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eliemo · 3 years

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Something Long and Stupid (Part 2)

Summary: Remus knew he wasn't a good person. He was Deadpool, a killer for hire, "the merc with a mouth." He'd come to terms with what he was a long time ago. He didn't need Spiderman to remind him of what he was.

He didn't need Virgil to come into his life and make him question it for the first time

Notes: Violence, blood, gore, sexual inneundos

I didn't make a taglist for this story but I know @teamplutoforlife wanted to be tagged <3 And thank you @cheshirevalentine for editing

Part 1

Remus was falling, twisting onto his back as he plummeted towards the ground, the buildings around him nothing but a blur as he flew past. He could faintly hear the construction on the ground over the pounding of his own heart and the howling of the wind rushing past him, barely hearing the alarmed shouts of the workers watching him fall.

Virgil was nothing but a speck in the distance now, perched on the edge of the roof. Lifeless white eyes watched him fall, unfeeling and still.

Pain exploded in Remus’s back as he slammed into something sharp, legs hitting the ground when he finally stopped falling. He could just barely make out the rusty, blood stained spike in front of him, poking through his chest from his back where he'd fallen, blood pooling around the wound and into his suit.

“Hey.”

Remus jumped so hard he nearly fell off the roof, scrambling to his feet and reaching for his gun as he whirled around to face whoever the fuck was stupid enough to sneak up on him.

Spiderman was perched beside him, apparently fine after his near death experience last night, and holding… a pizza box?

“Hey,” Remus said carefully. “What the fuck?”

Spiderman shrugged and held out the box in his hand. “I have pizza. You asked for pizza.”

Remus stared for a moment, frozen where he stood with his hand hovering over his gun, trying to figure out if this was a joke. “You… actually brought it?”

“Yeah?” Spiderman said, like he didn’t understand how this was in any way strange. “Oh did you… were you joking? Did you not actually want it, or—”

“No, I did.” Remus stayed right where he was. What the hell was this? Was this a prank? Was he being pranked?

“Then… here,” Spiderman said. He held out the pizza box, close enough for Remus to cautiously take. “I didn’t know what you liked so I just got cheese. But cheese is good. Everyone likes cheese.”

Holy shit. Spiderman was a dweeb.

Remus carefully opened the pizza box, and when there wasn’t a bomb or some kind of spider-themed booby trap inside, just a freshly baked cheese pizza from some local place he’d vaguely heard of, Remus let his shoulders relax and barked out a laugh.

“Well shit,” he said, pleasantly surprised. “Thanks, Webs.”

Spidey was shuffling a bit, looking ridiculously awkward, and Remus was suddenly reminded that they were both just… people under their masks. “Uh, yeah. No problem.”

Remus hesitated, because he hadn’t been kidding about Spiderman owing him a pizza he just… hadn’t actually expected him to follow through. There was no way Remus was eating all of it on his own, he barely ate much as it was.

“Do you, like…” he paused, wondering if this was going to get him punched or laughed at. “Do you want a slice?”

Spiderman actually startled, like him being asked to lunch was just as rare as Remus asking someone to lunch. Jeez, he’d have figured people begged Spiderman to eat with them all the time.

“I, uh… I bought it for you, so—”

“Yeah, and I’m offering. Christ, do you want some pizza or not?”

Spidey still hesitated, and while it was annoying as hell Remus supposed he’d be a hypocrite to judge when he’d been half convinced there was a bomb in the pizza box two minutes ago.

Well, it wasn’t like it would have been the first time.

“Uh, sure,” Spiderman said, still visibly wary. “Thank you.”

Remus ignored him in favor of opening the pizza box and setting it down, motioning for the vigilante to take as much as he wanted.

It wasn’t until Spidey turned away slightly to hook his fingers under the bottom of his mask that Remus remembered- duh- they both had to pull up their masks to eat.

It wasn’t a problem, it wouldn’t be nearly enough to risk exposing their faces to each other, but Remus really wasn’t in the mood to be gawked at. A glance at his jaw might ruin Spiderman’s lunch.

“I’m not looking,” Spidey said, and Remus realized he’d been hesitating for a few too many seconds. “I can go, if you don’t wanna pull up your mask around anyone.”

Remus waved him off, even as he continued to fiddle with the leather. “I’ve got some scars, is all. Like… a lot. People think they’re gross.”

“Oh,” Spiderman said, and then simply shrugged. “That’s fine, I don’t care. Scars happen, dude. I’ve got a bunch.”

Remus still hesitated, a little caught off guard from Spiderman calling him ‘dude' while so nonchalantly eating his pizza just a few feet away, but he quickly pulled himself together and tugged his leather mask up just below his nose.

It was just a few inches of skin, and still enough to reveal a handful of scars littered across his jaw, and the one that stretched down from his cheek.

Spidey barely glanced at him, which Remus guessed he should have seen coming. It’d be a little out of character for New York’s hero to be an asshole about someone’s scars, but you never knew with heroes. Some of them were pretentious assholes.

They ate their pizza like common civilians, perched on their rooftop and watching the people of New York mingle below.

Remus barely ate two slices. He didn’t really eat much to begin with, and it was far more entertaining to watch in silent awe as Spiderman easily finished the rest of the box. The hero was a good two heads shorter than Remus, and looked like he barely weighed a hundred pounds. If Remus didn’t know better, he’d think the guy never ate at all.

“My metabolism is different,” he explained sheepishly when he caught Reus staring. “I eat more than… you know. You. Regular people.”

Remus scoffed, because this was definitely the first time anyone had described him as a ‘regular person’ but he let it slide with an eye roll and a thanks for lunch.

They parted ways, and Remus let himself relax at the thought of having one less enemy roaming New York.

Remus hadn’t meant to start hanging out with Spiderman.

Really, he hadn’t. The impromptu pizza date was supposed to be the end of it, just a slightly awkward peace offering that made it clear neither of them would actively try to kill each other in the near future.

Remus had saved Spiderman because he was bored, and Spiderman had bought him a pizza. That was all.

But then less than a week later Spiderman had swung (literally) by with takeout- coincidentally from Remus’s favorite place a few blocks away- and Remus hadn’t been able to say no to sharing.

They’d shared a meal together three times in the last two weeks, and Remus was starting to think it wasn’t an accident.

It probably wasn’t helping that Remus had started carrying snacks on him.

Remus wasn’t going to eat them himself, and Spiderman was always complaining about how hungry he was, so he’d just started keeping packets of gummies or granola for when he saw the hero swinging past. Chucking them at his head was good target practice, anyway.

That didn’t mean they were friends. Remus didn’t have friends, because being friends with Deadpool was possibly the dumbest idea anyone could ever have.

Remus had seen what happens when people get close to him. He wasn’t going to go through that again.

Apparently, Spiderman had other ideas.

It had been just another fight that Remus had happened to run into, watching for a moment as Spiderman took down what was probably his third armed robbery of the day.

He knew he probably could have just continued on his way and gotten lunch, but there were five of them, all armed, and Remus didn’t feel great about those odds despite Spidey’s reputation.

So Remus had decided to return the favor, Spiderman had introduced himself by butting into Deadpool's fight after all, and stepped in to finish the job twice as fast.

And it had gone fine. Spiderman had greeted him with stupidly cheeky finger guns and unfortunately insisted they keep all of them alive, which wasn’t Remus’s specialty but he’d manage.

It had been easy, some druggie civilians no match for New York’s hero and the merc with a mouth, three of them encased in webbing within two minutes, another on the ground with a bullet in his knee.

It had been fine, until Remus was shot in the chest.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t a big deal. He was shot in the chest all the time. It’d be a hassle if he didn’t get the bullet out before his skin healed around it, but it wasn’t like he could die.

It occurred to him a bit too late that he had forgotten to tell Spiderman that.

“No!”

The raw panic and emotion In Spidey’s voice caught Remus off guard as he stumbled backwards, pain he was unfortunately used to by now exploding in his chest as the bullet met its mark. There had been a fifth goon, hiding out and biding his time, which would have been a great plan if it didn’t end with a face of webs and a swift punch to the temple.

Remus lowered himself to the ground, the wind knocked out of him, dark crimson blood pooling around his hand and flooding through his fingers as he clutched the wound.

Spiderman was rushing over, and Remus could practically feel the worry behind that lifeless mask. He skidded to a stop and dropped to a crouch, hands hovering, frantic and unsure.

And maybe Remus was just an asshole, but this was fucking hilarious.

“Deadpool?” Spidey called, the vigilante leaning over him as Remus dropped to lay on his back. “Jesus- hang in there okay? You’ll be fine.”

Remus forced himself to cough, wet and ragged, biting back a smile. “This is it for me, Webs. I can see the light.”

“Deadpool shut the fuck up!”

“Everything’s getting dark—”

“I said shut up,” Spiderman snapped, and Remus gasped involuntarily, arching his back when gloved hands pressed down on the wound. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re… just- just stay awake, okay? Don’t close your eyes.”

Remus coughed again to hide a smile, blood splattering his chin, closing his eyes anyway and letting his head fall back on the concrete. He stopped listening to Spidey’s rambling, committing to the bit of playing dead- very obviously playing dead, for the record. He stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and everything, waiting for Spiderman to catch on and tell him off.

“No!” Except Spidey still sounded genuinely distressed, only pressing harder on the wound. “No, no, no! Deadpool! Wake up!”

Well. This wasn’t any fun if Spiderman was too panicked to even pay attention. He sighed, opening his eyes again to sit up slightly and whack the vigilante’s shoulder.

“I can’t die, stupid,” he said, grinning when Spiderman scrambled back. “Cut it out. I’ve just gotta get the bullet out so it doesn’t heal around it. Those things hurt like a bitch, so—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Remus opened his mouth to respond, because there were lots of things wrong with him and he had a list at the ready. But he didn’t get the chance because suddenly Spidey was throwing himself forward, wrapping his arms around Remus and pulling him close, probably getting blood all over his suit.

Haha, what the fuck?

“You’re such a bitch,” Spiderman said, muffled since his face was practically buried in Remus’s shoulder. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“Aww, were you worried about me?” Remus asked, burying his shock. “That’s so sweet, Spidey.”

“Shut the hell up,” Spiderman growled. “I thought you were going to die.”

“You were so worried! It was so cute, oh my god!”

Spiderman finally pulled back, only to rear back and punch Remus square in the shoulder. Hard.

Remus barked out a laugh, now nursing two injuries. “Fucking- ow. I still feel pain.”

“Sucks.”

Remus crossed his arms, wincing when it pulled at the bullet wound still in his chest. “Rude.”

“I’m rude?” Spiderman asked, incredulous. “You thought it would be funny to play dead!”

“To be fair,” Remus argued. “It was funny.”

“No it wasn’t!”

Remus shrugged, already turning his attention to the bullet in his chest. “If you had known it would be funny.”

“Well I didn’t,” he said, the mask’s white eyes glued to Remus’s hands. “I thought you were dying.”

“I can’t die,” Remus said. “That’s not a joke, Webs. I don’t just regenerate fast, I can’t be killed.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?”

Remus shrugged, a little put off because this was not how he’d expected this to go. Damn Spiderman and his stupid savior complex.

He turned his attention back to the bullet wound, the pain already faded to a familiar numbness, but two gloved hands grabbed his wrists before he could start digging around for the bullet.

“Here,” he said, obnoxiously soft. “I’ve got it, let me help.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Remus said, tensing against his will at the thought of someone else caring for a wound. “It’s not too deep, I can get it.”

“Are your gloves clean?”

He took a minute to consider that, calculating the swords he’d been holding, the gun he’d reloaded that morning, coming up blank when he tried to think of the last time he’d properly cleaned any of his weapons. Not to mention he had to climb buildings with his hands, lacking Spidey’s abilities to walk up walls and propel himself across the city in seconds.

“Probably,” he lied. “What am I gonna do, get sick?”

Spiderman hesitated. “Do you do that?”

“No.”

“I can still get it,” Spidey said. “Let me help.”

Remus scoffed, trying to cover up his own uneasiness. “You wanna stick your hand in there? You know it’s gross, right?”

“I know how to remove a bullet, Deadpool,” Spiderman said. “I’ve gotten shot before, I can get it.”

There was no reason not to drop his arms and let Spiderman do what he wanted. The asshole was stubborn, but he obviously meant well. With how shaky Remus’s hands were, Spidey getting the bullet out would probably be quicker anyway.

And he was the city’s hero. He’d made it clear he didn’t mean Deadpool any harm, especially not when the Merc had so graciously dropped in to save his ass today.

Remus didn’t know why it was so hard to just relax.

“This is dumb,” he said, wondering if he could annoy Spidey into giving up. “I can handle it fine.”

“I know,” the vigilante said. “But I want to help. It’s like...returning the favor or whatever.”

Remus sighed, a little shaky now, but reluctantly nodded. The longer they argued, the faster the skin would heal over the bullet still lodged in his chest, and Remus would really like to avoid that happening. Again.

“Fine,” he growled. “Jesus, you’re stubborn.”

Under the mask, Remus was sure Spiderman was smirking at him. “Look who’s talking.”

Remus hadn’t expected Spiderman to be so gentle. He was digging a bullet wound out of Deadpool’s chest, there wasn’t really a way to make this a pleasant experience, but Spidey was taking his time, moving carefully as he dug into the wound.

“Could you hurry up?” Remus growled, teeth clenched. This would have been over in seconds if he was doing it himself. It was so much easier to just stick his hand in the wound, dig around for a second, and rip the bullet out. “I’m not exactly a fan of having someone else’s fingers in my chest.”

Spiderman didn’t even spare him a glance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I got shot,” Remus snapped. “We’re well past that.”

Spidey didn’t respond after that and Remus for once stayed quiet to let him concentrate, breathing heavily to try to ignore the panic that came with being vulnerable like this. The vigilante couldn’t kill him, but he sure as hell could cause him a shit ton of pain.

But he wouldn’t. Remus had to keep reminding himself that he wouldn’t. Spiderman was insufferably good- he wouldn’t kick someone while they were down.

Eventually Spiderman’s fingers found the bullet and Remus gasped, forcing himself to shove the pain away and make a lewd sounding moan when Spidey’s fingers left the wound.

“Jesus,” Spiderman muttered, and Remus laughed when he tossed the bullet dripping in dark blood to the side. “You okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Remus said, and he was. Physically at least. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a civil conversation with someone, let alone had someone willing to help patch him up. “See? All good. It’s already healing itself.”

True to his word, Remus’s chest was fusing itself back together, skin closing up over the still bleeding wound, the rest of the pain fading to a background throb. It’d be like nothing ever happened in ten minutes.

“Holy shit,” Spiderman muttered, leaning in close to watch. Remus tensed uncomfortably. “That’s...fucking wild.”

“Yeah, it’s great.” Remus brushed it off, scrambling to his feet and ignoring the way Spidey moved to try and help. “Anyways. Are there any more fights you need me to hold your hand through, or can I go take a nap?”

“Oh please,” Spidey scoffed. “I was fine. All you did was get in the way and get shot.”

“I saved your ass,” Remus retorted, smiling behind the leather mask. “You’d be dead if it weren’t for me, Webs.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Spiderman mumbled, but Remus was willing to bet money he was smiling too. “Go take your nap, Deadpool.”

Remus gave a mock salute, sheathing his sword and turning away from the remnants of the battle and starting for his apartment.

Maybe Spidey wasn’t so bad after all.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #spiderman virgil #deadpool remus #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts remus #remus sanders #violence tw #blood tw #gun tw #injury tw #writing #fanfiction #spiderman #deadpool #dukexiety

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golbrocklovely · 2 years

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way to wait until last minute to write a review, angelica. sorry about that yall. and especially the anon that wanted to know my opinions.

here's my reaction to snc's fifth season one video

aka "ALONE in DUNGEON of Haunted Hospital | Fairfield Infirmary"

the video was good. the end.

just kidding i'll write more lol

i really like when sam and colby work with haunted nights. i think their energy mixed with snc's works really well. plus, i think to some degree they bring snc's energy down a peg or two, which is always for the best.

also, having nate in the video was a lovely choice as well. i love when he tags along with snc.

and this was the video that included lexi! she was a lovely addition to the video. i know she told me that she was nervous, which is why she seemed so calm in the video, but honestly??? it worked super well. every time it cut to her just stand there, staring at snc, was hilarious. bc it really makes you realize snc are super over-dramatic lmao

also, her telling me (and us) that colby was trying to help her up the hill bc of how slippery it was and that nate was extremely invested in learning about her when they did have down time.... omg, i love these ppl so much.

now about the building they were in, i always feel so sad when they go to mental hospitals and whatnot. something about places like these, to someone with actual mental disorders (me), always makes me kinda want to cry. the amount of torture and lack of care that happened at these places, when all anyone needed was help just breaks my heart. and then to have a literally room all the way at the top that was used to chain ppl up... disgusting.

side note, the scentbird ad... what the fuck were those outfits??? also why did colby think it was the right idea to spray the perfume into his face lmaooo

i hate them so much ksksks

okay onto the investigation:

adam, the tour guide, was fantastic. he matched their energy very well. also he's in today's video too so i'm excited to seem him again lol

how did i know that the moment they would show the chains on the wall, i just knew colby would say something sexual???

the on running joke that nate doesn't bathe was so funny.

the idea that ppl were doing secret seances at the place is so creepy to me. also... why doesn't that man just get rid of all the evidence lol i would not keep that on my property.

also the fact that there are so many buried bodies on the property... that's insane. i'm surprise it's not polterguise-y up in there.

something about snc buying a body cover is hilarious to me. and then poor nate having to be their volunteer lol

nate: this is the weirdest thing *long pause* well, not the weirdest thing i've ever consented to, but it's up there.

😏 what you talking about, nate? care to share with the class lol

everything that happened in the morgue was really cool. i guess it was good that they used nate as a trigger object in a way. but they clearly were communicating with something in there, which was so interesting.

can i be honest, and maybe i'm an outlier here, but dolls aren't creepy to me. even the ones that are purposefully made to look creepy. they just aren't to me. maybe it's also bc i grew up playing with dolls or something but like... dolls are scary to me, even if they are old and falling apart haha

i think snc need to get a stronger or loud spirit box. the one they have, it is so hard to understand wtf it's saying whenever they use it.

those steps that you can hear while they were in the yellow room was crazy.

lexi seeing that shadow figure... omg no thanks

the evps they caught, especially that help one, scared the shit out of me. it was so loud !!

when lexi chose sam to be chained to the wall, yall don't understand the laugh i let out. the cackle. that shit tickled me pink, ngl.

highkey tho, props to sam being handcuffed up there bc that wouldn't an couldn't be me ever lol

side note, i had a feeling nate would be the type to know latin, or at least a bit of it. god he is so hot.

the estes method was insane, like always. i will say tho, the attachment part of this whole... attachment series is starting to wear thin personally. while i feel like it is true, if they aren't going to do anything about it, why keep bringing it up? why not have one of the episodes be going either back to the sallie house to return the spirit or going to someone that knows how to remove an attachment and getting rid of it? it just doesn't make sense to me.

also, if i was sam in this situation, i would have to have some form of light with me. or at least that was an arms' reach away or in my hand, that way if i got scared i could turn it on. i don't like pure darkness. i just... can't deal with it. also i have terrible eyesight so i already see shit that's not there to begin with since my eyes are garbage.

and as i've talked about on here, maybe don't whistle back to a possible spirit that's whistling at you, sam. probs not for the best.

overall, i think this episode was actually really fun. i liked it a lot and i think the addition of lexi was fun as well. i'm happy she got to go and got to talk to me on here about her experience. i would rate this episode like a 3.8/5. it was a lot of fun and the evidence they caught was so cool. hopefully today's episode is good as well.

#personal #season one #sam and colby #colby brock #sam golbach #nate hardy #text

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symeraid-s · 4 years

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My Top 10 TanBunn Moments (Spoilers!)

Before I start, let’s be honest: every moment could be on here. Tan and Bunn are just really adorable together. I tried to compile it to only 10 moments though and really was hard work.

Number 10: The Shower Scene (Ep.10)

The intimacy of this scene is off the charts. There is very little dialogue, but the actions speak louder than words. The way Tan touches Bunn, like he is the most precious thing in the world, just seems so soft. How he carasses his face and pulls him into a kiss and how Bunn kinda melts against him, really make it look, like we are intruding something very private. This is why MaxTul are the superior pairing.

Number 9: The Prison Scene and the Aftermath at Tan’s House (Ep.9)

I couldn't decide which scene I wanted in this spot, so there are two. The first is the conversation Tan and Bunn have, while Tan is in prison, with Bunn getting worried over Tan's injuries and promising to save him, all while Tan stares at him, like he's the f**ing sun. The second one is in the same episode, when they are back at Tan's house and just cuddling on the couch. Bunn is proud of himself, because he was able to protect Tan for once, but the other promises, that it'll be the only time he would have to protect him. Bunn leans against him, completely content for a moment and Tan just presses a kiss against his forehead and... this scene is just very soft.

Number 8: The Make-Out Scene™ (Ep.7)

It was honestly not the perfect moment to pull a move like this, but holy shit, it's pretty hot. The moment, when Tan caresses Bunn's face only for him to hold his hand, smelling his fingers, uttering the line that somehow was cut out of the episode for no apparent reason, is very intimate. The make out that follows is also very hot and I pray for Tul's scalp. This is the reason, why you get MaxTul in your drama. It seems way too natural.

Number 7: The Proposal (Ep.14)

The complex approach Tan decides to take for his proposal is insane, but at the same time really on brand for his character. He tests how much Bunn trusts in him and then flees with him to the ideal spot where he wants to propose. There, he gets Bunn to open the box for him and read the, actually very sweet, cards he prepared. This is where Bunn realises just how much of an impact his presence had on Tan. He doesn't only love him, he wants to spend the rest of his life with him and this seems to be the first time, Bunn has felt this way about someone too. Because even after all the shit Tan just put him through, he says yes. I still can't comprehend how he got M to tag along for the plan, but it's a very sweet scene nevertheless.

