#since apparently no one can put a dish in the sink

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

This has been the most series of unfortunate events morning.

[inherdaze]

jungle — kiyoomi sakusa

kiyoomi x f reader

18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy

9k

summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.

There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over. 

Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat. 

“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”

 You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”

“The Sakusa family?”

“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.

“He’s coming home.”

“From the war?”

 “Yes.” 

“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.” 

She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely. 

She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.” 

“Why? For dinner?”

“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”

You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”

“We’ve been exchanging letters.”

Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death. 

She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”

You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed. 

“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?” 

You hum and nod. “Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“When will he be here?”

Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.

“Tomorrow.”

You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs. 

The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky. 

As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.

You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.

“Mornin’ kids,��� You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.

You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.

Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.

The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market. 

“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.” 

“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”

She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.” 

She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around. 

You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times. 

You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor? 

Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.

You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.

When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent. 

Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—

“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.

“Hi… hi.”

He stares at you blankly.

“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back. 

“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”

“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.” 

“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you. 

He doesn't. 

As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there. 

You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.

You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind. 

Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived. 

You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived. 

She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you. 

“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”

Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens. 

“My apologies, miss.”

The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think. 

His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”

He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions. 

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides. 

“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”

She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup. 

The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter. 

The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well. 

You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already. 

To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things. 

Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”

By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.” 

You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second. 

Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder. 

Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you. 

“How are the vegetables doing?”

“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward. 

You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven). 

You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.” 

Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.” 

The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home. 

The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.

You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass. 

Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold! 

After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you. 

“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.

Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants. 

You drop the bucket.

“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”

You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.

You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.” 

It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic. 

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.

“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.” 

You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him. 

“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.

He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.

He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too. 

The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine. 

“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves. 

“I’ve already forgiven you.” 

“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”

He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated. 

“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.” 

He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.

You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.

Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that). 

He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning. 

When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless. 

You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has. 

There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do). 

The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead. 

In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away. 

Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.

“Talk to them,” You encourage. 

He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”

“Ask them how they are.” 

Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.” 

You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”

He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.

When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.

You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help. 

“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.” 

“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.” 

“How so?”

He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside. 

When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you. 

“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.” 

Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively. 

“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi. 

He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.” 

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.” 

The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response. 

After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean. 

Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright. 

“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion. 

“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.” 

He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.” 

You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue. 

Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.” 

He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter. 

“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.” 

That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts. 

“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.” 

You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay. 

Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.” 

It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out. 

You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.” 

The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed. 

You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way. 

He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on. 

You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love. 

You peer down into the pot. 

“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.” 

He bites his cheek at your dramatics.

You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way. 

He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.” 

You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again. 

He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste. 

When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own. 

Your fingers twitch. 

“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.” 

You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes. 

You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut. 

You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—

“I’ve arrived early!”

The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor. 

“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen. 

She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.

“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.” 

He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.

“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”

At that, a smile slips onto your face. 

“Yes. Cook with love.”

When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love. 

You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share. 

The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable. 

Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.

You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you. 

“Let me help.”

Your cheeks burn. 

He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?” 

It’s a little loose. 

“Tighter, please.”

He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching. 

“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure. 

It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you). 

You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one. 

The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space. 

On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand. 

You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door. 

You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him. 

The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs. 

Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers. 

“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.” 

“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you. 

“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay). 

“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?” 

“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.” 

Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush. 

Finally, he fesses up. 

“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.” 

You see Kiyoomi make a face. 

“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.” 

“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens. 

“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?” 

The both of you choke. 

You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening. 

“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”

“Don’t be like that, Omi.”

“Miya.”

“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”

“You are unbearable.”

Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated. 

“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.” 

You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes. 

After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way. 

When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.

You only hum in response. 

Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around. 

You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe. 

As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around. 

You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward. 

“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole. 

“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi. 

“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.

Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—” 

“Miya.” 

“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.” 

He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush. 

Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you. 

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side. 

In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.

“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.” 

He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly. 

“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left. 

“Miya told me to confess to you.” 

Your blood runs cold. Confess…? 

Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it. 

You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room. 

When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day. 

He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously. 

“I wish you could come with me.” 

You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile. 

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say. 

“Goodnight, angel.” 

Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does). 

The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done. 

As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it. 

(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).

Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.

One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy. 

The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door. 

Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige. 

You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely. 

When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.

“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.” 

And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you. 

“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb. 

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day. 

The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in. 

“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.” 

His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.” 

Your mouth drops open. 

Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.

Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.” 

You stay rooted still. 

“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.  

He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.” 

It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together. 

(He wants to). 

It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt. 

“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”

He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth. 

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him. 

It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please. 

Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear. 

He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.

His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name. 

He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in. 

“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”

Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!” 

He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.” 

You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll. 

You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you. 

Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly. 

“I love you, Kiyoomi.” 

He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you. 

In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!” 

“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.” 

You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes. 

“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?” 

You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again. 

“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.” 

He gives an approving cluck. 

You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand. 

“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe. 

“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around. 

“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock. 

“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.” 

“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”

“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately. 

“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips. 

“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?” 

You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.” 

“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.” 

You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love. 

Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.

As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you. 

“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.” 

You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip. 

“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”

“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!” 

“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!” 

“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—” 

The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own. 

Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.

[literaila]

stay

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you're in denial (no you're not)

warnings: pining, no plot

a/n: i had to give you a little look at what they do when they're alone

last part | next part

*

year two.

“what?” satoru asks, his voice blurred in the haze you're thinking in. 

honestly, you haven't been looking at him for that long. 

you've only been watching his arms as they move across the sink, veins drenched in water, hands scrubbing at a pot that you've made his responsibility. 

you've only been thinking about him for the past five years. the way his mouth moves when he's focused, the subtle curve of his jaw from this angle. 

and you're only staring now because you don't want him to mess up the kitchen. god knows how much it's worth. 

you shake your head, subtle grin disappearing automatically. “hmm?” 

“you’re staring at me.” 

you blink. “oh. sorry.” 

you and him both know that there's no denying it. 

“and you think i’m spacey,” satoru mutters, turning to you with his arms crossed, a smirk adorning his lips. apparently, he’s perfected his dad stance. “what do you want?” 

“what?" you look away, for one moment, when your heart feels a bit warm, then back to him. "why would i want something?” 

“that’s what tsumiki does when she wants something.” 

“well, unlike tsumiki, i’m not a child, so…” 

“i beg to differ,” satoru leans towards you, raising a brow. “what are you? thirteen?” 

he's different like this--when he knows that you're paying attention. 

so ridiculously stupid that you can't look away from him. 

“you are a single year older,” you tell him, “and i had to teach you how to do the dishes. our age gap is easily filled by my years of experience—“ 

“blah blah blah,” satoru interrupts, rolling his eyes, “hard work, torture, bills to pay. we get it.” 

you shrug, lip twitching. “you started it.” 

“by being born?” satoru asks, fluttering his eyelashes, trying his hand at flirting with you. 

unfortunately, he's dreadful at it. even with his waggling eyebrows and throat when he swallows. 

“oh my god,” you put a hand to your chest, mock shocked. “did i forget to become clan head the second i was born? my bad.” 

“seriously. slacker.” 

you roll your eyes.

then you turn to the counter again, messing with a stack of bills satoru has left there. you're probably going to be the one to deal with them anyway. 

it's been twenty minutes since you put the kids to bed--frowning at satoru when he swore that they'd already brushed their teeth (they hadn't)--and you've already lost sight of getting out of his house. 

some small part of you wants to stay, just so you can sneak some more glances at satoru.

“why are you staring at me?” he asks, nudging your arm with his hand. "get lost in my eyes?" 

you scoff. “i just zoned out, satoru.” 

“looking right at my face?” 

you smile deviously, reaching a hand out to trail a finger across his cupids bow. “i was contemplating the different plastic surgeries that could improve you.” 

satoru does nothing to push away your hand, but you snap it away when you feel him shiver. 

“please," he frowns. "we both know there’s no room for improvement.” 

you raise your brows. he says it more like a question than a statement, so you keep the same teasing smile on your face. 

“don’t be mean,” he says, pouting. 

“sorry.” 

“no, you’re not.” 

your smile brightens and you walk towards the door--listening to his heavy footsteps as he follows--and reach towards the hook for your coat.

you better leave before he convinces you to touch him again with nothing but his eyes.

“where are you going?” satoru continues pouting. 

“home? the kids are asleep.” 

he huffs. “but i’m not.” 

“do you need me to tuck you in?” 

“what if i do?” 

“tough luck, satoru," you shove his hand away from where it grabs your jacket. 

“c’mon,” he says, pulling at your wrist instead. “stay a little bit longer. let’s talk.” 

“all you ever want to talk about is digimon," you answer, rolling your eyes. 

you deny the fact that you'd probably listen to him talk about anything, just to hear the slight drawl in his throat or the teasing in his voice. 

“well, duh.” 

“and i don’t understand a single thing you say.” 

satoru pulls you towards him, even when you dig your heels into the floor. “you think after five years you’d trust me enough to take one of my recommendations," he says, chiding you. like he's the most trustworthy person you've ever met. 

like you might trust him with your life (you would). 

“last time i trusted any of your recommendations i almost got kicked out of school," you finally pull away, smoothing out your sleeves to put your jacket on. 

“first of all, that was your idea—“ 

“i was kidding.” 

“and i was just trying to cheer you up," his hands gesture to you, obviously, "plus yaga didn’t even care that much. it’s not like we crashed the car. he just had to threaten us or he would’ve gotten fired.”

you roll your eyes, zipping up your jacket. 

“stay,” satoru whines. “i get lonely when you’re not here.” 

“that’s because you’re supposed to be asleep.” 

“i can't sleep without you.” 

you scoff. “we’ve slept in the same room twice.” 

neither one of you dares to mention the several nights you’ve spent together on the couch or the brief moments when you wake up in the morning and realize who you’re clinging to. those are brief lapses in judgment. nothing more. 

“third times the charm,” satoru says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

despite his age, he is still a teenage boy. 

the same one you've liked since you were fifteen. 

“goodnight, satoru," you whisper, turning around. 

“don’t you get lonely in your apartment all alone?” he asks, almost pleading, spinning you around again from the hem of your jacket. “what if you have a nightmare?” 

because satoru has ever been concerned about a single thing that happens to you. 

you roll your eyes. “i wake up, like an adult, and remember that it’s not real.” 

satoru raises a brow. 

“seriously, it’s late. i need to go before—“ 

“stay.” 

“we’ve talked about this.”

“no. i make a suggestion, and you don’t listen.” 

“because i already know what you’re going to say.” 

“no, you don’t.” 

“‘c’mon, y/n, i have a bedroom just for you. it can even be mine if you want.’” 

“i don’t sound like that," he says frowning. though how could he deny the obvious?

“satoru, we need space--" more like you need space from him. several decades of space, just to catch your breath. "i can't spend every waking moment with you. i have a life.” 

“yeah, me.” 

you laugh, shaking your head (he's not wrong).

“just for tonight?” 

“no.” 

“just for an hour? what if one of them wakes up? you know i don’t know what to do," he says, very convincingly. his voice is quiet like he knows some sudden movements will scare you away. 

you pretend to pause, humming. “send them back to their rooms…?”

“please," he begs you, so close that his breath is almost yours. 

“no.” 

“we never get alone time anymore,” he pouts, “i miss you.” 

you know that he's using this to his advantage. like he's sure that his quiet voice and soft mouth will get you to break, will get you to stay here like you already want to. 

but you refuse. 

“stop.” 

“and it’s cold. you don’t want to go home yet," he acts like he can read your mind. 

“i promise you that i do," you reassure him, taking a step back. satoru only follows. 

“we can watch a movie or something," he answers like you've already agreed to this. "i saw a trailer for this dumb comedy and it looks—“ 

you groan. 

“what if i promise to sit on the other side of the couch?” he bargains.

“no," you frown, "you’re a liar.” 

“what if i let you pick the movie?” 

“no.” 

“what if i pay you to stay?" 

you flick his forehead. “are you kidding?” 

“please,” he repeats, softly, leaning even closer. “you don’t have to stay for long…” 

and it reminds you of every other time you've felt like your heart has disappeared. like your head has been eradicated by his low voice and his sparkling eyes. 

it feels like being the same teenager you might still be, hoping that something will come from his pleading. from yours, however unspoken. 

and you almost break, almost push him so far away--

but then there’s a tiny cough. and a sniffle. “y/n?” a voice asks, so soft you almost can't hear it over the sound of satoru’s ego. 

over the sound of your own beating heart. 

satoru smiles like he planned this all along. 

you sigh. “an hour,” you tell him, sternly. 

he only smiles, slinging an arm around your shoulder, spinning you both towards tsumiki. 

