re afraid.”

The truth was, you wouldn’t be doing it if he weren’t with you. And he knew that. 

When he’d learned there was only one thing you were scared of, he found it hard to believe at first and also adorable as hell, but he never bugged you about it; he knew what it was like to be teased about something you can’t control. The irony is not lost on you that your boyfriend happens to be a pilot. The only thing he'd said at the time was, only idiots are not afraid of anything.

Jerking to a halt again, you’re above the trees and now it’s the unobstructed view that captures your attention and steals your breath. It's spectacular, all glowing neon and twinkling lights. The sun is sinking, turning the sky into breathtaking orange and pink, matching the sprawling scene below.

“Oh," you breathe, "this is gorgeous.” 

"Yeah," he lets go of your shoulder to drag his thumb down your neck, placing his mouth just below your ear. “It is.”

Your shiver is accompanied by a familiar surge of warmth under the softness of his voice because he's not talking about the sunset.

Deep down, Frankie knows there would never come a day that his heart would not trip over itself and spill butterflies into his stomach whenever you’d enter a room. 

There used to be a time he'd thought he’d never be enough, but you’d put those deep-seated fears of his to rest a long time ago. You’d been the unshakable and constant stability in his life that left no room for any doubt. Not that he’d had any qualms or cold feet about spending the rest of his life with you; it was quite the opposite.  The purple velvet box at the bottom of his pocket induced enough butterflies to fill his truck bed if that was any indication of how strongly he felt about you. The rush he'd felt in his insides during his very first simulation at the academy was nothing compared to the glow he felt today and he had to keep hiding his smile against your shoulder to try and rein it in. 

The ride starts to glide smoothly and okay; all things considered, this wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought. Dusk is beginning to settle and Frankie’s arm rests warm and heavy across your shoulders. The wind on your face feels fantastic and you’re not quite sure when your nervous energy changes into something else but every time you feel the downward pull on your body, your face splits into a grin and if you weren't so damn happy, you'd be rolling your eyes right now wondering when your life turned into a fucking rom-com. 

When he faces you, the sun leaves dazzling flecks of deep gold in his eyes, making them shine like bronze. His crooked smile pulls softly at the corner of his eye, a smile that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking, a smile that makes your heart lose its balance. It’s the same look he’d had when you came out of the bedroom this afternoon; the same look you’d pretended not to notice all day, wandering the pier together. Your heart is suddenly fluttering again and it has nothing to do with being three hundred feet off the ground.

“Okay Frankie, what’s going on? This all part of some plan of yours?” 

He takes off his ball cap and then replaces it in the same spot on his head, clearing his throat. “What plan.” 

“Getting me on the biggest ride here, winning me over with… with enough sugar to last a year and all your sweet talk and... listen, it's gonna take a lot more than a few well-placed kisses to get me into your co-pilot seat.” 

You feel his chest beginning to shake with laughter, “Baby, my chopper is much safer than this fuckin rust bucket. The-,” 

Your mouth gapes.  “Oh fuck you.

Just when you were starting to relax.

He blocks your loose fist with a gentle grip before it hits his shoulder, uses it to pull you in, your affronted gasp cut off when his lazy grin bumps with your open mouth. You had a dozen comebacks for the way he just teased you, but they all melt before they have a chance to materialize. His eyes glitter with amusement and something else but he doesn't give you a chance to examine it. 

“Lemme kiss you properly and then you can think about fucking me, ok.”

It's a little hard to be irritated; it’s a little hard to think straight at all when his fingers start dancing up the inside of your knee. The rush in your stomach now has nothing to do with the way gravity is forcing you down into the seat. Damn this guy and his ability to silence every single thought in your head.  

The ride is nearing the end, and you find yourself disappointed remembering how nervous you’d felt about it at the start. It slows and eases to a stop, suspending the two of you at the highest point in the rotation. 

The sun half gone now, the clouds are washed with purple and dark orange, the leaves in the treetops kissing each other in the breeze. It’s peaceful up here, hanging above the world and you understand why Frankie loves it. And your heart just might shatter right now because for the first time you realize that’s why he wanted to share it with you. 

Your throat clogs up and you don't trust yourself to speak but you don't need to because he shifts slightly, angling you so he can slip his arms around your waist from behind, tucking his chin into your shoulder. He's the one steady hand in your life. You fall asleep at night and wake up knowing that he's never going to be anywhere but beside you.

“You're right,” you manage, "this was worth it."

The edges of his heart twinge at the lightness in your voice, he soaks it up, knowing he’s the one responsible for it, knowing all the things he wants to promise you, knowing he’s the one you lean on, the one you call in the middle of the day just to say hi, the one you trust, the one you’ve said countless times you want to grow old with so why the fuck was he so nervous. 

That’s the thing about fears. They’re irrational like that.

A fragment of a forgotten conversation echoes in his head, something he’d told you a long time ago: Only complete idiots are not afraid of anything. 

He ignores the trembling in his fingers and reaches into his pocket.

~~

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[orionwhispers]

Tear In My Heart // Alfie Solomons

(A/N - hehe im back. im working on a bucky oneshot and a tommy series but both of them are super long and i wanted to take a little breather. this was supposed to be a drabble but you know me... ive got a few more ideas for shorter imagines like this with tommy and alf, requests are open! hope you enjoy. pls reblog and comment. love u see u soon xoxxo - also this is like the smuttiest thing ive written even though its not explicit but wow who am i)

warnings: violence, mention of fights and blood, protective alfie, heavily implied smut, lots of terrible language.

You knew something was wrong when Ollie practically crashed through the door. He took off part of the frame and made the hinges tear from the wood, nails and screws clattering onto the ground. The afternoon had been wonderful, perhaps too wonderful, and as always, real life found a way to shatter your rose tinted glasses.

It was starting to fall into autumn, the air chilly but comfortable, the streets slick with rain and the leaves turning into a sweet, buttery caramel all around you. The house was silent save for the birds singing in the trees and the rattling whip of the wind against your windows. The quiet was a perk of having house out in the country, far away from anything and anyone. Just the way he liked it.

Because to him, all he needed was his girl.

Well, and his dog.

The sun had barely risen when you got up - much to your husbands protests. You felt him stirring from beside you, a solid wall of warmth as he snaked his arms around your waist and pressed sleepy, half drunk kisses onto your spine. You laughed tiredly as his hands curled over everything they could reach, long calloused fingers roaming against your bare skin. He grumbled as you swung your legs from under the duvet and onto the floor, throwing on his white cotton shirt and letting it fall to your knees, trying to ignore the threats he was mumbling about what he was going to do to your boss for making you come in so early.

He made one last feeble attempt to grab you, exhaustion clouding his brain so he could do no more than swipe at the top of your thigh, making you laugh at his wandering hands.

“Stay.” He said, voice raspy and muffled by his pillow.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“Alf.” You sighed playfully, grabbing your strawberry slip dress and beaded heels and fur coat, darting into the bathroom to wash up and change. Through the noise of the running water you could hear the bed springs creak as he shifted, the entire frame groaning almost as much as him. Cyril watched you with his big chestnut eyes from the doorway as you fluffed up your hair and patted on coffee coloured lipstick, pinching the apples of your cheeks for a little flush.

You rummaged through your handbag as you made your way to the bedroom door, lost in your thoughts until you heard him speak, all low and gravelly and sending shivers up your spine.

“Oi. C’mere you.”

You rolled your eyes but walked into his outstretched arms, his body completely slumped and covered in thick duvets and pillows, just his tattooed skin and coarse, tousled hair poking out from underneath. He pulled you close into him, smelling like green apples and rum and sex and sea salt, like home. He mumbled something that you couldn’t quite make out, the sun starting to shine through the cracks in the curtains and as you started to get up he tugged you in tighter, placing messy, sloppy kisses down your throat and onto your collarbones.

You smacked his shoulder, grabbing his jaw and holding it still, placing a kiss on his lips, feeling him smile against your mouth.

“Bye, my love.”

“Hmph.”

You made it halfway down the hall before you heard: “Fred is driving you. Don’t even bloody think about walking alone at this time.” Followed by grunts and groans and finally deep, throaty snores.

———————————————————-

You accompanied your boss to a few meetings, taking notes and helping him check stock. After a few hours filled with cinnamon lattes and finger cramps and ink stains, he took you aside at the office and gave you the rest of the day off. You were a little suspicious, and had a feeling his good deed might have had something to do with your slightly intimidating husband, but you accepted it nonetheless and headed to Camden after lunch.

The air was brisk and you pulled your scarf tighter around your throat, dodging puddles and fat droplets of rain as they dropped from the trees. You stopped off at a little cafe on your side of town, buying turkey sandwiches, a garden salad and a platter of seasonal fruit, ignoring the fried sugar donuts and sausage rolls and thick, crispy cuts of bacon. A routine check up to the doctor had lead to Alfie being told that perhaps a healthier lifestyle would benefit some of his ailments, so despite his grumbling and childish ways you were doing your best to make sure he was eating his five a day - no matter how much he protested.

But at the last second you grabbed a cherry jam donut. His favourite.

The rain had become torrential by the time you left, the clouds morphing into a block of ashen, sooty grey, teetering on black. Once upon a time the impending storm would have made you feel nervous, the rattling trees and flashes of lightning had been the reason for many sleepless nights when you were a child, but now you looked forward to it.