Number 6: “The First Meeting” (Ep.1)

The "first meeting" between these two goes about as well, as one would expect. Tan continously tries to flirt with Bunn and lets him know, that he remembers him from the night before, while Bunn panics at the thought that his childhood friend's boyfriend would flirt with him like that. He backs away a bit and doesn't look him in the eyes, especially when he comes closer. He tries to look at him, when Tan picks the confetti out of his hair, but he only ever glances at him shortly. Still, he gathers all of his courage, to essentially ask him, if he remembers the kiss and Tan confirms it. Tan then turns away and it's very obivous that Bunn was going to call something after him, but in that moment, Jane and Pued ruin the mood. It's a really masterclass of a scene, that really shows off the chemistry between Max and Tul, who can even make the smallest act look intimate.

Number 5: The Cliff Scene (Ep.10)

When Tan points the gun at Bunn, it's like the world stops for them for a few seconds. Bunn calls out for him in a mixture of desperation and fear and Tan just utters those magical words, like an apology. Before Bunn answers, he gives him a small reasurring nod and tells him that he loves him too. With that the world starts turning again and Tan pulls the trigger, watching as the love of his life disappears over the edge of the cliff. He walks to the same spot, as Inspector M walks out of the forest to hold him at gunpoint and Tan looks at him, like he's ready to be with Bunn, so M doesn't hesitate and shoots him of the cliff too. It's all staged of course, but the emotions are still there and still raw.

Number 4: The One in which they aren't interrupted by the Danger Children (Ep.12)

The awkward flirting of these two just seems to get worse as the show goes on, but this scene really hits a homerun with it. Starting with Tan explaining that he's the ugly duckling of his family and Bunn "reasurring" him, that while they are similar he's not the ugly duckling, but also not the swan of the family. It just gets cuter from there. Bunn suggests that he's more of a flamingo then a swan, which Tan seems to take way too literally and just tells him, that if he is, he's Bunn's. It's pretty hilarious. But when he pulls him into his arms and Bunn just kinda... nestles into him, it turns into adorable mush, as Tan tries to get some, because the last time they tried that in this episode, they were interrupted by the danger children and he just wants some quality time with his boyfriend. And then they discover the MacGuffin of the show and it's over. This whole scene also really encapsulates what I love about this show: the dialogue.

Number 3: The Drunken Couch Scene (Ep.5)

It comes a bit out of nowhere, but it's just so great. The way Tan shakes him awake and how Bunn turns to look at him, almost challenging is just really well done. As well as Tan's explanation for why he thinks he's drunk. That little self-depricating line of "How can people like me seduce other people?" is also really in character with Bunn, especially when it's followed up by Tan trying to focus on his eyes, but glancing down at his lips again and again. When Bunn takes the initiative and kisses him, he looks so taken aback, it's almost funny and Bunn just laughs it off. Tan really has to stop himself from kissing him back, instead asking if he was aware of what he just did. And when Bunn confirms it and just walks out, he has that look of pure adoration on his face. It's really just a small scene, but it's so well executed and comes so naturally.

Number 2: The Hospital Scene (Ep.8)

Seeing Tan at Bunn's bedside, begging for his forgiveness is just really hard to watch without getting a bit choked up. The way he holds onto Bunn, like he might die is also heartbreaking. It's really the first time, we see just how much Bunn actually affected Tan and maybe changed him for the better. And Max really shines in this scene.

Number 1: The Return of the King/The Staircase Scene (Ep.10)

The pure desperation in Bunn's voice, when he calls out for Tan and how he holds onto him, like he's afraid he might vanish if he lets go is simply heartbreaking to witness. And Tan does everything to reassure him, that he's there for him. Also, the look on his face, when Bunn asks him if he's okay is just... pure adoration. Like he can't fanthom how this man can still be worried for him after what he put him through. It's simply amazing and Tul really knocks everything out of the park here.

#manner of death #mod #manner of death spoilers #mod spoilers #tanbunn #maxtul #the show is really great guys #9/10 would recommend #don't really know what to do with my mondays now #does anyone have other bl drama suggestions?#I already bingewatched Cherry Magic last week

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organabanana · 3 years

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leaves of three, let it be [2/3] || harlivy

Chapters: 2/3

Fandom: DCU (Comics)DCUHarley Quinn (Comics)Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel

Characters: Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle

Additional Tags: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of batman fucking bats, most of this is straight up idiocy tbh, i just finished watching the cartoon so everyone swears like a sailor i’m sorry, rated for (ahem) happenings later on, ivy/harley/catwoman frenemies

Summary

After Harley mistakenly confesses her love and then promptly takes it back, Ivy spends some time sorting through the things she absolutely doesn't feel (and the ones she does). Selina and Harley don't quite help.

Chapter 1: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 2: AO3

If you ever asked Poison Ivy if she’s into meditation, she’d say she isn’t.

Actually, if you ever asked Poison Ivy if she’s into meditation, she’d probably stare you down until you crumbled under the sheer weight of her judgment and apologized for ever talking to her, but that’s beside the point.

The point is, Ivy doesn’t meditate. The concept of meditation, if you ask her, goes in the same patchouli-scented box as moon-charged crystals and essential oils.

No. What Ivy does is… introspection. Yeah. She introspects. She consciously clears her mind of all intrusive thoughts. Which may sound a lot like meditation, maybe? But — she cannot stress this enough — it’s not the same thing.

So there she is. Sitting on her couch. Introspecting. And it may look like she’s staring off into the distance, but she’s actually looking at a nearly invisible, tiny little hint of a green sprout that’s managed to grow in a crack on the windowsill.

There it is. A tiny little fighter. Just like—

Nope.

No way.

We are absolutely not thinking about her. We’re introspecting. So Ivy takes in a deep breath, in through her nose, eyes fluttering closed as she exhales slowly and then opens them and tries again.

As she was saying. A tiny little sprout. She could go over there and touch it and quite literally breathe life into it. She can’t tell what kind of plant it is, but she could make it bloom if it’s a flowering species. What if it’s a tree? She could make it grow so big its roots would tear this whole building apart just like her heart was torn apart last ni—

Motherf—

“Morning, my little dill pickle.”

Selina climbs in through the window, practically gliding into Ivy’s apartment with the kind of grace that would normally make Ivy stop and stare and perhaps have a not-quite-respectful thought or two.

Listen: she has eyes. Don’t read into it.

Anyway. As graceful and ridiculously nimble as Selina is, she’s also way up high in Ivy’s shit list at the moment (second only to you know who), so today is not the day for lighthearted conversation and platonic crushes.

“Fuck you, Selina,” Ivy offers as a greeting, glancing at the plant to make sure it’s still there. And it is, of course. Selina fucking Kyle may be a bitch and a half, but she knows how to move without leaving a trace.

“Now?” Selina cocks one perfectly manicured eyebrow at Ivy, the slightest hint of a teasing smirk on her face. “I mean I was gonna offer brunch, but that doesn’t sound like the worst midday plan.”

Ivy simply stares for a moment, as if she’s forgotten if there’s one person in the world that’s absolutely immune to even her most wilting looks, that’s Selina fucking Kyle.

“Oh, come on,” Selina practically groans, “stop it. Brooding is such a teen boy move.”

“I am not brooding.”

“Right.” With one single word, Selina makes it clear that she doesn’t believe Ivy and, most importantly, that she doesn’t care enough to argue. “Anyway. Brunch? My treat.”

Ivy closes her eyes. Not meditating. Just introspecting. Just trying to channel the urge to make a full-grown sequoia grow out of Selina Kyle’s ass into something productive. One deep breath in through her nose and—

“We can have margaritas!” Selina lets out a quiet chuckle as she admires the perfectly matte black polish on her fingernails. “Yikes. Too soon?”

Fuck introspection.

“I. Am going. To fucking murder you.” Ivy stands up with every intention to make good on that promise, and Selina must read it in her eyes because for the first time since Ivy’s known her — for the first time in her life, maybe — Selina looks scared.

Well, maybe not scared.

But she is absolutely concerned.

“Fuck me, Ive, damn,” Selina takes one step back, no longer smirking, “calm down, will you?”

Ivy stops, Selina’s audacity basically jolting her out of her murderous rage. “Calm down, Selina? Fucking seriously? You did what you did and now you come here and tell me to fucking calm down?”

Selina tilts her head just so, like she’s conceding (against her will) that maybe there is a reason for Ivy to be somewhat upset with her.

“Oh, come on,” she sighs, rolling her shoulders like the tension has to leave her body somehow, and it will certainly not be via an apology, “it wasn’t even real poison.”

Ivy’s eyes widen slightly in disbelief. Does Selina think she’s mad because she thinks Harley was in actual danger?

No. No, Selina can’t think that, because Selina may be an asshole, but she’s a very smart asshole. So she must know Ivy’s well aware of Harley’s immunity to toxins. She must know that’s not even remotely the reason Ivy’s spent the last eleven hours and some change introspecting all thoughts of last night out of her mind.

For a split second, Ivy feels something similar to warmth towards Selina as she considers that maybe she’s simply ignoring the embarrassing part of the event to spare Ivy. Maybe she’s pretending this is about Harley’s physical wellbeing and not… well. The other thing.

Sadly, the split second passes.

“If it helps,” Selina says, and even before she finishes the sentence Ivy can already sense it won’t help at all, “it’s totally reciprocated.”

Ivy feels it crawling up her veins, thick like sap. She’s managed to distill plenty of emotions, turned them into tonics and toxins and elixirs and used them for her own benefit and the Green’s. She’s bottled love — well, lust — and hatred and rage. Fear, even. Insanity, ironically enough. But this.

This… this humiliation.

Oh, this is something else.

Ivy closes her eyes. In through her nose, and even the air feels like it has to go through that thick mixture of (public) pain and weakness and acknowledged vulnerability to get to her lungs.

It’s one thing to have Harley see her like this. Like that. Like last night. Defenses down and heart out there in the open like her ribcage’s forgotten its purpose. That’s fine, she figures, because it’s been the norm for years and years and years. It’s nothing new, really, to have Harley see her accidentally stumble over the line into pathetic from time to time. It happens.

But Selina.

Selina fucking Kyle.

Selina saw that and she understood what she was seeing and now she’s acknowledging it, and Ivy isn’t even mad anymore.

I mean, she is. She’s really fucking mad.

She’s just many other things as well as mad, so it’s harder to focus on it.

Out through her mouth. Slowly. And her voice is nice and even when she opens her eyes and looks at Selina once again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ivy lies, walking towards the kitchen like that had been her intention all along, “there is nothing to reciprocate.”

Ivy can feel Selina’s look on the back of her head. She’s not going to give her the satisfaction of turning around, of course. Selina Kyle’s ego is healthy enough as it is. But she can absolutely feel it. A look involving an arched eyebrow and narrowed eyes and possibly a smirk. Maybe the slightest purse of painted lips, if she’s going for judgmental rather than smug.

Selina is multi-faceted in her scorn.

“You have got to be shitting me, Ive,” Selina says, and Ivy still refuses to turn around, focusing instead on staring at the interior of her fridge and ignoring the fact that ninety percent of its contents are there for Harley’s all-day snacking needs.

She ends up grabbing a jug of water not because she’s thirsty, but simply because it’s the only thing in there she knows for a fact is there just for her.

“Seriously?” Selina prods, walking closer and crossing her arms over her chest as she watches Ivy methodically fill a glass of water like it’s a delicate operation that requires her undivided attention. “You’re such a fucking pussy. And I don’t mean that as a compliment.”

Ivy does turn around then, gripping the glass with perhaps a little more force than strictly necessary. In her defense, she’d much rather be gripping Selina’s neck instead.

“Once again, Selina,” she says with a slight shrug, taking a sip of cold water, “no idea what you’re talking about.”

Selina gapes at her. It’s kind of flattering, actually. It’s not every day something leaves Selina Kyle fully unable to speak. Maybe — Ivy thinks to herself, enjoying her water — she’ll never speak again. Maybe she’ll leave Gotham entirely. Wouldn’t that be just—

Ivy’s train of thought is completely derailed by something that is never a good sign: Selina Kyle is laughing.

Not chuckling. Not snickering. Not letting out one of those sarcastic giggles she likes to use to obliterate people’s entire self-esteem.

No. No, this is honest to goodness, full-on belly laughter, and it’s fucking terrifying.

“Wh— what the fuck, Selina?” Ivy asks, trying to sound less scared than she actually is. Selina’s sense of humor is not so much dark as it is downright fucked up, and if she’s finding something in this situation funny, it can only mean someone is about to get crushed, metaphorically or otherwise.

All signs point to Ivy.

“Look at you!” Selina points in the general direction of Ivy, like she’s about to rip her fashion sense to shreds. But this, sadly, has nothing to do with clothes. “Holy shit, you’re in so much deeper than I thought, this is fucking hilarious.”

Ivy takes one step back, until her hip bumps against the counter and she blindly feels around to leave the half-empty glass on it. To her credit, she still manages to try and infuse her voice with something resembling nonchalance one last time.

“You’re not making any sen—“

“Man, you’re in love, in love, huh?”

Ivy’s been shot before. So she feels like she’s not being overly dramatic when she says Selina’s words feel just like that. Like being shot right in the gut. And Ivy tries to be as stoic as she usually is when faced with things like gunshots and blunt force and bat-shaped ninja stars (holy fuck, he’s such a nerd), but she feels a bit like she’s been standing on a castle of cards for the last… however many years it’s been since she met Dr. Quinzel in Arkham, and Selina’s just figured out exactly where to blow to make it all come tumbling down.

“I mean I knew you two were into each other. Obviously,” Selina continues, and Ivy suddenly understands the exact meaning of all those expressions regarding cats and mice, “but I thought it was like… well, you know. Friends in need of a nudge towards the benefits. But this.”

Selina shakes her head, smile as wide as her eyes. She looks both surprised and delighted. Like she’s really just found out there are feelings involved in whatever lust-filled fever dream she’d interpreted as reality before now.

“And you’re the one who’s doing all the yearning. I totally thought she was the useless one. Holy shit.” Selina takes a couple steps in the direction of the window, like using a door like a normal person is simply not an option for her. “How long?”

Ivy opens her mouth, but Selina interrupts her before any sound can come out.

“Don’t answer that. I already know.” Selina waves her hand dismissively. “No wonder you’re fucking terrified. You’d be safer falling in love with an actual hyena.”

“I’m not—“

“Please.” Selina reaches the window and notices that little plant for the first time, giving it a little pat that could almost pass for affectionate if you didn’t know Selina Kyle. “So what’s scarier, Ive?” Selina almost purrs the question. “That she may not love you back, or that she probably does?”

Ivy tells herself she could murder Selina right then and there, with the help from the little plant. Hell, she could probably kill her without help from the plant.

But that wouldn’t really fix anything, right?

“Anyway!” Selina lets out a happy little sigh as she slinks out of the window and onto the fire escape outside. “No brunch, then. I’ll leave you to your brooding.” Her smile turns into a smirk then, eyes narrowed like she’s about to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. “And don’t worry, Ive. I can keep a secret.”

Selina winks at her before she disappears.

Ivy refuses, pointedly, to think about her conversation with Selina.

She tries to go back to her introspection, but it turns out there’s no breathing in and out when your chest is full of feelings to the point of actual physical discomfort, so Ivy gives up on that, too.

She could plot. Scheme, if you will. It’s been a while since she’s gone for an actual multi-step plan to rid Gotham — and, later, the world — of parasitic CEOs profiting off nature. A bit of environmentally friendly murder never fails to put her in a good mood.

But it turns out it’s nearly impossible to come up with a solo plan without being constantly aware of the fact that going solo is no longer her default. A plan involving only herself doesn’t feel like just any random plan anymore. Now it feels like a plan without her, and that’s just— that’s just the opposite of what she needs to be thinking about right now.

So.

What’s an eco-terrorist to do when eco-terrorism is not an option?

Eight hours later she’s in her lab, hair haphazardly held in a bun with a pencil as she looks at her latest experiment through her microscope.

The little sprout from her windowsill sits right next to the microscope in a beaker serving as a makeshift flower pot while Ivy works.

“You know, if this works,” Ivy tells the sprout, eyes trained on the cell that should enter active mitosis any second now, “you’re going to be my sidekick when we take down the next big guy.”

If this works, and she can give this tiny plant the powers she hopes to give her, they can take over Gotham and the world as a team. Ivy’s always worked best with plants, anyway. Who needs—

“Red?”

Harley’s voice is uncharacteristically mellow, but it manages to startle Ivy anyway.

“Jesus, Harley,” Ivy doesn’t look away from the microscope, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

She’s not mad. Not at Harley, anyway. None of this is her fault. She’s just—

Listen. Figuring out exactly what to call what she’s feeling would require introspection, and we’re not doing that anymore.

“Oh. I uh—“ There’s something in Harley’s tone that twists uncomfortably in Ivy’s chest. “Wanted to talk?”

Ivy doesn’t want to talk. Talking, as it turns out, may be the very last thing she wants to do. But there’s that something in Harley’s voice. Something that sounds a bit like embarrassment. Like shame, even. Like maybe if Ivy were to listen in on Harley’s inner monologue right now the voice in there would sound suspiciously like him calling her a fuck-up and an idiot and—

“I’m sorry.” Ivy leaves the little plant’s cell to enter mitosis in its own time and turns to fully focus on Harley. “I didn’t mean to snap. You just startled me.”

Harley visibly relaxes. Ivy decides she hates him just that much more than she did ten seconds ago.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya,” Harley leaves her bat propped against the trunk of a giant nightshade and takes a few steps towards Ivy.

Normally, Harley has no concept of personal space. She sits on whatever surface is closest to Ivy, invading her space and making it impossible for her to fully focus on anything that’s not Harley. It should be annoying, but it isn’t, for reasons Ivy is absolutely not going to consider at this time.

This time, however, Harley hovers just a step or two away from Ivy and her microscope and her standing desk.

It feels…

It feels wrong.

“What did you want to talk about?” Ivy taps the desk and tries not to smile when Harley beams as she practically bounces to sit on it. Her legs dangle over the edge, well-worn combat boots lightly bumping against Ivy’s legs with each soft swing of Harley’s feet.

Nothing really feels wrong anymore.

“I’m sorry, Pammy.”

Ivy shakes her head. “It’s fine. You know you’re always welcome here, I just wasn’t expecting—“

“No,” Harley says, and when Ivy looks into her eyes she realizes Harley’s not going to let her pretend she has no idea what this is about, “I mean I’m sorry about the other night.”

Ivy stands up a little straighter. Takes half a step back, like that’s going to help. Crosses her arms over her chest.

“It’s fine.”

Harley tilts her head just so, bright blue eyes narrowing for a second, and Ivy sees a flash of Harleen right there staring back at her. Reading her fucking thoughts, almost. It’s unnerving.

“It’s fine, Harley,” Ivy insists, tone sharper as she takes another step back. She can hear the low rumble of every vine in her lab stirring along with her mood.

There’s a moment there, maybe a few seconds long, where they both simply stare at each other in silence. Like they’re trying to figure each other out in a way that feels completely foreign because she knows Harley, and Harley knows her, and there’s nothing to figure out. Nothing at all.

“You know—“ Harley’s voice sounds a bit brittle, like it may just break if it hits the wrong word, “you know I didn’t mean it, Pammy.”

Ivy nods. Once.

“I know.” She knows now and she knew when she first met Harley and she’s known for the last however many years it’s been. She fucking knows it’s love but it’s not love like that. She knows. “It’s fine.”

“You know Selina just got in my head, right?” Harley keeps talking, and on some level Ivy knows there’s nothing to be angry about because Harley just wants to explain. She just wants to make sure things aren’t weird between them because they’re best friends. But it feels almost cruel anyway. “You know I don’t—“

“I know you don’t love me, Harley, yes, for fuck’s sakes, I’m not an idiot.”

“But I—“

“Don’t.” Ivy holds one finger up. If she has to listen to Harley say she loves her, but just not in that way she may lose her fucking mind. “It’s fine.”

For a few blessed seconds, it feels like maybe Harley will let it go. Like maybe she’ll just drop it and let Ivy get out of this with some semblance of pride.

But that would just be too much to ask, wouldn’t it?

“I do love you, Ive, it’s just—“

“Holy shit, Harley!” Ivy raises her voice and hears the tell-tale creak of vines growing up the wall. “I know! I fucking know, all right? Selina is a dick and you thought margarita mix was a love potion and you’re not fucking in love with me, all right? I know!”

“But—“

“No! No fucking but!” Ivy swears she hears it. The little snap when she loses her last thread of control over what she’s saying and things spill out before she has a chance to filter them. “I don’t love you either, have you even considered that?”

Harley’s eyes widen in the purest expression of surprise Ivy’s ever seen in her life.

“Right!” There’s a part of Ivy that wants to stop. She wants to stop and backtrack and tell Harley she didn’t mean it because she can’t stand the thought of hurting her, and she needs her to know that of course — of course — Ivy loves her. But she just can’t right now. “I’m not secretly in love with you! All right? I’m glad you don’t love me. I’m fucking fine.”

Harley opens her mouth like she’s about to speak, but closes it without making a sound. She doesn’t look hurt, necessarily. She looks… she looks disarmed, almost. Like she doesn’t know how to react.

“I’ll just—“ Harley swallows and jumps off the desk. “We’re fine, so I’ll just leave. Yeah?”

Ivy nods. “Fine.”

“Cool. Yeah.” Harley sort of smiles, but not really. She moves a bit slower than usual as she goes back to her bat and walks towards the door, and there’s a part of Ivy that wants to stop her and fix this somehow — because it’s not fine at all — but self-preservation wins in the end.

“Remember to lock the door on your way out.”

For a second, Harley almost looks like she may say something. And for a second, Ivy almost hopes she will. But Harley just nods and walks out, and when she hears the lock snap into place, Ivy knows she’s all alone with her plants.

Right where she belongs.

#harlivy #harlivy fanfiction #harlivy fanfic #poison ivy #harley quinn #fic

20 notes · View notes

matth1w · 5 years

Note

Can I ask for a Lucifer Morningstar fic where the reader to pregnant, hasn’t told Lucifer yet and panics starting to lie to him and avoid him. They resolve it when he does some of his own detective work and he decides he wants you to know he likes the child. Bonus points of stuff like ‘well now I’ve trapped you and you’re mine...’ (like playfully) Thanks.

Detective Morningstar

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Summary: You’re pregnant with Lucifer’s baby. Great, right? Wrong. You know how much he doesn’t like children. So being a responsible adult, you… lie and avoid him. Lucifer does some detective work and finds out, because of course he would.