* 

you don’t say a thing when you wake up the next morning, sweat staining your neck, legs tangled in much longer ones. 

your head is pounding from a night spent on the couch. from so many hours spent laughing at satoru, at the stupid things he says. 

and he’s already looking at you like he could sense this moment coming. 

like he can see beyond you, into your soul. into the very wanting you're sure is on your face. 

you don’t say anything as you stare back into his eyes.

this is the one moment where he’s not allowed to comment on it. to make fun of you for your small smile, or laugh at your bed head. 

this moment is just for the two of you. the rest of the world can disappear, right now. every terrifying thing, every horrible mistake, completely eradicated by the sound of satoru's heart, his eyelashes as they flutter open and closed. 

you breathe in, almost about to say something. to break this thing before it can form. 

and then you hear something banging in the kitchen, and it’s time to get up. 

*

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[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (8/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: It's always nice meeting new people. Especially British ones.

Warnings: fluff, flirting, one swear word, social media aspect

Word Count: 3.3k

series masterlist

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A/N: this chapter is for everyone who send me kind words when I was feeling down. even tho I don't answer every single message, I read everything you send me. I love you.

You look desperately at the piece of paper in your hand. 

You have the chicken breast, the avocado and the kale and garlic. According to the signs in the shop, two aisles down are the jars of sun-dried tomatoes that you also need. But where the heck are the sesame seeds and chilli flakes?

You rub your forehead with the back of your hand. 

For twenty minutes you have been walking through the supermarket, which is so much bigger than the one around the corner from you. Ten minutes ago you put the chicken in the shopping basket, which is hanging down on your elbow. And since then you have been wandering the aisles with little success, trying to find the rest that Charles scribbled on the piece of paper. 

When you left the bedroom this morning, your roommate had already disappeared. He had stowed his sleeping things in the wardrobe and tidied up the living room. Even the dishes had disappeared from the sink. Apparently he got up very early. 

After drinking a glass of orange juice, you found the note on the kitchen table that Charles had left there. 

"Bonjour, 

Je suis à la salle de sport ce matin. I'm at the gym this morning.

Pourriez-vous acheter ces choses pour le déjeuner ? Could you please buy these things for lunch?

Merci, mon ami. 

Charles

PS.: Mes amis et moi sortons ce soir et j'aimerais que tu viennes avec moi. My friends and I are going out tonight and I would like you to come along".

Next to it was another piece of paper with the shopping list for the bowl his nutritionist had picked out for him. Judging by the ingredients, Charles has good taste and for a moment you had considered buying a double portion - one for him and one for you - but the toast lying in your kitchen is about to go bad and you are reluctant to throw it away. Besides, no food in the world can beat a good sandwich.

But reading the list, you also realise that the small supermarket around the corner would not be enough to get everything.

The employee you asked a few minutes ago gave you a rough direction where you could find the sesame seeds, but he disappeared so quickly that you couldn't follow up. And since then you've been standing in a corridor that looks like you might find them here. But you've read through every label on every shelf, and although your French has improved - and you have a translator app on your phone - none of them sounded remotely like sesame or seeds.

"A pretty lady wasn't on my shopping list today, but I can be spontaneous," you hear someone with a British accent say behind you.

As you turn around, a young man is standing in front of you. He is a little taller than you and wears a black hoodie with his hands in his pockets and a black cap on his head. Although it is winter, his skin is tanned, and as he grins broadly, you see a small gap between his white front teeth.

You hesitate for a moment, trying to gauge whether he is really serious, and glance briefly at your shopping list before turning to face him fully. "An overeager man is not on mine either. And unfortunately, since I have to stick to my budget, I can't be quite as spontaneous."

His grin widens even more. "So the pick-up line was that lousy?"

His smile is so honest and friendly it's infectious. "Terrible."

The young man presses his tongue into his cheek before pulling his hand out of his jumper pocket to hold it out to you. "Lando. Nice to meet you."

As you place your hand in his, you feel the warmth of his skin. "Y/N."

Before you can respond, Lando snatches the piece of paper in your hand. His eyes flicker over the ingredients on it and then over the contents of your shopping basket. "You've been standing here for ten minutes. Do you need any help?"

You narrow your eyes and try to reach for the list in his big hands, but he is quicker. He pulls his hand away. "Have you been watching me? See if the note says stalker."

He pretends to go through the ingredients again, but his gaze lingers on you again after a few moments. "Stalker it doesn't say, but helpful stranger it does." He holds the note up to your nose. "Right under chicken breast. See. Right there. In invisible ink."

You push your lower lip forward and consider whether you should accept his help. The only thing against it is the fact that you can usually help yourself. But since he has already noticed how helplessly you search for the missing groceries, the argument is not exactly convincing.

"Alright." You extend your arm and wave it in a semicircle in front of you. "Show me the way."

Lando leads the way as you follow him through the shop. Despite his jumper, you can see that his cross is relatively wide. Not as wide as Charles, but still enough to be noticeable. 

"You don't seem to be from around here, do you?" asks Lando as you walk past the cheese shelf. He looks down at you. 

"I've actually lived here for months, but I've never been to this supermarket," you admit, shrugging. "The stuff on the list isn't for me, it's for my roommate. I'm not much of a bowl fan."

The helpful stranger stops abruptly in front of a shelf, causing you to bump lightly into him. You can still feel the hard muscles through the many layers of clothing. "What are you more into?" When you look at him with a raised eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. "Food-wise, I mean."

"Culinarily, I'm afraid I've stayed at McDonalds level. Or frozen pizza." As Lando grins, you lightly punch his arm. "I know, I know. Like a kid."

He reaches out and takes a packet from the shelf, and as he puts it in the basket, you see that it's sesame seeds. He then takes the basket from your hand. "So I don't need to take you to a super fancy, expensive restaurant? You'd be happy with take-out as well?" He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. 

Apparently he can't help it. But you find his boyish charm not annoying, rather amusing. 

You raise your hand and poke your index finger against his chest. "You could buy me a can of soup, too, and I'd be blown away."

Lando is too surprised to retort, so he lowers his eyes to the list in his hand. You can still see the blush that comes to his face. He clears his throat. "Chilli flakes should be here somewhere too. Ah, there. Right behind you." He leans forward a little and reaches past you. As you inhale, you can smell his perfume.

"Thanks for your help, Lando," you say as you stand together at the checkout a little later, putting your purchase into a bag. "I don't know what I would have done without you." Your smile is genuine and you're glad he returns it. If it hadn't been for him, you'd almost certainly still be standing here tomorrow looking for the ingredients.

"I'm glad I could help." As you take your groceries from him, he shoulders the bag and shakes his head. "Would it be weird if I asked you if I could walk you home?"

"It would." You've both known each other for a few minutes and for sure it's unwise for a young stranger to find out where you live. Yet something about him makes you trust him. As Lando's mouth curls into a thin line, you smile kindly at him. "But weird is okay."

His expression brightens instantly. "Great. Show me the way. I'll follow you."

The walk home takes thirty minutes, but it feels much shorter with Lando by your side. He's two years older than you and incredibly funny, which is why your stomach starts to hurt from laughing at some point. He talks about what it was like growing up in England and that although he has his permanent home here in Monaco, he still works there. 

"So you're always flying back and forth? Isn't that very tiring?" you ask him. The house where your home is located comes into your field of vision. In a moment you are about to say goodbye and somehow you have a feeling that he would make an attempt to ask for your number. 

"It's very exhausting," he confesses, but shrugs. "But you know yourself what it's like to live here. Monaco is beautiful and I love it. Besides, many of my friends live here. It's definitely worth the stress for me."

You stop at the front door and Lando's smile disappears from his face as he realises that your time - for now - is up. He hands you your groceries, which he's been carrying for you like a gentleman for the last half hour. 

"Thank you. For your help and the nice company," you thank him and fish the front door key out of your pocket.

Lando puts his hands back in the pockets of his jumper, undecided whether to hug you goodbye or not. "I have to thank you." He pulls his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. "Can I see you again? Maybe for dinner? I'll get your favourite can of soup too," he grins and you have to laugh out loud.

"I'd love to," you reply. Why green eyes and dimples suddenly flash in the back of your mind, you don't know.

"Great. Do you have Instagram?" he asks and you look at him, confused. He raises a hand and scratches the back of his neck nervously with it. "I'd ask for your number, but I don't think you're someone who gives out their number to helpful strangers just because they're friendly."

You turn your head and point to the front door. "Well, you already know where I live, after all. And yet you ask for my Instagram?"

He licks his lips once with his tongue. "I didn't mean to be too forward."

You look down at your shopping bag, then back up at him. "You? Forward? No way."

You tell him your Instagram name and he saves it before you say goodbye with a hug that, in retrospect, you might find a little too brief. But Lando doesn't seem to want to cross any lines, which is why he only puts one arm around you to pull you close for a moment, not pressing you tightly against him but leaving some space between you.

"I'll get back to you," he says as you put the key in the door lock and turn it. "Promise."

When you enter the apartment minutes later, Charles is sitting on the couch, staring at his laptop, which is on the coffee table in front of him. You feel his gaze on you as you close the door behind you and slip off your shoes.

"Bonjour, Y/N." He gets up and follows you into the kitchen, where you take the groceries out of the bag and place them on the countertop. "Thank you for shopping. Did you sleep well?"

You did indeed. Whether it was the wine or the fact that you really enjoyed your evening with him, you don't know. When you woke up this morning and found that Charles had already left, you had been a little too relieved. The thoughts you harboured towards him last night make you feel guilty, so you decide to repress them and forget about them. 

Everything that happened last night was purely amicable, which his "mon ami" on the note also confirms. Secretly, you are glad that he sees it that way too. If he were to give you signs of being interested, you would have to think seriously about the whole situation. And you don't want that.

You're happy living with Charles. And even though you've only known each other for two days, you're sure he's a better friend than anyone else has ever been. No one in your old group of friends had ever been so friendly, so helpful, so caring. 

If that's how friends behave, then you never really had any.

"Well," you answer him. "I'm still alive, although I didn't lock the door yesterday. That certainly lets me sleep well."

Charles smiles and reaches for the chicken breast, which he rinses and seasons as you put a pan of oil on the hob. "Or maybe I just want you to feel safe. And someday, when you're not expecting it, I'll catch you," he jokes. 

"And that's exactly why I was serious about my offer last night," you return, watching as he puts the chicken into the hot oil. You hear it hiss and bubble. "That you can sleep in bed tonight. I don't mind. After all, it's your bed. And it's only fair that you use it."

Charles turns the chicken in the pan and looks at you. "And you're not just doing this so I won't murder you while you sleep?" His grin widens. 

"That, my friend, is a nice side effect."

While the chicken sizzles away, you prepare the avocado and Charles the kale. "It's all right, Y/N. It's only been the second night on the couch. And I promise you nothing will happen that would make you lock the door."

"But last night you -"

"Last night the wine was talking out of me when I sent you the picture," he interrupts. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." His smile is gentle. "That's what we agreed and that's what we'll stick to."

"That we agreed, I know," you confirm, digging a bowl out of the cupboard. Charles fills it with the ingredients and finally puts the roasted chicken on top. You turn off the hob. "But I don't think we have to stick rigidly to that rule for this," you point to the space between you, "to work. We're friends, not strangers. And as your friend, I can't have you breaking your back."

You see Charles swallow before turning away and picking up the bowl. Apparently he doesn't know what to say in response, because he changes the subject as you sit down on the couch together. "So, are you coming tonight? We were going out for dinner and then to a club. You don't have to come if you don't want to, of course, but I'd love to introduce you to my friends. We're a cool group and I think you'd fit in quite well." He spears a piece of avocado with his fork. "Besides, maybe I can take your mind off your asshole of an ex-boyfriend that way."

That's right. There was something. 

You haven't had to think about him since last night. About him calling you all the time and spoiling your mood. That he cheated on you a while back and broke your heart. 

Charles managed, with just a film and his company, to make you forget the pain and anger. In his presence you felt comfortable, warm, which was perhaps also a little due to the wine. And as you thought back over the evening, a feeling spread through you that you could not describe. 

The only word you can think of to describe this feeling is Charles.

"I didn't mean to remind you," your roommate says softly when you don't answer him. His eyes are fixed on his food. "Sorry."

You shake your head, more to let him know that your thoughts are not about your ex-boyfriend, but about Charles's kindness and care, but apparently he takes it as accepting the apology. He exhales in relief. 

"So? Are you coming with me later? With my friends and me?", Charles asks again. 

Isn't it too early to meet his friends? You two haven't known each other for very long either. But after all, you would be there as his roommate slash friend, not as his girlfriend. So for him, there's no reason why you shouldn't be there. So there is none for you either. 

"Do I need to wear anything nice? My wardrobe isn't exactly the most elegant," you confess, pointing to the oversized jumper hanging from your shoulders and the black leggings down your legs. 

Charles' gaze moves from your face, across your torso, down further to the tops of your feet, which are inches away from his. "It doesn't matter what you wear. You look beautiful in anything."

You hope he doesn't notice how hard you have to swallow the lump in your throat. "Then I'll come with you."