Because now it meant something different. You, Alfie and Cyril curled up in bed, the fire roaring and flickering a brilliant orange gold. Your husbands arms tight around you, squeezing softly every time there was a clap of thunder, his kisses warm and protective across your throat, knowing that he’d never let anything hurt you. Drinking tea spiked with rum and playing cards, listening to the rain against the windows, feeling the white burst of lighting every time it struck the sky. Falling asleep next to each other, Alfie always waiting for you to doze off first, unable to sleep unless he knew you were alright.

You had once hated storms, and now you wished for them.

Your umbrella was totally battered by the time you got to the bakery. The bottom of your dress was damp from puddles and your shoes were on their last legs, the satin ruined and black with mud, but you didn’t care, walking through the side entrance with a smile bigger than the moon. A few of the old boys saw you instantly, straightening up and grinning at you, welcoming you with whisky soaked aprons and calloused hands. Back when you and Alfie started dating he had all but forbidden his staff from looking, talking, or even thinking about you, but over the years you had formed a close relationship with his workers - something about your warmth and light easing up the darkness. At first Alfie huffed and puffed about it a little, but he couldn’t exactly blame his men for loving you - he was a perfect example of how you brought a strong man to his knees after all.

“Is he upstairs?” You asked George, one of the distillers. As soon as he nodded you left, your heels clicking against the cool basement flooring. You didn’t bother knocking as you approached the big, intimidating door to his office, instead just grabbing the brass lion head knob and twisting it, hearing the hinges whine in protest.

“What the fuck?” His voice was as deep and rumbling as a low tide, his tone so dark and sharp that it might have scared you, if you didn’t know him as the man who fed the ducks fresh bread at the park and cuddled Cyril when the vets had to give him an injection. “How many fucking times do I have to ask you lot to fucking knock. I mean it’s a - ”

He stopped short when he saw you, eyes going wide and lips twitching upwards just a little. He slipped into business mode whenever he sat at the leather chair behind his desk, but you always managed to chip away at his foundation.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.” You laughed, walking around his desk to see him, his legs naturally opening to let you stand in between them, his eyes following every curve and line of your face, settling on the natural rosebud flush of your lips.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He mused, ring clad fingers darting around your waist and pulling you in. He toyed with the buttons on your dress and the jewellery around your neck, his fingers rough and large and as hot as a fire. His day had been shitty so far, but seeing the sparkle in your eyes and the loose curl of your hair had made everything much, much better.

“Hmm.” You said, leaning into his touch, batting away his hand as it slipped somewhere a little too low. “Marcus gave me the afternoon of so I thought I would come and surprise you.”

He blinked up at you, all wistful and love drunk and making your knees turn into blackcurrant jelly. “Did you now?”

“Yep.” You smiled, brushing your nose against his before pulling back and teasingly shaking the paper bag of baked goods in your hand. “And I bought gifts.”

“Yeah. Yeah. In a minute.” He barely registered them, instead dragging you into him, pressing kisses to your lips and letting you wash away any thoughts from his brain, not stopping until he was totally, completely drowning in you.

——————————————————-

That was how you ended up cross legged on the sofa, devouring your new novel and sipping on the rose and oolong tea Alfie kept in the cupboard for when you visited the factory. You could hear the rain pattering down the windows around you, mixed with the scratch of Alfie’s fountain pen and the sound of him rifling through his papers. It was fun to watch him as well as listen to him, the way his eyebrows raised when he read something he didn’t like, the twitch of his nose and the way that he ran his fingers through the coarse hair of his beard, moulding it to a peak at the bottom of his chin.

He watched you as well. When you got so into your book that your brows furrowed and your nose wrinkled. The way your hair was loose and wild, your stockings a soft pink under the stormy sky, your eyes wide and frantic, desperate to read as much as you could. He smiled at the way your leg bounced, how you tried to pick the stems from your strawberries with one hand but then accidentally squished them, the juice running down your wrist. He especially liked the way you were using his winter coat as a blanket, drowning in the fabric like a child, the collar snug around your chin.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You heard Ollie before you saw him, the crash of his laced black boots thundering up the stairs, the way that he collided with the door rather than opening it first. You and Alfie stood up at the same time, his eyes immediately darting to you, gesturing for you to get behind him.

“Eric’s here.” Was all the boy said, and you watched the colour drain from Alfie’s face.

“Eric?” You said, “Eric Martin?”

Your question lingered in the air as the two men walked around one another, gesturing wildly and talking under their breath; Alfie completely frantic and flustered. You had only heard of Alfie’s new business partner in passing, the two of them had spent the better part of a year talking through agreements and shipments and trying to manoeuvre a deal where the two of them could co exist happily - Alfie’s rum and Eric’s stolen goods sharing a boat so that the city checks would be easier. Alfie had never been particularly quite when it came to business. He liked to include you and get your opinion on things, he trusted you most of all anyway, but he had been secretive when it came to Eric.

You had heard through Ollie and rumours at the club and whispers in the factory that this “Eric” was a man not to be trifled with. Apparently he was unpredictable and violent, and he belonged to one of the major crime gangs in Cambridge. None of this scared you though, many people thought the exact same of the man you shared your bed with, and you knew a side of him that nobody else saw. The gossip was barbed and cruel though. They said he was conniving and underhanded, and that his last two wives had been admitted to hospital with broken and fractured bones.

So Alfie tried cutting him out as much as he could, never wanting to say his name or talk about him in the safety of his home, not with you around. Your home was his solace, and he wouldn’t taint his life with you in blood red - you were too important. You never thought much of it, but watching his reaction, his sudden overprotectiveness and stern frown and rattled demeanour, made you just a little bit frightened.

“What the fuck does he want?” Alfie snapped, pulling your coat over your shoulders frantically and starting to button it up, then helping you tug on your boots and lace them.

“He’s pissed about the Brighton shipment, he says his liquor didn’t get there on time.”

“Stupid fucking...” Alfie’s voice trailed off like smoke, something downstairs on the factory floor clattering loudly followed by distinct, angry shouts. “We told him it was too risky with the police there, he should have fucking listened. We were due a meeting next week, tell him to fuck off and come back then.”

“He won’t listen.”

“Make him.”

“I...” He started, but Alfie cut him off again, standing next to you and taking your face in his large, calloused hands.

“Right, pet. Stay here for a little bit, and when it clears up, Ollie will take you out the back, alright?”

“Alfie...” You started to protest, before exhaling and sighing as he turned to his protégée.

“You got that, Ol? Nothing is to happen to her.”

You were getting a little hot with being ordered around, but the visible anxiety swimming across their faces like the midnight sea was enough for you to close your mouth. Instead of agreeing with his boss, Ollie shook his head, sucking on his lower lip as he tried to think of a way to convey the sincerity of the situation.

“He’s really angry, Alfie. You need to go down, now. Before he decides to come up.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Your fingers clenched, and you darted out to tug on the edge of his sleeve before he left.“Alfie. Please be careful.”

There was a smog of anxiety in your stomach and warning signs ringing like alarms in your mind as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his lips brushing your hairline. You chewed on the edge of your lip as he left, and you wondered how your blissful afternoon had turned into this: your body shaking with nerves as your husband descended down the stairs and into the belly of the beast.

Ollie reached out and touched your shoulder, trying to help you feel calm but his face was the colour of tepid dishwater, paling by the second.

“He’ll be fine.”

You crossed all of your fingers and toes.

———————————————————————

About twenty minutes passed, and the shouting had gone from ear piercingly loud to a low hum, which you found oddly comforting despite everything. You watched as Ollie fiddled with his pocket watch, the two of you waiting until it was safe to head downstairs.After a moment you heard the sound of the giant metal door opening, the one right at the front where the workers came in and the bakery goods were delivered, a clear indication from Alfie that Eric was leaving.

Ollie leapt up and smiled faintly at you, edging you towards the door as you swung your handbag across your chest. You scoffed a little as you walked, turning to face him.

“If Eric is gone, why can’t I stay?”

Ollie merely rolled his eyes, his hand migrating to your lower back as he all but pushed you forward. You might have been able to get away with ignoring Alfie’s orders, but he certainly wouldn’t. “You know Alfie won’t want you here after that. There’s no use fighting him about it, he’ll want you back at home.”

You sighed but conceded, allowing yourself to be guided down the staircase. At least at home you could distract yourself and have Cyril with you, his big treacle eyes were the perfect remedy to a bad day.

You were right beside the back door and ready to leave when you heard a voice cracking like thunder from behind you, something as sharp as a knife and as loud as a church bell. You both froze instantly, every nerve in your body feathering, your heart aching to know that Alfie was alright.

“You little fucking liar.” Cut around the room like barbed wire. “How long were you planning on hiding this shipment from me?” There was another crash, and you could hear liquid trickling and dribbling into a puddle, followed by the sweet, sour smell of alcohol.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re on about mate.” It was Alfie speaking now, his voice lowered to a dangerous octave, and you could picture the lightning like anger on his face. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down? You’ve been sending things off without my knowledge!”