Warnings: Unplanned pregnancy, angst, language, talk of period, talk of yeast infections (just wait)

Rating: Everyone

Word Count: 2,709 words

Note: Lots of internal dialogue in this one, with lotsa cursing. Indicated by italics. Also, part of what took so long - my first attempt at this was much less happy and required me to get into a certain mindset. The rewrite is much happier and lighter. And pregnancy fics just take more effort from me.

Note to Requestor: Thank you for requesting and your patience, nonnie! I hope you enjoy! 💕

Tags: @kittenlittle24

It was about four in the morning and you were thankful for your natural inability to hold your bladder through the night. Lucifer didn’t seem disturbed by your getting out.

Heavy sleeper and used to it, I guess.

You slowly closed the bathroom door with a soft click and opened the cabinet just as slow. Thankful you had fixed that squeaky hinge.

Your eyes fell on the bright box in front of you and you grabbed it with trepidation - hoping your period would start and wake you from this nightmare. You opened the box quietly, swearing internally at the foil wrapping.

Why did they make these things so loud??

It wasn’t necessary. All it did was make it perfectly clear to anyone within a mile’s radius that you were taking a pregnancy test.

You paused after finally pulling it out - so on edge and nervous of making any sound Lucifer would overhear.

Nothing came from the bedroom so you got down to business.

Yuck, of course you got a little on your fingers.

Okay. All done. Now just five minutes.

God it felt like an hour.

Any bleeding?

Nope.

You checked. Still had hope even if it was a week late. You had been practically begging for your period.

You made empty promises to never complain about your period again.

You checked your phone for the hundredth time in the five minutes.

Finally.

You didn’t even pause before looking at the test.

Shit.

Hold up, it could be a -

Nope. Definitely a +

+ means pregnant right??

Shit shit shit.

Wait.

Could be a false positive. Those happen all the time.

Yeah, sure, your brain aka reasonable Y/N thought.

You looked into the cabinet to get another one, a different brand.

As much as you were freaking out, you realized that wasn’t the best idea. You’d wait until tomorrow.

I’m sure I’ll get my period by then and it’ll be some weird false positive...

Yeah.

You pushed the feeling in your gut down. It could be wrong.

It had to be.

1 day and 1 more positive test later...

You sat on the couch, Netflix running but not earning your attention.

You were too busy thinking at break-neck speed.

... Well he came around to liking Trixie. Becoming like an uncle to her. Now when he called her monkey it was affectionate.

And he loved and was even affectionate to baby Charlie.

So maybe he wouldn’t be mad. Or upset? Or idk disappointed?

Oh God, that would be the worst.

Wait, God!

Hey! Dad in law! Can you help out here? Take little bugger out?

I mean you helped Mary so just like say the spell backwards.

Yikes.

Let’s hope He wasn’t listening. Pretty sure that sent you straight to Hell ten times over.

Speaking of Hell, this was his fault! He’s the one with the freaking sperm!

But.... you’re the one whose body betrayed you. Apparently your uterus had too many months of preparing for a baby just for it to get torn down.

Maybe it was a fake. False positive. People get those all the time.

Across two different brands?

Ugh, shut up, reasonable Y/N.

3 days and 3 more positive tests later...

Maze you whisper-yelled through your teeth and shook your hand to get her to come over once she looked up from her spot on the barstool.

“I’m fucked.”

“Why?”

Maze asked with a suspicious look.

“I’m... fucked”, you cursed.

“You can’t tell anyone. Especially you know who.”

Maze smiled and nodded, curiosity piqued. She loved secrets.

You sighed, the omnipresent string of curses running through your head before you spoke again, taking a deep breath and spilling it all out.

“I’m like 99.999 percent sure I’m pregnant.”

You sucked in air, having to breath after saying that all so hurried also because FUCK, you just said it out loud.

Your best friend/practical sister just started at you, chewing on your lip.

She shifted on her feet.

“Are you...” she was trying to gauge you and the situation. “Happy?”

You made faces as you tried to think.

Were you?

Petrified. Anxious. Happy? Okay a little. If you weren’t worried about Lucifer’s reaction maybe you would be.

You mean, it was kinda cool you were like making life.

“Uhhhh...”

Maze nodded slowly at that. Understanding nearly perfectly well what was going on.

“I see. And you’re worried about Lucifer?”

You nodded, scared of even saying his name.

“What if he doesn’t like me like that?”, you sighed, wanting to cry.

She just stared at you, but it was no use as you had dropped your head in your hands. She waited until you lifted your head back up before speaking.

“You’re literally married.”

Oh. Right.

“Yeah but...”

She flicked you in the forehead.

“Stop being an idiot, YN.”

“What are my two favorite ladies gossiping about?”

You jumped out of your skin. Neither of you had noticed your husband/ father of your child until he stood just a foot away.

Shit shit shit.

Say something!

You looked to Maze but she was giving you nothing.

Fuck. Okay uh...

“Uh... VAGINAL ITCHING!”

Lucifer stopped himself from putting his hand on your shoulder. His face was a hilarious mixture of confusion and strange acceptance.

No one said anything so you had to go again.

“Um... yeah. Maze,” you gulped at the daggers coming from her eyes.

“I mean, I.... uh, I think I got a yeast infection.”

Lucifer nodded furrowing his eyebrows. He just turned on his feet and walked away.

Once he was out of reach, Maze snorted.

“You’re a mess! Vaginal itching??”

You buried your head in your hands once more and groaned.

— — —

When you went to bed that night Lucifer was already there.

“What have you been up to darling?”

Reading articles about how to tell your husband you’re pregnant.

“Um. Uh.... Reorganizing the closet.”

You smiled and laughed a little too loud as you realized how utterly stupid that was considering he was in the bedroom. With full view of the closet.

You blushed and tried to laugh it off.

“Sorry, babe. I’m super tired. I’ve been out of it.”

He chuckled. “That yeast infection?”, he mused.

You nodded over enthusiastically. “Yeah the uh, yeast infection.... Itchy itch!”

You cringed.

Itchy itch? Who says that??

Lucifer pursed his lips, trying so hard not to laugh at you.

“Yes, itchy itch indeed. Let me know if you need me to run to the store and get you something for that. I was planning on going out tomorrow.”

You gulped. Fear and paranoia coursing through your veins.

He nudged your shoulder.

“CVS has those chocolates you like on sale so I thought I’d pick some up.”

You sighed. A little too eagerly. Then tried to cover it up.

You couldn’t trust your words so you smiled and leaned in to kiss Lucifer.

He held your lips for an extra moment and pulled away slowly.

“I love you, Y/N” he said. Certainty and firmness evident through his tone and eyes that held yours.

You closed your eyes.

“I love you too, my angel”

— — —

You stopped as you stepped out of Lux, taking a moment to appreciate the warm LA sun hitting your skin. You closed your eyes and held your head high.

Today was going to be a good day.

Someone cleared their throat next to you and you frowned.

Or not.

Opening your eyes you saw you sister in law, Remiel.

Ah, fuck.

“Remy!” you exclaimed, trying to be excited. Like you didn’t know what was going on or why she was here.

She looked at you unamused.

“Y/N. I thought you said you used protection.”

Your face fell and you slumped. Embarrassed as Remy brought up your old conversation.

When she came down to try to take Charlie to Heaven she made a comment about expecting Lucifer to be the one to create a nymphlim.

And you of course said that you two used protection and she wouldn’t have to worry about that.

Which wasn’t a lie, you had been! You just... kinda stopped.

You laughed awkwardly.

“Yeah…” You swallowed.

“Since you’re here... am I actually…?” your throat tightened. You couldn’t say it.

In an instant your sister in law eyes softened.

“Yes,”

You nodded, looking away as you bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears from spilling onto your cheeks.

Remy came closer to you and put her hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” she began, her voice soft and almost unfamiliar from what you knew of the hunter.

You looked up at Remy and tried to smile.

“I guess,” you sniffled. “I kept thinking it wasn’t real. That all the tests were somehow wrong.”

You shuddered out a shaky laugh, meeting her eyes quickly.

“But I guess if you’re here and you can tell...”

Remy grunted in agreement. “I can smell it clearly.”

You chuckled and looked back at her, not surprised to see her serious face. But that left after a moment to a sly smirk.

You sighed and decided to go in for a hug. After a quick flinch, Remy brought her arms loosely around you.

“You’re not mad?” You sniffled against her shoulder.

She laughed under you as she pulled away, holding you at arms length.

“No. I learned my lesson with Amenadiel. I wanted to offer my help. The child of Lucifer will be highly sought out.”

You blanched. “Sought out? Like...”

She nodded seriously. Her mood instantly changing.

“Yes, Y/N. Many will try to get ahold of your child for their own benefit.”

You just nodded back, unable to handle the situation and desperately wanting to not think about it.

Remy seemed to notice your fatigue and tried to smile again.

“But there’s no need to worry about that now!”

You smiled back, trying to relax as well.

“Well... since you’re here...”

“Remy!”

Lucifer shouted from behind you.

Your husband walked up to you both and pulled his sister in for a tight hug.

“So lovely for you to stop down. What are you doing here?”

Remy went to say - the truth. So you spoke up first. Almost drowning her out.

“I invited her for pedicures!”

“Ooh pedicures?” Lucifer turned to you with excitement.

“Yeah. Uh, Girl family bonding. Like just girls! ... Sorry uh no boys allowed.”

Luci chuckled as Remy just looked on.

“Sounds lovely.” Luci couldn’t even try to hide the love in his heart seeing his wife and sister together.

You stepped in to give him a quick peck on the cheek then back to Remy and wrapped your arm in hers.

“Bye Luci!”

There was a glimmer in his eyes as he pulled out the corvette keys from his pocket and handed them to you.

“Have fun, darling”.

You smiled up at your husband, appreciative of the act.

He gave Remy one last look before he walked back inside.

It was quiet for almost a minute before Remy broke the silence.

“You haven’t told him yet?”

You sighed and hung your shoulders.

“I’ve been meaning to but I just... I’m so scared.”

“Of what?”

You looked at her. She really did want to help.

“Hey uh, if you’re not busy. A pedicure would be nice.”

She smiled. It truly was a nice sight.

“Sure.”

— — —

After you got home and said your goodbyes to your sister in law you hummed happily, trying to not be nervous.

Thankfully Lucifer wasn’t home so you relaxed in front of the tv with a snack.

When the elevator door dinged, you jumped up as Lucifer was quite cheery.

“What’s got you all smiley, Mr. Morningstar?”

He chuckled. “Well, Mrs. Morningstar, not only did they have your chocolates on sale. I also got a coupon!”

You giggled at him. Lucifer Morningstar. The Devil himself. Clipping coupons with such eagerness like a domestic housewife.

He walked over to you and held up the bags. You gawked.

“Luci, how much chocolate did you get??”

He gave you a sly smile.

“Oh I noticed we were running low on some items so I got them as well”

He held your eyes and in that moment you knew you were caught. But you tried to play dumb.

“What stuff?”

He tilted his head at you.

“You know, darling. Pregnancy tests. You’ve gone through quite a lot these past few days.”

You felt the color drain from your face.

“Luci...”

He held up his hand and walked over to sit beside you.

“Y/N. Whatever the reason, I want you to know you don’t need to lie anymore.”

You had to look away at the intensity of his look.

“I’m the Devil. Sensing truth and lies is my thing.”

He put two fingers under your chin to make you meet his eyes.

“And even if I wasn’t. You’re a bloody awful liar. Pedicures?”

He gave you a crooked cheeky smile and you couldn’t help the groan that escaped you.

“I know. But Luci...”

He wasn’t moving to speak so you took a breath and continued.

“I thought you would be upset. I mean, other than Trixie and Charlie, you don’t really like kids. And having a kid, it would tie us together forever. And I know we’re married but it’s different? And I just...”

Your voice trailed off when you looked back up at Lucifer and saw him shaking his head.

“Y/N, my darling wife. We were tied together forever the moment I first saw you. And a child? To be honest, seeing my brother with Charlie it sparked something in me.

“And when I saw you and Remy standing together today - I hoped she was here for the same reason you had taken almost every kind of pregnancy test. And didn’t use any tampons. And didn’t eat any of your period ice cream.”

You felt the blush grow on your cheeks and bumped your head into his shoulder - trying to desperately hide your embarrassment.

“You used your detective skills on me, Morningstar?”

He laughed wholeheartedly as he wrapped his arms around you.

“You aren’t that challenging of a case, love.”

You let yourself laugh.

It shouldn’t surprise you.

Wait.

He said hoped.

Hoped.

“Luci...” you stilled under him, “You said you hoped?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Really?”, you said softly, so surprised by his words.

He nodded then leaned in to kiss you, saying all he needed to say with the passion and love pouring from his lips to yours.

When he pulled away you took a breath, feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Staring into the eyes of your husband, you knew his words to be true.

“You want this? A baby? Our baby?”

He smiled, lighting up at your words.

“Yes.” He shook you slightly.

“I want all the babies you’re willing to give me. Because it’s you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help it.

Yep, time for the waterworks.

“Oh, Luci” you sobbed as you dove to hug him.

He held you tightly as he soothed your pain.

“It’s alright, love. Everything’s alright now.”

After a few minutes of crying and comfort, you sniffled and wiped your eyes. Unable to form words that could convey how you felt, you just looked at your husband, smiling softly, eyes glistening and showing relief, gratitude, and love.

He brought you back into his arms and hummed softly.

— — —

Later that night, when your limbs were intertwined between the sheets, the emotional toll of the day mixed with sleep to loosen your tongue.

“Luci... you don’t feel tied down to me??” Your voice was quiet - scared and hopeful.

“Darling.” Lucifer chuckled before he saw the seriousness on your face.

“We’re married.” He said as he stroked your cheek down to your shoulder.

“But a baby.” You nuzzled into him. “It I don’t know... it kinda ties you to someone forever.” The wetness of your eyes coming back again for what felt like the millionth time that day.

Lucifer shifted, pulling you closer to him and lifting your head so your eyes would meet his.

“Being tied to you for the rest of my life isn’t a prison, my darling - it’s a gift.”

958 notes · View notes

ddaenggtan · 5 years

Text

midnight wishes | knj [M]

Granny Park's Gossip:

That boy. Never met anyone as prone to disaster as he is while being so damned smart, except maybe that roommate of his. The two of them could probably cure cancer if they wanted to, but you leave them alone for more than a few seconds and you’re liable to come back to disaster. Jiminie did say they’ve been acting a little different, though, maybe they finally wised up and made things official instead of just humping like bunnies around that apartment of theirs. Oh, am I not supposed to say that?

pairing } namjoon x reader

word count } 10.3k { also on ao3

genre } Fluff, Smut, the smallest possible dash of angst; FWB au, Roommates au, coworkers au, slight idiots to lovers but like. lowkey.

warnings } smut, the most smut, all the smut. Namjoon In Glasses bc that deserves its own tag. there’s multiple smutty parts, several less explicit and then one very very super explicit so for those: oral female, oral male, fingering, deepthroating, protected sex, unprotected sex, mention of semi-public sex, mentions of a sir kink, some very accidental cum eating that is hilarious and disgusting all at once. Namjoon and Slick are both complete and utter idiots, like it’s genuinely a miracle that they’ve lived this long, especially when paired together.

{ The Snowball Effect Collab Masterlist }

a/n } hello it is i with yet another fic. it’s done. i. have a lot of emotions bUT that’s neither here nor there. This is part of The Snowball Effect collab, and while it can be read as a standalone, all the fics end in the same spot and there are so many crossovers that it legitimately hurts to think about for too long, so for the best and funniest and fluffiest experience, we recommend that you read all of them in order!! Special shoutout to ashley, kristi, and ryn (@taehyungforreal, @stutterfly, and @fortunexkookie, respectively) for letting me part of this wonderful adventure. i’m more honored than i could ever say with words, and i’m grateful every day that i got the chance to work with all of you on this absolutely phenomenal collab. for those of you who are just now seeing this, i implore you to read the others, as they are literal light years better than this, and i could not possibly live up to the absolute beauty of the other authors in this collab, but i still hope you enjoy my shiny garbage child aka this fic.

The first time you ever saw Kim Namjoon was on your very first day at the lab where you both work. You won't ever forget it, not because he's the walking embodiment of beauty nor because he's the most intelligent person you've ever met besides yourself. No, that day stays firmly implanted in your memory because that was the day the two of you nearly got fired for setting the building on fire.

In a genetics lab.

You don't even work with chemicals. Maybe if you did, they would have been more understanding, but you don't and instead, everyone was completely flabbergasted that the two of you very nearly destroyed the building because you tried to reheat your leftover Chinese food - and really, how perfect is it that he also prefers the place across town instead of on the corner, and that he eats all the vegetables you pick out of your rice while you eat the eggrolls he isn't a fan of - in the microwave at the same time. Sure, your IQ is close to 300 when combined, but also, how are you supposed to remember that the bottom part of the takeout is made of foil? You were trying to single out a gene sequence that might help cancer research. Microwaves were not important.

Until it exploded a little and set the fire suppression systems off in all the labs and affected several billion dollars worth of research.

Honestly, the two of you are lucky you still have your jobs.

Less lucky that the insurance company wouldn't pay for the entire cost so both you and Namjoon had to take pretty severe pay cuts to help cover the costs.

Even less lucky that it means you could no longer afford your apartment by yourself and subsequently had to try to find a roommate in less than a week, which the internet is not helpful for, it doesn't matter what your coworkers say.

Which really just highlights that it's your own fault that you're in this situation in the first place, you think as you slam back another shot. It's been months, and yes, you found a roommate, and yes , things between the two of you are working better than you could have imagined, but god , at what cost?

You catch a glimpse of dimples heading your way and down the rest of the Kamikaze that you've been nursing all night. You might regret that later, the alcohol might make you do something you'd never do otherwise, but you can always pretend you don't remember. Besides, it's so much harder to handle Namjoon while you're completely sober; you never quite know what to say or what to do.

He doesn't bother to sit in the empty stool beside you, just slides into the space between you and it and lets one arm rest casually on the back of your barstool as he leans in to be heard over the live band that's playing. You don't look at him, you don't trust yourself to look at him, not with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons undone. You know he looks deliciously rumpled. You're entirely too familiar with the sight.

"Are you ready to go?" He asks. You shrug even as you start pulling your coat on, doing your best to ignore the way the heat of his breath brushed over your neck in the way that always gets you hot and bothered. "We don't have to if you don't want to," He says quickly, but you wave him off.

"No, it's fine, I promise. I'm not enjoying the band as much as I thought I would anyway."

When the ride you summoned stops at your apartment building, Namjoon pays and follows you up. The alcohol has started seeping into your bloodstream, and for a moment you regret that last drink. You're not drunk, not really, but you're on the farther side of tipsy and thoughts are swirling in your head that you wish would go somewhere else. Plus you're really fucking hungry now, and also kinda tired, and you're really glad tomorrow's Saturday so you can sleep in.

"What's got you in your head?" Namjoon asks as you fumble to unlock the door. You just shrug noncommittally, unwilling to tell him about it. He doesn't pry either, just sets to work pulling leftover tacos out of the fridge and sticking them in the microwave, remembering at the last second to take the plastic off the top so your food doesn't get coated in melted saran wrap. The two of you eat in relative silence before you manage to make yourself go into your room and strip out of your work clothes and then slide under the covers.

You don't listen as he goes into the room across the hall, you don't listen as the shower starts up, you don't listen at the off-key singing that he does. You don't. You can't let yourself, because then your drunk ass won't be able to keep your mouth shut the next time you see him - as you're both eating breakfast tomorrow, probably - and you'll say some super embarrassing shit like "hey I know it's partially my fault you couldn't afford your rent and you know I'm really grateful that you moved in with me, but you're also like hot as the surface of the sun and your dimples are really cute too, please fuck me stupid, I'm literally begging you."

Because that's the issue with living and working with Namjoon. There is no escape. Before you could come home and masturbate in peace while thinking about how his chest looks so utterly perfect in those button-ups, and how the muscles in his forearm flex when he's got his sleeves rolled up, and how his jaw does that muscle clench thing whenever he's focused on something.

But no. Now he lives with you , and not only are you both on the same schedules and therefore he’s never not home when you are, therefore depriving you of your precious Alone Time, but! You get a front-row view to how he looks in the mornings, with his hair all messy, and how he always forgets that the flavor packet goes in the ramen after you cook it, and how he bundles up every time he goes on walks with Moni, and-

The door to the bathroom creaks open and you force your eyes not to close. You inspect the stuccoed ceiling the entire time it takes his footsteps to make it into his room because otherwise, you're just going to remember that first week after he moved in, when he would have to go to his room with just a towel around his waist because his clothes were in boxes and he hadn't unpacked and he'd forgotten to take anything in the bathroom with him.

The memory of his absolutely fucking ridiculous pectorals dripping with water and his god damn superb biceps flexed and delicious-looking, none of it hidden under the slightly-too-big shirts he wears to work...it haunts you. To this day.

The sound of his door closing echoes through the hall and into your room. It’s through an incredibly impressive force of will that you don’t imagine what he’s doing right now, just across the hall. You resolutely do not imagine him sliding that towel from around his waist and revealing the gorgeous glistening golden thighs that strain against his work khakis so wonderfully. Nor do you think of the way he twists his neck to pop it while he does his after-shower stretches - because that’s a normal thing that normal people totally do - and you absolutely are not thinking of the way the scent of sandalwood and steam trails after him when he’s freshly showered and you are definitively not thinking about-

A loud, high-pitched moan followed by the slapping of skin on skin echoes through the apartment, jolting you upright and out of your thoughts as you stare in shock at the back of your bedroom door.

Something thuds against the carpeted floor of Namjoon’s room and the sound abruptly cuts off. The silence that follows is deafening, and your ears ring with it.

Surely….surely he wasn’t….

A thought, unbidden and cursed, flits through your mind before you can stop it. You can’t even blame the residual alcohol in your body for the way you stand and open your bedroom door, or how you slip your super soft silk robe over your shoulders and tie it loosely around your waist, nor for the way you take the two steps to stand in front of Namjoon’s, but you absolutely blame your quickly-returning sobriety for the way you hesitate in front of it.

He’s going to say no, anyway, so what’s the harm? Things are awkward for a day or two and then we move on, right?

You knock before you can talk yourself out of it. It takes a few minutes, but Namjoon does eventually open the door. His chest is still bare but he’s got on the soft-looking plaid pajama pants that you adore, albeit they are on backwards , and his face is flushed with color.