Satisfied, Charles puts a piece of chicken in his mouth and chews on it. As his cell phone vibrates on the table in front of you, he stiffens a little. 

From your position you can see that an unknown number is calling him. And you can well understand his reaction to it. You definitely wouldn't answer a call either if you didn't know who it was from. A short time later the phone is silent again and the screen goes black again. Charles visibly relaxes.

"I think calls from unknown numbers are totally nerve-wracking," you try to lighten the situation a little. "There was a time when I let the phone keep ringing, but now I just press unknown callers away."

Charles looks to you. "Would you press my call away?"

You draw your eyebrows together. "Well, since I don't have your number, I probably would."

Your roommate presses his tongue into his cheek. "Then it would be better if I gave it to you, no?"

Without a word, you hand him your unlocked phone - which looks really puny in his big hands - so he can punch in his number before calling himself. As he hands it back to you, he picks up his own phone to put your number in, deleting the unknown call. 

"Give me your Instagram, please."

You look at him uncertainly, but give him your name. "Do you need anything else? My credit card number? Birth certificate? National insurance number?"

"No, you dickhead." He taps away on his phone and a moment later a notification pops up on your screen. 

bawsixteen started following you

You open the app and click on his account and on the "Follow" button and a few moments later his entire profile is visible to you. He hasn't posted many pictures, some you recognise from Jori's place, but one in particular catches your eye. 

"So, tonight we're going out for dinner. Around eight, so we have to leave around around quarter to." Charles puts the empty bowl on the table and turns to you. "I have to leave in a few minutes. Will you be okay on your own until then? I don't think I'll be gone too long." 

You wonder if he's going to the woman he spoke to on the phone yesterday. "I'm an adult, Charles. I'll be fine," you smile. "Maybe by then I'll find a nice potato sack to wear later."

Charles laughs, gets up and goes into the kitchen to wash the bowl. "If you can find a second one that might fit me, bring it along. Then we could go in matching clothes. That would be something." You hear him turn on the tap at the sink. "Well, if you find one, you can call me."

"As long as you promise to answer." You turn and lean your arm over the back of the couch to watch him. His back muscles stand out under his shirt and you can see them moving. 

Charles looks over his shoulder at you and smiles. "Deal."

-

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bawsixteen: 📍📸 the most beautiful place in Monaco

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[sniigura-archive]

Multiversal DP (2)

Canon!Adam x fem!reader x College Au! Adam

Part 1

Summary: The only person Adam can share with is himself.

CW/TW: MMF Threesome, Oral sex, Rimming, Double penetration, Breeding kink slightly, belly bulge, anal sex, unrealistic sex and dick sizes, sexual harassment, violence, reader gets sick, parteyy, degradation, Controlling behaviour, Jealously, Selfcest (one line), the adam’s are assholes, size difference, reader mentions being descended of adam once, coercin if u squint maybe, tell me if i missed smth

The fragile dynamic you carefully build up with Adam the past few weeks was destroyed oh so easily by his counterpart.

Suddenly, Adam won’t touch one dirty dish, Goldy won’t even think about picking up after himself, and when he does he makes sure to do a shitty job. Whenever something is dirty or they get hungry they look at you, as if you’re their fucking house slave. You were on strike, going as far as only cleaning and washing your stuff and cooking only for you. Assholes.

The topic off heaven and hell came up frequently, kind off throwing off your whole world view. Adam was most interested to know what’s going on there, while you weren’t. The thought off going to church and repenting entered your head more than you would like to admit.

It was just annoying, especially since Goldy doesn’t know you. As in his universe version of you. There were a few explanations for that, maybe you just don’t exist there, you haven’t died yet, you’re an angel he doesn’t know (he admitted that that’s not highly unlikely), or you’re in hell. Apparently there’s a difference between a sinner and an hellborn? Sinners he slaughters every year, the others are spared.

One time he pulled out his heaven phone to show heaven and hell to you two. When he got to the hell part, you wanted to die. Seeing dead people was really not your thing. Yikes. At least you now know what impact and succubi look like?

With Goldy’s sharp senses, hyper awareness of his surroundings and a a sixth sense for when you and Adam want to fuck, tension is especially high. He’s basically cock blocking himself.

“Don’t fuck with me, or are you too stupid to put a bowl into the dishwasher right?” You were close to bashing it over his whack ass mask he never took off again, after showing his face that first time.

Goldy was picking at his ear, not even bothering to look at you when he spoke,

“Damn, bitch, already told you guys just aren’t cut out for tasks like that. It’s not thaaaaat bad.” At this point you were tired off his weaponised incompetence.

You dumped the dirty water from the bowl into the sink. Turning around, you grabbed the fork and stabbed it into the steak Goldy cooked up. You dropped it into the still wet, and dirty bowl.

“Here you go!” You smiled brightly at the angel.

“What the fuck, you whore?! My fucking food!” His mask displayed his unhappy grimace, while his wings puffed up. His arms flayed around while he swore a storm up at you.

“What? It isn’t thaaat bad.” You mocked his words.

“Ooohhh, you think you’re so fucking slick, don’t you?” While the angel straightened up his back and shoulders, making himself bigger while getting into your personal space, you crossed your arms in front of your chest. Just a normal evening for you.

Adam finally emerged from the bathroom, he finished his shower. Or maybe he cut it short because you were fighting with the angel again, who knows.

“Do you both ever fucking shut up?” He growled out through clenched teeth, while rubbing his hair dry with a towel.

“He started it!” “She started it!”

You both were pointing fingers at each other.

Adam took some deep breaths, trying to calm himself down before speaking.

“Just..Fucking drop it, babe, and start worrying about dinner instead.” Adam waved you off, while Goldy smugly grinned at you.

This is how it’s been, with the multiverse traveler pissing you off and Adam taking his side. You hated it.

Slamming your hand on your phone, which laid on the counter, you slid it into your hands, “I’m fucking done.” You whispered under your breath, while making your way towards the door.

You unlocked your phone, searching for Monica’s chat. It was time to take her up on that guest room offer. Fuck these assholes.

Adam reached out, grasping your elbow into his hand, “What did you just say?” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

You yanked your elbow out of his grasp, “I’m going to stay with Monica and Dy so you both can live out your stupid alpha bro dreams.”

Adam made an attempt to yank your phone out of your hand, but you were faster. And already anticipated that he would do that. Skipping some steps forward, you finally reached the door. Slipping into your shoes, while holding your phone away from a grabby Adam.

“Fuck, chill your tits, baby. It’s not that serious!” Adam tried to calm you down, but sadly it had the opposite effect.

“Not that-?! You’re so fucking insufferable, both of you! Everything is dirty! He’s straight up antagonising me and you’re just..kissing his dick for it!” During your rant you put on your jacket, hiding your phone away in the pocket.

“I wish somebody was kissing my fucking dick…..”

“Jesus, it’s not fucking like that-“ Adam placed his hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you back but you just shake his hand off.

“Don’t touch me! Ugh! Everything is a nightmare. Seeing that asshole strut around like that sure makes me wonder what I even see in you.” You hissed at Adam.

Before you could properly process his shocked face, you opened the door and slammed it shut. Stomping through the hallway, you used the stairs to leave the apartment complex. Walking towards the park near you, you used your pent up energy to fast walk a few rounds around the pond.

Panting, you sat down at a bench. You haven’t bothered to talk to your friends yet. Moving was horrible and you actually didn’t want to go through with it. Regret settled into your gut like a stone in water. Fuck.

Why would you even say someone like that to Adam?? Just because hot wings gets on your nerves, it gives you no right to shit on poor Adam like that. He did so much for and you act like that? Damn.

You weren’t quite sure for how long you stayed like this, with your face in your hands, trying to stay calm. Your breath was turning foggy from the cold weather. Why did you have to fuck up a good thing?

Probably because you can only deal with one Adam at a time, and it genuinely feels like the other guy is out to get you. Like he’s trying to get you out.

You heard gravel crunch under heavy foot steps. Peaking through your fingers, you saw Adam approach you. Man, you really have to get check through your phone. You straightened up your back, wiping away the wetness from your face.

Adam sat down besides, his legs spread apart and his knee knocking into yours.

“…You call Monica and Dy yet?” He spoke into the silence.

The warm light of the lamp post shined down at Adam. His hands were in his lap, with which he was nervously fiddling around with.

You shook your head no, while sniffling.

It seemed like a small part of the tension left Adam’s body. He let out a breath of relief.

“You wanna come home, baby?” Adam wrapped his arm around your shoulder, smushing you against his side. His lips brushed against the top of your head.

“..I wish we were worse people and would just rat that guy out. Letting some crazy scientist experiment on him.” You mumbled out.

Adam laughed at that, “That’s what you fantasies about? You’re freaky, woman, I like it.”

Groaning, you rubbed eye, “I don’t- Can’t live with him like that. Does he hate me or something?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it anymore. We had a…little chat…Angels bleed gold, in case you wanted to fucking know.” Adam flexed his one hand. Now that you weren’t avoiding looking at him, you saw the bruising forming on his knuckles.

“What did you do?!” You carefully took his hand into yours, “And your face too! You got into a fight with a 9 feet tall angel for me?”

Gently taking his face into your hands, you turned it around to take a good luck at his split lip and bruised jaw. Clicking your tongue unhappily at him, you sighed heavily.

“Height doesn’t matter, especially not if we got the same fighting moves down.”

“He totally beat your ass didn’t he?”

“He’s 9 fucking feet tall, babe! With wings! And weird fucking holy light, together with more experience! I didn’t stand even one chance. Got a few good hits in though.”

You snorted at his answer. Kissing his cheek, you purred at him, “My hero.”

“Yeah, baby, I sure fucking am. How bout you give me my reward when we’re back home, huh?”

“..You sure it’s safe to go back?”

“Will be, if not ‘m throwing that leech out. I think you guys got off the wrong foot anyways. Maybe has something to do with you ripping the biggest feather out of his wing.” He snickered at the last part, remembering how he told the angel to not let you near his wings. The guy just scoffed at him.

“He said, and I quote “Do whatever you wanna do them, baby girl.” So I did whatever I wanted to do. That’s on him.” You pouted up at Adam.

He kissed the top off your head, he stood up and made you follow suit.

“It’s time to get out of the cold, before you get sick, little baby.” Intervening your fingers, Adam made his way back with you.

The walk back was nice, filled with meaningless shatter. Adam was always warm and soft, you honestly couldn’t wait to get back into bed.

Entering the apartment, you saw Goldy shove tissues up his nose while he sat on the couch, his head leaning back. After you took off your shoes and coat, you walked towards the angel and his golden, bloody tissues. Pressing your finger against his head, you shoved it forward,

“You’re supposed to lean your head forward, otherwise the blood runs down your throat.” You continued your walk to the kitchen, fishing out the cool pack from the freezer.

He mumbled something about you being a know it all, but he still moved his head.

Thinking about it, you got another one out. Wrapping both of them in a towel, you walked back into the living room. You gave both idiots one. A chorus of thanks babe reaches your ears.

Making your way into the bedroom, you were happy to just pass out now. Closing the door, you simply stood just in the room. You were glad the keys for the bedroom and bathroom magically appeared again once the other-Adam arrived.

Hearing the door open and close behind you, you turned around to see Adam enter. The cool pack was held against his jaw. He sat down at the bed, watching you intensely. You walked towards Adam, standing in-front of him. Taking his face once again into your hands, you took a better look at his bruise and busted lip.

Adam’s hands found themselves at home at the back of your thighs, resting right below your ass. He urged you to sit on his lap, by trying to tug you down. You smiled down at him, grasping his shoulders into your hands, you shoved him down.

He looked surprised, looking up at you with big eyes, “Whatcha looking at, baby girl?” You asked Adam through giggles.

“Alright, you asked for it.” Adam grabbed your hips while smirking at you.

He threw you onto the bed easily, crawling over you.

“Why? You don’t want to be my baby giiIIIRLLL.” Before you could end your sentence, Adam brushed his fingers over your ticklish side.

You burst out laughing, squirming around. Pushing at his shoulders, you shoved him away from you. Adam didn’t keep away from you for long, he quickly took both of your wrists into his hand, and kept them above your head. His other hand kept exploring your midriff teasingly. You couldn’t contain your giggles and laughter, no matter how hard you pressed your lips together.

Adam was slotted between your legs, his chuckles filled the air. His hands stopped their tickling attack and started instead to draw patterns into your skin. His face was hovering right above yours, because of your heavy breathing your chest kept brushing against his. Fuck. You felt Adam’s hard bulge brush against your pussy when he shifted his body. His eyes were burning into your own, until they shifted towards your parted lips.

It didn’t take much for Adam to fill in the gab between your lips, his tongue pushing against your lips and into your mouth. His hips ground into your own, the zipper of his pants caught your clit through your sweatpants, which causes you to whine.

Adams lips left yours, he started to leave wet, messy kisses on your cheek and then neck. Sucking marks into the sensitive skin, you knew you had to dig out the turtleneck for tomorrow.