“I said. Fucking calm down.” The sound of a hand slamming down on wood, as fierce as a slap on the face. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

There was another scuffle: rapid footsteps on the floor, the crack of knuckles and the smell of ash. A couple of the boys darted in from the other room, their shirts untucked and hands turning red. You watched them curiously, stepping forward on unsteady heels to try and pinpoint the commotion. You felt Ollie's hand reach for you but you leapt out of his grasp, at the same time a body flew from the next room and landed in a heap next to barrels of aged rum and whisky, the wood heaving from the strain.

You glanced at the man on the floor, his body oddly contorted, his bald head glistening with sweat and his body reeking of putrid alcohol and cigarettes. This was obviously Eric. Your eyes widened in disgust at the drunk, violent man taking swings at whoever he could, wanting nothing more than to get away from him. You saw Alfie emerge from the shadows, his gaze flitting straight to you, his hands swollen and his face flushed with visible anger at the man sprawled on the ground.

Before you could retreat, Eric’s wide, black eyes landed on you, practically bulging out of his head with adrenaline and anger and excitement. “ You know, Alfie.” He asked through bubbles of saliva, scrambling to his feet as best he could, lunging for you. You saw Alfie and a few of his best men move forward, hands ready like cocked guns to strike if they needed to. Eric ignored them, wanting to pack as many fatal blows in whilst he had the chance. “Everybody at the club talks about your little whore of a wife, Solomon’s.”

The room fell deadly silent. His words didn’t affect you at all, but you felt a pool of dread settle in your gut and you stepped backwards, warning him with your eyes. He was at the back of the room, but you could still feel the anger vibrating from your husband, and you heard him smack his lips as he tried to calm himself down.

Eric ignored your alarmed glare, spitting onto the concrete and looking you up and down with pure disgust and shameless lust. “You know that people only do business with you to get to her?”

“Don’t. You. Fuck - ” Alfie’s boots thundered like a stampede, his voice as dark and raspy as midnight, his words sharpened like butchers knives.

“Maybe I’ll have a go at her. Maybe it’ll teach you a little respect. If I have a go at that smug little whore and slap her around a little and....”

He didn’t finish his sentence, Alfie’s cane smashing against the side of Eric’s head with enough momentum to send his teeth flying, small milky white canines lying a few feet in front of you in a pool of sticky blood. He made some kind of noise from on the floor, his hands coming up to protect what was left of his face, his polished shoes desperately trying to grip onto something to help him up. There was a second hit. And then a third. Each accompanied by ear splitting cries, and the sound of flesh against stone.

“Don’t you ever, ever, speak about my wife like that again.” You could just about make out Alfie from the darkness, his silhouette mighty and terrifying, leaning over the shattered body on the floor, filled with a hatred that seemed to overpower him.

“I - ” Eric tried to speak but only blood pooled from his mouth, his body weakened and damaged from the attack. He tried to cover himself with his hands but failed, another ear piercing crack echoing around the room.

You lunged forward, wanting to stop your husband before he went too far. “Alfie! Stop! You’re going to kill him!”

He blinked up at you, his pupils swallowed by black. His gaze lowered from you onto the wailing man on the ground, his words playing on a loop in his brain, digging their nails in every time the record restarted.

He had said those evil things about you.

He glanced at Ollie, finally opening his mouth to speak. “Take her home.”

You struggled in Ollie’s grip, desperate to see your husband and knock some sense into him. Your heart hung heavy in your chest, equal parts terrified that he would either end up hurt or in a more dangerous situation than the one he was already in. You fought hard but Ollie’s hold was tighter, his fingers squeezing you tightly. He tried to be kind but forceful as he pulled you out into the alley, your heard turned back to face your husband, watching as him and the shadow on the floor faded to a dull, awful, obsidian.

—————————————-

You were certain you were going to make holes in the wood. You had been pacing back and forth the living room floor for almost an hour, and Cyril had abandoned his mission of trying to cheer you up, and instead watched you protectively and cautiously from his wicker basket beside the sofa.

You had chewed your sunshine yellow nails down to the wick, and your heart hadn’t stop thumping since you had left the warehouse. Ollie had left you to your thoughts, keeping watch outside to make sure nothing harmed you, and also that you didn’t harm somebody else.

Dealing with hysterical women wasn’t really his forte.

There had been no word from Alfie since you had left, and so you watched the teal wall phone endlessly, hoping that it would ring and you would know he was alright. You were greeted with nothing but ice cold silence, and so you resumed your pacing, biting down on the skin of your thumb until you could taste blood.

Right before you were about to lose all control and demand Ollie take you to see him, you heard the crunch of the gravel outside, and saw lemon headlights flash against the wall. Cyril’s head lifted quickly, and his tail began to thump, but your feet turned to concerted and you were unable to do anything other than wait.

You were as still as a spectre as you stood facing the door, your body prickling with anxiety and adrenaline. A car - you assumed Ollie’s - coughed and spluttered over the rocks and into the road, leaving you alone with Alfie. You heard the key in the lock, practically felt the metal ridges running over your spine as he pulled and twisted and finally came inside, the sky a gloomy, smoky grey, rain falling so harshly it was almost hail.

He was shaped so strongly, his figure so barbed and brawny and beautiful. You felt totally mortal beside a man like him, and he looked even more so like a God when you saw him under the icy white lamp light in the hall.

He was covered in blood. Soaked in it, really. It was matted in his hair and in ugly brown splotches across his once pristine shirt and under his fingernails and smeared across his boots in a shade of red you had never seen before. It was obvious he had tried to clean himself up judging from the uneven patches and water marks, but he had given up, deciding to risk everything and drive through the streets like an abattoir worker, just so he could see you as quickly as he could.

You let out some kind of noise and stepped forward, he caught you effortlessly, the way that he always would.

“Alfie.” You said, wide eyed and innocent and good, and he felt like a sinner holding something so angelic in his arms.

“I’m alright. I’m alright.”

There was blood in his beard, and a plum sided bruise turning nightshade on his upper arm. “Oh God, Alf.”

He shook his head, pulling you in and smelling the orange and cinnamon of your shampoo and the vanilla perfume on your neck and felt the softness of your hair and the curves of your body. The day had been bad. It had started so wonderfully and ended up shattered and splintered into something so awful and malevolent, and now there was nothing he wanted except you, his home.

“We need to - ” You started, but he frowned, his arms engulfing you and tugging you in. He pressed his lips to whatever flesh he could find, open mouthed and desperate, sucking and biting and aching for you.

“No. No.” He whispered into your neck, his voice so small and desperate that your heart throbbed. “I need you, my love.”

You knew what he wanted. How we got when he was like this. Touch starved. Greedy. Insatiable. How he wanted nothing else but the feel of you under him, the weight of your ribs and the feel of your body and love consuming him until nothing was left. Fuck his back and his cane, he needed to claim you and mark you and show you just how badly he needed you. He needed to find religion at the alter of your pliant, yearning body. Show you how much he loved you on the cold kitchen tiles with the rain casting grey shadows and his lips biting your own as the thunder clapped above.

————————-

The tap was still leaking.

Alfie had promised to fix it weeks ago and yet it still dribbled lukewarm water continuously, you didn’t mind for once though, the soft noise it made as it bounced into the water was somewhat calming.

His legs around you were as thick as tree trunks and covered in curly, coarse hair. His arms were tight around you, and you played with the jewels on his fingers as you both relaxed, letting the hot steam cover you both. You were cradled in front of him despite your instance that his back would hurt and it would cause more harm than good. He simply got in the water and dragged you on top of him, letting the pink bath salts do their job.

You hadn’t really spoken since you’d made love like teenagers on the kitchen floor. Afterwards, he tugged you on top of him and held you close, the two of you skin to skin, letting your pulses synch and breathing calm all whilst he stayed warm and throbbing inside of you. Needing to be joined with you for as long as he could.

Then you ran a bath and filled it with all of the expensive lotions and potions you had stockpiled. Cherry and rose and sweet mint and chocolate and lime, things that might have clashed but would easily cover the smell of sweat and sex and thick, coppery blood. The two of you sat in the water, not speaking but filled with love, despite all of the unspoken tension in the air.

You felt him shift behind you. His huge body sent water and bubbles lapping wildly over the tub edge, coating the floor in marshmallow pink. You giggled softly, and the sweet, angelic noise gave Alfie the final push to tell you everything.

“I know what you want to ask me.”

“Hmm?” You murmured, letting round, iridescent bubbles fall through the cracks in your fingers, knowing exactly what he was about to say but feigning innocence anyway.

“You want to know if I killed him.”

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need to, he continued anyway.

“I did.”

The bathroom fell silent again and Alfie could feel you stiffen under him. You knew from the moment he swung his cane across Eric’s head that he would be buried six feet by the end of the day, but it still hit you like a punch to the windpipe to hear the words aloud.

“Does that bother you?” He asked after a moment, the words thick and raspy, as though they had been stuck in his throat like congealed honey.

“I’m not sure.” You said finally.

It was the truth. You weren’t sure.

You knew he had killed people before. You knew what the war had made him do, what it had turned him into. You weren’t stupid, either. You knew that he often came home with dirt under his nails and blood splattered on his boots and that glazed look in his eyes that made your stomach tie itself in knots. You knew because you had been there through it all, cleaning him up and disinfecting his wounds, talking him down when the memories of gunshots and trenches got too loud, listening to him tell you all of the secrets that lingered in his mind like flies around a carcass.