You're 98% sure that it's because he just had his hand around his cock. You're significantly less sure if you hate or love the fact that you know that.

“Hey,” You say awkwardly.

“Hey,” He responds, just as awkward.

You both stand there for a second while you work up the courage to ask what’s been going around and around in your mind.

“I just heard that thud and got worried,” is what eventually makes it out. Namjoon’s face flushes further, and his nose scrunches in the cutest way. “Just...wanted to make sure you weren’t, y’know. Dead. Haha.”

He smiles at your laugh, even though it’s dead and humorless, and warmth blooms in your chest.

“I’m alright. Sorry for any, uh…” He squints, clearly searching for the word he wants to use that won’t immediately give him away - like the entire apartment building hadn’t heard that noise. “Disturbances.”

“Oh, no, you’re fine!” You tell him, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was just. Uh. Y’know how bonobos will often have recreational sex with non-monogamous partners just because they’re bored or as a way to work out the tension between members of the unit-groups and they enjoy said recreational sex, even though there’s no real emotional attachment to the other parties involved?”

Namjoon stares at you for a long, silent moment.

“Yeah, I know about bonobos,” He eventually says. “I didn’t know that about bonobos, but I guess that’s the fun fact quota for the day.”

Your face heats and you’ve never quite wished the ground would swallow you up until this very moment.

“Oh,” You say, dumbly. “Well. That’s a thing. That bonobos do.”

“I got that,” Namjoon says. He bites down on his lower lip in what’s probably an innocuous way to not smile at how ridiculous you’re being, but when paired with the golden expanse of chest, it’s utterly obscene.

“Would you like to have recreational sex with me?”

“ What? ”

“No strings attached, no feelings, nothing but some nice fun recreational intercourse between two consenting adults of sound mind. Would you be interested?”

“I...why are you asking me? ” He asks incredulously, and you resist the urge to kiss the surprise off his face. How is it surprising at all when he walks around looking like that ?

“Because in the time we’ve known each other as coworkers, roommates, and friends, I think we could be very sexually compatible and even if we aren’t, I’m confident enough in our friendship to believe we could still be friends afterward.” You tell him firmly. “Besides, you’re literally the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, why wouldn’t I want to have sex with you?”

“You’re...serious about this? You’re not playing some kind of joke on me?”

“Why would I play a joke on you, Namjoon? I haven’t been able to get off for literal weeks - ever since you moved in, actually - and I’m at a bit of a breaking point.”

“And you’re not drunk?”

“Completely sober,” You assure him. He curses under his breath and runs a hand over his jaw, not making eye contact as he considers. It’s the same thoughtful expression that he gets when he’s trying to figure out some complex equation at work. With how long it’s been since you last came, however, it’s only making you wetter.

"Fuck it," He mutters, seconds before his hands cup your jaw to pull you into a kiss.

It's awkward at first, the two of you trying to find a rhythm that you both enjoy while still being able to breathe. His lips are slightly chapped and you both stumble as he starts walking backwards towards the bed, but it's so wonderful. His hand against your jaw is warm and comforting, even as his other hand is slipping teasingly under your robe and his teeth suckle a mark into your collarbone.

Movement on the bed catches your attention and you flush when you realize it's Moni, Namjoon's very sweet dog that came with him when he moved in.

"Uh, Namjoon?" You breathe. It's hard to focus on anything that isn't the way he's teasing at the band of your panties, but the way Moni is staring at you is captivating. "Dog."

Namjoon freezes, hands disappearing from your skin, and he either doesn't hear or doesn't acknowledge your needy whine at the loss of contact.

"What, what's wrong? Is that your safeword? What did I do?"

"No, Joon," You can barely hear yourself think over the stream of apologies pouring from his lips, and it isn't until you grip his shoulders and forcibly turn him to look at his dog that he shuts up.

" Oh ," He whispers. "The dog." He clicks his tongue a couple of times and Moni hops down from the bed, though not without giving Namjoon the saddest eyes possible. Moni disappears down the hallway, probably to go lay on the couch, and Namjoon shuts the door behind him. "Sorry," he says bashfully.

"Don't be sorry," You respond with a smile. " Do , however, fuck me until I can't move."

A growl vibrates in his chest, surprising you, and you're bouncing atop his mattress before you can think.

He doesn't say anything else, too focused on the way your folds feel against his tongue as he slides your robe up your thighs. Words are hardly possible for you when he makes you come the first time. Even less so when he turns you onto your hands and knees, presses your face into the mattress, and proceeds to pound into you so hard that the nightstand shakes. Still, your knees are made weak by something else entirely.

It's the tender awareness in his touch; he's firm and unyielding but so, so cautious, consistently testing your reactions before he continues. The way his voice - deepened and husky with desire - sounds in your ear when he asks if what he's doing is okay, if you like it, if you want to keep going. It's how he teases you gently about how wet you are - "God damn, is this all for me? You're so fucking wet, so slick and ready for me, sweetheart," - the way he's so absolutely tuned in to your own needs and desires, the way he coaxes orgasm after orgasm out of you like it's second nature, his own high an afterthought when you've clenched too tight around him.

It's the way he brings you water and some fruit afterward and gently cleans you up while you eat before sliding your robe carefully over the blossoming purple marks he sucked into your shoulders. It's the way he didn't close his bedroom door until yours clicked behind you.

"This was the best idea I've ever had," you sigh happily to yourself as you drift off to sleep.

“So you’ve got a sir kink?” Namjoon asks several days later, face pressed into a microscope more expensive than your entire apartment building. He doesn’t look at you, even as you tear your eyes away from the computer screen in front of you to glance at him curiously.

“I do,” You tell him. He shifts in his chair and you bite back a grin. “Is that a problem? We don’t have to use it.”

“No, it’s fine,” He says quickly. “Just thought it was interesting. I didn’t expect that from you.”

“Namjoon, we’ve only known each other for a couple of months, and in that time, we’ve hardly had a conversation about what kinks we enjoy and what we don’t. How would you expect anything?”

“Just...didn’t expect it, that’s all.” He’s quiet for a minute and a sliver of guilt lodges in your throat. You’re right, the two of you haven’t known each other for very long, especially not in a sexual manner, but you could’ve maybe phrased it better.

“I’m sorry-”

“We should-”

Both of you stop midsentence, turning away from your work to laugh with each other.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Namjoon says with a dimpled smile. “I know what you meant, and you’re right. We don’t know what the other enjoys, so we shouldn’t go into this with any expectations.”

“Maybe we should, though,” You say, marking a sequence that catches your eye so you’ll remember to come back and fully examine it later. “I mean, we can’t exactly fulfill our sexual needs without knowing what said needs are. For instance, how often do you orgasm every week?”

Something tumbles on Namjoon’s desk, and when you look over he’s got the microscope cradled carefully in his hands a few feet above the floor.

“Uh...maybe twice,” He eventually says.

“Hm. Duly noted.” You turn back to the monitor in front of you, marking another sequence for inspection.

“Well...how often do you orgasm each week?” He asks. His voice is hesitant, like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to ask.

“Depends,” You tell him. “When I’m close to my period or ovulating, it’s usually once a day, if not twice, because my sex drive is higher, but otherwise it’s usually every other day or so.”

“Oh.”

“But don’t worry, I’m more than willing to take care of myself on the nights where you need a break. I don’t expect you to keep up with my sex drive.”

“I mean...I could .”

You turn away from the monitor to look at him, quirking a brow. He quirks his own in return and you can’t help the way your eyes travel down his form. He’s wearing contacts instead of his glasses - always does during the workweek, since it’s easier to use a microscope that way - but the light purple shirt sets off the platinum blonde of his hair and his thighs strain against the material of his khakis. It all adds up to make him look absolutely delectable, especially since you know full well what’s hiding underneath those pants.

“I could,” He repeats. “If you want me to.”

Your eyes meet his and you have no doubt he’s been eyeing you the same way you’ve been eyeing him.

“I think it might be time for our lunch break, Mr. Kim,” You tell him, eyes darting to the clock on your desk. “I was thinking of going out to get something, would you like to join me?”

Namjoon is already standing and grabbing his jacket, and you would laugh at how eager he is if you weren’t the same way. You can already feel heat beginning to pool between your legs and the two of you rush out of the office in such a hurry that you hardly notice when you run straight into the mail cart.

“Nice going, Slick!” Kihyun yells after you, and you wish you were ashamed of the way that your knees tremble at the reminder of how it felt to have Namjoon call you that while buried inside of your warmth.

“They have no idea,” Namjoon mutters, fingers twisting with yours so he can pull you down a hallway and towards an unused office. “If they only knew just how slick you really are.”

You shiver and slam the door closed as Namjoon sinks to his knees.

The amount of times the two of you fuck at work is utterly ridiculous after that. You have an actual conversation with him about kinks and hard limits and soft limits and all that fun grown-up stuff that’s necessary of an adult relationship, of course, and that only adds to the fire between the two of you.

He’s more than willing to let you call him Sir while you’re on your hands and knees in front of him, and you’re absolutely willing to ride him into oblivion in those moments when he doesn’t want to be in charge or when he’s had a hard day at work and just wants to relax. Those are your favorite times, actually; when he just sits on the couch and drives himself up into you while you’re fucking yourself back down onto him, eyes clenched shut as his hands glide up your spine and knead your ass.

The slow, lazy way his hips meet yours is absolutely addictive, you can’t even lie, but you can’t deny that it’s the moment after you’ve both cum that are the real danger. When you’re both panting and spent, laying against the soft sheets on his bed or the cool leather of your couch, and his arm drapes around your torso for those few moments it takes him to regain his breath.

It’s dangerous, so dangerous, because you’ve already agreed not to have feelings involved in this. You’re friends with benefits, nothing more and nothing less, and you cannot let yourself forget that. Not in the mornings when you wander out in his shirt to find that he’s made breakfast - ordered it, actually, but it’s the thought that counts - or when you walk into work together and he doesn’t hesitate to open the doors for you without even breaking stride, as if it’s second nature to do so. As if he’s used to it.

It’s when the two of you are at the mall together that reality hits you in the face.

You’re both on the hunt for different things; he’s got a birthday present he still has to buy and wants to pick up some new treats and sweaters for Moni, while you’re on the hunt for a new toaster to rival that of your old one - which you destroyed on accident by using a metal fork to dig a piece of bread out of. While it was plugged in. And hot.

Your hands still sting a little, but the ER nurse was adamant that you would be alright. So long as you didn’t try to electrocute yourself again.

“Wait, so you’re not going to be here for New Year’s Eve?” You clarify, popping a piece of chocolate into your mouth.

“No, I’m heading up to Taehyung’s cabin with the rest of the guys. It’s an annual thing, I don’t even remember how it got started,” Namjoon tells you as he peers into the window of some box store that you already know isn’t going to have anything Taehyung will like.

“Hm, I guess it’s good I work then, so I can walk Moni.”

Namjoon shoots you an odd look. “You don’t work, and Jackson’s watching Moni.”

“Uh...I’m pretty sure I work on New Year’s Eve, Namjoon. I would’ve made plans otherwise.”

“Slick, I’m exactly one hundred percent sure the office is closed for New Year’s because it is every year.” He sneaks a piece of chocolate and wrinkles his nose when he realizes it’s mint chocolate.

“No, because my schedule says-” You start, pulling your phone out to open said schedule so you can show him just how wrong he is. “That I work the next morning. That’s why I didn’t make plans.”

Namjoon just smiles and taps at the screen. “That’s December, Slick. You’re looking at December first.”

You pull the phone back and stare at it, horror washing over you when you see that he’s right.

You’re going to be spending New Year’s alone, for the first time in years, and loneliness fills you at that thought. Your parents are an entire plane ride away, on vacation for their retirement in some tropical paradise that you can’t remember the name of; your old friends are in an entirely different city, likely already with plans of their own, and you don’t know nearly enough people at work or outside of it to have any idea what people are doing.

“Oh man,” Namjoon breathes, clearly oblivious to the sudden onset of loneliness that’s hit you. “I knew it was going to be hilarious, but I had no idea it was going to be this good .”

You look up to find him focused on his phone, camera pointing at something you can’t quite make out through the small screen. You follow the view, a reluctant smile breaking out when you spot Hope on the Street dancing along to some holiday song while dressed as an elf.

“Isn’t that the news anchor that got in trouble for doing anal?” You ask. Namjoon cackles - there’s no other word for it, it’s a cackle - and nods.

“Yeah, Hoseok’s been forced into doing this as a publicity stunt. We’ve all been looking forward to seeing him do it, too, but god , I had no idea it would be this funny to see. Hobi as a Christmas elf, can you imagine?”

“Hobi?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s a close friend of mine,” Namjoon says, eyes never straying from the video as he plays it back. “He’s gonna be at the cabin too, with his girlfriend Cat. There’s like seven of us who all grew up in the same little neighborhood, and we all kept pretty close as we got older. It’s like a little mini-family.”

“Oh,” You say softly. Namjoon tucks his phone back into his pocket and looks around, lighting up as he spots something else. “I didn’t know you knew Hope on the Street.”

“Yeah, he’s a dork,” Namjoon says as he pulls you towards some children’s store. “Come on, I think Yoongi’s working and I like to watch his little dance when he makes the hearts.”

You barely pay attention as Namjoon hurries into the toy store. You don’t join him inside, too busy lost in your own thoughts.

You should’ve realized, you scold yourself. You should’ve known better. You got comfortable, you got complacent and happy, too enamored with the way Namjoon feels inside of you and the warmth of his hand in yours to realize that you’re still on the outside.

He and his friends are all going up to some cabin, with their girlfriends apparently, to hang out and have fun together for New Year’s. He didn’t invite you. You’ve lost yourself in the fantasy and complacency of how warm he feels, how it feels like coming home whenever you see him, even when you knew better.

You knew better than to get attached. You told yourself, every step of the way, not to get attached, don’t develop feelings, it’s just sex, and yet…

And yet your heart is breaking in your chest that he didn’t invite you along, that he didn’t even think to do so. It’s not even fair to him, it’s not his fault that you got too caught up in the domesticity and familiarity of him to remember that this isn’t serious. Why would he invite you? You’re his roommate, a coworker, the girl he fucks every so often. You aren’t his girlfriend, you aren’t anyone important to his friends.

You’re just the roommate.

“Hey, look at this bear I made, it’s got a little microscope and everything! It’s perfect for-”

“Sorry,” You interrupt, ignoring the way Namjoon’s smile dims ever so slightly. “I just realized that I’ve got to finish up some analyses before the office closes for the holiday, I’ve gotta go do that. But it’s cute, Moni’ll love it.”

“Okay.” Namjoon’s voice is hushed, and his brows are drawn together. He can obviously tell something’s off, but if you’re lucky, maybe he won’t be able to pinpoint exactly what. “I’ll see you at home then.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you back at the apartment,” You say quickly, not even looking at him as you hurry off the other way.

You just need space, you tell yourself. You just need some distance so you can get your emotions under control. You can’t be around him when all you want to do is kiss him senseless and tell him how much you want to wake up in his bed forever, how you never want to miss another walk with Moni. He can’t know.

He won’t know.

"I fucked up."

"You're going to have to be more specific," Jimin’s voice says from the other end of the phone.

Namjoon groans, resisting the urge to slam his head back against the cabinets. He's standing in the kitchen now, staring longingly at the fridge and whatever food it may contain, because you’re out grocery shopping now, and he would love for you to come back to a hot meal, but there’s a reason you’re grocery shopping this late at night.

"You remember how in college everyone teased me because I'm terrible at one-night stands and I bet Hobi a week's groceries that I totally could?"

"Yes," Jimin says slowly. Something clinks on the other end of the line, and Namjoon wonders what Jimin’s having for dinner. His stomach rumbles in response and he heaves himself across the kitchen to dig through the fridge while Jimin continues. "I also remember how you spent weeks pining over said one-night stand while Hoseok filled the cupboards with every single thing he thought he could get away with buying. Why are you bringing that up now?"

Namjoom stays quiet but hums in victory as he unearths a pizza that isn’t too terribly old. “How long can pizza live in the fridge before it would kill me if I ate it?”

“If you have to ask that question, it’s been too long,” Jimin tells him. Namjoon debates, eyeing the pizza before deciding it looks fine and turning the oven on before sliding the pizza in. “Now, why are you bringing up one night stands and then pizza?”

"You remember how that new girl started at work a few months ago and we ate lunch together and then nearly got fired?"

"Yes, I distinctly remember writing you notes on takeout containers for weeks reminding you not to put foil in the microwave. What does-" Jimin stops, and Namjoon gets the distinct impression that if they were having this conversation in person, he’d be getting the Look. "Joon, tell me you didn't."

"I didn't have a one night stand with her," Namjoon assures him.

"Good," Jimin says, heaving a sigh of relief. "God only knows what would happen with a one night stand with your roommate-"

"We're friends with benefits."

Jimin chokes on whatever he’s eating and Namjoon winces sympathetically.

"It's not that bad," The elder says before Jimin can scold him. "We're very sexually compatible. And she's amazing, Jimin, you don't even know-"

"Joon, isn't this the same girl you spent an entire four hours talking about the day she started working with you?"

"Yeah, so?"

The blonde gives a heavy sigh. Namjoon knows the younger well enough to know he’s shaking his head right now.

"Please be careful, Namjoon," Jimin eventually says.

"Oh, don't worry, we've both been tested, and we use condoms every time, there's nothing to worry about."

"That's not the kind of careful I mean," Jimin sighs. He's quiet for a minute as he eats and Namjoon waits for his pizza to be heated enough to eat. "Why do you say you fucked up if you’ve been careful?”

“I…” He hesitates. “I don’t know. I think she’s upset with me. We were at the mall the other day and it was fine, we were laughing at how Hobi looks dressed as an elf-”

“God that video was hilarious -”

“Right?!” They both laugh a little, fondly remembering the sight, before Namjoon sobers. “And then she just...changed. She got all quiet and skittish and ran off before I could give her the bear I made. She didn’t even look at it.”

“And it just happened out of nowhere? What were you talking about?”

“How she’s off work for New Year’s and I’m heading up to the cabin so she doesn’t have to watch Moni or anything, and then I saw Yoongi doing that dance at the store so I wanted to go watch him, and-” He stops, eyes focused on the air in front of him.

“Joon? You good?”

“Hypothetically speaking,” He begins, a realization hitting him all at once, “What would happen if I put a pizza in the oven to reheat without taking it out of the box?”

“Oh my fucking god, Namjoon, get it out!”

There’s a flurry of smoke while Namjoon does just that and rushes to open the window so he can let some of the smoke out before you get back home. Jimin’s still berating him - albeit fondly - when he picks the phone back up.

“It’s fine,” Namjoon says quickly, “It’s cool, nothing’s actually on fire anymore. And the pizza’s warm!”

“Oh my god, how have you survived this long.” Namjoon smiles at Jimin’s words; he gets a lot of shit for being wildly unobservant, but he knows that the others love him dearly. Why else would they still talk to him? Really, after the incident with the tub at Jungkook’s apartment, it’s truly a miracle he still has friends, and love is the only explanation.

“But seriously, I don’t know what I did with Slick. Do you think I was too...obvious?”

“Namjoon,” Jimin says seriously. “If this girl is anything like you, and based on that time she tried to screenshot a crack in phone screen I’m inclined to believe she is, then I think the issue is that you aren’t being obvious enough . You said she got all weird after you mentioned the cabin, right?”

“Yeah. I thought she’d be happy that she wouldn’t be stuck with Moni, but-”

“Did you consider that since she thought she was working, she doesn’t have any other plans and is now stuck in the apartment by herself since she just moved here recently?”

“Oh.” Guilt surges through him as the door opens and your voice echoes that you picked up some takeout while you were gone. “I gotta go.”

“Ah-ah,” Jimin says quickly. “My payment?”

“Yes, Jimin, I love you dearly, you are the light of my life, I would never have survived this long were it not for your sage wisdom, I owe you my firstborn.”

“Much better! Some of the others could learn from you.” Jimin’s laugh continues long after he’s hung up, Namjoon is sure of it.

You aren’t sure why the apartment smells like smoke when you get back, but you decide not to question it and just be grateful you had the foresight to pick up some takeout on your way back from the store.

When you get into the kitchen, Namjoon is there, with a smoking pizza box on the stove beside him. He’s not in his work clothes; instead, he looks comfortable and cozy in some sweats and a faded tee with his glasses halfway down his nose. Your heart lurches painfully in your chest at the sight and you force yourself to remember that he isn’t yours .

“Hey! Did you hear me? I got takeout, since I figured neither of us wanted to cook. And I’m glad I did, what’s with the smoke?” A thought strikes you as you set the bags on the table. “Oh no, did you try to use the toaster? I told you not to, it got weird after that night with the fork, we need to replace it.”

“Do you wanna go to the cabin?”

You freeze, halfway to the fridge to put away the ice cream that he likes. “What?” You ask.

“The cabin. Do you want to go with me for New Year’s Eve, with everyone?” Namjoon takes the ice cream and finishes your journey for you, sticking it in the freezer without a second thought. “If you don’t want to take advantage of a quiet apartment, that is. You’re welcome to join, and I figured that was obvious, but then I realized that it may not be, so I wanted to offer.”

“With you and all of your friends? I don’t really... know any of them.”

“That’s fine, they’re not that bad. They’re all pretty friendly, once you get to know them at least.” Namjoon says as he takes some vegetables out of your hands to put them in the fridge as well. “And I have no doubt that the others are going to bring some of their friends. Yoongi’s girlfriend will be there, she seems sweet. And Cat and Star are always nice, you’d love them.”

You hesitate, though you aren’t sure why. This is what you wanted, so why doesn’t it make you happy?

“Besides, they’ll all be happy to have another friend around to bother. Jin loves to feed people.” Namjoon flashes his dimples at you and your heart does something complex that you can’t explain. There’s the rush of excitement and the skipped beat that always comes with his dimples, but it twists and clenches as well. Because of course, he’s just taking you as a friend.

You’re friends. And that’s fine. If you repeat yourself enough times then you’ll believe it. You have to.

“Yeah, sure!” You say with a grin. “I’d like that. They always sound so fun, it’ll be nice to meet them for real.”

Namjoon beams and helps you put the rest of the groceries away before you both settle in to eat. It’s not anything fancy, simple and quick and just enough to get the two of you through the night so that you didn’t have to cook. You chat about work as you do, a few sequences that might prove promising if you can work them the right way.