“Adam, please.” Was all you could muster to whine out.

“Does my favourite slut need it that bad? Can’t even wait to take our clothes off. What a desperate whore.” He chuckled smugly into your ear.

Fuck, you were really pent up. Adam spoils you too much, with multiple daily orgasms. Before Adam, you thought you weren’t a sexual person. Now you get bitchy when you don’t fuck for 2 weeks. You’re so done for.

Adam continued to hump your clothed pussy, but with the way his brows were furrowed and how he kept groaning into your ear, you knew he wouldn’t last long. Two weeks off celibacy must be like 2 years for Adam.

His hand weasel itself under your shirt, groping your breasts through it.

“Did ya…know.. fuckfuckfuck, that you got the prettiest tits. Shit. I fucking lied, babe, ya got the body of a perfect fuckdoll.”

Adam let go off your captured wrists, to take your hips into his hands and he properly grinded his hard dick against your pulsing cunt,

“Tell me, baby, what feels best for that pretty pussy…Fuck. Like that? Yeah?” Adam used different rhythms and intensities while rubbing his clothed dick against your soaked pussy, analysing your face for reactions.

Using your now free hands to grasp the hair at the nape of his neck and to dig your nails into his bicep, you whined for Adam, “Like that, Adam! Pleeeeaaaaseeeee, don’t stop. I need youuu- Shit!”

He laughed at you, watching how lost in pleasure you were just like that, “You’re too easy, baby. Cmon, cum for me, be a good girl.”

You felt the hot flashes of pleasure curse through your lower belly, you wrapped your legs tightly around Adam’s waist. Grinding your own hips against his, to ride out your orgasm successfully. Adam groaned into the air, his hips twitching against your own. He cursed at the feeling of cum filling his boxers, wishing he was filling you up instead.

Both of you were panting into the stuffy, warm air. Adam moved his hands to unbutton your pants, you lifted up your hips so he could slid you out off them easier. He threw the pair over his head, that was a problem for future you.

“Shit, babe, I got you to fucking soak through these panties,” Adam shoved his own cargo pants down, his hand dipped into his soiled underwear. He pulled his hand out, cum coating his fingers, he grinned down at you and shoved your panties to the side, bullying his thick fingers into your sensitive hole.

You whimpered at the feeling, pushing your hips against his fingers.

“Suuuch a pretty pussy, with that vice fucking grip. Mmmh, you like when I finger fuck you open, don’t you?” He removed his fingers, wiping them clean on the inside of your thigh. What a gentleman.

Adam moved around, removing his pants and underwear completely. He slid in between your legs, throwing them over his shoulder. Feeling Adam’s tip rub against your clit, you moaned pathetically. Covering your mouth with your hand, you tried to stay silent. Something you weren’t able to success the past 15 minutes, but whatever.

Adam scoffed at you, “Tryin’ to stay quiet? We both know that doesn’t work, baby, my stroke game is just too fucking good.”

“I don’t want to get another complaint from the neighbours. ‘S embarrassing.” You bit down on your lip when you felt Adam slide his thick dick into your pulsing, needy pussy.

“Sorry that my dick is so big and good that you can’t stop screaming. Let’s see how loud you can get, baby.” Adam folded your body in half, resting his elbows besides your head.

He started thrusting, the bed frame slamming against the wall. Adam just knew how to roll his hips, how to grind his pelvis against your clit, knew where all the sensitive spots were buried deep inside off you.

You grasped your hand into Adam’s hair, tugging at it. He groaned into your ear, leaving sloppy kisses against your cheek. Moving your head, you slotted your lips against Adam’s neck, sucking and biting marks into the skin.

As much as you tried to keep your moans and babbling of Adam’s name at bay, it didn’t really work out. Adam laughed at you, he straightened out his arm, to properly look down at you while he plowed you into the next week. Looking into his burning, golden eyes, you felt your insides clench down around him. He just has that effect on you. Fucker. You dragged your nails down his back, trying to ground yourself.

Adam shifted around to roughly take your jaw into his big hands.

“If you ever make any fucking plans about leaving again, I’m going to ruin your damn life. You got that, brainless slut?” Adam hissed at you, the venom practically dripping from his lips.

Ah, there it is. The toxic, possessive asshole behaviour he conditioned you to like.

“ ‘M sorry, Adam. Didn’t mean it.” You whimpered out, looking at Adam with pleading, teary eyes. As long as he made you cum, you would promise him anything.

“Aww, babe, ‘s okay. I know you’ve been acting up cause Daddy hasn’t been paying attention to you and your sweet cunt. Going to fill you up reeeaaaal nice, yeah?” Adam smashed your lips together, your tongues dancing.

He snaked his hand down your body, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing gentle, firm circles into the sensitive bud. You felt your toes curl, sobbing at the fire flashing through your body, you came around Adam’s dick. With only a few more rolls off his hips, Adam filled up your pussy.

Adam bend his neck to pepper kisses all over your face. You pressed Adam by his shoulder away, “My legs are cramping…”

He snickered down at you, he gently moved your legs off your shoulders, giving your calf a kiss. Grasping your ass into his hands, he flipped on his back, without pulling out off you.

“How ‘bout you do all the work then?” Adam’s half hard dick twitched inside off you, he grabbed your hips and ground your clit down on him, “Give the neighbours a real fucking reason to complain.”

And while you rode Adam for your own pleasure, it was not only the neighbours who were listening in on you two.

The other-Adam had his shirt in between his teeth, his hand stroking his leaking dick. Thick cum stains already coated his stomach, but as long as he could listen in he wouldn’t bother to stop. He threw his head back, groaning at the feeling of his over sensitive dick being massaged by his own hand. What he wouldn’t give to have you wrapped around him.

He would never admit to it, but he sees the appeal in you. If only you wouldn’t always wear those oversized clothes, he’d be better able to imagine what you look like. What shade are your nipples? Does the carpet match the drapes? What would it be like to kiss your lips and pussy?

You were annoying and that made you so much hotter, calling him fucking Goldy? Throwing dishes after him? Not even bothering to give him a second glance, even though his dick is clearly bigger than the other guys? Disobeying him at every turn, no matter how petty? A dream come true. He’d be such a better choice for a partner, he’s bigger, stronger, he’s an fucking angel. Like, hello?

Of course you have to be stupidly loyal.

What he wouldn’t give to have such a hot, loyal babe bouncing on his aching dick right now.

That fucking prick knew what he was doing, not just right now but the past two weeks. Sadly, no one knows him best than himself. Having that ungrateful nasty little mortal kiss and touch you, displaying those sweet moments shared between couples. Fucker. There’s only so many times he could at least interrupt you two from fucking. He really did try to get you out off the house, for good. The thought of feeling anything beyond lust for you was terrifying. Everyday he spent here was filled with uncertainty, it was unclear on how long he will stay.

Or if he could ever go back to heaven.

He should have just smashed his copy cats head in, take you back with him and keep you as a little trophy wife. Asshole can’t even get you to quit your job. Fucking rookie.

Adam felt his balls tighten at the sound of you moaning his name. Well, it doesn’t matter who you were saying it to, it was enough for him to cum. Groaning at the sight and feeling, he grabbed some tissues to finally clean up.

———

The past few days have been better, you all cleaned the messy apartment, had now a rough chore list, and you even started cooking again. It was nice, you could finally relax again. Adam also implemented a movie nights of sorts, something about team building.

You wouldn’t admit it to Adam, in fear of his already inflated ego, but it did help you and Goldy bond. He was awfully into documentaries about human history, which was kind of sweet.

Adam was at a restaurant with his mother, he not-so-affectionately called it the monthly business check-in.

“I would say I can’t believe that dick and yo momma jokes have been around since, like, forever but…” You trailed off and eyed Goldy, who sat on the other side of the couch.

“What bitch? Can’t take a good joke?” The angel was shoving doritos into his mouth. How it worked with his mask was a mystery to you.

“Maybe you just aren’t funny…It’s kind of nice, don’t you think? The indomitable human spirit, very much got that from you.” Your eyes wandered from the TV, which was displaying the vulgar (and very funny) graffiti off Pompeii, to your crochet needle. The fire took a lot, but not your grandma hobby from you.

“Damn, I keep miscounting the stitches….” You checked your pattern and your half finished project, you were so into the documentary that you just kept crocheting.

The intensity of Goldy’s stare bore into the side of your face. While you carefully unfurled the stitches, he crossed the distance between you two easily. He took your chin into his huge hand, turning your face so you could look at the grin being displayed on his mask.

“You know, baby girl, I’m a pretty big fucking deal in heaven. I’m preeeeetty sure, if you let me cum inside that tight hole it would be an instant ticket upstairs.” His other arms was thrown over the back off the couch. He had you successfully trapped in.

You just blinked up at him, “Man, we really have to get you out of the house.”

Goldy simply was still, as if the mere idea of rejection was oh so foreign to him. Side eyeing him, you elbowed his side,

“Get back to your place.”

He slid back over to the other side of the couch, while pouting. His legs and arms were crossed, turning away from you. The full 9 yards. What a baby. Hearing the click off the door unlocking, Adam was finally home.

Adam closed the door, securing all the looks. He took off his heavy coat, and boots.

“Welcome home.” You called out to him, refocusing on your project quickly.

“What’s up, leeches,” Adam plopped down beside you, shielding your view away from the angel, “..What’s up with him?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you looked into Adam’s eyes. He raised his eyebrow and mouthed ‘Talk later?’ and you nodded yes at him. That seemed to relax Adam, he threw his arm over your shoulder and pressed you against him.

“Gah! Dude! You’re messing up my stuff…”

“Fucking..Stop then and focus on me. I haven't seen you all day, cmon baby.” Adam’s voiced bordered on being whiny.

Sighing, you put your needle and yarn on the living room table. You’re over here handling over grown man children, maybe you should ask Adam to give you an allowance.

“Alright, alright, you big baby.” You climbed into Adam’s lap, resting your head against his chest, “ How’d it go with your Mom?”

Adam’s hands instantly found themselves on your body, he sneaked one hand under your sweater, rubbing your skin there.

“Eh, went alright. It’s always the fucking same anyways. “Oh Adam, you need to watch your language. Oh Adam, be careful of your reputation. Blah-fucking-blah. The time would have been better spent doing nothing all fucking day.” He buried his nose into your hair.

Goldy got up from the couch, and stomped towards his room/guest room and slammed the door shut. Next you could hear loud rock music coming from his room. Jesus.

“What’d you do to the guy?” Adam asked you, chuckling.

“Dude, I think he’s getting, like, cabin fever? He told me, if I let him cum inside I’m going to heaven, basically.” You kept your voice down, not wanting the angel to hear.

“That ungrateful- What did you say?” He started at your face.

“No obviously? Why do you think he’s so pissy…You know what I thought? We can take him to that halloween party. We would just have to give him an headband and wrap a wire around his halo. He would just wear his mask and I don’t know…He changes his voice up a bit?”

Adam rubbed his chin at the thought, “Huh…Why didn’t I think of that?”

“He’s losing it. We need him to let out energy.”

“I know the perfect way we could let out energy, babe.” Adam grinned at you, his hand groping your tits through your sweater.

“Oh my god-“ You got up from Adam’s lap, walking towards the bed room, “Talk to me when you think with your brain for once.”

“Noooo, I was just joking. We can talk. Chat with me baby, all that intellectual shit. You think fucking… aliens are real?” He was hot on your trail.

———

The party was going great. It was outside the city, in a rather remote forest clearing. The halloween vibes totally fit in there. A generator was used to power the string lights and music, there even was a bonfire, everything was great.

You were kind off running late, deciding to get ready with your friends sure was a decision. It’s what you had to do to keep Adam from finding your costume. You fear if you wore that in front of him in the apartment that he wouldn’t have left the bed room with you.

The black, lacy corset pushed everything you got up and made your waist disappear. The horns on your headband was inspired by the succubus the angel showed you on his phone. He kept making jokes that you’re probably one, so here you are. Little leather wings were attached to your lower back, and even a tail made an appearance.

The little black skirt with build in safety short and your net tights just pulled the whole look together. Not even including your make up, which Bernadette sat a long time on.

You were sat in the middle back seat, squished between Bernadette and Jesus, while Monica was driving and Dy sat beside her. Monica was dressed as Poison Ivy, while Dy was Harley Quinn. Bernadette was an angel and you somehow convinced Jesus to be the Anti-Christ, because you think you are hilarious. It was less an actual costume and more of Jesus wearing dark robes and smokey eye shadow. You gave him a little name sign with “Anti” tapped to his chest.

Man, in hindsight you should have known this universe is whack. All your close friends are named after saints, one friend is even named Jesus, you dated literally Judas? Adam and Eve? Lilith and Lucifer? Are you dense or something? Maybe just in hardcore denial.

Monica took a sharp corner, causing everyone to be thrown around. Jesus hands immediately flew to his pink kippah, not wanting to lose it on the dark, dirty car floor.