But if you were being honest, you didn’t care that he had killed. You never judged Alfie or his choices, you understood the way his brain worked and how he made his decisions. Most of the men had been awful. Abusers and violent thieves and con men with dirty intentions. This was the business you had signed up for when you fell for the six foot man with questionable morals but a heart of solid gold. There was no way you were turning your back on him now.

It wasn’t murder that scared you, it was the possible repercussions that led you to sleepless nights and bloody, bitten lips. You were terrified that one day everything would catch up to him, and it would be your husband that ended up in a coffin. He was so powerful and dangerous and magnificent, but he wasn’t invincible.

You were about to say as much but he continued, the water sloshing around the two of you. “Don’t let it bother you. I’d do it again. Kill a fucking million men if I had to. If anyone talks about you like that - if they even think it. They’re gone. Bloody scum. The lot of ‘em.”

You sighed, shifting up and grabbing his hand under the water. You rubbed circles across his palm, conveying your love through actions. “I don’t want to be the reason you have blood on your hands.”

“I’m a big lad right, I can make my own decisions.”

“I know you are Alf, but you know how I worry.”

“Listen to me, right.” He muttered, the candles flickering clementine, his fingertips pressing gently onto the bare flesh of your hip. He cleared his throat, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against his belly. “After the war I had nothing - and then I met you and fuck me you changed everything.”

He paused, reminiscing internally about how you met and your early dates, thinking of toffee kisses and giddy, pure love and fucking in back alleys and winter walks and finally feeling something after the war had shot everything right out of him. “And you are my wife. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

You tugged on his big toe, making him wince and playfully hit you, the air lightened just a little bit, but enough so that the two of you could breathe. “I don’t care that you killed them, Alf. I never have. But God, if something were to happen to you! What if the police start looking? What if...”

A million fucked up scenarios of your beloved in silver cuffs and a bullet in his head made you feel completely nauseous, but he held you tight, grounding you back to reality.

“I’m not going anywhere. And for the cops - they should be thanking me. Got rid of a lot of nasty criminals without them getting their hands dirty.” He pressed kisses to the back of your neck, the tip of your spine, the crook of your ear. “I promise you, my love, everything will be alright.”

The future was uncertain, but you knew that when you married him. Some days were just bad.

Clouded in darkness and tinged with blood and rust. Your relationship had always been a little unconventional, a little rough around the edges and at times, like a small wooden boat on a rough sea. But despite everything your love had been unwavering, as solid as a steel, the kind of dreamy infatuation that people longed for. For every bad day and every fight and every knot that wound itself in your belly - there was also so much good. Sleepy kisses and pillow talk and sharing the parts of yourself that no one else saw. A language without words, the safety of his arms, the home in your hips, domestic mornings and a love that could last through anything.And in that moment, with the storm starting to ease and the sky starting to lighten and his arms around you and Cyril starting to whine for his dinner downstairs...

It was enough.

Because you weren’t just the girl he would kill for. You were the girl he would live for.

[misslynn99]

Epicenter: Chapter Two

Pro Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Link on AO3: Epicenter

Link to Chapter 1

Author: misslynn_99 (Me!)

The next morning, the café regulars buzzed around the TV monitors, excitedly chatting about the news. Official footage of the attack had finally been aired. Concrete flew everywhere as the villain lashed out against heroes, sending distraught civilians fleeing from the scene. The scene that every news station had on repeat, however, was that of several tons of concrete on a direct collision course for a young family, until Ground Zero put himself between the two. He squared back one shoulder to pulverize the rubble with a blast, and in that moment, his wild eyes were molten flames, the fine cascade of dust casting a hazy halo around his form.

It was such a harsh contrast to the villain swinging a pillar of concrete immediately after, colliding directly with the hero’s chest and sending him hurtling back against the harsh exterior of another building, slumping bonelessly on the ground.

“He saved them.” You whispered to yourself. Icy needles twisted in your chest. Eijirou had  trusted you to care for his closest friend at his most vulnerable. The café was much closer than any hospital to the scene, but your heart skipped a beat, fluttering in astonishment. “He could have died. It’s a wonder he didn’t.” Just how close had Ground Zero been to death’s door when he showed up here?

“Blasty is lucky he’s got a rad, manly partner like me.” Eijirou’s voice startled you, suddenly far too close to your ear.

“Hi!” You squeaked. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“You think I’d let my best girl go un-thanked after saving my partner’s ass yesterday?” His arms swept you into a tight bear hug, twirling your feet off of the floor. Eijirou’s easy smile seemed to smooth over the awkward tension from the day before, as if it were no more than an insignificant blight of an otherwise sunny day.

“Quit harassing the woman, Shitty Hair. We’re here on business.”

“She likes it.” Eijirou had the gall to stick out his tongue. “Isn’t that right?”

“I, I don’t mind.” You couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment, dropping your head forward, and you prayed that no one would notice. This crush was spiraling out of control, as the sturdy muscles that could shatter any obstacle and strong enough to lift cars supported you easily in his embrace.

“ ‘Don’t mind’ isn’t the same as ‘like’.” Ground Zero’s mouth turned even further downward into a scowl. Reluctantly, Eijirou set you down, and you felt cold at the absence of his touch. The tension settled again like a thick cloud, choking out whatever embers of affection you felt for the red haired hero.

“I didn’t mean to impose.” The red-head’s own face was dusted with faint pink, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s no problem.” You tried your best to smile kindly, wincing internally at the memory of his flinch. “Why don’t I get you both some coffee on the house? It’s the least I can do for everything you two do to protect the city.”

“One black coffee it is then!” Eijirou perked back up.

“So, I take it you’ll have the latte, extra heavy cream with two pumps caramel, two pumps cinnamon, and cinnamon-brown sugar mix dusted on top?”

Ground Zero’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to say that so loud.”

“No shame.” You chuckled despite yourself. “Plenty of people take their coffee sweet, too.”

“Don’t spare Blasty’s feelings!” Eijirou laughed. “Even Mr. ‘Nothing is spicy enough’ likes sweets on occasion.”

“You better shut your mouth!” Ground Zero snapped, his tone climbing with each word. Curiously, Eijirou kept laughing, and tapped at his own ear.

“Right, got it.” The blonde grumbled. “Too loud.”

“Here you go, boys.”

“I have a name, you know.” The blonde held the cup up, scowling. “I’m off work, damn it. You called Shitty hair by his name on the cup.”

“It’s not like you introduced yourself between eating shit against the building and going in for surgery.” Eijirou scoffed.

“And you did?”

“Kiri stayed with me while they gave me IV fluids.” You supplied bashfully. “And I wanted to know when you made it out okay.”

“Call me Bakugou then.” He made a strangled noise. “When I’m not in suit tearing shit up, I don’t wanna hear ‘Ground Zero’ from you, got it?

“Not your given name?” Eijirou seemed to take a savage joy in goading on the explosive hero. “That’s awful cold, Katsuki. She did save you from a hospital stay and a month off of hero work.”

“Or Katsuki, whatever.” If looks could kill, Eijirou would have dropped dead in his tracks. Bakugou’s eye twitched and small firework-pops crackled off of his palms, clenched into fists at his side.  You hoped that the café regulars were too enamored with the news and their own conversations to notice the sparks flying.

“I can call you Bakugou, if that’s what make you more comfortable. Wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.” You chuckled, carefully watching his expression for his reaction to the playful jab.

“Kacchan’s bark is worse than his bite, at least off of the battlefield.” A new voice drifted in from the door. The emerald curls, gelled up from his undercut, were unmistakable. “I’m afraid that we didn’t get introduced last night. I’m Deku, but you can call me Midoriya if you’d like.”

“Kacchan?” You grinned wickedly. “Isn’t that so cute!”

Bakugou bristled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you fucking nerd!” He whipped around to snarl at the green-haired hero that had just walked in. For someone who was effectively co-workers with the number one hero, Bakugou acted like he despised the man.

“Aw, pump the breaks Kacchan.” Midoriya scrunched his freckled nose in a wide grin. “I’m just here to say hello to the woman who saved your life last night. So, this is where Kiri has been getting your coffee from? It’s such a nice little café, I think I’ll have stop by more often.”

“Like hell you will! We found it first!” Bakugou growled, stepping between you and Deku, while Eijirou chimed in the background, “I think you mean that I found it first.”

“Boys, boys, you’re all very pretty.” You ducked around the pro hero’s side, attempting to soothe the bickering. “I have plenty of coffee to go around. “

“You’re not keeping her as your personal barista and healer, Kacchan.”

“What happened to keeping this on the down-low?” Bakugou suddenly stiffened, whispering harshly.

“I think someone is feeling a bit embarrassed.” Eijirou rolled his eyes.

“I got my shit rocked on national television, of fucking course I feel embarrassed.” The blonde snapped. “But for her safety, I thought we agreed to keep any rescue shit-talk out of the public eye.”

Wincing, you looked up at him. “I think they’re calling you saving that family the rescue of the year though. And lots of people have minor healing quirks.”

Whipping his head back and forth, he snagged the strings of your apron and tugged you behind the coffee bar, through the doorway into the kitchen.

“Wait!” The two other heroes followed suit, chasing you as Bakugou dragged you out of the public eye.