It’s afterward, as you’re both curled up on opposite sides of the couch while some nature documentary plays in the background, that you notice it.

He’s been fidgety all night, even before you left to get the food, and you didn’t think anything of it before. But now he’s even worse, hands rubbing along his thighs nervously while he shoots you look after look, which you have no doubt he thinks you don’t notice.

“What is up with you?” You ask him eventually, ignoring the way some bug is eating another bug’s head onscreen.

“Nothing,” he says in a rush. “Just...ready for bed.”

“Then go to bed.” You say it like it’s obvious, because it is. If he’s so ready to sleep, then he should go; neither of you has ever expected the other to stay up and watch TV together. You’re individuals.

“Okay,” he says softly, adjusting his glasses as he stands. He gets all the way to his bedroom door before he comes back, hovering awkwardly in the hall entrance for several seconds before he finally sits back down on the couch. Now, however, he’s sitting with his thigh pressed against yours, the heat radiating through the shorts you’re wearing and searing into your skin.

He’s still fidgety, still uneasy for some reason, and it’s as you turn to ask him what the hell’s going on that he pulls you into a kiss. It’s soft and lingering and it makes your stomach flip in all the ways it isn’t supposed to.

“If you wanted to have sex, you should have just said so,” You whisper against his lips. You can feel it more than hear it as he starts to say something and then cuts himself off with a sigh.

“I wanna be inside you,” he says instead. “Please.”

Heat pools between your legs, even at such simple words, and you find yourself nodding. He kisses you again, frantic and much more heated than before, and you can already tell what it’ll be like tonight.

You’re right, too; it’s quick and dirty. You don’t even make it to the bed, not at first. He cages you against the wall in the hallway and slides a hand between your bodies to start to draw your first orgasm out. It’s the whine from the dog that makes you realize where you are, pulling apart long enough to stare at where Moni sits at the hallway entrance, head cocked to the side and watching you with a confused stare.

That gets you into the bedroom, the door shut behind you as you fall together onto the bed. The two of you barely get your clothes off before Namjoon’s sliding inside of you and groaning at the feeling.

“Fuck, Slick, you’re so wet,” he whispers against your skin as he thrusts. You can hardly make words, too focused on the way he fits inside of you and the absolute certainty that you cannot say a single word running through your head.

Not that you’re in love with the way he holds your hips so gently as he thrusts, not how he whispers praise and adoration against you with every press of his lips to your skin, and certainly not how you want to stay like this forever. That you’re absolutely positive you’ve broken the cardinal rules of being fuckbuddies.

Don’t get feelings.

But you were a fool, anyway. Because it’s easy to break rules, especially when you go into it with feelings.

The first orgasm hits you with a shockwave, and with the way Namjoon hits your g-spot, it’s followed by a second shortly after. Your hands claw into the sheets as he fills the condom, and it only takes a minute for him to clean himself up enough to relax in the bed beside you, but you hardly notice; you’re too busy adjusting to the emptiness that you’re left with now that he isn’t inside you, the yearning that fills you down to your bones with the need to be wrapped up in his arms and cradled to his chest as you both drift to sleep.

You force yourself up before you can get comfortable, fatigue sweeping through your bones.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna go shower,” You tell him. It’s a feat to keep your voice neutral, but you think you manage. “And then head to bed, I think. Uh, thanks. For the orgasms.”

The door to the bathroom closes behind you before he can even get a word out, and you force the image of his confused face out of your mind as you turn the water on. It takes every part of you to resist the urge to linger in the hot spray for longer than you need to be there, but you manage.

By the time you’re slipping into bed, the light in Namjoon’s room is off and you can hear Moni settling into bed beside Namjoon. You can practically see them, curled up together all warm and settled in together. Content.

You slip between your own sheets and wrap the fluffy blanket around you. Emotions are swirling in your gut and you do your best to ignore them all. You don’t need to focus on the way you want to be there with them, the way you want to curl your body into his with Moni between you, just the way he likes on the couch.

“This is the worst idea I’ve ever had,” You tell yourself with a sigh as you try to fall asleep in your lonely bed.

You don’t know that across the hall, Namjoon lays awake with Moni beside him, wondering how he fucked up so badly that you’re not in his arms anymore. He’d have every intention to tell you about his feelings. He wanted to end this friends-with-benefits thing, put it to rest so that he could take you out for real. So you could be together , for real.

But you’d just bolted the second he was collapsing onto the bed, like you were running from something, and he wasn’t about to keep you here when you don’t want to be here.

Still, he thinks as Moni burrows under the blankets to get closer to him, he can’t help but wish you were up against him as well, with your breathing steady and quiet as you sleep and he can feel your chest move with it.

He just really wishes that you wanted that too.

The drive to the cabin is uneventful. You and Namjoon talk about work most of the way, chatting amicably about a few things that got corrupted in the data that have been frustrating to rebuild and how excited Moni was to see Jackson when he picked the pup up that day.

You’re only a little nervous when you spot the wooden sign specifying that it belongs to the Kims. You’ve heard a lot of stories about Namjoon’s friends, seen one or two in passing when they come by the apartment to see Namjoon, though you tend to give them space when that happens.

Still, nothing could ever compare to the welcome that greets you. There’s some kind of karaoke going on, with Taehyung and Star watching from the couch. There are crutches propped up nearby and you wonder what the story is there for the few seconds before your attention is drawn to the kitchen, where who you assume is Seokjin is scolding someone for shoving entirely too many cookies into their mouth. You catch sight of someone - blonde, giggling, followed by a sweet-looking girl - run out of the kitchen with his cheeks puffed out and crumbs on his lips, and you shoot Namjoon a look.

“Jimin,” He explains with a grin. “C’mon, let’s go claim the den before someone else can get to it.”

That night is hectic, to say the least. Namjoon was right when he said his friends are welcoming, though; everyone is friendly and talkative - except for Pumpkin, Seokjin’s best friend who genuinely looks like she’s about to murder someone for the few moments that you see her during dinner but Namjoon assures you “That’s just her face, I promise.” Even when the boys get to reminiscing about the days they spent in that cul-de-sac, they include everyone else in their stories.

Especially fun is when they all come up with theories about why Cat and Hobi are late, and while from what you’ve heard so far tonight, you agree with the proposal that they’re probably fucking, you still feel a sliver of worry for them.

It’s the mention of sex that gets your stomach churning, though. Because Namjoon shoots you a knowing look, the same one he gets when you wear those ultra-short shorts around the house that he adores, and you already know what he wants. You can’t even say you don’t want it, too, because you don’t think you could ever turn down the opportunity to have him like that. It’s just so bittersweet when it ends-

“I’m going to start on dessert,” Seokjin states as he gathers plates. Yoongi and Peaches are gone in record time, and Taehyung and Star follow not long after, though it takes considerably longer with the way Taehyung helps her. Seokjin calls after them all that he’ll have dessert ready in a little while, and Namjoon shoots you another look when Jimin and Pumpkin don’t move from the table.

“C’mon,” Namjoon whispers, grabbing your hand and urging you down the hallway. “Get our bags, we’re gonna steal Jin’s room.”

“That doesn’t seem like the best idea,” You whisper in return, though you do in fact grab the bags as he directs. “Isn’t that also Pumpkin’s room? Are we sure she won’t murder us?”

“No, it’ll be fine, Jin would never let her.” The thought isn’t as comforting as Namjoon means it to be, but you manage to get your bags in the room and their bags out without anyone the wiser.

You realize your mistake too late. This room only has one bed. A singular sleeping area. The den has couches, you would have been fine, but you can’t sleep here. You can’t share the bed with Namjoon; it’s entirely too dangerous. Getting to see him still completely sleep soft, warm against you as the two of you doze in the early morning light?

There would be no coming back from that.

The thought leaves nearly as quick as it enters, driven away by the slide of Namjoon’s arms as he wraps them around you.

"Do you want it, Slick?" His voice is deep and rumbling, almost a purr in your ear, and it makes your knees weak. It's truly ridiculous how easy it is for him to rile you up, but fuck , can you really complain?

Except you can, because it's not what you want. It's not everything you want. You can't ask for more, though, not when he doesn't want to give it.

His hands snake towards the waistband of your pants - fancy grey pinstriped pants that you bought specifically because Namjoon told you that Seokjin has a fancy dress code for New Year's Eve - and your heart jumps up into your throat. You spin in his arms, doing your best to look enthusiastic.

"I want to blow you," You tell him as you sink to your knees. He leans back against the wall and quirks a brow, but he nods his agreement.

You set to work almost immediately; you're determined to make this the best blowjob of his life. It's the least you can do. You don't tell him that, though; you can't tell him. Not this. Not that you're so deeply entrenched in your feelings for him that you're afraid if you don't get out now you won't be able to. Not that you can't bear to have him touch you because you're afraid of what will come out of your mouth, what you might say or reveal that he doesn't want to know.

Not when you're going to have to end this, as you decided while laying in bed two nights ago, cold and exhausted and utterly alone.

You focus again on Namjoon, reminding yourself to pay attention. His dick is big - big enough that your fingers can only barely meet when you wrap them around it, but it means your jaw aches deliciously when you go down on him, and you adore the feeling of it in your throat.

So you swallow him down completely, burying him to the hilt with one swift movement. You've been practicing, and it has clearly paid off if the choked moan that escapes him is any indication. His hands tangle in your hair, not pulling or pushing but instead just sitting there and moving with you as you pull off just to bury him again.

You look up and are pleased to find that his eyes are screwed shut, jaw clenched tight against the moans building inside of his chest. But that won't do at all. The best blowjob of his life can't possibly be one where he doesn't even look at you.

To rectify the situation, you bring one hand up to tease at his balls, squeezing ever so slightly in the way you know he likes as you swallow around his cock. He does moan then, fingers clenching in your hair as he opens his eyes to look down at you.

"Fuck, just like that, Slick," He pleads. "Again, please again, it's perfect." You comply, humming an affirmative around his dick that makes him shudder before you swallow around him again. "God, fuck , you're so fucking perfect. Fucking amazing, the best, I can't believe I get to have this-"

Namjoon continues, mumbling in and out of coherency as you bop your head up and down on his cock. He's thick and heavy in your mouth and it feels like heaven on your tongue - it always does - and just when you think you can never get enough-

"Fuck, I love you so much, Slick, you're a god damn angel."

You pull off his dick, staring wide-eyed at him. Namjoon whines and looks down at you, clearly not comprehending what's just come out of his mouth.

"Fuck," He mutters. "Fuck, shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I don't...I'm so sorry I didn't want you to know, especially not like this. Shit. "

"Are you serious?" You ask as you stand back up. Namjoon makes a belated movement to help steady you, blood flowing back into your calves from where you were kneeled down for a while, but he stops himself. He doesn't even look at you, really, instead staring out the window nearby. "Namjoon, seriously. Did you mean that?"

"I mean…" He hesitates, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Yeah. I did. I do. It's still new so I can't be entirely sure, but I think that's what this is."

He heaves a sigh and tucks himself back into his slacks before moving to sit on the bed, one hand running through his platinum hair.

"You weren't supposed to know," He mutters. "I thought I could keep it a secret. I didn't want to make it weird between us since you don't…"

"Since I don't...feel the same?" You ask as you sit beside him. "You really...care about me like that?"

"Yeah," Namjoon whispers with a grin. It's fond and sweet and everything you've ever wanted and it's so unbearably familiar because it's how he's always looked at you. "Ever since we almost burned the lab down, I think."

"Same," You breathe, and you can't deny the way that you love the light that sparks in his eyes at that. "Ever since you ate the vegetables out of my rice and gave me your eggrolls."

"Are you-"

"Yeah," You say with a laugh. "I guess we're kind of both at fault for this, then."

"Can I…" Namjoon trails off, searching for the words he wants. His hands move to wrap around yours, lacing your fingers together as he gives you a smitten smile. "We've been fucking for a while. As you know. But would you do me the honor of letting me make love to you?"

You gulp, an audible and atrocious thing, because his words send a surge of desire straight to your core. He's right, you have been fucking, because that's the only thing the two of you can call it. You don't make eye contact, you don't sleep over, there are rules , but god, the two of you break everything else, so why not this?

"Please," You whisper.

His lips are on yours in an instant, his hands following quickly after to strip your clothes off. You can't be sure when his clothes join the pile on the floor, just that one moment your fists are clenched in his shirt and the next, you're raking your nails down his bare back as he sucks purple marks into your neck.

"God, you're beautiful," He mutters. "Fucking divine."

"Then I match you, don't I?" You whisper. Two of his fingers slide into you, and both of you moan at the feeling. He glides them against your walls, teasing that one spot inside of you that he knows you adore, and you whine a little.

"Patience, my dear," He chuckles. When you whine again he grins, dimples making your stomach flip. "Alright then, Slick. Let me get a condom."

"No," You say quickly. "We've been exclusive, right? No risk or anything like that. I've got the implant. 98% effective. I want…"

"Say it, love," Namjoon breathes, eyes never leaving yours.

"I want to feel you. Please." He nods at your words and settles between your thighs once more. Your breath hitches in your throat at the thought of what's to come.

"Tell me if you want to stop," he says as he presses kisses to your neck, up your throat, and across your cheeks. He does it all to distract you as he slides inside, but he doesn't need to. You've been fucking him for months now, you know exactly how big he is, and you're more than ready for it.

What you aren't ready for is the way his skin feels against your walls, how you can feel every pulse and throb of his cock inside you. It's better than anything you've ever felt, beyond any descriptors you could find, and it only gets better as he slides out and then back in.

His pace is slow but steady, a rhythmic glide to it that's making you obscenely wet. It's a stark contrast to the gentle way he kisses you, the softness of his lips against yours. The sound of his skin hitting yours fills the room as he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me," You tell him, sliding your hands along every inch of skin you can get.

Nothing is loud enough to mask the sound of the door opening, however, and when you glance over you can see that Hoseok and Cat have apparently finished whatever the fuck it was they were doing.

You shy back, doing your best to cover yourself from their eyes, but Namjoon's pace doesn't falter.

" Taken ," He growls. He doesn't even break eye contact as he does so, and the way his hand tightens on your hip makes you think he isn't just talking about the bedroom.

Thankfully the couple disappears after that, closing the door behind them as they go, and it flips a switch inside Namjoon somehow.

His pace speeds up, pistoning in and out of you mercilessly. He starts to angle his hips, searching until you finally cry out with your back arching up off the bed itself. He just smiles and continues to hit that spot, one hand moving to support your back while the other rubs teasing circles into your clit.

"That's it, love," he purrs. "Wanna watch you come for me like this. Let yourself fall apart on my cock, Slick, I'll be right here. I've got you."

You really wish you could figure out what exactly it is he does then; some kind of swivel of his hips while his fingers do some complicated twist or something, you have no doubt, but nevertheless, it's got you unraveling underneath him. You clench around him, harder than you ever have, and you can feel the sheets soaking underneath you from the strength of your orgasm.

It takes barely two more thrusts for Namjoon to come as well, stilling slightly as his cum hits your walls for the first time. It's warm and you can feel it settling inside of you, but you can't say you don't enjoy it.

You're both panting, out of breath and exhausted and having worked all the food Seokjin made out of your system. Namjoon disappears for a few seconds before returning with a warm cloth to clean you up; his hands are tender as he does so, and you find yourself falling even deeper.

After a quick power nap and an even quicker quickie - because Namjoon insisted that it wasn't fair that you got to go down on him but he didn't get to go down on you - the two of you mingle with the others. Hoseok and Cat fit seamlessly into the group, filling a space you hadn't realized was missing during dinner. It's obvious to you, as you lean against the kitchen island and watch them all, just how much this group loves each other. Even the newcomers, like the new girlfriends, are absorbed so perfectly into the existing group that it's as if they never left.

Hell, even Pumpkin is smiling a little, although you can't be sure it's not just because Seokjin looks Like That.

"Ooh, icing," Namjoon says as he comes to join you in the kitchen. Seokjin barely gets a chance to say anything as Namjoon drags his thumb across the white droplet and sucks it into his mouth.

The baker looks horrified, and you wish you knew why. Namjoon agrees, based on the look on his face.

"What?" Namjoon asks. "It was good." Seokjin's face is as pale as it can possibly get when he waves Namjoon away, and you have a sneaking suspicion of just what your boyfriend put in his mouth.

You don't bother to hide your smile as said boyfriend comes over to you and hands you a glass of champagne.

"What are you so happy about?" He asks teasingly.

"You," You tell him honestly. It's worth it when he ducks his head, shy smile making his dimples stand out even as he tries to hide it. "I adore you."

Namjoon doesn't respond, just kisses you. He breaks away for a few minutes, saying something to someone else, and when the clock strikes midnight, he presses another gentle kiss to your lips.

"What are you wishing for?" He asks.

"Midnight wishes? Really?" You tease. He cocks a brow and you smile. "I don't need to wish for anything. I got everything I wanted this year."

"Really? Everything?"

You nod, straightening his tie ever so slightly. "And what about you? What are you wishing for?"

"Oh, that's easy." He wraps an arm around you and grins. "For you to finally accept the bear I made you that day in the mall."

"Moni loves that thing, I couldn't possibly take it from him."

"But it's got a microscope! And a lab coat!"

Well then," You tell him, dropping your voice so the others won't hear. "I suppose you'll have to make me another."

He glances over to where Yoongi and Peaches stand and then back to you.

"Covert mission to also get another for Jisoo?"

"Glad we're on the same page here," You tell him with a smile.

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viking-raider · 5 years

Text

Reflection *Fic Request*

Summary: Henry wakes up in the morning, and spends time admiring you as you sleep, with some playful banter after you wake up...two hours later.

Pairing: Henry/You

Rating: More Fluff-ity Fluff Fluff! and some mature references

Word Count: 2,008

Inspiration: Anon Request (x)

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart

Related Fic: Mornings

------

It was a usual morning in the house for you and Henry, starting with Henry getting up anywhere from an hour to three hours, before you, so he could start whatever regimen he might be on for his various filming projects. He didn't have one yet, but, would in the coming weeks as the prep to start working on season two of the Witcher kicked into gear. Even though, he'd slept in, Henry was up almost two hours before your alarm would go off, for you to get up and start the day.

Good. He thought, turning on his side to stare at you. More time for you.

He reached out and twisted a loose strand of your hair around his index finger, watching the look of absolute peace on your face, the way your long lashes laid against your skin and the feel of your warm, soft breath against his hand. Henry couldn't clock the amount of hours he'd spent in bed with you, just like this, over the almost five years the two of you dated. It didn't matter where the two of you were, here at home, safely tucked in your own bed, a hotel room in some big named city, or on site of whatever movie the either of you were shooting. It was the consistent, reliable stability that Henry had craved in his life for a long time, especially since hitting it big on Superman and his life always feeling like a shook up snow-globe. You were his stability in everything; you were the person that could give him one word, one look or just your presence and he'd know where he was in the world, or as you lovingly called it 'keeping that big head in check.' And that's what you did, like a grounding wire. You weren't going to let him get an ego as he got bigger and bigger roles, and forget the man he really is. Both of you built a solid foundation of your relationship on keeping each other in check, supporting each other in the good, the bad and the ugly, picking up wherever one of you had a weakness and protecting it, and reaffirming the strengths you both had. If you were having the worse day from hell, he knew simply locking his arms around you and pressing his lips to the top of your head, would instantly shield you from it, like he was your body armor. If he was getting overwhelmed with work, or struggling on a workout and strict diet, all you had to do was tell him how proud you were of him, that you believed in him, and it gave him the strength to continue on.

“You are the Superwoman to my Superman.” Henry whispered, unraveling the strand of your hair from around his finger, and caressed your cheek, smiling has you whimpered and rubbed your cheek against his palm. “You are what makes my life complete, and meaningful.” he told your sleeping form, lighting his fingertips down your nose. “You are quite literally the most gorgeous woman in the world, and it was the best day of my life, when I met you.”

The pair of you had met on the set of The Man from U.N.C.L.E., where you played the female lead. Henry knew the moment he walked into the first script read through and saw you at the table, where you sat beside your good friend, Elizabeth Debicki, and laughing at whatever it was the two of you found so hilarious, that he was smitten with you. With unbelievable luck, he found that his seat was right next to you, he felt his hands grow clammy, and his insecurities start to flood into him, as he approached you, thankfully you and Elizabeth were still too absorbed in the conversation you were having, to see him coming. He stopped a few steps away from you, rubbing his hands on his jeans and trying to get a handle on himself, before taking the last few steps and pulling his chair out as nonchalantly as he could, and sat down. It was then you noticed him, turning your head away from Elizabeth and giving him a smile that undid all the confidence he managed to recover the moment before.

“Hi.” You smiled, meeting his eyes and extending your hand to him. “I'm y/n.” you introduced yourself.

“Hey, I'm Henry.” he replied, taking your hand in his, and prayed it wasn't as clammy as he felt it was, as he shook your hand. “I'm playing Napoleon Solo.” he added, reluctantly letting your hand go.

“I'm playing Gabby.” You offered back, politely.

“Well, I look forward to working with you.” He said, honestly, smiling back at you.

And Henry had more than enjoyed acting with you in the film, he reflected, as his hand followed the curve of your side and over the slope of your hip. He'd grown a bit jealous as well, on set. Your character had a bit of a fling with Armie's, so, the pair of you had grown rather close on set, something Henry desperately wanted with you, for himself. He was sitting in his chair behind the camera watching as you both did the scene in the hotel where you fight each other, then melt into making out, and no matter how hard he tried to focus on the script in his hand for his up-coming lines, he couldn't keep his eyes off of you, legs wrapped around Armie's waist and your arms around his neck, as you kissed deeply. With a huff, he'd gotten up, tossing his script onto his seat and walked away out of the studio, needing air. But, after you'd finished the scene, you'd panned around for him, noticed he was gone, and came looking for him at his trailer.

“Can I help you?” he'd asked, looking down at your from the steps in his trailer.

You'd frowned and cocked your head to the side as you looked up at him, making him feel like you were staring into his soul. “Superman's jealous.” you said in a slow and amused voice, a grin pulling across your lips.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” he replied, folding his arms over his chest, but you'd grown to see through his defenses and took the two steps up into his trailer, Henry backing up as you did. You'd pulled his arms away from his chest and rested his hands on your shoulders.