“Does it fit? I kept miscounting my stitches….” You looked towards Jesus on your the right.

“Fits perfectly! Thanks again for inviting me. Girls night are always the best.”

The whole car hollered in agreement over the already loud playing music. Monica took another horrible sharp turn (and they say you’re a bad driver??) and parked the car successfully. You could see where the party was at by the light and music. You all linked your arms together and started walking towards the party.

It wasn’t difficult to spot the angel, he was still 9 feet tall with glorious golden wings and a shining halo. So you weren’t surprised to see girls flock around him. He fits in perfectly, which was good. You hope it stays like that. Mentally, you’re saluting these girls for flirting with him. Because….How big is his dick………That’s scary….

It was always interesting to you, to see how someone differently acts when they’re in public. It’s easy to spot in both of the Adam’s, you realise. Adam slouches and makes sure not to move his hands fast when he’s around you, his voice is softer and it seems like he’s constantly aware of his size and strength. Goldy took a few days to adjust, but after you duck away from him a few times from seeing his hands and arms move so fast out of the corner of your eye, he stopped. He watched Adam and adopted the same gentleness.

You haven’t spotted Adam yet, but you think that has more to do with you being dragged to the dance floor immediately than anything else. Letting your body move freely, you laughed with your friends. Pointing out occasionally an extremely cool costume, it was nicely time spent.

Breaking free off the mass, you needed to cool off. Sweat was pooling uncomfortably under your tits which wasn’t very sexy. Walking towards the drinks, you poured yourself some soda.

“What’s up, baby girl?” Man, for a huge guy with wings he sure could sneak up on you.

“Hey there, Casanova. Why not entertain the groupies?” You took a sip from your drink.

“Nah, bae, only one I wanna really talk to.” His eyes trailed over your body greedily, “Shit, why don’t you wear stuff like that ‘round the house?”

“Halloween is the one night I dress slutty for a few hours and then it’s back to being a potato sack!”

“Noooooo, you can dress even skimpier around the house! I will fucking behave, I totally promise!” You both knew that he wouldn’t be able to pull through on his promise.

You just laughed while shaking your head at him. Slapping his hand away from tugging at your skirt, you started walking again. It wasn’t too much of a surprise to feel the huge angel press against your back, following your every step.

“You really are going to follow me?” You craned your neck to look up, he easily hovered over you by simply looking down. Your stomach fluttered.

“Of course, sweet thing. Where else would I be?”

You aren’t better than any common whore, it seems. Dragging your hand over your flushed face, to hide it away, you thrusted your purse into his arms.

“Well, then protect this with your life for me.” Goldy swung the purse over his shoulder while grumbling.

Walking with the angel around was actually nice, he successfully scared any guy away with one look and you could wander around without fear. Making him eat extra sour candy was pure entertainment, you wish he didn’t wear the mask. Thanks to the regular movie nights you guys could actually speak to each other without attempting murder.

Exhaustion started to settle into your bones and your feet were starting to get tired. Man, you haven’t even chatted to Adam yet. You caught a few glimpses off him, but you had the suspicion that Goldy kept leading you away from Adam. Bit rude, but okay.

With a fast pace you escaped the watchful eye of your self appointed guardian angel, and made your way to Adam who you finally spotted. He stood with Lute, Judas, Jesus and your friends.

Adam was dressed as Beetlejuice, while Lute was a fierce crusader. Which was hot as fuck off her. You didn’t get Judas costume and you didn’t want to waste the energy to figure it out.

“There’s the devil to my angel! Together with your giant duck. You have been asked to join a couple in bed, right?” Bernadette welcomed you with a horrible string of words.

“What?” Is all you could muster out, the words not quite registering properly. Adam threw his arms over your shoulder and pulled you into his side.

“Some people are unicorn hunters here. This is actually the first time someone asked me.”

“Oh. Right. These two harlots asked me first.” You pointed at Monica and Dy.

The surprised looks from the Adam’s were pure gold, and their exclaims even funnier. Bernadette also looked shocked, while the couple seemed bashful.

“Why didn’t you ask me?” Bernadette seemed offended.

“…You’re straight, Bernie.”

“So? Do you know how hard it is to be the only straight one in the friend group? Do ever think of MY struggle?”

You covered your mouth to hide your laughter. While the three of them discussed Heterophobia, you turned towards Jesus and decided to ask him,

“How do I speedrun into heaven?” Blinking at him curiously.

“I know of a-“ You reached behind you to pinch the soft side of the angel.

Jesus laughed at your question, before deciding on answering, “Have you thought about converting to be evangelical? Key elements are repenting and accepting Jesus Christ as saviour.”

Lute mumbled something about the damn protestants.

“Oh yeah, I can totally do that. I can already see myself upstairs, man.” You nodded at him.

“Don’t fret, sister. You have a good heart, I do not doubt that you will inherit Gods kingdom.” Ah, fuck now you have to get baptised.

“Bro, you’re totally going against the bro code, being friends with my ex.” Judas complained, crossing his arms.

“I’m surprised he even likes you at all, considering pork isn’t kosher. Besides, Jesus and I are brothers in poverty.” You told Judas.

Judas stuck his tongue out at you, and stomped off. Jesus laughed, fist bumped you and followed his best friend. Adam rubbed your arm and chuckled,

“Fucking chump.”

You went to rub your eyes, but caught yourself, remembering how much glitter was on there.

“Well, we could all have a foursome to get the sexual tension out and for me to figure out if I’m really not gay. Because I would let Y/N-“ That was your cue to go.

Remind yourself to never let them drink this much again.

“You’re all degenerates.” You heard Lute scold your friends, Adam was having the time off his life, while you started walking around the party again.

The angel was still trailing after you, as if he’s a magnet or something.

“Baby girl, you sure don’t wanna disappear with me behind a tree?”

You threw him a look over your shoulder, “You sure don’t wanna sweet talk someone who’s actually interested?”

“Eh, I like when you play hard to get. Makes the reward soo much sweeter.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at his words, at this point you were immune to flirting. Before you could answer him, you felt a stinging slap on your ass. What the fuck? From the immature laughter coming from the freshmen boys, you knew it wasn’t Goldy who did that. Assholes.

Just as you were about to backhand the guy into the next week, his head was smashed into a tree by a giant hand. Ah shit. You covered your mouth with your hand in shock.

A fear which is deeply programmed into your body cursed through you. This was bigger than you. This was primordial. In between everything you just forgot who you were truly messing with, no matter how immature he was. This was an angel of the lord.

“Useless, fucking sinners..I will show you, alright.” He snarled down at the guy.

Taking deep breaths, you tried to remind yourself that this is the same guy who electrocuted himself with his electric toothbrush. You pressed your hand against his shoulder, wanting him to let up on the guy. Remembering the slaughtered sinners on his phone did not help the whole situation.

“Let him go.” You hissed into his ear.

The guys from the assholes friend group were yelling incomprehensible bullshit. You were happy that there weren’t any other people around. Some were giving you weird looks from afar. Fucking hell. Adam’s mask flickered, and it seemed like he didn’t even register your existence. This doesn’t surprise you, you’re barley a fly compared to him. His wings were flared up and slightly flapping.

It was slow, the way he let up of the bastard. He thumped to the ground, holding his bleeding head. He genuinely looked at him as if he was trash.

Taking his arm into your hands, you dragged him with you away from the guys. This totally wasn’t stressful. God, where was Adam? Thank the universe that he was so tall, you could spot him over the crowd. Making a straight line for the stripped suit, you were surprised that the angel was so quiet. Maybe you should get a punching bag for the apartment? Maybe that would help him.

Reaching Adam, you tugged him down by his collar and whispered into his ear,

“He bashed someone head into the tree.”

Adam’s face morphed into one of shock, “Unprovoked?”

You shook your head at him, but your lips were pursed and you honestly just wanted to get home now. Adam dragged his hand over his face, looking unhappy.

“Alright, let’s get fucking going.” When Adam went to grab your arm, his doppelgänger straight up growled at him. Wild. Why are there butterflies in your stomach are you insane?

“What the fuck happened?” Adam looked at you.

You just shrugged, making your way with the two guys towards Adam’s car.

“Anyone going to fucking clue me in? Do I look like fucking Holmes, the way you two make my head smoke.” Adam scratched his head.

“You’re a worthless excuse for a man.” Goldy told him coldly.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean? Mind your fucking mouth, asshole.”

“Some guy slapped my ass and he smashed his head against a tree. Can we go home now? I’m tired.”

“No fucking way. Are you alright?! What did he look like? Shit, let me go back there and beat him up…” Adam seemed ready to go back to the party, while you grasped his arm and shoved him back towards his car.

“Home! Now! And no more fighting.” You told both of them sternly, while getting into the car.

The ride home was silent and tense, and you wished you could skip through it but sadly you had to sit through it. Not even music was playing. Arriving at Adam’s place, thank goodness finally, you all quietly made your way upstairs. Taking your purse from the giants shoulder, you made your way straight to the bedroom. Adam went right after you. He closed the door behind you two.

“Untie this medieval torture device from me, please.” You couldn’t properly reach the laces on your back.

“..What’d he look like?” His voice was quiet.

“Huh? Oh. Doesn’t really matter.”

Adam scoffed at your words, “Cmon, tell me. I would just…have a little fucking talk with him.”

“The leader of the heavenly army had a talk with him already. I’m okay, don’t worry.” The pressure finally lessened on your torso.

Adam turned you around, so now you were looking at him, “I should have never left you alone.”

You smiled at him, “I literally had a 9 feet angel behind me, and it still happened. I fear that you wouldn’t have been much help.”

“What if I also want to bash his head into a tree?…You think he would’ve killed him?” The last question was whispered.

“Totally. Called him a sinner. He was soo done for.”

“Yeah, well, it was very much deserved, fucking bastard. Maybe he should have died, damn scum.” Adam pressed you against his chest, kissing the top of your head.

“I really don’t think that’s our call to make.” You mumbled against his chest.

Adam hummed, his hands wandering across your back. You playfully wrangled yourself out of Adam’s grasp and finally removed the corset completely. Quickly putting on your sleeping shirt, you threw yourself into the bed. You were just going to ignore that you’re probably smearing make up over his silk sheets. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You woke up groggy, hearing yelling coming from outside. Since they got the same voice, you had a hard time telling who was yelling what. Simply placing your pillow over your head, you kept sleeping.

When you woke up again, both of the Adams were hovering over you, looking worried. Why does everything hurt? Why is your throat sore? And why the fuck was it so cold here?

“I think you might be sick, baby.” Adam told you gently.

“…No.” You sniffled at him, pulling your blanket up, “Why is it so cold?”

Two hands shoot out, one from each handsome guy, feeling your temperature. Adam’s brows furrowed while Goldy sharply inhaled.

“Take your cold hands off of me.” You whined at them. Man, usually they were so warm.

“You have to drink something, sweet thing.” The angel told you with a worried tone.

“Fuck. Alright. I gotta get to my classes, I will be back in a few hours. I’m going to buy…What? Fucking ibuprofen? Shit. Text me or call me if something should happen. Her phone password is-“ Adam told the angel, while throwing on his jacket and shoes.

Putting on his backpack, he wrote down your phone password to be extra safe. He gave your cheek a kiss goodbye and told his doppelgänger to take care of you, while he just waved him off.

Closing your eyes in exhaustion, because staying awake for 5 minutes was horrible, you were gone again.

Fluttering your eyes open, you were squashed between two big bodies. Your face was buried into Goldy’s soft chest, while your hips were pressed into Adam’s stomach. A wing was draped over the both of you. Finally you were warm. Hot even. Stretching your arms and legs out, you wanted to escape from this inferno.

“Look who’s finally awake!”

“How you feelin’?”

You just grumbled, they both sat up and helped you also sit. The rim of a water bottle was pressed against your lips. You took the bottle into your own hand, as if you can’t drink by yourself?? As soon as you were finished drinking, you threw yourself back into your pillow.

The both of them laid down back with you, their hands going from your forehead, to your cheek to all over your feverish body. You kicked the blanket off of your body.

“It’s so hot.” You threw your arm over your face, breathing heavily.

“Yeah, we fucking know.”

“Aren’t you going to get sick?” You asked into the room, not really sure who you meant. Probably your fellow human.

“Human germs don’t have shit on me.”

“Pft, I never get sick.”

Yeah, you don’t doubt that. Adam is the pinnacle of health. His teeth were naturally straight, no allergies, no intolerances. Meanwhile you have a family history of everything.

As quickly as your body heat up, it cooled down again. Reaching out, you covered yourself back up with the blanket. The guys went back to squish you in between their bodies. How the fuck Goldy fits in here was a mystery to you but also…Big ass bed. So what if his feet hang off the end. The wing was back as another blanket. Man this was actually nice. Goldy smells like Adam, which was a big comfort. It’s just….An undertone of incense seemed to follow him.

Sighing, finally content, you were off again to dreamland.

“…Date…Broke up…Multiple!…She…”

“Takes…Should…Asshole…Too..”