“You don’t have a ‘minor healing quirk.’ “ He scowled, placing a hand on each of your shoulders, hands trembling as if he were resisting the urge to shake you. You could feel the residual heat of his calloused palms, the threat of an explosion ghosting along your skin and sending shivers up your spine.

“You have a self-destructive healing quirk that has major potential to get you kidnapped. Do you know the League of Villains would do to get their hands on you? Or fuck it, the Hero Commission? They’d keep you caged up like some animal to fix up their toys as they broke so that they could be sent out scot-free again.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Midoriya and Eijirou recoil, especially as the blonde hero turned his ire towards them once again. “Is some kind of joke to you two? Kirishima, if you could take two minutes to keep it in your pants, and Deku, if you could be serious, we need to come up with a plan.”

“Yes, Kacchan.” Midoriya and Eijirou nodded.

“Where do you live?” His burning eyes narrowed in your direction once again.

Swallowing thickly, you met his gaze. “In the loft above the café.”

“Hmm. Who all knows about the full extent of your quirk?”

“Just my parents, and my best friend from middle school, who moved to the states while we were in college.”

“Maybe she should stay with one of us?” Midoriya offered. “Just to see if anyone’s decided to target her?”

Panic froze your feet to the floor. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” You laughed nervously, fiddling with the apron strings tied at your hip. “I mean, you’re all very nice, but I could never ask that of anyone. I’m up at 4 in the morning to get the café ready to open at five, and walking alone in the dark is not my forte.” Especially if I might as well have a big target painted on my forehead now.

“The League definitely keeps an eye on our flats. They might not have made the connection that she’s done anything yet, but moving her in would be a surefire way to draw their attention. Also, there’s no way the Commission would just ignore someone else hanging out all the time.” Eijirou argued. “I think it would be better to set up surveillance on the café and her loft, and maybe get her a panic button or something.”

“A panic button.” Bakugou snorted. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but there are these novel things called ‘cellphones.’ “

“And if she can’t call?” Midoriya raised an eyebrow.

“Brave words for someone who dropped his location to Icy-Hot, with literally no context, in the middle of an alleyway, and he magically appeared anyways.”

Sighing and stepping between the two bickering men, Eijirou held his hand out expectantly. “Here, I’ll put our numbers in your phone. We should probably scope out your apartment later.”

“I close at five tonight.” You offered, passing your cell to him, contacts open. “I’ll probably be done cleaning up by six, but you’re free to drop by whenever you get the chance after that. All of this feels pretty crazy though. It’s not like I did anything out in the open.”

Turning on the full force of his overwhelming intensity, Bakugou rounded on you once again, having caught the tail of your conversation. “There’s a couple articles floating around. You’re in the pictures, being floated to the hospital, and some low life bloggers are wondering how I was fine so soon afterwards, when Recovery Girl was on the other side of the country for some other case.” Venom dripped from his words, as if this were your fault somehow.

“It’s not my fault that I helped you!” Anger leaked into your voice. You couldn’t believe that he had the audacityto blame you for this. “Don’t talk to me like it is. I couldn’t not do anything. It’s a wonder that hit didn’t do worse, and I am certainly not responsible for them taking me to the hospital with you.”

In frustration, you stormed out of the kitchen, straightening your apron and apologizing to the handful of customers who were waiting by the cash register. A friendly smile and a few discounted coffees later, they sat down at a booth. The heroes were still in your kitchen, and you felt your resolve to ignore them crumbling. “I did give Kiri and Bakugou free coffee earlier.” You mumbled to yourself, a mischievous idea taking root; Bakugou’s buttons were so easy to press.

Leaning around the corner, you poked your head back through the kitchen doorway. The heroes froze, their argument in low tones evaporating with your return. “Midoriya!” You grinned, drawing out the syllables playfully and deliberately ignoring the blonde hero’s angry stare. “How do you like your coffee? Sweet as you are?”

“Uh, umm” He stuttered and his eyes darted between you and the door. “With oat milk, white chocolate and toffee, and iced please.”

“Coming right up! On the house.” The sound of sparks dancing off of Bakugou’s palms eased your flare of anger, taking a little bit of satisfaction in riling up the blonde in return, and you set about making the drink.

The trio must have finally decided to drop their discussion, and shortly followed you out to wait by the coffee bar. Bakugo turned his back to you, eyeing the door and clutching his coffee  while Midoriya and Eijirou resigned themselves to facing you, their awkward expressions apologetic. The other café patrons were thankfully still transfixed by the TVs, oblivious to the situation at hand.

“Here’s your phone back.” Eijirou mumbled, setting your phone on the counter. “He doesn’t mean it. He’s just frustrated and annoyed, nothing against you personally. It’s just kinda how he is, ya know? He takes it out on everyone. He’s been this way since he was a teenager, but he doesn’t blame you. Promise.”

“Hmm. I suppose I can accept your apology on his behalf, just this once.” You whispered back, sliding a coffee cup to Midoriya, who sipped it gratefully.

“We’ll be back later. Come on, nerds.” Bakugo’s voice was gruff as he called over his shoulder. “We have a meeting and a patrol shift soon.”

The heroes left and an unease settled in your gut at their absence, acutely missing their larger than life presence. Even as the customers milled about, coming up for refills and pastries, their words weighed on your mind. Villains and Heroes had never been a major point of contention in your life; a quirk like yours wasn’t suited for the spotlight, and like thousands of others, accepted your fate as a civilian.

The coffee shop felt like a homage to another era, before quirks existed. The small planters bloomed in the window display under your mindful care, without any sparks of magic to enhance their color or growth. The coffee beans that arrived each week were roasted delicately by hand, and each new drink was born from trial and error; no surprising powers of charm or persuasion lured customers to your door. It was an honest life that you were proud of, built with hard work and love.

Ringing up another customer and brewing the earl grey tea for a London Fog, it felt like your head was ringing. Your quirk had never been an active threat to your well-being. You had gained some control over the years, having only been able to tend minor scratches and bruises as a child, but never showed enough promise to be recruited into the medical field as a young teen. Even now, the drawbacks were too great. Healing left you exhausted, and the more extensive the injury, the greater the fatigue.

It wasn’t like you came from a family of fantastic heroes either. Your mother worked as a doctor in a wound care and surgical center because she could clean infected tissue at the expense of the patient’s energy. Your father’s quirk was completely unrelated to your own, allowing him to sculpt metal by heating his hands, albeit without flames. It was hard to believe that the arguably worse version of your mother’s quirk made you a target, but the underlying assumptions behind it sent shivers of fear down your spine. If there was no regard for your well-being, your quirk could be indispensable, could be used to patch anyone up at the expense of draining you dry.

Nevertheless, the hours ticked by, dread worrying the pit of your stomach. Bile rose in the back of your throat the longer your anxious thoughts raced. Without the grace of someone with a more offensive quirk, there was little you could do to defend yourself.

Maybe Bakugou was right to be annoyed, but he didn’t have the right to be such an ass about it. Closing time was only half an hour away, and the customers had dwindled in the shop. The pleasant humming of customers faded, exposing every raw nerve that you had. The last person was out, and at 5:06,

... there was a knock.

Snapping to attention, you jerked towards the doors, feeling a strange mixture of relief and annoyance upon seeing Bakugou waiting by the door. Sighing, you called out, “It’s still unlocked.”

He didn’t enter though. He leaned partially against the window with one hand, the other shoved deep into the pocket of his white jeans. He had the hood up on his black and gold hoodie, but not enough to conceal his distinctive blonde hair and you could have sworn his red eyes could burn a hole through anything as he peered in the window. He must not have heard you, and you steeled your resolve to go and let him in.

“Shitty Hair sent me.” He grumbled.

“Hmm.” You hummed in response, wandering back behind the counter to tuck away the extra bottles of syrup and take down the pastry display. “Make yourself at home then.”

The hero looked even more uncomfortable, his shifting gaze never lingering on anything for too long, before he spotted the bottle of disinfectant. To your surprise, he started wiping off tables, but you don’t breath a word, afraid to break the uncanny silence.

At 5:45, Eijirou, Midoriya, and a woman you could only assume was Uravity knocked, and Bakugou dropped the supplies as if he had been burned. Midoriya was the first to heckle him, teasing “Kacchan, I didn’t know that you could be helpful!”

“I was bored, you damn nerd. That’s all.”

The heroes were almost unrecognizably causal. Uravity and Midoriya were in matching letterman jackets, sky blue and patterned with delicate pink cherry blossoms falling from slender black branches, with Shouto written across the back in a beautiful script. Eijirou was also devastatingly casual, wearing baggy, low-rise black jeans and a white v-neck that dipped dangerously below his collar bones. His long red hair was up in his trademark loose ponytail, spilling over his shoulders and down his back.

“So nice to see you again! I’m Uraraka.” Her smile glowed as she bounced forward to greet you. “It’s nice to really see the place that Kirishima and Bakugo talk so much about.”

A frown creased your features. “I think I would have remembered Bakugou coming in for coffee. Doesn’t Kiri just get his?” You mumbled, panicking as you realized it was out loud.

Thankfully, Uraraka giggled. “No, he just won’t let Kiri get coffee from anywhere else now. I think the whole agency knows his order by now.”