“You're a dirty liar.” You'd teased him standing on tip-toe and kissed him, meaningfully, on the lips.

It had been all Henry needed to know you were finally his, that you'd been in love with him since he sat down next to you at the script reading, but too afraid to say anything, in case he didn't feel the same. From that moment in the trailer, you were both almost entirely inseparable. If you didn't have work to do, you'd follow Henry to his various interviews, photo shoots and filming sites, as he would do the same when you were working and he wasn't. You always went to award shows together and premieres. All your friends and family teased you two about being so attached at the hip, it was like you had three of them.

Henry lifted your arm, turning the silver bracelet around your wrist in a circle, it was the first birthday gift he'd given you, just before you and he stepped out of the limo and onto the carpet for the Man from U.N.C.L.E premiere, also the first public appearance you both did as a couple. The top of the bracelet had a gaelic phrase inscribe on it, and on the inside was the translation: Love You Now, and Forever. He'd only ever seen you take it off long enough to take a shower, you wouldn't even take it off for film roles, forcing the director, producers and artists to integrate it into your costume. Henry trailed his fingers flat along your collarbones, rubbed them over your chest, then over the swell of your breast, you moaned in your sleep, reaching out to lightly wrap your hand around his wrist, making Henry smile.

“You are beautiful, y/n.” he whispered, gently kissing the tip of your nose. “I really--” his voice trailed off, and just watched you sleep for a few moments. “What have I done in life to have you love me so much. To trust me like this..” he licked his lips, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, burying his face into your hair for a moment before rolling out of bed. He went into the walk-in closet, pulling down one of the shoe boxes he kept a pair of his dress shoes in, and flipped it open. Reaching inside the left shoe, Henry pulled out a small velvet box and opened the lid, revealing a diamond ring he'd had custom made.

Henry stared at the ring for a long time, and was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of your alarm going off. “I really need to finally propose to you.” he whispered to himself, slipping the box back into his shoe, then slid both back onto the top shelf.

“Henry?” You called out his name, before you'd even finished waking up or turned your alarm off.

“Right here, babe.” He smiled brightly at you, popping out of the closet, holding a t-shirt and a pair of jeans in his hand. “You sleep well, sunshine?” he teased, knowing you hated waking up before the crack of noon.

“Hmm.” You nodded, rolling onto your back and draping an arm across your eyes. “You?”

“I always sleep well, when I'm in bed with you.” he commented back, stepping out of his pajama bottoms and into his jeans.

“Fuck all, you're too happy for 7am.” You shot back, sitting up and looking at him.

“Someone got warm last night.” Henry grinned, seeing you shirtless, not that he didn't already know that after staring at you for two hours.

“I wonder why?” you replied, shooting him a look that made him laugh. “I tried turning my personal heater down, but, he's permanently stuck on one setting, Henry Cavill.”

Henry laughed even harder as he pulled his shirt over his head, knowing you were in full swing of giving him shit, when you dropped his full name. He settled his shirt over his muscular torso and grinned, impishly at you. “I told you last night after we made love, if you want the heater to go down an notch, to twist the nipple a little harder.”

“Oh my god!” You howled, laughing as you fixed your hair and got out of bed. “That is so not what you said!” you called over your shoulder as you went into the bathroom. “You said, if I wanted to make you harder to twist your nipple, it was pulling on your ear that was supposed to turn the heat down.” you said, relieving yourself. “And while you did get harder, you only got warmer.”

“You probably pulled the wrong ear.”

You choked on a laugh, pressing your hands to your face and got up to start brushing your teeth. “I'm starting think I need to see your mother for a instruction manual.” You told him, between brushing.

“My mother does not know what ear to pull to cool me down.” Henry told you, standing in the bathroom doorway.

“No, but she might know where to kick you, for a restart or fail safe.” You countered, spiting into the sink and swishing mouthwash.

“You don't need to kick me for that.” He told you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, turning his face into your neck. “Just kiss me.” he whispered into your ear, tugging on it with his teeth.

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that-one-girl-behind-you · 4 years

Text

Illicio 2/?

Part 1

"In my defense," Gerry starts saying as soon as he closes the door to Jon's office, "she was supposed to say yes."

Jon lets out a weird little noise that could pass for a laugh if it didn't border on hysteric.

"Not your best guess by far, I'm afraid." Jon sits down behind his desk and starts booting up his laptop, apparently unaware of Gerry's eyes on him.

But, see, Gerry has known bad people.

And Jon isn't one.

"I thought you were going to do your own thing," Basira says when Gerry walks into the Institute with Jon next Monday. "Was he hiding with you?" she adds, giving Jon a pointed look.

"He wasn't hiding, just- he's been staying at my flat," Jon mutters. It's interesting to see he doesn't try to meet her eyes when he speaks. Gertrude definitely never had that consideration with anyone, and Gerry doubts Elias does either. Just another little way Jon is different from the Beholders that came before him.

Basira arches a thick eyebrow in suspicion. "Why?"

Gerry's not about to just let it out in the open that he now literally feeds off of Jon's voice, especially to one of the women that was so adamant on killing him on his very first day back here.

"I didn't exactly have a place to live," Gerry says before Jon himself has any chance to respond. Basira's big, deep brown eyes latch on to him with such intensity Gerry doesn't even need to See to know the owner of the mark on her soul. "And I like Jon."

"Do you now?" Basira's gaze turns skeptical, and Gerry gives her a shrug.

"Don't you?" he asks back.

He knows the question was a mistake almost immediately, from the way Basira's expression shuts off.

"We'll just- I have some things to work on," Jon's voice breaks the silent stare-off. His hand is slightly raised towards Gerry, like he was going to reach for his forearm but then thought better of it. "Gerry's going to be assisting me with some research, Basira. We'll be in my office, if... in case anything happens."

Gerry gives Basira one last look before he follows; she's watching Jon go and her expression is stony, but her eyes look troubled. In the end she just turns around and leaves, and Gerry's left thinking he's missing some sort of context.

"In my defense," Gerry starts saying as soon as he closes the door to Jon's office, "she was supposed to say yes."

Jon lets out a weird little noise that could pass for a laugh if it didn't border on hysteric.

"Not your best guess by far, I'm afraid." Jon sits down behind his desk and starts booting up his laptop, apparently unaware of Gerry's eyes on him.

Gerry stays by the door, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he watches Jon. He's... a bit awkward, yes. And a danger magnet, considering he visited America exactly one time and somehow ended up both tagged by the Stranger and trapped by the hunters. And he does look like he's constantly having a nervous breakdown and has forgotten what food and sleep and combs are.

But, see, Gerry has known bad people.

His mother is still a shadow well pushed against the back of his mind so he only ever thinks of her accidentally. He's met avatars that take a perverse delight in feeding their patrons, instead of merely doing it to survive. He's seen humans at their lowest, when they'd gladly throw others into the line of fire to get a few extra seconds to run. Gerry knows bad people.

And Jon isn't one.

Gerry spent enough time with Gertrude to know that getting close to Archivists is a surefire way of getting killed, and he's also painfully aware he barely has any reason to trust Jon.

But he looks... lonely. Not capital 'L' lonely, but still enough so that Gerry can't just let the matter rest.

"You're not unlikable," comes out of his mouth before he can stop it. Jon's hands still over the laptotp keys. "I'm also getting the feeling no one here likes each other, so maybe don't take it personally."

It takes a few more seconds for Jon's fingers to go back to tapping a tuneless melody on the plastic keys, and Gerry guesses that's all there's going to be. Just a little moment of encouragement that didn't quite land as he hoped it would. He still kind of wants to defend Jon for some reason. It's either some sort of Eye thrall, or leftover loyalty for the only person who's ever respected his wishes.

After a while, Gerry moves to pull a chair to sit on, and grabs a statement from a file box next to Jon's desk. Apparently these are the fake ones, because it narrates an encounter with a demon duck that Gerry suspects was only a regular pissed off goose chasing off a group of very intoxicated young adults.

"We used to- we liked each other, before," comes Jon's voice by the time he reaches the statement' thrilling conclusion. Gerry's still getting used to this, and he still can't tell how much of the soothing warmth comes from Jon's words feeding him some kind of monster energy, and how much is just the fact that Jon has a very nice voice. "Or they did, at least."

"You didn't like them?" Gerry asks without looking up from the paper. Jon keeps tapping away, the sound lulling in its repetitiveness.

"I never tried to- they liked each other." Jon's voice tastes like a confession. Gerry wonders how much of it is true, and how much is only Jon's perception. "My assistants at least, Basira and Melanie never quite- they're different."

"I would have never guessed," Gerry says, because he can't think of anything else.

The silence broken by the tapping on the keys stretches for another long pause.

"But- but thank you, I guess." Jon pauses in his typing. "It was... a nice try."

He looks up at Gerry with gratitude in his dark eyes and the smallest, saddest hint of a smile in his cracked lips, and a single thought flares up in Gerry's mind so suddenly it surprises even himself.

Fuck.

----------------------------------------------------

"Hey," Melanie drops a paper Krispy Kreme bag on top of whatever bullshit it is Basira's reading right now. If she's lucky, the grease will stain it so bad Basira won't be able to read it anymore.

A much better alternative than ripping it out of her hands and tearing it into a million pieces. Every time she sees Basira do anything but hate this place Melanie feels her blood boil and her hands itch to hurt.

Basira frowns at the bag, before looking up at Melanie. "How did you get this?"

"Helen dropped me at the loos," Melanie shrugs. Basira goes to open the bag, and Melanie feels her near-constant irritation soften when she sees her lips twitch as she pulls out a chocolate frosted doughnut from the bag. "I was craving something sweet. Had to guess at what you'd like."

"Hm. It's been a while since I've had one, thanks." Basira toasts her with the pastry, and Melanie smiles. That's right. Basira is... not her friend, but not her enemy either. They're both trapped here. Melanie doesn't have to protect herself against her. "Helen's still in the tunnels?"

Melanie takes a seat across her and reaches for a doughnut as well. She hates red velvet with a passion, but she got one because she's been thinking of Georgie lately, and those are her favorite.

"She says she likes them." she bites into the doughnut. She still hates it. "Any news about our other resident abomination?" Melanie still refuses to believe the thing that woke up at the hospital is Jon, but it's getting harder to keep up with every day that passes because he's just.... Jon.

If anything he's become more quiet, trying to blend into the background or hiding behind a statement, like keeping up the appearance of productivity will somehow make him seem more human.

"He's fine. I guess." Basira frowns at her half eaten doughnut like it's personally offended her. "I've been thinking."

"Mm?" Melanie chews the red velvet viciously. If she has to suffer it, then it has to suffer her too. Basira's eyes are heavy on her, and she looks up from her phone when she can't stand the staring any longer. "What?"

"You're going to get mad ," Basira says carefully. "Not that you aren't all the time, but-"

"Just say it," Melanie rolls her eyes, already feeling the rising irritation prickling at her mood. "I'll keep it in."

They both know what it is, the memory of the Flesh's creatures squirming and crying out at her hands still fresh in both their minds.

Basira waits another moment, until Melanie rolls her eyes and pulls out her knife from her jacket and hands it over to her.

"I'm- I think we're going about Jon all wrong," Basira says finally. Melanie arches an eyebrow. "I think... maybe that's why the Eye brought Keay back."

"Basira, either you're not making any sense or you think you've given me much more context than you have."

The other woman huffs angrily, before pinching the bridge of her nose.

"We- Is there anyone Jon is close to anymore?" Basira asks. "Martin is up with Lukas, Tim is dead, you said your friend isn't talking to him... you make it no secret that you'd turn on him at the first wrong move, and I'm- I used to like him."

"Oh fuck, did you really?" Melanie frowns. Logically, she knows Jon is not- she knows people can like Jon. Georgie certainly did once. Tim too, if he was actually saying the truth when they got drunk in the freak's office while the doll had him kidnapped. Martin does, or did as well.

She expected Basira to have a bit more sense though.

"Not at first. I was- it was a trap. I gave him Getrude's tapes because I wanted him to trust me, we thought he'd killed her and we wanted him to slip."

"We?"

Basira seems to deflate at the question.

"Daisy and I. She... she was very interested in him from the start. I guess now we know why." Her lips curve into a dry, humorless smile. "But he was actually nice. Weird, awkward. Bit paranoid. But nice enough. He made jokes sometimes."

"I'm sure they were hilarious," Melanie mutters through gritted teeth. The conversation is setting her on edge, her hands white knuckled around the edge of the desk.

"Oh they were terrible. But seeing him try was funny." Basira's lips curve into another soft smile, but this one makes Melanie want to scratch at her face because she's smiling at the fucking monster that dragged them all into this. "Mel. The desk. You said you'd keep it in."

She hates that nickname so much. The boys at her high school used it to mock her, and it always makes her feel small and soft, like she's not being taken seriously.

Basira takes her seriously. Melanie knows this. Basira doesn't mean it in the way they did. She doesn't know, because Melanie won't tell her, because a nickname is just that and it doesn't affect her at all. It's just a name. Just-

"Okay. So he made jokes that were bad. What's your point?" Melanie only looks back up once she's got her breathing under control. It was only a slip.

"The point is it doesn't matter if we like him or not," Basira marks her emphasis on the last part, but Melanie's not too convinced anyways. "What matters is we don't want him to turn full monster. I've read about other avatars, Melanie. You saw Hopworth, you know how they can be, when they're truly gone."

"So what? The power of friendship is going to turn him human again?" Melanie snarls. "We have a sleepover and do each other's hair and that will fix-"

"Well I don't know, Melanie!" Basira snaps back, and Melanie actually stops at that. It's so rare to see her lose her cool. "All I'm saying is that it's very suspicious that the Eye decided to give him a new best friend right now. We don't even know what Keay is."

And they really don't. Melanie's been watching Gerard Keay ever since he came back to the Institute last week. He walks Jon in every morning, then goes away for the rest of the day and comes back just as Jon is leaving in the evening.

She followed him once, and saw him hurry up after a man dressed in construction gear and grab him by the shoulder to lean in and tell him something, before going to beat the snot out of the avatar of the Buried that had been following the poor sucker for three blocks.

Whenever they meet, he keeps his eyes on her and his back to the wall. He somehow always seems to know where she's carrying the blades that day, but it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that he knows Melanie's dangerous, and treats her as such despite towering over her and probably doubling her in weight, despite all his experience in fighting beings made out of fear.

Melanie likes Gerard Keay precisely because he does not trust her.

"Does it matter?" Melanie asks. "If he becomes a problem, I-"

"I think it does matter, because right now he and the statements are all the influence Jon has," Basira points at the closed door of Jon's office across the room. "For all we know he's encouraging Jon to be- well, worse."

Melanie arches an eyebrow at her words. She'll rip Jon's heart out before pretending to be his friend. Maybe it'll be enough to kill him for good and they won't have to worry about this anymore.

"And what do you want to do about it?"

Basira sighs.

"Nevermind. I don't know what I expected," she says, defeated.

"A sounding board?" Melanie's irritation evaporates as quickly as it boiled, now that Basira has stepped back. "Good luck with that!"

"You could at least try you know?"

"I really couldn't," Melanie gestures with a smile at the crescent moons her nails dug into the wood of the desk. "Think of me as a backup plan. When you fail, I'll deal with him."

Basira groans, and digs into the bag for another doughnut.

----------------------------------------------------

It's raining heavily by the time he leaves the Institute.

Jon huffs a little as he walks towards the front door, wondering if Gerry had the good sense to buy an umbrella while he was out there doing whatever it is he does, because Jon certainly didn't think to grab one this morning when they left.

It definitely still feels a little unnatural to think of Gerry living with him. Of course it's not like Gerry wants to be there, but Jon is very aware that he's the reason Gerry's alive and therefore homeless, and he's not about to kick him out when he does need a place to stay the night.

It's also very comfortable to not be alone, he thin-

That's when Jon bumps against something soft and warm and firm, and promptly bounces back and trips over his own feet. His reflexes are lackluster even at the best of times.

A large hand clamps down on his forearm before he actually goes down, and Jon uses the support to right himself.

"Jon?" says a soft, open voice, and Jon freezes.

"M- Martin!" This is great, this is amazing. He hasn't seen Martin in two weeks and he had to literally run into him now that he looks a right mess and... and of course Martin doesn't care how he looks, that's- why is he even thinking about that? "I'm- How are you?" he asks, and the unnerving, heavy pressure on his stomach intensifies.

"Oh? Ah, I'm just-" Martin averts his eyes from him, and Jon feels himself deflate a little. Sure, no one really looks at him in the eye anymore, but the fact that it's Martin makes it a different kind of painful. "I'm...fine?"

"You look fine." Too fine almost, for someone who's been hanging around Peter Lukas for months. Jon takes in the soft curve of his face, his full cheeks, and his strong brows. His sad green eyes behind his glasses. Jon's stomach tightens even more. He really has been blind.

"I... I have to go now Jon," says Martin, and only then does Jon notice how long he's been standing there in silence just staring at Martin like a creep.

"Would you- I mean we could-" Jon stumbles to get his words out because Martin is here and they're technically outside the Institute, and he can't just let him go. "Uh- a coffee? Just-"

"I can't- Jon I've really got to go," Martin sighs. "Here, take my umbrella, I'll grab a taxi."

"I'm- it's ok. Gerry has one, he's just around the corner." He Knows this suddenly, only really hears the static after the words come out of his mouth. "Uh- you've heard about Gerry?" It occurs to him that not everyone has supernatural means of knowing things, and it's been a while since Martin last went down to the Archives. "Gerard-"

"Peter told me, yes." Martin opens his umbrella with a single, practiced push to the runner. "Get home safe Jon," he says, giving him a last over the shoulder look before walking out into the rain.

His eyes are grey.

----------------------------------------------------

Jon is suspiciously quiet as they walk to the bus stop on the way to the flat that evening.

Gerry's spent the last two nights out looking for people to help, and he's starting to run low on juice, so he'll have to sit this one out. The rain hopefully means there'll be less people out on the streets, and while he knows the entities can reach people at home just as easily, he also doesn't really want to be out there getting soaked.

"Who was the marked guy?" Gerry asks as he tries to keep the umbrella over the two of them while accounting for the fact that Jon is trying very hard to not step into Gerry's space. "The big one with the glasses."

That makes Jon stop walking, and Gerry has to hop aside to not bump into him.

"Watch it, I'm going to run you over next-"

"Is it the Lonely?" Jon looks up at him with tired eyes, like he already knows the answer. "I... guess I should've seen it coming," Jon says after Gerry's silence extends a minute too long. "That's- he's Martin."

The name in Jon's voice tastes like devotion when it slips into Gerry. Ah shit...

"I'm going to guess Martin is not an easy subject." Gerry watches Jon's face for a reaction. "Do you want to like... talk about it? I know a good Chinese place nearby."

Jon's lips curl into a humourless smile. "You don't eat."

"I do. Just not Chinese." Gerry guesses it'll make a good side dish at least. "You don't have to tell me. But maybe I can help."

"I don't think Martin wants anyone to help," Jon says instead of answering.

The rain's starting to come down harder. Gerry looks down, and the boots keep him pretty much dry, but Jon's trousers are already starting to soak up water from the splashing sidewalk.

"C'mere," he grabs Jon by the shoulder and starts moving again.

If anything, Jon looks a little less miserable holding a hot cup of jasmine tea, even when he's telling a very sad story about a man who took a new job without knowing what he's really agreeing to.

"-and I- of course I don't like it. But Gerry, I have to trust him. He's- it's the least I can do. The least he deserves." Jon's expression is almost desperate, like he expects Gerry to disagree with him. "He's doing this for a reason, and I already- look where not trusting people has brought me. I made a choice and... and I have to stand by it."

After all this, Gerry thinks he's formed a pretty solid idea of this Martin, and his conclusions are not too favorable. Gerry's spent his entire life pulling people out from this world, and this man is arrogant enough to think he can waltz in and come out unscathed.

Still, he doesn't mention it. Gerry's not unobservant by any means. The whole marked by the Eye thing helps, he guesses, but even a blind man could probably see how bad Jon's got it for his former assistant, and bringing a less than stellar opinion to the table is definitely not going to do any good.

"Lukas is dangerous," Gerry offers. Nothing Jon doesn't know already, and probably nothing that will help soothe his worries, but it's the truth. Jon deserves that. "But at least your Martin doesn't seem too far gone yet."

"I- he's not my Martin," Jon stammers out, his flushed face noticeable even under the harsh yellow lights of the restaurant.

Gerry chuckles. Jon's not a bad looking man, under the unkempt exterior, and he's definitely much gentler than he shows at first. He can see why Martin liked him. He can also see how Jon didn't notice.

"Of course he's not." Gerry makes his eyeroll as exaggerated as he can, and it has the desired effect of making Jon go even redder. The tea's gone cold long ago, and the server already brought back Gerry's untouched food in a take-out bag.

Jon is avoiding his gaze by studiously looking at Gerry's fingers where he's taping restlessly at the table. The tattoos, probably. They've always been -excuse the joke- eye-catching.

"Let's go to your place," Gerry days after a moment, and Jon's face whips up as if startled. "You okay?"

"I- yes. You're staying tonight?" Jon asks, lifting an eyebrow. "It's raining."

Gerry guesses he technically doesn't have to, Jon's recounting of his transformation into the Archivist was enough to top him off.

But Jon looks... oddly hopeful under the questioning look. And it would be a pretty bastard move to have him lay out such a personal story and then just leave him alone.

Gerry looks out the window at the distorted reflections of the streetlights. "Yeah, I think I could stay," he says, and pretends not to see how Jon's entire stance relaxes on his seat, the little satisfied curl to his lips.

He can definitely see why Martin liked him.

----------------------------------------------------

There's really no reason why Martin should keep coming down here to brew his tea.

Elias', now Peter's, office has an en suite kitchenette, and it's just inefficient for Martin to make the trip down to the Archives' break room every time he wants a drink.

But -and he guesses this is the main reason he'll have to stop coming down here- this place feels like home in ways that hurt, but also remind him just what he's doing this for.

This is where he and Sasha and Tim sat down and planned Jon's birthday party, because Jon never really came here so the place was basically theirs. They had a whiteboard with ideas and lists littered here and there with Sasha's little doodles.

"Oh no, trust me. He's a cake guy," Tim had said with one of his trademark mischievous smiles. "He can pretend he isn't, but you'll see."