Man and you think you’re a horrible gossiper, those two are even worse than you. Groaning, you buried your head into the pillow. Deciding to face the world (two Adam’s) you squinted against the light.

“Stop snooping through my phone! Both of you! Oh my god…” When you tried to snatch your phone out of Adam’s hand he easily evaded your sluggish hand.

Goldy chuckled at you, he easily grasped your waist into his one hand. He pressed your back against his chest, keeping you in place. Adam grinned at you, what an evil guy.

“I’m sick and this is how you treat me?….Besides, since when did you guys get along?” You tiredly asked them, already giving up on trying to escape.

Adam squished your cheeks together with his free hand, “Eh, we got a few things in common. Like, believing how boundaries are not a thing.” Yeah, you believe that.

Goldy’s hands wandered from your waist to your naked thighs and legs, smoothly feeling you up, “We also got the same taste in women.” He seductively whispered into your ear.

“Those fever dreams are wild.” Is all you grumbled into your pillow.

The guys went back to gossiping, while you dozed off, walking in between a dream and reality.

———

It took you a few more days to get over that mysterious virus which attacked you. Even though you felt relatively healthy again, Adam still called in sick for you for another week. More like Goldy had you trapped in his wings on the couch while Adam called.

The fact that they got along scared you. Whenever you entered a room they stopped their whispering, the couch sitting order has been changed with you suddenly being in the middle and Adam ordered a package from Adam and Eve, which he quickly yanked out of your hand when you brought it in. Goldy was also way more touchier and Adam wouldn’t lose his mind over it, and you three still slept in the same bed.

Your first thought was that they’re fucking. Which probably would stop their fights about who’s the leader. (It’s you)

On second thought, they’re too far up the closet to do anything like that. And you would have noticed since you’re home all the time now. Classes are mostly done and all you have to do is finish up some assignments.

Some subconscious part of your brain probably knew what they were doing, what they tried to condition you to like. Which they didn’t even need to do, considering that was your shower fantasy now since the day the angel arrived.

That’s how you ended up with Adam’s tongue down your throat, while Goldy’s hands were under your sweater, squeezing your tits greedily. As if groping you when you were half delirious with a fever wasn’t enough. His lips went to the side of your neck, sucking in marks into the sensitive skin there.

Goldy’s hand went to the clasp of your bra, easily opening it. Not even you can skilfully open it like that. Damn him and his millennial off experience. The kiss was stopped and both of them helped you out your shirt and bra, thrown some where on the living room floor.

Your back was to Goldy’s chest, you were practically pulled into his lap. The angels hands immediately went to your tits, pulling roughly at your nipples and chuckling at your whining. Adam left kisses down your chest to your stomach towards your crotch. He grabbed the waistband of your sweat pants, together with your panties and pulled them down. Goldy lifted you up by your waist to help Adam take off your pants.

“Fuck yeah, jackpot!” The angel giddily exclaimed.

Both of the slid down the couch, and you realised that everything seemed horribly coordinated. How long have they been planning this??

They both settled in between your legs, each took a thigh into his hand to spread you properly apart. Fuck. You covered your eyes with your arm, you’re used to Adam starring at your pussy like that, but not a fucking angel looking at you like you were oh so delicious. Maybe you weren’t meant for threesomes?

Before anymore self doubt could cloud your mind and cause you to cancel this whole thing, you felt two tongues lick a strip up and down your pussy. All you could do is moan helplessly. Why is his tongue so big fucking hell.

While the angel was sucking on your clit messily, god you wanted nothing more than to close your legs, Adam was wiggling his tongue inside of you.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop. Pleaseeee!” You groaned out, digging your nails into the couch.

You felt hands on your hips and they tugged you more towards the edge of the couch.

Adam moved on from your pussy, moving down towards your hole. His tongue pressed against your sensitive rim and you couldn’t help but squeak, your hips buckling at the foreign feeling. Both of the men acted immediately, pressing your hips down. Now you REALLY wanted to close your legs.

“Shit, relax, can’t even eat ass in peace.” Adam grumbled at you, before going back.

Goldy was now slowly inserting his thick tongue into your pussy, while he angled his face in such a way that he could grind his handsome, big nose into your clit. Shit, he’s a professional. How are you supposed to last like that.

While Adam went back to circling your rim with his tongue, you felt your muscles slowly but surely relax. It felt weird. You have never done this before, but it wasn’t bad. Just unknown. Your face burned with shame. Your mind hasn’t decided yet what you were embarrassed off. Maybe how exposed you are? Yeah, let’s go with that.

Explicit slurping noises, together with your moans and please filled the air. This was probably the quietest you will ever have those two. You actually need to savour this.

Goldy moved to trace shapes and patterns into your clit with his tongue. He prodded with his finger against your pussy. He rubbed his thick finger to really make sure it was covered in your juices, and he slowly entered into the tight hole.

“Fuck, what are you, a virgin?” He mumbled against your pussy, before going back to licking.

Adam elbowed him into his side for that comment. He on the other hand slowly pressed his tongue against your rim, entering it and moving around.

You flexed your hand, because you weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to hold on to. Digging your nails into your palm, you felt your toes curl. Shit.

“ ‘M clooOosse.” Was all you could get out.

The boys intensified their motions and before you knew it you came all over their faces. They helped you ride out your orgasm, what gentlemen’s they are.

They both wiped their faces clean with the back of their hands. Each grabbing one thigh, they tugged you down. So now you were on the floor with them. Those assholes were quick and strong, manhandling you into a doggy position.

Your ass was in Adam’s hands, while your face was pressed against Goldy’s terrifying bulge. Both of them moved to remove their own clothes, which was at least something. Adam seemed to grab a bottle from the lower shelf of the living room table. Being the only one naked sucked ass, lowkey. Also they’re sexy and you enjoy looking at them, the less clothes the better.

Well, at least now you know that your fear was justified. That’s a weapon, not a dick. Goldy grasped your face into his hand, and he pushed your mouth down towards his dick.

Of course, he’s a fucking head pusher.

Adam lined up his dick with your entrance, slowly pushing in.

“Baby girl, you really need to worship the dick who started it all. Say thank you to the dick master, even.” The giant groaned into the air, putting your hair into a ponytail.

You quite literally couldn’t open your mouth wide enough for him. This was going to be a ride. Goldy pressed down your tongue in your open mouth, comparing the size of his dick to that of your mouth.

“Damn, I’m going to split you in half, huh?” He seemed excited at the prospect.

Hearing the opening of a bottle, you were confused for a sec, before you felt Adam’s cold and wet finger press against your ass. Right. What else would it be? A beer break?

Goldy used your small moment of embarrassment at the fact that Adam now truly knows all of your body, to push your head back down towards his dick. Right, they both hate not being centre of your attention. You licked and kissed everything you could, using your hands to massage his tip. Being able to wrap one hand around his dick was a far away dream.

Adam slowly rocked his hips against your own, entering more and more of his dick into you. One finger was in your ass, and you could feel the second one already prodding against your once virgin entrance.

“You wanna be my little anal slut, baby? I doubt Judas has fucked that tight hole, do I have the honour of taking your anal virginity? So fucking hot.” He’s probably compensating for the fact that he wasn’t your first time.

The words caused you to be even more turned on. Adam gave your ass a spank, then he grabbed your ass cheek and pulled it apart, to take a proper look at your filled out holes. He groaned in satisfaction.

“Yeah, right. As if that prick can take anyone’s virginity. I felt how tight that pussy is.” Great, they remembered they can talk.

“Shut your fucking mouth. I keep that cunt satisfied,” Adam reached out, using his not occupied hand to pull you up by your shoulder, “Who’s your best lay, babe?”

“Shit. It’s you! Adam…My Adam.” You whined out.

He started slamming his dick against your pussy in anger, he let you go again and you went to rest the side of your head against Goldy’s thigh.

“Heard that? Not you, not anyone fucking else, me. Her Adam.” He sounded proud and arrogant.

Goldy rolled his eyes at him, “That’s cause she hasn’t fucked me yet, chump.”

Adam scissored your ass open, while scoffing at his alternate version. He focused his stroke against your sensitive spots inside. Fuck, you were going to cum again. You felt yourself tighten around Adam’s dick.

Goldy rubbed his dick against your cheek, giving it little slaps. He covered your hand with his and jerked with you together his dick off. You looked into his burning, golden eyes when you straightened your neck out to give kisses to his tip. He groaned.

You couldn’t even give a warning, before you knew it your orgasm crashed all over you. The fire of lust burned your whole body, twitching, convulsing and moaning uncontrollably.

Adam was the next one to cum, he held your hips still while he fucked into you sloppily. He mumbled something about how you should take his load.

The last one was Goldy. He sped up both of your hand movements, he grasped your hair into his hand and he made sure to cum all over your face when he did. You quickly closed your eyes. He came in buckets. Literally. You already thought Adam was bad but this guy really know how to out do hisself at every turn. His cum felt hot and stayed hot, while it had a weird silvery iridescent glow.

While you all catches your breath, you blindly reached out and used someone’s t-shirt to wipe your face somewhat clean. The guys didn’t notice because they were too busy discussing about how much dick size mattered. Secretly putting the shirt back, you sat down on your knees. Now what?

As soon as they noticed that you’re ready to go again, they grabbed you and hauled you into their preferred position. Which was reverse cowgirl with Adam, while Goldy kneeled in front of you, encouragingly cooing at you.

Adam lathered up his dick with lube, your ass was hovering over his tip. He grasped your hips into his hands, and slowly let you slide down on his dick. Once the tip was in, he let you control the speed of everything. Your mouth fell open and you whined at the uncomfortable feeling. It felt weird. Weirdly good. Not good enough to cum, but it was something. Unfamiliar. You think the idea of something so taboo and hot happening to you was what turned you on the most. You felt your pussy drip with the need to be filled again, or well, it’s probably Adam’s cum running down your leg.

You reached out to grasp Goldy’s arms into your hands. You dug your nails into his muscles and he chuckled at you,

“You’re doing so well, honey pot. You were really made to take dick, huh?”

“Shit, babe, why haven’t we done this earlier?” Probably because of his massive breeding kink but what do you know.

You rested your forehead against Goldy’s chest or maybe more like upper stomach, while you were finally able to sit down fully on Adam’s dick. He impatiently thrusted his hips up. Fucker. Goldy gently grasped your shoulders into his hands, and he laid you down. With your back against Adam’s chest, Goldy spread your legs apart. Adam turned your head so he could smash your lips together, while he groped at your breasts.

Now it was Goldy’s turn to lather his massive dick in lube. He pressed his tip against your pussy.

“Fuck, relax. Your pussy was made to take dick and have our babies. This will be great, trust me.” The way he grinned wasn’t very trust worthy, but you still took deep breaths.

You felt your breath hitch when you felt him press against your pussy again, this time he continued pressing. Adam scolded him, when he saw you bit your lip and blink away tears. Goldy’s thumb found your clit and he massaged firm, slow circles into it.

Pain and pleasure mixed deliciously in your hazy mind. Slowly, your pussy was being overstuffed. Goldy noticed when you had enough, his focus was on your facial expressions. There was still some parts of his dick which couldn’t fit in, but he’s going to take what he can get.

Goldy wrapped his hand completely around your waist, and he started moving you up and down just like that. He fucked you on the two dicks,

“You’re just like a fuck doll! Shit. You sure got the body for one, slut.” Goldy chuckled at that.

Goldy let go off you and both of the men started rolling their hips into yours. They parallely matched each others thrust. They started out slow and shallow, but with every moan of yours they sped up. Goldy kept his thumb pressed against your clit, flicking it whenever you seemed too quiet.

You raised your head slightly, to get a glimpse of what was going on and shit. Fuck. You could clearly see the outline of his dick through your stomach. He was deep in there. You subconsciously clenched around him.

Adam had his hands wrapped around your tits, massaging them while he sloppily kissed your cheek. He seemed to be getting lost in pleasure.

Even though they didn’t share a hole, you felt them rub against each other inside you. It was hot. Being completely stuffed like that. Fuck. It was all so overwhelming, you were completely enveloped with Adam and Adam and Adam and Adam and all you could see, hear, smell, taste, think of was Adam. No matter what universe he was from.

“Don’t stop! I’m cumming, fuck, shit. Ah!” You wrapped your legs around Goldy, to keep him close. As if he could ever pull out. You were already sensitive from cumming two times, so it didn’t surprise you so much that it suddenly washed over you.

“Fuck already- Ah, Nevermind, me too..!” Adam groaned directly into your ear.

“The only annoying thing about heaven is that you can’t knock anyone up. Really hope this takes. Wanna be my breeding bitch?” Goldy’s voice was raspy, and he came in hot spurts into your pussy.

Adam ended up filling your ass, you immediately felt it drip out of you.

They both moved in such a coordinated way, their dicks still inside of you when the flopped on their sides. It reminds you off the way you guys share a bed, kind off. So you all were on your sides now, and while Adam’s half hard dick had a slight cool down, Goldy was already ready to go again. He was pulsing inside off you.