“It’s just the least shitty.” Bakugou growled. “But whatever. I have shit to do, so let’s get this over with.”

“Lead the way.” Midoriya smiled kindly.

The stairs to the flat were in the kitchen, the door tucked out of sight next to a supply closet. Butterflies fluttered in your chest, and a sudden self-consciousness that almost froze you in place. The apartment was an intimate insight into your life and personality. Your reading was on the living room table, and cherished photos hung on the walls. Is my laundry hanging up to dry? You winced at the thought.

“Welcome!” You forced a smile and led them to the kitchen table. “So, what do you need to check out?”

“We’re not trying to invade your privacy more than necessary.” Midoriya looked solemn, glancing at you shyly from underneath his lashes. “I was thinking we should put a camera right in the stairway that faces the entrance, another on the fire escape, and one on the outside of each of your windows. Then, we can just set up a bunch around the café.”

“Oh,” You relaxed into your seat. “That’s not as bad as I was expecting.”

Midoriya and Uraraka were  sitting ram-rod straight at your table, posture stiff and schooled. Eijirou was examining your end table in the living room, carefully turning your favorite candle in his hands, while Bakugou trailed behind like a sullen shadow.

“We just want to make sure you’re safe.” Uraraka reassured. “We’ll probably change the patrol route to make sure that we stop by here, but we won’t be in the shop every time. If nothing is weird, we’ll leave you be after a while.”

“I’m glad.” The remaining tension left your shoulders, and you let out a sigh of relief. “I really don’t want to put my life on pause. I’ve worked really hard for what I have here. “

“Of course!” Eijirou looked over his shoulder, now surveying the sliding glass door that led to the fire escape. “This is the best place in town, and I don’t think I’ll ever stay awake through another Commission meeting without my usual again. Plus, we owe you big time. It’s our fault that you’re starting to get some media attention.”

“Do the cameras need plug-ins or batteries?” You asked cautiously.

“Nah,  they’re the special surveillance ones Chargebolt rigged, and we’ll get a notification if the battery is less than 25%. We’ve just gotta get them set up. Uraraka can up to stick them, then make ‘em weightless so they don’t fall down.”

At Eijirou’s words, you could see Uraraka tapping her fingers, jumping up to stick the device to the ceiling. With a frown of concentration, she pulled out her phone, checking the feed and fiddling with the camera until it was angled to her satisfaction before drifting back to the floor.

“We can take it from here. Feel free to go back to closing, or what you usually do in the evening. Don’t be afraid to let us know if you need anything.” Midoriya nodded before excitedly leaning in closer, eyes sparkling with the enthusiasm of a little kid. “Also, at some point, can I study your quirk? I keep notebooks of all different quirks I encounter, and yours is so interesting.”

“Shut your trap, nerd!” Bakugou growled from behind Eijirou, who jumped and clutched his partner’s arm. “Stop acting like we’re at the damn zoo. Save it for later.”

“Am not, Kacchan!” Midoriya whined. Turning to you, he put up his hands in a peace gesture. “I think we better get going, though. I think today’s probably been quite the day for you. Uraraka will set those up outside, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

Snagging Bakugou’s sleeve, Midoriya pulled him unwillingly down the stairs, with Uraraka having already moved on to install the security cameras in the café. Despite his tough front, the blonde didn’t fight too much, only grimacing and batting away the other hero’s hand as they left.

“Hey Kiri,” You said nervously, before the hero had the chance to follow his teammates out of your apartment. “Thanks for having Bakugou come over to be there while I was closing. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you guys said this morning. I just feel so uneasy, like every stranger could be dangerous and I can’t do anything to save myself. It really set my mind at ease to have someone else there.”

“I bet.” He winced with sympathy. “But I didn’t ship Bakugou out here. He volunteered, and you didn't hear that from me.”

[iguessilovebakugou]

Beautiful  ||  {Dabi/F!Reader}  ---  Heathers: The Musical --  Cause I’m a stupid fuck who can’t control themselves

Me:  *Doesn’t post anything for 2 years*

Also Me when Dabi is on screen at any point ever:   👁👄👁

I’m also throwing this out there because like...I highly doubt anyone still looks at my blog, so I can hide my fucking shame that I’ve been thinking of this idea on and off for almost 2 years now. 

Now...spoilers under the cut because I have to explain some things...

I know they just recently announced that Dabi “died” when he was a kid.  So I will have to specify that I’m aging him up to be 17, since that would just...make sense?  

  --  --  --  --

“Venti salted caramel coldbrew, extra foam.”

There was a raid against villains that day.  It had been the only thing anyone could talk about.

You had overheard the editors talking about it as they made their coffee.  It was a good thing, right, that they were taking the fight to the bad guys?  That not all hope had been lost?  Most people just wanted an ounce of good news.  Some confirmation that the way of things would hold strong - a nice sugar coat to swallow the hard pill.  Though, it seemed like all any report worth their salt - you included - could discuss was the fall of society, what people were going to do if...or...when, rather, the heroes were yanked from their spot light and cast down in the dirt with the rest of civilization.  

You weren’t a giant fan of them, considering, but you understood the necessity for someone to hold the mantle - someone who guaranteed the safety the mass populous required to keep them from falling to complete anarchy.

Your phone buzzed as a message appeared at the top, blocking the article’s title from view.  Your boss, Fumihiro...again...for the 8th time since you left the office.  

[INCOMING MSG] ::  Where are you right now?

“Venti salted caramel cold brew, extra foam for...”

Your brows furrowed, your stance shifting from one foot to the other.  

[OUTGOING MSG] ::  Getting the coffee.

[OUTGOING MSG] ::  Why?  Want me to get you something?

Heroes.  The way of things.  Society.  

Most people didn’t seem to care too much about it once their phones locked and it was out of their line of sight.  When the terrible wasn’t in your face, it was easy to forget that everything hung on a tiny thread that was always threatening to snap.  It was hard, you figured, to care about the state of the world when you were more concerned about mundane matters that were pressing in the moment.  The rest of the world seems small when you have everything else to pressure you.  It was easy to forget.

[INCOMING MSG] ::   www.wtxz319.rdio.com/live/93901_error

[INCOMING MSG] ::  u need to watch this

You wished you could forget about it.  Wished that it hadn’t been looming over your head since...well...

Your thumb hovered over the link, the screen went black and a stream started loading.  Some radio podcast?  You read the title:  ENDEVOUR TAKING ON U-A’S BEST AND BRIGHTEST?! UNLIKELY SON AND FATHER DUO?

“Venti salted caramel cold brew, extra foam!!”

Your heart leapt up into your throat as your eyes met the kid behind the counter.  He paused only a moment before using his fingers to nudge your drink closer to edge.

“Oh.  Sor-”

“Have a good one.”  

You locked your phone as you shoved it into your back pocket, grabbed your drink and made a beeline towards the door.  The streets were busy, given the hour. You had just enough time to get back to the office and finish your article on  before the evening - just enough time for an editor to look it over, to do some quick fixes and-

You phone buzzed again, and Fumihiro’s face once again flashed on the screen.  

[INCOMING MSG] ::  Did you see it?

[INCOMING MSG] ::  We need to be the first people on this.  I don’t care about what else you were working on.  This is more important.  

You stopped at the crosswalk, staring at your phone and ignoring the woman who had to move around you with a huff.  But...you were so close to getting to the meat of what the Safety Commission was hiding.  You were so close getting to the heart of it all and, maybe - just maybe - throwing away some of the uncertainty that was hanging over everyone’s head after All Might’s retirement.  

After the weeks you spent staking out police stations, hounding hero agencies, digging through dumpsters for any shred of proof the Pros and Police were hiding something - the favors you had to call in for breadcrumbs and scraps alone?!  And just like that, he wanted you to drop it all?  For what?  Some stupid radio show speculation?

You didn’t hesitate to hit the phone icon in the upper corner, stomping towards the intersection.

“Hey-”  You cut Fumi before he could even finish your name.

“What do you mean ‘drop the article’?  Do you know-”

“I don’t care!  This is bigger!!”

“What’s bigger than-”

“Did you even watch the link I sent you?  Every station across Japan is getting hacked and it’s been playing on loop for a few minutes now on a few stations.  It’s slowly moving to others now.”

“Fumi what the hell are you talking about!?”

 “I, TOUYA TODOROKI, WAS BORN THE ELDEST SON OF ENDEVOUR.”

It...was hard to think for a moment.  Like a memory, reaching up from the dirt to grab you, to finally take you down to hell.  

That voice.

It felt like he was right in your ear, in your head.  It had been so long since he had done it to you, since he...no...not him.  He was dead.  His father confirmed it.  You confirmed it.  You knew he was gone and there was no bringing him back and - 

“I’VE KILLED OVER 30 INNOCENT PEOPLE UNTIL NOW.”

No.  No, no no no no it wasn’t in your head - because if it had been, the sound of blood pounding in your ears wouldn’t be able to mask it so well.  You froze, your hands shaking as your breath caught in your throat.  It couldn’t be him.  I couldn’t, it couldn’t...

“You need to get back to the office - I want you on this.  I already have a copy of it in case you can’t screen capture it -”

“I WOULD LIKE TO LET EVERYONE KNOW WHY I’D END UP COMMITING SUCH A HIDEOUS ACT.”