Martin had been so jealous back then, because he often forgot Tim and Jon were friends and Tim actually knew things about Jon and hung out with him and- it all feels very silly now. Like something that happened to someone else while Martin watched. He wonders if it's the Lonely's effect or just the PTSD from the past four years.

He sighs when he comes back to the present and looks down to find he's preparing two cups instead of one, before he goes to return the extra one to the cupboard. Those days are over.

It's probably for the best.

That evening a few days ago, Martin was far too close to saying yes. A coffee date on a rainy day with the man he loves is everything Martin would've wanted some years ago, but he made a deal with Peter, and it's the only way to keep Jon-

"So you're Martin?" someone asks behind him, and Martin just about flings the cup into the sink out of surprise.

He turns around to find a man looking him up and down with a raised eyebrow, like he's evaluating him and Martin isn't scoring too well. The man is nearly as tall as Martin is, with broad shoulders and tattoos and at least three face piercings, and Martin is pretty sure he knows who he is even before he gets to the truly awful dyejob.

"And you're Gerard Keay, aren't you?" Martin asks as he gets his pulse back under control. "I didn't know you were here."

"I'm not usually, I have better things to do," Gerard says none too gently. Martin is... very surprised to find he doesn't care too much that this man finds him lacking. He just wants to be left alone. "But I'm checking on you. For Jon."

It would be so much easier to save the world if Jon hadn't chosen this moment to care about him, Martin thinks. "Did he-"

"He doesn't know I stayed. I usually just drop him off." There's something casual about the way Gerard says this, and Martin's stomach prickles with irritation. He should be glad Jon's got someone keeping an eye on him, especially since he apparently hasn't moved into the Institute like Basira and Melanie. If two archival assistants -however reluctant- can't go out without half the entities trying to get a piece of them, the Archivist probably shouldn't either.

He's not too glad.

"So what do you want?" Martin crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the kitchenette counter.

Gerard takes a step towards him. Martin tilts his chin up, the way Tim used to do when he got into fights with Jon. He probably doesn't look nearly as intimidating, but he hopes it'll come across as a warning.

"I don't know what you're playing at," Gerard takes yet another step into his space, his eyes hard and narrowed. "But you better have one hell of an anchor, Blackwood, or you're not going to like what happens."

Martin feels something hot and ugly climb up into his chest from the pit of his stomach. Who does this guy think he is? He doesn't know the least of it, he has no idea the sheer amount Martin is sacrificing for-

"That's very nice. Thank you for the advice," he says through gritted teeth. "I don't think I owe anyone an explanation though, least of all you, Mr. Keay."

Gerard lifts a pierced eyebrow, unimpressed. "What about Jon?"

"That's what you're here for, isn't it?" That's what Peter had said. Well not exactly, Peter had taken it as some kind of blessing from the Watcher, a new way to convince Martin to isolate himself.

"See?" Peter had said, "the Eye knows how important our mission is. He doesn't need you to keep worrying about him," like it hadn't become as natural to Martin as breathing by this point. But if it keeps Peter away from Jon, so be it.

"Ugh. Listen, I don't care for your little soap opera, Jon is worried about you and-"

"I don't care," Martin cuts into whatever Gerard was about to say. Of course Jon is worried, of course Jon cares. If anything, that's Jon's biggest problem. "And if you ask me, not minding your own business has historically ended very poorly for you, so I'd advise against it. Excuse me," he says before walking past the other man. He thinks about shoulder checking him just to be petty, but the thought of touching another person triggers a deep feeling of revulsion.

Peter would be proud, he thinks as he makes his way to his office, tea-less and bristling.

"That was a splendid display." Sure enough, Peter's voice comes from behind him right as he reached the office. Martin looks right in time to see him slipping out of the fog. "I must admit, I've been worried you keep going to that break room out of some sense of nostalgia, but it seems to be making you more lonely, so by all means keep doing it."

Martin hates that he's right.

"Mhm. I'm going to need you to sign some papers today," Martin knows better than to engage with Peter unless it's absolutely necessary.

Peter chuckles, and Martin knows every move he makes is playing right into his hands. It's what he wants, but it doesn't mean he likes it.

He thinks of Jon, to try and remind himself of why he's doing this, but the thought brings less and less comfort every day.

#jongerrymartin #jonathan sims #gerry keay #martin blackwood #j/g/m #vit writes

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years

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WhatsApp? Part 1. (Steve Rogers x reader)

Description: You've never been lucky with guys. You just wanted to catch someone's eye, to be loved. One day, that's about to turn completely - with one fake, completely imagined number a guy gave you.

A/N: It's three a.m. here ok? As always, I can't sleep for shit. And I'm really productive. This idea popped up randomly during listening to one Czech rap song. Oh, shoot, I know. Just enjoy okay?

Warnings: None for now. ;) Some arguing Bucky and Sam and gentleman Steve.

Word count: 2 K

Tagging: @missdictatorme

Series masterlist: H E R E

You couldn’t believe it.

You talked to a guy who was nice, handsome and really well mannered. You were on cloud nine when he wrote his number down and gave it to you with a little bitting his bottom lip.

Little did you know that that guy was a total a-hole. The worst kind of them. He and his fellas just made that freaking number up; and he bit his lip because he holding his laugh, not to appear sexy at all.

But it lined up. The number was reserved for New York. So you were convinced that you got one guy to go to date with and have a nice time. And your friends were totally thrilled when you told them. Literally, no-one could believe it; you were gorgeous in your own way, you were nice but… So naive at times. But now? You have nailed it. You got to score.

And maybe you’ll score with the guy eventually?

That’s what you told to yourself in the morning, sitting on the edge of your bed, writing that number down to add it into your contacts. You almost fell off the bed when a strange name appeared in your WhatsApp contacts.

You didn’t recall him being Steve, but that was alright. You just edited his name in your contacts. Maybe you overheard him yesterday at the club? You tried to study his photo - it was a huge dog, Bernardine you assumed, catching a frisbee with his mouth. You awed. Was that Steve’s dog? Damn, that was cute as hell.

You looked at the name and quote he chose to describe himself on WhatsApp. Steven Rogers: Your patience is the most important thing you have. Don’t lose it. It can bring you great things.

You were in slight awe again - he seemed to be wise and smart. Which only went hand in hand with his good looks you remembered.

Y/N: Hey, handsome. How was the night? Doesn’t your head hurt too much?

You typed with excitement in your moves and then you put your phone down. You were sure that Steve will not text back soon. Only if you knew that you have woken up and completely confused a strange guy on the other end of the line.

———

Steve hummed into his pillow as his phone vibrated on the nightstand he had next to his small bed. He liked to keep thing simple - a small flat with two bedrooms, a kitchen combined with a living room and a small bathroom. It looked exactly how would you expected guy’s nest to look - always a bit messy and it barely felt like home. It needed a woman’s hand badly.

He decided to share his flat with Sam in order not to feel so alone in his flat in Brooklyn. As time passed, they bought a bigger sofa for Bucky. There was three of them living together when any mission was occurring. Steve loved his little place.

Steve searched for his phone with his eyes completely shut. He finally managed to get some sleep after some sleepless nights only to be woken up with a WhatsApp message? Was Tony fucking with him again? It was hardly 8 a.m. But dear God - it wasn’t Tony. It was a completely strange number which popped up and starting a new conversation, having box directly above the Avengers text group.

Steve slowly sat up and frowned.

X: Hey, handsome. How was the night? Doesn’t your head hurt too much?

His first instinct was to block that someone and ho back to sleep. But something temped him to text back. So he went for it. Steve Rogers answered a strange text.

Steve: The night has been pretty good. I slept like a baby, maybe a bit better. My head doesn’t ache, should it? Who am I texting with anyway?

He was proud of himself. That was a huge move forward from a guy that barely could use Google. Tony will be out of his mind when Steve is going to tell him about this. He could text back to a strange person. That excited him.

He waited for a bit, silently listening if the person texts back. There was a silence for ten long minutes; then Steve got up and went to the bathroom. It was a delight to be first in there. Sam took a hilarious time in the room and Bucky always left long brown hair behind him. Using a clean bathroom was a special thing in this flat. And Steve was not willing to let that slide.

The shower was quick, he showered every morning and every evening. Sam always made fun of him being a princess obsessed with his looks. That made him always chuckle. The rest was fast - quick shaving to keep his beard completely under control, a quick brushing of his teeth and then he slicked his hair on its place. It was getting too long - so he knew he would have to visit barber any time soon.

After that, he silently sneaked through the living room, trying not to wake Bucky up from his beauty sleep. He had plenty of time to make breakfast for his fellas. That was his concern until the phone vibrated again. Steve opened the text slowly, expecting everything from it.

He expected a message from an obsessed fan, he expected that that text was only a mistake and that that person clarifies that soon after. Steve embraced himself and prepared himself for seeing something Sam called a ‘nude’, which should be an image of someone’s naked body to please the second side of the conversation.

But it was none of that. It was a normal text and Steve even felt some insecurity from it.

X: Sorry, I can be so dumb sometimes. Lol. My name’s Y/N, we met by the bar yesterday? Did you tell me about the stars? Remember?

Okay, then it was Steve’s time to panic. She had probably mistaken his number with his own. What for god’s sake should he do? What should he text back to that lady? Steve calmed down a bit shrugging his shoulders.

Just as Steve wondered what should he answer, one of his best friends (Sam) walked down the kitchen with his primadonna manoeuvres, looking like a piece of shit.

“I heard that you are making some breakfast,” - Sam sat down on one of the chairs, looking Cap himself down with a playful look. Steve just let it be, watching him, trying to form a question in his head. - “I hope that you will leave some for yo boy Sammy.”

“Stop playing around, Sam. I need advice.” - Steve answered in a firm tone, letting the thing for preparing that delicious breakfast be as they are and sitting opposite to Sam.

“I am a bit overwhelmed that someone like you need help from someone like me.” - Sam playfully wiggled his eyebrows. - “Okay, what do you need, Cap?”

“So, I got a text message from someone this morning,” - Steve started to explain and ignored Sams grinning face. He was implementing much more into the situation than what actually happened. - “And I don’t have a single idea what should I answer that person. Are you willing to help me?” - Steve asked shyly.

“Okay, Iceberg. What’s the issue?” - Sam leaned his elbows into the kitchen table and once he had a very serious expression.

“It is a girl. A miss is more on point I guess. She wrote to me that we have… Met. But I don’t recall that. She must’ve met someone different and then misspelt his number.” - Steve recapped most quickly and Sam hummed, quietly offering Steve that he will read her texts. He let him do that.

“Okay Cap. Are we sure it isn’t some crazy-ass woman fangirl? Like one hundred percent sure?” - Sam looked him in the face and gave him his phone back.

“My fan mail of this sort looks way different. I’ve seen things, Sam. She just seems to be clueless.” - Steve sighed.

“Yeah, I’m getting that vibe too, I was just testing you.” - Sam joked and leaned his body closer to Cap, earning a moron look from Steve. - “And you have obviously passed, gee. Spare me those moral looks. Now, what would I do? I would play along. She doesn’t have a clue of who she is writing to, your formal name isn’t that known. I would be the guy she met. Give it some time, you’ll see if she’s hot, and then, maybe some mingle can happen, if ya know what I mean.”

“First of all, champs.” - A humming could be heard coming from the sofa which meant that Bucky is up as well. - “You two are so fuckin’ loud. Second of all. Do you really want to just lie to that lady, Steve?” - Bucky sat up, looking at those two fellas camping at the table; he looked like a Jesus Christ Superstar as Sam used to call him when the morning came.

“Get those Jesus moral thoughts out of here, Buck. I didn’t say to hurt her, did you even listen to a word I said?” - Sam looked Bucky down with his judging stare and proceeded to frown at him.

“Nobody talked about hurting somebody, birdbrain. But I and Steve were raised with manners back in the good old days. And this isn’t how we would have behaved.” - Bucky leaned into the back of Sam’ chair, looking Steve directly into the eyes. - “You’re the biggest gentleman I know, Rogers. Steve would not lie to a lady.”

“Yeah, Jesus. But he can’t just say Hey! I am Captain America! That girl could just sell his number to some interviewers. Do we want that? No!” - Sam and Bucky had their fight fully on and Steve knew that he can’t stop them at that point. Both were speaking the truth - he was a gentleman, indeed, but he couldn’t say to her who he really is. She must have not connected two dots - not many people knew that Captain’s name was Steve Rogers. Maybe in the sixties, but now?

Yeah, he was taught about in school in history, but usually, the young ones had no interest in it. There was a huge probability that the girl didn’t even know who Steve Rogers was.

“Okay, stop it.” - Steve shouted in panic, looking at those two arguing like a married couple. Bucky and Sam immediately stopped, watching him. - “What should I do?”

“Well, do you want to text with that lady?” - Bucky raised his eyebrows. It was a simple yes or no questions and yet Steve sat there like he couldn’t count to five. Then he nodded lightly.

“I guess so. I don’t know who she is, but she seems to be fun with those nicknames. Let’s give it a shot.” - Steve smiled a bit, relaxed about that situation.

“Listen up, Iceberg. I will tell you what to write.” - Sam leaned closer and started talking.

Steve: I don’t really know what you’re talking about, sadly. Maybe you have met someone different and he didn’t write his number, right? My name’s Steve by the way and it’s really nice to meet you. If you want, I don’t mind to keep this texting on. :)

And he was especially proud about that emoji in the end.

——-

You almost jumped on the phone when it vibrated again. It was from Steve. Did he recall meeting you? As you read the text in your car, you hummed sadly. It wasn’t that man from the bar after all. This was some strange Steve who was well mannered and who was obviously pleased to meet you. That was nice. He wasn’t trying to cut the conversation down, which was lovely as well.

Y/N: Nice to meet you Steve and I’m sorry for waking you up.

And this is how it all has started.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america #samuel wilson #the falcon #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #the wintersoldier #the winter soldier #marvel #mcu #avengers #hello there #enjoy bitches

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hermeticimp · 5 years

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Witchy Then Vs. Now #WakingWitchblr

Hey guys! So, I’ve seen a bunch of posts on witchy things we’ve done as children. I really love the idea and have been meaning to do a post on it for the longest, but I wanted to add a bit of a twist. Instead of just making a list, I want to compare and contrast my childhood witchy things to my practice now. This is definitely something I want to see other people’s takes on as well, so feel free to tag this under the #WakingWitchblr or #WitchyThenVsNow. Without further ado, I’m going to do mine!

Elemental Work

Then: I was super into shows like Shaolin Showdown and Pokemon, which had plenty of abilities that were linked to particular elements. Back then, I found myself very attracted to fire, wishing that I could have the ability to manipulate it. Kimiko was my favorite because of that (besides the fact that she was the only female member of the group). I was also into water pokemon like Squirtle and Staryu. I found it funny when I found out I was a Fire Rat under the Chinese zodiac. Despite knowing that Libra was an air sign, I identified more with the passion and intensity of fire.

Now: I work with all the elements! XD Nah, but seriously, now I see the strengths and weaknesses of each element, then use whichever one or ones work best for the situation. I do a lot of work with fire through candle and sun magic. I work with water via cleansing, water magic, and lunar magic. I use earth when grounding, relaxing, and using crystals and my wooden wand. I use air when I work with the wind, humidifiers/diffusers, and incense. I still love fire, but not so much for the cool factor. I find myself much more aligned to air now, actually. Of course, I now know I’m an air sun, fire moon, and water rising, so that’s entertaining.

Astrology

Then: Speaking of signs, when I first picked up an astrology book in the 3rd grade, I was only aware of sun signs, as most people do when first stepping into the subject. I was fascinated by the different signs and figuring out who was which based on birthday. I would read off sections from books or apps I had and found it hilarious when people freaked out about how accurate things were. In middle school, I started learning about moon and risings signs. It was an interesting experience, but I still focused more on sun signs.

Now: Goodness gracious, I’ve come so far. XD Not to say I’m an expert at all - far from it - but I now understand more about astrology as a whole. I can read a birthchart, I have an astrology mentor, I understand that there are placements for each of the 10 planets. Astrology has become a major aspect of of my craft. I (try to) follow the moon cycles and other transits. I utilize astrology in my divination readings. I’m fascinated by seeing the different ways people express each of their placements and their charts as a whole. I’m a student of astrology (primarily modern and evolutionary) who is always eager to learn more. Soon, I’ll share some of my notes, but not quite yet.

Astronomy

Then: I was super into reading books on space as a child. I often found myself nose deep, learning about galaxies, stars, black holes, meteors, comets, and so on. It wasn’t odd to find me staring up at the stars and Moon whenever I had the chance. I was fascinated by astronomical events, like meteor showers or lunar eclipses. I adored planetariums. I wanted the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on my ceiling like my cousins had. I wanted a constellation projector. I was ecstatic to work on a project regaring Haley’s Comet. Space excited and thrilled me in a way nothing else did.

Now: It’s a shame, but I don’t really focus on space much outside of celestial magic and astrology. Don’t get me wrong, I still find space exciting and I will always have eyes for the Moon and the stars, but I’m not keeping up with the science like I used to. There’s still a sense of affection when I happen to read articles on new discoveries or technology or when I see pictures of the solar system and galaxies. However, my focus is mainly on the movements of the heavenly bodies and how that impacts us. I work with the energy of different planets through associations and timing spells for planetary hours, but that’s about it.

Crystals

Then: Oooh, boy. So I was a major nerd as a kid (if you haven’t caught onto that by now. Honestly still AM. XD), so I adored going on science trips. At museums, it was common to find all kinds of rough crystals for cheap. I thought they were cool. I loved the colors and the feel of them against my fingers. I was drawn to rough rose quartz, amethyst, granite, and quartz back then. With tumbled stones, it was amethyst, ruby, sapphire, topaz, and tiger’s eye. I collected them as a child and was always excited to add to it. This interest kind of faded out as I went on less and less school trips to science museums.

Now: You will pry crystals out of my cold, dead hands. XD Seriously though, I have a whole bunch of crystals. I keep them on my altars, in a metal box by my bed, and all over my room, honestly. I favor tumbled stones more than rough ones, but there’s still an affection for rough rose quartz and quartz. I adore tiger’s eye, amethyst, carnelian, moss agate, and amazonite.Crystals are a major part of my work. I use them in just about all of my spells, from the ritualistic ones to minor aches and pains-based ones. I occasionally meditate with them. I will most likely be found wearing some kind of crystal jewelry. My spells may be infrequent, but they’re a regular ingredient (which I’ll get into in another post).

Animism

Then: As a child, I believed everything had some kind of spirit, from the stars, to the Moon, to the wind, to my stuffed animals. I remember talking in my head to the moon anytime I could. I imagined hearing her speak back to me (and a lunar deity very well could have been, who knows?). I remember when I would play games reminescent of Noah’s ark, wanting to bring everything I loved with me in the event of a disaster. I’d place all my toys under my blankets and feel at ease, knowing that everything was safe and had its place. I very well could have been influenced by media like Toy Story or Cars. Either way, I vividly remember all of that.

Now: I now know that this is the concept of animism. It’s an ideology that I still believe in whole-heartedly. I still talk to my stuffed animals (room’s full of them), I’ve dedicated some to my deities, I’ve spoken to the spirits of plants and trees, I greet the Sun and talk to the Moon as I used to, I have a spirit in my pendulum. It’s a part of my practice and philosophy. I’m not as all over the place with it as I was a child, but it still matters deeply to me.

Mythology

Then: I was first introduced to mythology by a friend in 5th grade, as I’ve mentioned before on this blog. Or rather, I was introduced to Greek mythology at that time. I had grown up reading Native American and African stories, such as those of Anansi. I found Greek mythology to be fascinating. Haven grown up in a Christian family (though my parents were rather lax about it and encouraged us to explore our personal beliefs), I’d read the Bible plenty of times. I didn’t really believe in those stories, particularly because God was either portrayed as an omniscient and violent being or omniscient, omnipotent being of perfection and love. Neither sat right with me. It also didn’t make sense to me for there to only be one god. So when I read myths as a child and learned what polytheism was, I jumped on that ship in a heartbeat. I didn’t worship anyone, but I loved the idea that there were gods of different things. With Greek mythology, I especially loved it because the gods were portrayed as having flaws, of being human in a sense. They were powerful, but not all-powerful. It was mindblowing to me at the time. I fell in love with the stories of heroes and tricksters, I expanded into Egyptian, Norse, and Japanese mythology. I took these stories as stories but also as accurate depictions of gods.

Now: Mythology... doesn’t really play a part in my practice. Contray to some polytheists, I don’t take the myths seriously. To me, all they are are human made stories about higher entities. I used to get so angry when I imagined the horrific things that deities did. I balked when I saw people question why worship or work with these deities that were notorious for doing horrific things to each other and humans? I made jokes about Zeus and his supposed indescretions, which I largely regret now. The turning point, I believe, was hearing @underworldariel discuss how you didn’t need to follow the myths or worship if that didn’t feel right. And for me, it didn’t. Suddenly, it made sense. When I started considering the cultural aspect of mythology and began working directly with deities rather than attempting to worship them, things were easier. They slotted into my practice effortlessly. I do take some inspiration from myths, namely associations, relationships, and domains, but not much else. To me, they’re just stories - which is what myths means. There’s a part of me that cringes away from the people who use mythology in a literal manner to call Zeus or Poseidon or Hades a rapist despite that... not being the truth? And that “rape” had a waaaaaay different meaning back then. I’m not saying the gods are perfect and infalliable - I think they make mistakes and have regrets too - but I don’t think they have anything to do with the stories. Deity work is a core aspect of my craft. I adore the gods with my whole heart. The stories are still fun, but I’ve learned to dissociate them from the gods I know. I’m not saying that this is the right way to approach it - that depends on you. That’s just my take on it.

And that concludes this post! At least for now. I may find some things to add later. I’m curious to see the comparisons you guys all come up with. Feel free to tag me if you do!

#my post #my path #WakingWitchblr #WitchyThenVsNow #witchblr

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seijuurouxryuu · 4 years

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in your arms, i can pretend to not see the looming darkness

Title: in your arms, i can pretend to not see the looming darkness Author: Shiro (TeitoxAkashi [AO3]/ seijuurouxryuu [tumblr]) Rating: T Pairing: Luce/ Reborn Event: @khrrarepairweek Prompts: Different Flames/ Flameswap AU | Genderbend Tags/Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning, Graphic Depiction of Violence, No Archive Warning

Day 1: Storm Day

“Oi,” Reborn called out, toeing the corpse on the ground with her black boots. Her face was blank but there is a hint of distain in her eyes. The corpse remained unmoved, much to her annoyance. “I’ll give you 1 second. One—”

The corpse—no—body groaned and shifted. He quickly rolled away as the boot came slamming down onto where his head was before. If he were any slower, he had no doubt that his head would have been crushed like a bug.