Goldy hiked your leg over his hip, and he started bullying his dick into you again. True penetration. You simply rested your cheek against his chest. Letting him use you to his hearts content.

Adam snaked his hand in between your and Goldy’s body. He found your clit and started massaging it while his dick started to get hard again. It didn’t take much longer after that for him to start slamming his dick into your ass again.

Overstimulation flashed throughout your body, like electricity. You felt tears trickle down your cheeks. It hurt, but the pain was pleasant. Your mind was delirious and hazy. They were too good. Your nipples rubbed against Goldy’s ample, hairy stomach and god all you wanted was to be trapped between their two huge bodies forever.

“ -Clearly better, made her cum 3 times now!” Goldy gloated.

“Are you fucking stupid? Without me you wouldn’t have made her cum, trust me, asshole.”

Man, they were at it again. They are really the ones who should fuck, instead of using you as a middle man.

Your eyes rolled briefly to the top of your head, it was hard keeping focus. They threw some more insults at each other. They kept pressing their bodies closer and closer, their noses nearly touching. Until they smashed their lips together, having the most hate filled make out session you have ever seen. Why is that the hottest thing you have ever seen?

That’s kind of unfair, Adam can kiss the angel but you can’t. Once the kiss stopped, their lips a nice blush colour from them biting each other, you looked up at them pathetically. Adam groaned and rolled his eyes at you,

“One time.”

He placed his other hand on the back of your head and smashed your lips together with Goldy’s. It reminded you of someone playing with dolls. His thick tongue immediately shoved its way inside your mouth, exploring greedily. You missed the tongue piercing a bit.

You choked on his spit, causing you to disconnect your lips while you cought up your lungs. Goldy immediately went to chase your lips with his own, but Adam roughly yanked on Goldy’s hair. He moaned at that.

“Mind your fucking manners, asshole. You know what you fucking agreed to.” Adam hissed out.

You didn’t agree to shit. You’re just happy to be included, to be honest.

You felt pleasurable pressure build up in your stomach. It felt similar to how your orgasms felt, just…different? It kind of scared you. Like you needed to completely let go for it to burst through. Sadly for you, you didn’t really have the mental capacity to hold back anything, since they really were fucking you with everything they got.

“WaaaAit-“ You squirted all over their dicks, and just like that you felt yourself slump forward. Everything went black for a solid minute.

Big, gentle hands rubbed all over your back, shoulders, and hips. Both of them were carefully calling your name.

“There’s our girl.” They sounded relieved.

“Ready for another round?” Goldy asked, rolling his hips into your overstimulated cunt. He just came, you could feel it from the burning inside your womb.

You slammed your fist against his chest, shaking your head no, “No. Enough.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re the boss, baby.”

The both of them carefully pulled out of you, cum immediate leaking out of you in mass. Jesus. That’s a clean up problem for tomorrow you. Or maybe you will force the boys to do it.

You three sat on the floor, while you were recovering the idiots were back to measuring their dicks. Literally. Taking the opportunity where there weren’t looking at you for once (the both of them were really interested in seeing the after math in between your legs) you wobbled unsteadily into the bed room. Silently closing the door, you decided to also lock it when they started to raise the volume.

Pulling on panties and Adam’s sleeping shirt, you threw yourself into the bed. It has been getting crowded the last few days, having the big bed to yourself is nice actually. You heard the lock rattle and whining from the other side of the door, together with scratching, like a dog begging to be let in. You just let yourself drift off to sleep.

You woke up in the morning, wrapped in a mess of limbs and wings. Sitting up slightly, you saw that they completely uninstalled the lock. Great.

[werecreature-addicted]

So in to the werewolf who needs to be collared and gently dommed. He’s a sweet boy but he’s just so carless sometimes. Leaving messes. Knocking things over. Getting dirt and slobber in the house. Naughty boys have to be punished. And don’t get me started on how thinks he deserves to get his dick wet. He thinks he’s a big tough guy who’s cock you cannot live without, but as soon you deny him even a little bit, he turns into a whining mess that will do anything you ask. He’s gotta work for that reward.

You're sick of it. you're sick of cleaning up mud every night just to have fresh muddy paw prints tracked through your house the next day. You're sick of dirty dishes piled in the sink when your werewolf boyfriend promised he'd do them. You're sick of feeling more like a maid than a partner.

It started off small, just brushing off his advances. There was something really un-sexy about a guy who apparently can't even do his own laundry.

He was frustrated. it had been so long since he'd gotten any release. and he has no idea why you're giving him the cold shoulder. enough is enough. He catches you, pins you against the wall, and demands to know why you're avoiding him.

"I'm putting my foot down. I'm not going to have sex with you until you start cleaning up after yourself. I'm not your maid. I don't want to have sex with a man-child," you huff. He smirks down at you

"Awee is that what you're upset about. okay okay, I promise that I'll start cleaning up after myself. now come here and give me a kiss-" he said leaning in to kiss you but you jerked your head to the side avoiding his mouth.

"No. not until after you proved yourself," you stood firm. he grinned down at you, condescendingly, You look so cute, pouting and pinned to the wall, completely at his mercy.

"Yeah, babe? Do you think you can resist me?" he asked, reaching down to pull down his pants just enough to show the base of his cock. "you know you want this dick," he thinks he's being sexy. Normally you'd be all over him- playing along and agreeing that yeah you do want his dick but now you're just... glaring at him. You don't look a little bit flustered or tempted.

"I'm good thanks," you say briskly and brush him off. He's left there stunned. How can you not want him at all? He feels like he's going crazy without you.

You reject him at every turn. Can he get just a hand job? no. Will you let him go down on you? no. Can he just- please pretty please hump your leg? You don't even respond to that one.

The next day the home is spotless and dinner is cooked for you with flowers. You're a little stunned at the swiftness of the change.

"Please can I have you now? I've been a good boy, right? Please I need you," he whimpers, nuzzling at your neck, needing any kind of stimulation, just your scent is enough to get him hard.

"...no," you decide. he about cries, how could you be so mean to him?

"You'll just go back to ignoring the chores tomorrow if I let you have a reward now," you say more teasing than anything.

"How much longer until you give me a treat?" he asks.

"At least a week."

For the first time since the two of you got together, he jerks off. it's unsatisfying, to say the least. He's learned his lesson. he'll be a good boy from now on just please please, please make him cum.

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Roomies - Edmund Pevensie x Reader Modern AU!

Word count: 4.2k

I just had a glorious idea about a modern Narnia AU. I'm not British so lmao. Football in this means Soccer. slay

Fem identifying reader. Mention of having long hair.

Summary: Edmund is an asshole AND your roommate. But he also happens to be a really attractive asshole roommate. And apparently, a really possessive one too.

Warnings: Language, smut, mutual pining, SO SWEET at the end!!

I'm down bad for him

"What time will you be back today?" You and Edmund were in the kitchen, eating breakfast before your day of classes began.

You glanced at him, shirtless in all his glory, eating a piece of toast. He was leaning on the counter, watching you butter your own.

"My writing class was canceled so I will be back around 1." Edmund audibly sighs, a sign that he will definitely have company over at that time. "Don't ask me to stay on campus. Just because you can't keep it in your pants doesn't mean I should be exiled from my own home."

Edmund pushes himself off of the counter, chuckling to himself.

"I wasn't gonna ask you anything. I just didn't think you'd be one to listen though." Before you could respond, he was gone.

Several hours later, you pulled into your parking spot in front of your and Edmund's apartment. You had since forgotten about your earlier conversation until you opened your front door to hear the oh-so-delightful noises of Edmund's newest friend moaning at the top of her lungs.

You have to stop yourself from gagging.

"Jesus." The time was 1:30. You had given him thirty extra minutes. "I fucking hate him." This was untrue, as you really did not hate the handsome man who you lived with. Underneath your facade of disdain and disgust, lay your actual feelings toward your roommate. Ever since he took his sister Lucy's spot in the lease for her year abroad, you developed a minor, (major!!!), crush on him. And your feelings of disgust? Totally not jealousy!

You had spent the better half of the last five months trying not to listen to him and his lady friends in his room and pining over him from yours.

How could you not be attracted to Edmund Pevensie? A pre-law major with dark hair and dark eyes, and a dashing smile. Not to mention the spatter of freckles that covered his body, toned from years of playing football. Jesus, you were down so bad for your flatmate.

You set your stuff down on the couch in your shared living space and turned to the sink where his dishes lay, unclean. Still able to hear the actions of the lovely people downstairs, you turn your music up all the way to drown out the noise before unloading the dishwasher and loading it again with his dishes.

Minutes later, the front door opens and closes, signifying that Edmund's friend has left. You turn your music down and focused on the plate you are scrubbing, dried mac and cheese would not come out in the dishwasher, as Edmund walked up the stairs.

"Ah. So you are home." His accent makes you smile the slightest bit. You can see him in your peripheral, shirtless with grey sweats low on his hips. You move your eyes away quickly. "Did you enjoy what you heard, darling?" Rolling your eyes, you look at him, not giving into the flutter of your heart when he called you darling.

"You're a pig, Pevensie." You weren't anticipating his next move and were startled when his lips were suddenly on your cheek.

"You love me."

"Ew!" Glaring at him, you wipe the wetness from his lips off of your face and then wipe your hand on a paper towel only to find him grinning at you. You do a once-over of his uncovered torso, which you could now see was adorned with scratches and bruises. "Go put a shirt on." Edmund glances down, smile widening, before looking back at you.

"And cover up the view? Nah." You move to put the plate you had been washing away in the cabinet and then suddenly, Edmund is behind you, his body only inches from yours.

You try to ignore the heat radiating off of his bare skin and how his fingers brush yours when he reaches above you to grab a bowl. He steps away quickly and if he noticed a change in your demeanor, he didn't bring it up. You left the kitchen area, grabbed your backpack, and went to your room.

How in the world did he have this effect on you? As soon as your door was closed and you were safe in the comfort of your bedroom, you let out a sigh of relief. A buzz pulled your attention from your feelings toward Edmund to your phone.

r u going to the party tn???

It was your friend Alyssa, whom you had met freshman year in your Intro to Psychology class.

You know I don't like parties.

You flop on your bed, awaiting her pleading response. In truth, you didn't hate parties, you just didn't see the point in going out and getting drunk with strangers when you could get drunk in the pleasure of your own home.

im coming over at 8 and we are getting ready together

You knew there wouldn't be a point in fighting her on the topic since sooner or later she would have convinced you to go.

Hours later, after Edmund had left for his evening classes, and also the party you presumed, Alyssa knocked on your front door and seconds later walked into your room.

"Is he here?" You sit up on your bed, your book falling onto your comforter beside you.

"No." Alyssa had gone straight into your closet, pulling out an outfit for you to wear.

"Good. That way he won't know you are going tonight." Your eyebrow quirks up.

"What does that mean?"

She turned to you, a smirk gracing her tanned face.

"We both know that if your roomie knew you were going tonight, he would have texted all his little friends to keep away from you."

This was true and it was annoying, but one night while drunk, you had let it slip to him that you were a virgin. Since then, Edmund had made sure that no guys would talk to you at parties.

You made no effort to argue and reached over to pick up what she had chosen for you to wear. It was simple, a pair of faux leather pants and a black lace corset. (the urban one iykyk)

"Alyssa, I haven't worn this top out-"

"All the more reason to wear it tonight! C'mon! It will be fun! Besides, maybe Ed will finally take notice of your feelings and how hot you are."

"Alyssa!" She smiles.

"Ok fine. But maybe you'll meet another guy. Since our good friend hasn't had time to scare anyone away."

The idea intrigues you, maybe you'd have a good time tonight.

You notice what she is wearing, a pair of straight-leg jeans and a black tank top. She looks amazing, as always. You get up to sit at your desk to begin applying your makeup.

"So what do you suppose he will do when he sees you looking all sexy?"

"Nothing?" Your reply earns you an eyebrow raise.

"Nothing? You don't think he's gonna react at all?"

You shrug, leaning forward to perfect your winged eyeliner.

"There is nothing he can do now. If he wants to try and ruin my night, he can go ahead. If I'm going to this party, I intend on having a good time." Alyssa giggles.

"Maybe even get laid?" You whip around in your chair to glare at her.

"Seriously?" Her laughter grows.

"Hey, if not by Edmund, you're bound to find someone at this party!"

Your heart beats faster at the thought.

...

You and Alyssa arrive at the party at around eleven. It has been going on for about an hour so it had grown quite large. The other girls around you are dressed similarly to you, bringing some comfort into the oddness you felt about your appearance. Alyssa had requested you wear your hair down and straight and you obliged.

To be honest, you did look amazing. The corset had been a perfect fit, makes your chest look fantastic, and the pants fit you like a glove, hugging your ass so well that when you saw yourself in the mirror, you were surprised. The look was completed with your dark green platform converse, which somehow made you feel comfortable.