Because you’re a fucking monster.

Someone next to you stopped and looked up.  Then another and then another. You knew what they were looking at.  Who they were looking at.  And still, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up.  You couldn’t do it - not again.  Not now.  Not after so many years of him being dead and buried where he deserved to be.

But he always had a hold on you.  Something that drew you to him.  And so...you looked up.

And as your phone and drink clattered to your feet, you felt the world stop.

“...Touya?”

--   ---    ---   ---   ---  ---- ----- ---- --- - - - - - - - - --- - - - - - - - --- --- -- 

September 1st, 20xx

Dear Diary - I believe I’m a good person.  You know?  Like, I believe there’s good in everyone.  But um...here we are!  First day of our Senior Year and I look around at the kids I’ve known for so long and I can’t help but think to myself - what happened?

You hadn’t really wanted to be friends with the Nori’s.  Not really.  They were stuck up snobs who made everyone below them miserable.  But there was a power to them that everyone respected.  You had been taught that knowledge held power.  And the Nori’s had power because everyone knew if you double crossed them, your life would be a living fucking hell.

“Ah, Nori and Nori.”

You grimaced into your knees as Nori Ueda vomited for a third time since you had been hiding out in the bathroom.  The teacher paused before sighing. “And Nori.  Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell?  You’re late for class.”

“Nori’s sick!  We’re helping her.”

You had given the low price of just sitting at their lunch table - once, no talking would be necessary - in the hopes people would leave you alone.  It was a simple fact of life:  Where there are teenagers, there are winners and there are losers.  And you had spent the majority of your High School career on the low end of the totem pole.  You were so low, in fact, it seemed talking to you was all but taboo.  Anything other than bullying, shoving into lockers, or calling out unfortunate break outs was strictly forbidden by anyone not wanting to suffer the same fate. 

But the Nori’s?  Solid Teflon: never bothered.  Never harassed like you had been.  They had a mystique, a pull, a confidence that couldn’t be matched.  And you would have killed to be like them.  

Perhaps that why you reached into backpack and yanked out the pad of hall pass papers.  

You opened the stall door and slipped out, making your wave over to the group.  Nori Ueda wiped her mouth.  Nori Makino was leaning against the bathroom counter, focusing on making sure her bright red lipstick was perfectly placed.  And Nori Kaneko?  She was staring down the teacher, hands on her hips, completely equal and completely ready to start a fight.  

The teacher laughed, so sure and so pleased that she had been the one to stumble upon the trio in the bathroom.   “Not without a hall pass, you’re not.  A week’s detention.”

“Uh...ma’am.”  Your voice trembled out and reverberated off the tiled wall.  It had been louder than you originally intended.  Everyone turned quickly to you, only for their attention to be immediately drawn to your outstretched hand you held.  “All of us are out on a hall pass...yearbook committee.” 

She snatched it from you.  For a moment, she simply glanced back between you, the paper, then the Nori’s, then back.  After a heavy moment, she nodded.  “It looks like you’re all listed.”

Nori Kaneko took it from the teacher, looking it over herself.  You tried not to make eye contact as she looked at you.  You instead focused on the teacher as she made her way towards the bathroom door.  “Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

You heaved a sigh of relief.

“This is an excellent forgery.  Who are you?”

You stuttered your name, shrinking under her sharp gaze.  “I uh...I crave a boon.”

“What boon?”  You weren’t sure if she was simply aggravated you had dared do more than answer the questions she asked or if the annoyance was just a constant manner of speaking for her.

You could forge anything thanks to your quirk - Copy.  All you had to do was see someone or something once or twice, focus on it as best as you could and like that, you could be that person.  From their mannerisms, their voice, to their penmanship.  Its why you stole the pad of hall passes, to skip class whenever you wanted, to have an excuse to be hiding out in the bathroom.  

It had worked...sometimes...

You stuttered out your name.  You could see the two Nori’s snicker in the background.  They had no clue who you were.  It was...somewhat insulting.  Their “friends” had done their best to make your life a living hell and yet you had flown under their radar.  

Your eyes darted between the three of them.  Nori Kaneko stared down at you, foot tapping and arms crossed as she took you in.  You couldn’t help but feel like a prey animal, stuck in the line of sight of the Apex Predator.

But your mama didn’t raise no quitter.  You swallowed and stood up just a bit straighter.  “Let me sit with you at lunch, once.  No talking necessary.  If...I mean, if people think you guys tolerate me, they might leave me alone.”

The laughter was instantaneous.  Kaneko looked back to the other two, her laugh light and condescending.  The audacity, it said.  The gall of you to ask to sit with them, of all people.  “Before you answer, I also do permission slips, report cards, and absent notes.”

“What about prescriptions?”

“Shut up, Nori.”

“Sorry, Nori.”  Ueda immediately slunk back to the shadows, gaze downcast.

Kaneka stepped forward and you thought for a moment she was going to shove you onto the floor.  You braced your feet, mentally preparing yourself for the force of her push...but it never came.  She was in front of you for a moment, and then the next, she was at your side.  She hummed under her breath and you could feel her eyes trail over your body.  Your school uniform a size too big, the bulky cardigan you had worn over it, the scuffed shoes and year old skirt.  Your hair was a mess, your face was bare, and you could hear the sound of your knees knocking together in fear.

“For a greasy little nobody,”  She started, reaching out a smooth hand and brushing some of your hair back and out of your eyes.  “You do have good bone structure.”

Nori Makino perked up, coming over to take a look at you.  She took your face in your hand, causing you to tense and try to pull away.  For a girl bordering 90 pounds soaking wet, her grip was rather strong.  “And a symmetrical face.”  

“A...huh?” 

“If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I would have matching halves.”  She looked back at you, nodding.  “That’s very important.”

“Of course,” Ueda added, glaring at you from over Kaneka’s shoulder.  “You could stand to lose a few pounds.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to gain some sense of control over the conversation - but like everything, Kaneko had the power.  She gripped your shoulders and turned you towards the mirror.  You tensed, feeling her arm wrapped around your shoulders.  You watched as she tilted her head this way and that before...smirking.  “You know...this might be beautiful.  Mascara, maybe some lip gloss and we might have something.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding once she moved away.  “I’ll need some blush, Nori, get your brush.”

You were frozen, watching as each item was brought out and laid on the bathroom counter.  A new jacket, skirt, perfume, a pallet of...color?  You gripped your bag, trying to figure out what on earth was going on.

“Take that thing off - it smells.”

The...thing?  You saw the Nori’s staring at you, waiting for you to comply.  You glanced down at your cardigan, pausing only a moment to sniff the sleeve.  It...wait, did it smell?  Would they lie to you?  You fumbled with the buttons, sliding it off your shoulders.  Makino snatched it out of your hands and before you knew it, it was tossed in the garbage.  

“Now, let’s make her beautiful.”

In that moment, you understood what was happening.  As Kaneko stepped forward, the smirk on her face, she watched you.  This...was an invitation.  Into their group.  Into the inner sanctum of popularity and the safety it brought.  No more bullies, no more humiliation, no more terror.  

“Okay?”

“Okay!”

They don’t tell you that being popular is more hell than it’s worth.   

You wouldn’t say you and the Nori’s were...friends.  It felt more professional than anything else.  You had a strict uniform you had to stick to - above what the school required.  Any accessory had to be approved by the trio. All meals had to be approved by Ueda - needless to say, the packed lunches your mother made every morning every morning included with a handwritten note never seemed to make the cut.  The make up you did every morning never was good enough.

They had high standards, more inline with a sort of...job than actual friendship.  In fact, over the past few weeks, it had been hard to tell if the three Nori’s were even friends to begin with.  There was definitely a power struggle between Kaneko - the obvious leader - and Ueda - who tried to exert her dominance every chance she could but was shot down by Kaneko.  Moniko was harder to figure out, more happy to follow than to lead.  She was...nicer than the other two, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was simply because she didn’t want the drama or if she just...simply didn’t understand that what she said held weight beyond being...noises in the air.

Dear Diary - It just seems like our job is being...popular and shit.

“There you are!”

When Kaneko wasn’t around Ueda was hardly as docile.  It was hard to tell she had thorns at all when she was standing next to the Cactus that was the head Nori.  But any chance she got, she made sure to inform you in less subtle ways that you weren’t welcome among the three of them.  

Which was obvious.  Your name wasn’t Nori.

You jumped as Ueda’s hand slammed your book shut on your fingers.  “Nori wants you in the caf - now.”  

Moniko hardly offered you a glance as you flexed the pain from your joints.  “Is that so?  What for?”

Ueda snorted, “I don’t know.  She just said to get your ass there...now.”

You normally punched out for lunch.  You sighed, pushing yourself away from your desk and standing up.  “How very.”  

If the two Nori’s heard your remark, they didn’t say anything.  Nor did they relay it to Nori Kaneko when the three of you had reached the cafe.

The Nori table was the nicest table in the entire cafeteria.  With the perfect white table cloths, centered exactly in the middle of the room, other kids from the “popular groups” would migrate around it like a port.  They would stay for the entire period or would flit about from table to table.  And at it’s head, sat Nori Kaneko.  She sat with her legs crossed, talking to another student who’s name you couldn’t quite place.  You always thought you had been good with names.  Turns out, you just didn’t know many people.