“You’re no fun.” Luce pouted as he stood up, flicking away a piece of bloody meat from his stained clothes. It bought a sneer of disgust from Reborn.

“What fun is there rolling in a pig pen.”

“You mean, human pen.”

AO3

“You’re no fun.” Luce pouted as he stood up, flicking away a piece of bloody meat from his stained clothes. It bought a sneer of disgust from Reborn.

“What fun is there rolling in a pig pen.”

“You mean, human pen.” Luce smiled brightly and earned an eyeroll. It was true, however. It was literally, in a sense, human pen. There were corpses everywhere, and hiding in the shadow were chained men and women that are no longer sane. The floor and walls were stained with red, and the smell of blood mixed with the stench of defecations. The smell was so strong that even Reborn frowned despite the familiarity. (She did grow up in this kind of environment after all.)

“Whatever.” She would rather not argue with the Don about what to call a slaughter house. “Let’s go. It stinks. You stink.”

“Harsh!” Luce laughed, but followed closely. But before they fully left, he turned back with an ‘Ah’.

“I can see all of you,” He said with an angelic smile. Rather than the insane ones, he was directly speaking to the newly captured ones. They were shivering in the dark, fear as strong as the stench. “Food will be provided once a day, and water supply is in the barrow. Ahh, but because today’s hunt got delayed so the others didn’t get to eat anything.” He tsked. “Poor things will have to hunt themselves it seems.” He shook his head pitifully. The shivering and whimpers seemed to increase by the hint.

It was hilarious.

So exhilarating.

“Well then, enjoy the night! Oh, right.” His eyes glinted in orange, strangely bright in the dark place with no window or any other light source. “Don’t think about running away. I will know.”

He threw his head back and barked out a laugh before skipping away.

The heavy metal door slammed shut behind him. Soon, growls, screams and bangs echoed in the woods. Reborn, who was waiting by the car, scoffed. It wasn’t the first time she witnessed Luce’s mischief. Or bloodlust. Or anything.

“Done playing?”

Luce hummed, shrugging off the white button down and dump it onto the mud. “Not really.” His trousers and underwear followed next and he was stark naked in front of Reborn. He reached out for the wet towel and wiped himself down, laughing at how Reborn stared blatantly at him. “Like what you’re seeing?” He teased.

Reborn raised and eyebrow at him as she passed a new set of clothing. “As much as I’d like to push you down and eat you out in public, I would rather not do it anywhere near here. The stench is too disgusting.”

That lit a fire in Luce, which Reborn ignored and instead, shoved him into the car once he was fully clothed again. “You are to shower the first thing we return.” Before Luce can say anything else, she continued. “Alone.”

Luce pouted at his sit.

Reborn pulled on the seatbelt and stepped on the accelerator. The black Bentley zipped out of the forest and soon joined the quiet highway, leaving the clothes on the ground that mysteriously caught on fire behind.

Right to what Reborn said, Luce got kicked into the bathroom with a stern order of properly cleaning himself up and brush his teeth right after they reached the mansion. Reborn ignored the glares from Luce’s subordinate as she stalked off to Luce’s room. It didn’t take long after Reborn herself finish showering that Luce came into her room.

The don was lying on her bed with a thin bathroom on, hair still dripping wet. “Paint me like one of your French girls.” He said the moment Reborn came out and earned himself a ball of towel in the face.

“Again, and I will cut your tongue.”

Luce laughed. It wasn’t an empty threat, both of them knew, but it didn’t stop them from finding it amusing. At the laugh, Reborn couldn’t help herself but smile as well. She, in similar thin bathroom, joined Luce under the cover. She sighed at the heat and snuggled closer, batting away the hand the tried to sneak into her robes.

Luce raised his hands and waited for the approving grunt and let them down. He pulled Reborn over, an arm under her head and another over her waist. They stayed like that for a while, basking in silence and warm, before Luce said something.

“I should’ve just watch them get tear apart.”

Reborn rolled her eyes. “Like you didn’t already ‘see’ how they end.” She remembered his confusion when he woke up a few days ago, tasting blood in his mouth. He said it was a weird dream. They were, for no reason, in the slaughter house, and for no reason, making out while the hungry lunatics tear apart a group of vermin in the background.

It wasn’t until yesterday when said group of vermin tried to make a move on Reborn that Luce realized what the dream was for. (Which Reborn does not understand. She was more than capable of making those assholes feel sorry for being alive herself, but Luce was adamant on starting a cat and mouse hunt. Not that she’s complaining. It was a delight to see Luce’s bloodlust.)

“But we could’ve made out—”

“You rolled on that filthy ground like a pig. No.”

“I didn’t get anything on my face or mouth though!”

“Still no.”

Luce sighed, nuzzled their cheeks together. “I wanted to know what expression you’d put up when you see me lying there.” Silence answered him and he felt the body in his arms grew still. Suddenly, he was aware.

He had said something wrong.

Regret and remorse ate him up as he held her tighter. “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me.”

It took another full minute before Reborn sighed. “Good that you’re aware.” It was a taboo to speak of death despite them being the harbinger. It was an unspoken promise, to never speak of dying—not without or with them—because just as how they reap others souls, Death can easily reap theirs without a hint of notice as well. To them, they would rather live their lives without thinking of it until it comes.

To them, they would rather fight than let it come.

“Hmnn…” Luce bit his lips. It slipped out of his mouth, mindful of the dream he had the day before.

It was a dream of Fate—one that he could not avoid.

(The room was dark, and he was there, sitting on a chair. He was there, holding onto seven strings of colours, all tied to his wrists. He wondered, absent and mindless, what they were when he was well aware of what.

He was dreaming.

He was not.

It was a prediction.

He watched, body unmoving, as the strings that glowed brightly dimmed, one after another. The first was red, disappointment ringing from the string.

Then it was dual blue, filled with pain.

Then purple, trembling in fear.

Indigo, burning with rage.

Green, vibrating with curiosity.

And finally, yellow, empty.

The moment all colours dimmed, the final orange that circled his wrist to his heart snapped.

And he woke up in tears.)

That was only the beginning, a teaser. Soon, closer to the time set, it would be clearer. He would see more, gain more knowledge about it, filled with disbelief and anguish and hopelessness.

He would see, that he lost everything.

Luce closed his eyes and buried his face into Reborn’s collar, tightening his hold further. Reborn said nothing because there was no need for words. Reborn didn’t specifically know what it was, but she could tell that their future is bleak. She could tell that the end is coming sooner than she thought it would.

And yet she would rather not think about it.

She would rather enjoy the time she had together with him. Because that was the only thing she could do.

She closed her eyes and snuggled back, fingers raking through the lock of yellow.

Till time decides to come.

------------------------

A/N = Yes, they own a slaughter house (its a warehouse in the middle of a jungle owned by Giglio Nero). Those inside are sinners who crossed Luce and Reborn. 90% of them are insane if they are not dead. 10% of them are freshies that just got themselves enrolled into insanity school.

Also fun fact, those insane peeps eat humans as well, since the food given is limited. Its like the thingy with trapping a group of rats in a box without food and they started eating each other.

And yes, Luce's dreaming about the curse.

[I apologize for any grammar, spelling, etc. etc. mistakes]

#KHR #Katekyo Hitman Reborn #Reborn #Luce #RL #My Writings

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ravenforce · 5 years

Text

Crush crush crash

Prompt: "Hi!! Your writing is amazing :) Can I request a love triangle between Lena, Kara, and female reader ending with the reader choosing to be with Lena?? Make it as fluffy and hilarious as you want it to be as I feel Lena and Kara fighting over the same girl would funny to watch! Have fun and thank you!!!"

Requested by: @lmaodrag1037

Pairing: Lena Luthor x Reader, Kara Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 3175

Warning/s: None, I think.

A/N: First, on this fic, there's only one Earth. Second, Lena knows Kara is SG. Third, Agentreign is dating. Fourth, Eve is not Lex’s evil fanatic. Lastly, Lena x Reader endgame. I’m also sorry for the wait. I scrapped the first draft at 2k words. I tried so hard not to make it angsty but I feel like it still is. If there is any mistake that escapes me, I apologize for that. I hope you guys still enjoy. xx

***

You met Kara Danvers through your childhood best friend Alex. You're born on the same year as Alex, goes to the same class as Alex, goes home after school with Alex, does homework with Alex. Both your parents used to tease you that you might as well just stay in the same house, as you're practically attached to the hip. You've lived next to the Danvers for as long as you remember. You were there when Alex yelled at her parents that she doesn't need a sister because she already has you.

For Kara's part, she looks like she doesn't wanna be there too. You smiled and walked up to her. "It's okay, she’ll come around," you said handing her your spare lollipop. "I'm (Y/N). I live next door." Kara with her bright blue eyes smiled at you.

From that day, you've served as a buffer between the two sisters until Alex's angsty teenager phase passed. For Kara, you were her angel. You were always there to subdue Alex's annoyance, and you were patient when Alex loses hers. So it hit Kara extra hard when your parents decided to migrate to Switzerland after high school. You remember her beautiful tear-stained face at the airport on the day of your flight to Switzerland.

"Promise you won't forget me," Kara said while her face is buried in your neck.

"I promise," you kissed the crown of her blonde head.

***

Over the years you kept in touch with both Danvers sisters but distance and jobs kept those interactions few and far apart. You just moved back to the States and was able to track down Kara's address. It was only a little over 7 PM when you found yourself knocking at Kara's door. You were a little surprised when a tall man opened the door.

"Hi, I'm looking for Kara Danvers. Is this her apartment?" You asked. Before the man can answer, Kara, yanked the door fully opened. You and the tall man instantly looked at the hinges. Kara was gaping at you, then she's gathering you in her arms just like old times.

"Kara, can't breathe," you said. She lets you go instantly.

"Alex! Look who's here!" Kara nearly shouted at her sister while dragging you deeper into her apartment. You noticed there's a number of people in the room. You smiled at them before you looked at Alex.

"Hey Alex," you said before Alex is wrapping you in another Danvers hug.

Kara introduced you as the 'Original' Superfriend, Alex's other sister. Apparently, you caught them before they start their game night.

***

"So which one of these beautiful people are you dating, Danvers?" You asked Alex casually while you caught up to her getting herself another beer in the kitchen. She just laughed at you. Deflecting. You turned back to the group playing monopoly.

"If I still know you, I would say," you paused for dramatic effect. "Sam?"

Alex choked on her beer. You smirked at her before patting her back. After Alex calmed down you looked back at the group, and subtly eyed Lena Luthor. Ever since you've been introduced at the beginning of the night, all you can think about is how green her eyes are, how smooth her hands are, and how smart she is. Of course, you know who she is, she's phenomenal; making great strides in the field of science and technology at 25.

"Earth to (Y/N)," Alex said smirking at you. "Off-limits, that's Kara's best friend," she continued.

You just rolled your eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about," you denied before getting your beer and walking back to the game. Kara smiled when you sat behind her, scooting backward so she can touch you. You think nothing of it, Kara's has always been touchy. Unbeknownst to you, Lena was watching you too.

***

Moving back home is tedious. Unpacking all your stuff to your new apartment is exhausting. Kara offered to help you but she's Supergirl now; she's got bigger fish to fry than your moving boxes, her super speed would have been great though. It was already 2PM when your body protested and demanded some food. So you decided to head to the nearest restaurant near your place to grab lunch.

There's virtually no one else in the restaurant when you arrived. That's why you easily spotted Lena tucked away in the corner booth at the back. You thought it'll be weird not to at least say hello, so you gathered up all your courage and walk up to her table. She looked up, and immediately you thank the gods for the foresight to put on a decent outfit of denim jeans, your old university shirt and black combat boots. Your brain short-circuited the moment her forest green eyes met yours.

She smiled instantly. "Hello, Ms. (Y/L/N)," she greeted formally. You cringed a little bit.

"Just (Y/N) please. I didn't mean to interrupt but I just wanted to say hi. I saw you when I came in and I thought it won't be polite to just pretend I didn't see you," you paused your rumbling because Lena suddenly started giggling. Then she started fully laughing. You didn't mind her laughing at your expense, you found at that moment you'd do anything to make her laugh all the time. When she calmed down a little, she gestured for you to take a sit and you did.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at you. Alex said you're practically her first sister, I guess the rambling was passed on to you too," Lena explained. You smiled at her.

"I guess," you shrugged. You ended up having lunch with Lena that day, and the same day next week, and the same day the next, and the next. You deemed Wednesday is Lena day.

***

It was Wednesday when Kara found out that you've been hanging out alone with Lena. She was on patrol and passing by L-Corp when she heard your heartbeat next to Lena's. She landed on the balcony of L-Corp with the grandiose of a superhero; confident walk, cape and hair billowing in the wind. When she entered Lena's office she had to control herself from shooting heat vision on Lena's hand that's resting on your knee. She frowned at how close Lena was sitting next to you.

"How long have you two been hanging out?" Kara asked hands on her hips. It's adorable.

"A couple of weeks, (Y/N) and I bumped into each other at Noonan's," Lena explained. Kara wasn't appeased, she made some small talk and excused herself. You thought nothing of it, Lena wonders how oblivious can you be. That night, Kara found herself knocking at Alex's door at 2 in the morning. Her annoyance dissipated as quickly as it came when she saw Kara drunk.

"What happened to you?" She asked, ushering her sister to the couch. When Kara was safely seated, Alex walked to her kitchen to get her sister a bottle of water.

"For someone so smart, how can she not know how I feel about her?" Kara slurred. "Why can't she see me, Alex?"

Alex sat next to her sister and wrapped her up in a hug. "I think it's time you tell Lena how you feel," Alex said softly. Kara sat up at that, frustration visibly rolling off her, "yeah, I'll tell Lena that (Y/N) is mine!"

Alex doubled over at that. "Wait. What?" She exclaimed. Then it dawned on Alex, it wasn't Lena they're talking about; its (Y/N). Of course, she's aware that Kara harbored a crush on you since you were young but she thought Kara outgrew it with distance and time. She's also not blind, you're her best friend after all; she knows you like Lena Luthor.

She sighed. This is a mess.

***

For the next couple of days, Kara was adamant about ignoring you and Lena but she still has to hold game night. So instead of texting you about the details, you were surprised when you arrive home and you got a dozen lilies, a box of donut and a tray of Eliza's famous pasta with a note from Kara. You smiled, she's not mad at you. You pulled out your phone to text her while putting the lilies in a vase.

[Y/N]: You don’t have to dare me to love you, silly. I do, I always have.

[Y/N]: Tell Eliza thanks for the food. See you, tonight.

Kara almost heat visioned her phone in happiness when she read your texts. Take that Lena, she thought. She feels bad about fighting Lena over you but she loves you for so long just to let Lena get you that easily.

Kara was in a good mood when Alex arrived at her apartment. Her mood instantly dropped when you arrived with Lena though. You greeted everyone and walked directly to Kara.

“What’s with the pout Kar?” you said after kissing her cheeks. Her pout turned into a full-blown frown when she looked pass you and caught Lena staring. You’re walking towards the couch and was about to sit between Alex and Lena when Kara literally flew to the couch and tag you down to sit next to her.

“Sit next to me, (Y/N),” she said. You laughed because the love seat is cramp, so you have to put both your legs on Kara’s. You really don’t mind, growing up with both Danvers’ sister you’ve been in tighter spaces with both of them. Lena watches and quietly seethes with jealousy.

Sam leaned next to Alex, “are you sure, we’re not to intervene babe?” she asked.

“Nope, they’re all adults; they’ll figure it out. Besides, if I intervene I risk being partial to one of them and we can’t have that. (Y/N) is the honorary middle Danvers child, Kara is our youngest, and Lena is my friend. I must remain neutral on this one,” Alex explained softly to Sam.

After much ruckus from the group, game night proceeded without a hitch. Kara instantly claimed you as her partner. Leaving Lena to partner with Eve. Lena decided that she’s not going to sit by and let Kara think she can claim you without a fight. Suffice to say, Lena destroyed everyone at their own games. Kara was not happy.

“No fair! One more game of poker!” Kara exclaimed. Everyone just laughs. The way Lena looks at you make you cross your legs tighter together. She turned back to Kara, “Okay Kara but if I win, I want a prize,” she said with a confident smirk in her face.

“Name it!” Kara said, jutting her chin up.

“If I win, (Y/N)’s mine,” Lena said simply. Everyone fell silent. Oh no, Alex thought.

“Ok but if I win she’s mine,” Kara said defiantly. You watch both of them closely; you’re sure you’re missing something there. You’re about to protest when you hear Lena agreed.

***

When the game began, everyone seems to be holding their breath. Alex was bouncing her leg in anticipation. Lena is the perfect image of a poker player. Kara looks like she will smash the table if she loses. In the end, Lena’s hand won. Kara abruptly stood from the table and stormed off towards her balcony and promptly flew away. Everyone was looking where Kara exited.

“Well, that was the most intense game of poker I’ve seen to stake a claim on a woman,” Querl said.

You whipped you’re head towards him. “What?” you exclaimed, mouth gaping at him.

“Okay, I think it’s late. We should all head out,” James said. Without question, everyone filed out including Lena. When Alex went back to the living room, you’re still standing where she left you. You look at her when she rounded your peripheral.

“Did you know?” You asked her. Alex gave you a dead-panned look.

“Since when?” You asked.

“Since when do I know or since when did Kara have feelings for you?” Alex asked. She ushered you back to Kara’s couch.

“Tell me you never had feelings for her?” Alex asked next. Alex is your best friend, the older sister you never had; you can never lie to her.

You heaved a sigh, “I had a crush on her when she first came to our life. How can I not? She’s adorable and soft even after the destruction of her whole planet. She’s smart, I still haven't forgotten how she solved that particularly difficult calculus homework we had in high school, and we’re already supposed to be smart. She’s patient and caring; she took care of us when we injure ourselves playing rough on the field. She brings us lunch when she knows we might forget because we’re busy cramming for finals. I love her ever since we were kids Alex,” you paused. Tears already welling in your eyes.

Alex held your hand just like she used to. “But she’s also been my baby sister for as long as she’s been yours. Over the years, I just figured it’s better to have her as my sister. This way, I never have to risk losing her. Alex I don’t want to hurt her.” You continued, crying on Alex’s shoulder.

She ran her hand over your hair. “But you have to,” Alex said simply. In your heart of hearts you know she’s right. Unknown to you and Alex, Kara was just outside the window listening to your conversation.

***

You found Kara by the cliff over-looking National City a few days after the debacle at game night. You haven’t spoken to Lena either. For her part, she hasn’t reached out to you too. Kara didn’t even have to turn around when you parked behind her on the cliff.

“Kar,” you whispered. You know she can hear you. She fought the shiver that runs through her body when you breathe her name like that.

“I heard everything,” she said without looking at you. For a second you were confused, then it dawned on you that she heard your conversation with Alex.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can really say. She turned around and walked towards you. You were toe-to-toe when she spoke, “Me too. I should have told you a long time ago.” She tucked a stray hair behind your ear.

“I just need to do one last thing,” she said. Her hand coming to your face. Before you realize what was happening. She’s kissing you. You know you should push her away but you decided to give her this. She kissed you with all the feelings she buried inside. She leaned her forehead against yours after she pulls away.

“I love you so much, (Y/N),” she whispered before flying away.

“I love you too, alien girl” you know she will hear you. She smiled, it’s been a while since you called her that.

***

A few weeks after your encounter with Kara on the cliff, the Danvers sisters were having lunch but Kara can tell something is wrong. Alex is nervously bouncing her leg on the table, her heartbeat is elevated, and she’s been staring at the menu for the last ten minutes. Kara took the menu and placed an order for Alex. When the waiter walked away, Kara looked at her sister.

“What’s wrong?” she asked simply. Alex nibbled on her bottom lip. When she met Kara’s eyes, she knew she couldn’t lie.

“(Y/N) is going back to Switzerland. She’s probably on the way to the airport now,” Alex said in one go.

“What? Why?” Kara asked.

“Because she can’t be with Lena knowing that she’s hurting you,” Alex explained. Lena, Kara thought. After meeting with you on the cliff, Lena and Kara talked too. They both agreed that the decision has to be yours and that they’ll remain best friends no matter what.

“I have to tell Lena,” Kara said already exiting the restaurant. Not a minute later, Supergirl was barging in on Lena’s office.

“Kara, what’s wrong?” Lena said, already rounding her table to meet Kara.

“Lena, (Y/N) is leaving! She’s flying back to Switzerland,” Kara hurriedly explained.

Even though Lena loathes flying, she reckons flying with Kara is the fastest way to reach you. When they arrived at the airport, you’re already collecting your things for boarding. When you saw Lena and Kara coming towards you, you’re confused. They’re both not supposed to know.

Kara walked towards you first, “you don’t have to leave. You can be with Lena.” You’re shaking your head. She held your hand. “I know you think you can’t because of me, and I’m not going to lie it still aches but there’s no one else I’d rather have you than Lena. I can sleep peacefully knowing my sister and my best friend has each other. I love you both so much to stand in the way of both your happiness,” she declared sincerely.

You hugged her as tight as you possibly could. “But if you hurt Lena, sister or not, I’ll throw you to the sun,” she threatened. You chuckled wetly.

She let you go and started walking to Lena. “I love you both so much, Lena. So I’ll tell you what I told her if you hurt her I’ll throw you to the sun,” Kara said before pulling Lena in a hug. She then proceeded to bounce out of the airport.

“Did she threaten to throw you in the sun too?” Lena asked.

“Yup,” you said before linking your hand on Lena’s. She looked at your joined hands before looking up at your eyes.

“Do you still wanna go to Switzerland? I have a private plane we can use,” she said. Of course, she does. You laughed before leaning in and capturing her red lips.

“I’ll go anywhere with you,” you said after you pulled away.

#lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x you #lena luthor imagine #kara danvers x reader #kara danvers x you #kara danvers imagine #supergirl x reader #supergirl x you #supergirl imagine #raven writes

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