“Ah, you’re finally here.  Took you long enough.”

When Kaneko had offered the make over and...”admission” into the popular crowd, you had thought maybe you pegged her wrong.  Maybe she was just a normal kid, wrapped up in the politics of High School.  It didn’t take long for you to realize she was still the same mythic bitch you had thought she had been - you just did things for her now. 

“I need you to forge a note - in Souta Ishii’s handwriting.”  With a snap of her fingers, the boy she had been talking to reached into his pocket and yanked out a few folded up pieces of paper.  You didn’t need to open them to know what they were.  But when you did, you couldn’t find yourself surprised at the fact Souta was barely passing most of his classes.

“You’ll need something to write on.  Bend over, Nori.”

One day, it would stop shocking you how quickly Ueda would act to Kaneko’s command.  You paused, looking to your superior for a moment.  “Uh...I could just-”

“You’re not sitting with us.”  She answer simply.  

“...right.”  You took the paper and pen offered by Moniko.  You flexed your digits, feeling the flutter under your skin.  “What do you want it to say?”

“‘Hey baby girl, I’ve been watching you and thinking about us in the good old days.  I hope you can come to my party this weekend.  We can talk about us.  Love, Souta.’“  She leaned over, watching your hand glide over the paper in barely legible chicken scratch.  “Put an XO after the ‘Souta’ too.”

It was gone the second the O was done.  She looked over the note again.  “Perfect.”

There was a glint in her eye that didn’t...settle well with you.  With your quirk, you noticed certain...things about people.  Little ticks and tells that everyone has.  Ueda scrunched her nose when she didn’t like something - like everyone.  Moniko would fidget with her hands when she was nervous - like everyone.  And Kaneko would get a little sparkle in her eyes when she was about to ruin someone’s life.  

With each fold of the paper, you stomach dropped closer and closer to your feet.  “What’s that for, anyway?”  

You never really questioned why she did half of what she did.  It wasn’t like you could do anything to stop it.  “You know how Souta used to hang out with Arisu Nomaru?”

Of course you did.  You considered Arisu a friend - a good one.  She was the really only nice person at this school.  Of course, hanging out with the Nori’s meant that quality time with Arisu was...well, all but non existent at that point.  But she assured you, through texts, that everything was fine.  It was exciting!  That maybe, she could join you and the Nori’s for lunch one day.  It wasn’t possible, of course.  You never even bothered to broach the subject to the three.  Arisu was never going to be in the popular crowd and would be stuck watching them from a distance.

The only other constant in Arisu’s life - aside from her kindness and her exile from popularity - was the undying love she had for Souta Ishii.  Ever since...

“We all hung out with Arisu.  In kindergarten.”

Kaneko scoffed, looking up at you from under perfect lashes.  “Well, we didn’t all kiss her on the soccer field.”

You had to fight your body’s desire to snatch the paper out of Nori’s hand.

Monika gagged next to you.  “Oh my god!  I forgot Souta kissed Arisu Nomaru.  It was disgusting!!”

It took everything you had not to hit her.  She met your glare with cool indifference, adding a laugh for good measure.

“Souta!  Just the man I wanted to see!”  

Souta was a...handsome man to say the least.  You didn’t blame Arisu for having the crush she had on him, not by any means.  But what he had in looks, he lacked in anything worthy of personality - aside from just being a huge dick.  And where there was a Souta there was Jun Goto.  His best friend.  He was the smartest one out of his group of friends.

Which amounted as much as being the tallest dwarf, but hey - credit where credit was due.  They were both smart enough to know to come when a Nori called you - no questions asked. And in a flash, the two pulled themselves up and made a beeline for the table - not after giggling to themselves first.

“Be a sweetie and give this note to Arisu Nomaru for me.”  

Dread immediately filled your stomach.  “What? No!”

“What the hell are you talking to Arisu for?”  Jun demanded, reaching for the note.

“Don’t read it!  She was having a heavy flow, and wanted some advice from Gyno.”

“That’s fucking disgusting!” You would have thought the boy had been burned with the way he flicked the paper onto the table, back away and retreat to the table he had come from. 

“Yeah, I’ll take that.”  You snatched the note up, gripping it tightly in your hand.

It had been a while since anyone had stared at you with such venom.  If looks could kill, Kaneko would have you dead to rights.  Her eyes darkened as she glared at you, hands slowly moving to her hips.

But you weren’t going to allow yourself to back down.  Not over this.  This was too much.  “Arisu has had a crush on Souta for 13 years.  This...”  You waved the note.  “This would kill her.”

It was quiet for a moment - and in that moment, you realized you made the biggest mistake of your fucking life.  Nori smiled, stepping forward with a soft chuckle.  “I didn’t realize we had a problem.”

“We’re not but-”

“Are we going to have a problem?”

You faltered for a moment.  

“No, I just-”

“So you have a bone to pick.”

“No, Nori I just think you’re bigger than-”

“You know, when I dragged you out of the dredges of inferiority, I was shocked how far you would go.”

Before you knew it, she had succeeded in pushing you down onto the bench.  Your elbow slammed into the top, causing you to cry out.  Immediately, all eyes were on you.  “So you wanna tell me, why now, are you pulling on my dick?”

“Nori!  I’m not trying to argue with you!  Just doing this-”

“I know!”  She snatched the note from your hands.  “It will ruin her.  That’s the fucking point.”  She offered the note to Ueda, who happily took it.  You watched helplessly as she skipped back over to Souta.  While he didn’t seem too pleased to be the one to deliver the note, he begrudgingly got up from his spot and headed to the corner of the cafeteria.  

"You still have a lot to learn about how things work around here." You swallowed, digging your nails into the palm of you hand. "This whole school is my own personal candy store. I do what I want, when I want."

You watched as he slammed a fist on the table, causing Arisu to jump.  She froze, stuttered, and then almost dropped the note when he tossed it to her.  Your heart hammered - maybe if you got there fast enough, you could stop her from reading it.  You could distract her and -

You were forced back down in your spot and perfectly manicured nails dug into your skin.  “You got a good thing going here,”  Kaneko stated, very matter of factly.  “You could join the team, or you could bitch and moan.”  You winced when her nails dug deeper into your skin.  “But if you test me one more time, you will end up just. Like. Her."

Ueda grinned, an ugly, spiteful thing. "Welcome to our Candy-"

"Shut up, Nori!" All three of you flinched as your leader stood. Fixing her skirt, she offered you a sweet smile that made your stomach roll. "We'll see you after school."

They left you in that spot for a long time, staring at your hands.  It wasn’t until you felt a tap on your shoulder that you finally looked up.  And there above you was Arisu.  She grinned and offered you the note.  “Look!  Look what Souta wrote me!  He invited me to his party this weekend.”

You stared at the paper, then back up at her.  You tried to smile - though it didn’t look like she noticed.  “This proves he’s been thinking about me!”

She...seemed happy.  And you knew in this school that happiness was hard to come by.  Especially with people like Nori’s.  You opened your mouth, before closing it again.  You stared at that letter, at the handwriting that perfectly matched the papers left on the table.  You could tell her, warn her it was a prank.  Just...break her heart and tell her Souta wanted nothing to do with her.

“...color me stoked!”  You grinned.

You were happy when she left.  With a heavy sigh, you buried your face in your hands and ignored the bell above your head.  You listened to the shuffling of your peers as they made their way towards the doors.

What the hell were you doing?  What the fuck did you just do?  Arisu had always been a good friend to you and you threw her under the bus?  For what?  Popularity?  Safety?  

“You shouldn’t have bowed down to those dogs.  They’ll eat that girl alive.”

You had grown used to most voices, labeling them by people who was more likely to hit you or simply ignore your presence entirely.  

But his voice? You had never heard that voice before.  It was pleasant in it’s own way - low, guttural, and deceptively indifferent to the advice he was giving you.  You sat up, turning to look over your shoulder.  Your eyes trailed up to stark white hair.  Bright blue eyes stared down at you, hands in his pockets.  Your breath caught in your chest and your mind scrambled for a response.  “I’m...I’m sorry, what?”

He watched you for a moment.  Sizing you up.  “Look,” He continued, “You clearly have a soul.  You just need to work a little harder to keep it clean.”  With a final shrug, he turned on his heel and made his way for the door. "We're all marked for evil."

Did...did he just...quote at you?  It took you a moment for your mind to catch up to what he said.  “Okay, don’t just quote Baudelaire at me and walk away.  Excuse me?”

You scrambled to your feet.  He stopped and turned to look at you.  He didn’t move to say anything else however, leaving you in charge of continuing the conversation.  You looked him over, took in his long, lanky form, the mess of white hair, they...very pretty eyes.  You cleared your throat and motioned to him.  “I...uh...I didn’t catch your name.”

He waited a moment before shrugging.  “That’s cause I didn’t throw it.”

You watched him turn back around and make his way towards the door, mouth hanging down to your chest.  It didn’t take long for you to realize how hot your cheeks were burning, how fast your heart was racing. You couldn’t help as your lips broke out into a smile.

You swore he stole another gaze at you him slip out into the hall.

-- 

So yeah.  I’ll edit this later.  Promise.

How did everyone enjoy their holiday season?