While walking through the crowd of people, you keep your eye out for a certain raven-haired boy, but couldn't seem to find him.

"Hey, don't think about him. Just have a good time." Alyssa nudges your arm and you nod, disregarding the looming thought of Edmund's reaction to your appearance at the party.

"You're right. I'm gonna go get a drink." You leave her in a room filled with sweaty university students to find the kitchen, where you presumed the alcohol to be.

To be honest? You felt great. You looked great and with no Edmund around, you had nothing to worry about. If you wanted to flirt with a cute guy, you would.

You round the corner and spot the kitchen, and a pack of Trulys, and made a beeline for the drinks. As you fish a black cherry seltzer out of the box you hear someone call your name.

"Y/N!" You turn abruptly and came face to face with a familiar face.

Sam, a friend of Edmund's from football, smiling at you.

"How are you?" Sam is very attractive, with blond hair and sparkly blue eyes, he's the complete opposite of Edmund.

"I'm alright." You smile at him.

"I didn't expect you to be here."

"Yeah, it was kind of a last-minute decision." You take a swig of your drink as he smiles down at you.

"Well, I'm glad. I was hoping I would be able to speak to you at some point. Ed's always telling the team to stay away from you." You roll your eyes.

"Sorry about that, I don't know why he does that. Is he here tonight?" Sam nods.

"Yeah, he's somewhere around here." Sam glances around, as if nervous that he'd get in trouble for talking to you. "Do you wanna dance?"

"Sure!" Sam takes your hand and leads you back into the room where you left Alyssa, back to the loud music and dancing. It is then that you see Edmund for the first time.

He's walking down the stairs holding hands with a pretty blonde girl who is dressed in a dark green slip dress. You wrap your arms around Sam and pull him into your body. His hands settle on your hips, fingers hooking onto your belt loops and pulling you closer.

You make eye contact with Edmund and his eyes widen and then narrow at the sight of you with Sam. You can see him mouth something to the girl he is with but instead of paying attention to him, you focus on Sam.

The two of you dance to the music and you forget about Edmund. You realize you have run out of your drink and tap Sam's shoulder.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just need another drink! Give me like fifteen minutes. I need to check on my friend, too." You smile at him before returning to the kitchen, where you happen to find Alyssa.

"Hi!" Lord, she is drunk. "I've missed you! Where have you been?" You giggle at her antics, pouring yourself a shot of vodka, the burning causing you to make a face as you take it.

"I've been dancing! With a guy named Sam from the football team!"

Her eyes widen in shock and she grins at you.

"OMG. Fucking finally!" She takes the initiative to pour you, and her, another shot.

...

Ten minutes later, and maybe 4 more shots later, you and Alyssa are drunk off of your asses.

"So you're telling me that if Sam wanted to take you home tonight, you'd say no?" Her arm is clasped around your forearm.

"Yes." You can't contain your giggling.

"But why? He's so hot and obviously into you!"

Your face flushes as you think of the real reason you don't want to spend the night with Sam.

"You know why." You take a sip of your newly opened Truly and glare at her.

A deadpan look blooms on her face.

"I forgot." Your eyes roll.

"Because I like someone else!" Alyssa gets really excited at this news.

"WHO?" You shush her, her voice well above the other chatter in the small kitchen you are in.

"You know who!" Her face contorts into confusion.

"No, I don't."

"It's..." You look around, suddenly very aware through your drunken haze, just to make sure there aren't any lurkers to hear your conversation. "It's Edmund!" You whisper.

"Oh! I did know that!" She giggles and takes a sip of her drink. "Yeah, I remember how you said you were jealous of all of the girls he fucked and how you wished he would-"

"Jesus Christ, Alyssa! Shut up!" She continues.

"just fuck you already!" Your face is red and you are mortified. Anyone passing by could have heard what you had been talking about. "Don't worry babe. Everyone here is way too drunk to even remember this conversation. I'm too drunk to remember this conversation!" A small smile graces your lips. "So, how do you want him to do it?" You hit her arm.

"Alyssa!"

"What? I wanna hear about your Edmund fantasies!" Your blush deepens. "C'mon!"

"Fuck- fine. I've always imagined him..." You cannot believe you are speaking your deepest secret aloud, at a party nonetheless. "I don't know. Cornering me in the kitchen." Alyssa squeals.

"Counter sex!" The girl is fucking giddy at the thought of you getting some action in your kitchen. You roll your eyes but nod.

"I guess..." Suddenly, you remember the nice boy you had been dancing with. "Shit! I have to go find Sam! He probably thinks I ditched him. Will you be ok?" She smiles and nods at you.

You trek back into the masses to find the blonde guy and he's right where you left him. You catch his eyes and smile.

"Hey! I'm so sorry. I found my friend and we ended up talking for a bit. I didn't mean to leave you here." He doesn't respond right away and looks away from your eyes, glancing around. "Is everything ok? You look uncomfortable."

"Listen, you are really nice but I don't think this is gonna work out." Confusion wipes across your face.

"What the hell? We were just dancing!" You don't understand what you could have done to make him act this way.

"It's not you, really. It's just-" You cut him off, suddenly very aware of what was happening.

"He told you to leave me alone, didn't he?" Sam looks apologetic as he nods.

"I'm sorry, I really like you." You run a hand through your hair.

"I'm so fucking done with this." You leave Sam and look around for the dark mess of hair you know so well. You're pissed. Even though you weren't going to do anything with Sam, you were still glad to have the option. You decided then and there that you were done with Edmund deciding things for you.

You found him in the kitchen, drinking a beer and laughing with some of his football mates.

"Edmund!" His head turns to you and he grins. "Stop fucking with me!" You somehow have the courage to get all up in his face. His stupid, Goddamn handsome face. "Stop telling any guy I see to stop talking to me. It's my fucking life. Stay out of it."

Edmund licks his lips and his gaze rakes down your body, making you very aware of the fact you are in lingerie in front of your roommate.

"Whatever you say, darling." His friends laugh and you leave before Edmund can see your face heat up. You find Alyssa dancing in the other room and pull her aside.

"I'm ready to leave whenever you are. I can't be around him right now." She nods frantically.

"Omg. Ok. Yeah, let's go!"

The two of you leave the party and begin the, thankfully short, walk to Alyssa's place.

"Do you wanna stay the night?" You thought about what would happen if you went home, would Edmund be home tonight? Would he not? You remember the blonde from earlier.

"No, I'll get an Uber home. I don't think he's going to be home anytime soon and I'd like to sleep in my own bed." Alyssa nods and the two of you talk until your Uber arrives.

"Text me when you get home." You nod and hug her.

"I'm sorry for making you leave early."

"No! If one of us wants to leave, we leave. That's the rule." She ushers you out of her door. "Sleep well!" A grin appears on her face. "With visions of Edmund dancing in your head!"

"Fuck off!" You glare before getting into the car.

As you expect, Edmund is not at the apartment when you get back and you are able to go to your room without him and blondie interfering. A small bubbling of jealousy and anger blooms in your gut when you think about what he is probably doing right now. With her. Shaking it off, you brush your teeth and slip into bed before falling asleep.

...

You wake up the next morning with a splitting headache. Groaning as you roll out of bed, you close your blinds to make your room dimmer. As you go upstairs you listen for any movement in Edmund's room, praying he isn't home yet. You breathe a sigh of relief when you're greeted with silence on the other side.

As you walk up the stairs, you halt in your tracks as you see him sitting on the couch. Clad in grey sweats and nothing else, he makes your heart flutter, even though you are pissed at him. You don't engage with him at all, avoiding his gaze as you walk to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water.

While opening the bottle of Advil you hear Edmund move from the couch. You take the meds and open the dishwasher to put your glass inside. When you stand, Edmund is behind you, his hands set on the counter, effectively caging you in. Your breath catches in your throat.

"So, is this how you imagined it?" His voice is right next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Me fucking you in the kitchen?" Your eyes widen in shock. His lips graze your neck as he murmurs... "Answer me." Your words are stuck in your throat, thoughts going wild in your head.

Had he heard you and Alyssa last night?

You are brought out of your thoughts when Edmund dips his head further down and kisses where your neck meets your shoulder. "C'mon hun, let me make make you feel good." His lips travel up to your throat and you melt back into his body. He whispers in your ear, "Please?"

His hands leave the counter to rest on your waist, his fingers just slightly touching your bare skin where your shirt had been riding up moments before.

"Don't make me beg, love." He turns you around, bringing his body closer to you. You don't reply, too flustered with his actions to say anything. He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Ok, fine. I'll beg." He grins.

Edmund's hands reach down to pick you up, setting you on the counter. He steps in between your legs, setting his hands on your thighs while his thumbs draw circles on your bare skin.

"Do you know how many times I've thought about surprising you in the shower? Just so I could see you naked?" His gaze is still trained on your eyes. "Do you know how many times I've heard you touching yourself in your room? Wishing it was me who was making you feel that way?" He looks down at your lips and then back up to your eyes. "Do you know how many times I've thought about this moment? Last night? After I saw you dancing with Sam in that outfit... You looked stunning, my love." He moves to be right above your face, his lips so close they could touch yours. "So many Goddamn times, baby. So please," He pouts the slightest bit. "Let me make you feel good."

Kiss me.

As if he could read your mind, he does. Your hands fly to his hair and pull him into you even more, his lower half fully against you.

And oh.

Oh.

You pull away, looking down at his hips with wide eyes. Edmund laughs.

"Darling this is what you do to me. Every." He kisses your shoulder. "Bloody." Your neck. "Day." Your jaw. He pulls away so you are able to see him. His perfect hair, and his perfect smile, and his perfect freckles.

And the fucking devil in his eyes.

"So are you going to let me act on your fantasies? Or are we just going to go back to you thinking about me when you touch yourself at night and me pretending not to get off on it?" You lean forward to kiss him again and he leans back, running his tongue over his lips. "Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?" A deep blush blooms on your cheeks.

"Yes." It's barely above a whisper but it's audible. When he hears your response, he smiles again.

"Fucking finally."

His lips return to yours and his grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you against him again. You tighten your thighs around him, reveling in the taste of his lips.

"Oh my God." He murmurs against your lips. Your hands travel down his neck and to his bare shoulders and your nails dig into his skin just a bit, making him hiss in sweet pain.

"Fuck." His hands start to pull at your shorts. "Off. Now." You lift yourself up so he can pull them down, along with your underwear. He groans as he looks down. "Bloody hell." One of his hands wipes over his face, taking you in. His bottom lip pulls in between his teeth as he looks into your eyes again. "Darling, I'd absolutely love to taste you but I'm afraid I'll explode if I don't fuck you soon." His fingers find his waistband and he pauses at your wide eyes. "Do you want to do it?"

Holy Hell you can feel the effects of his words on the surface below you. He gently grabs your hands, setting them on his hips. "Go ahead." You do as your told and push the fabric down his thighs. You look away, not quite ready to take witness to your roommates dick.

"I need you to say it one more time. Do you want this?" You look into his eyes.

"Yes." He smiles, his lips on yours and brings himself to your core.

"Take a deep breath, my love." When you do, Edmund pushes into you. The pain takes you by surprise and you let out a grunt of pain. He catches your lips with his and draws patterns on your skin with his free hand. Your nails dig into his back once again and he groans into your mouth when he bottoms out. "If you keep doing that I'm not going to last long." He begins moving very slowly. The pain slowly becomes pleasure. "I wanna make this good for you."

You drop your head to his shoulder.

"Oh my god, Ed it's-." His mouth is close to your ear making you hear all of the sounds he's making. "Fuck!"

"Holy shit."

"Ed-" You gasp, hands on his shoulders, as he stops moving.

"Please don't make me stop. I've been wanting this for so long." He lays his forehead on your shoulder and you can tell it's taking every ounce of his self-control not to move.

"No- I was just gonna ask if..." You pause to catch your breath. "if you could go faster.

"Jesus. You're perfect." His breath on your skin makes you flush again and then, the wonderful sensation you had felt moments before begins again.

"You're doing so well, love. So well."

Edmund begins to pick up his pace and you whine into his neck.

"Oh-" Edmund's fingers are suddenly on your clit, forcing your thighs to tighten around his. Your hips rock into his as you feel yourself begin to near your high. With his fingers on your clit, his bruising grip on your thighs, and his fucking dick inside of you, it takes only a few more seconds before you are releasing around him. Edmund moans after feeling you squeeze around him and it's the sexiest thing you've ever heard.

"You're so fucking perfect."

He releases soon after and he catches his breath.

He pulls away, looking at your face.

"Are you ok?" You smile.

Despite his asshole actions of the past 24 hours, Edmund does truly care about you. He's always taken care of you. He always made sure you had dinner, would always cover you with a blanket if you had fallen asleep upstairs, always made you tea and soup when you were sick.

"I'm perfectly fine." You grin at him.

You remember all of his comments to you, all of the pet-names he's called you.

"Ed, how long? How long have you wanted this?" He grins back at you.

"My love it was you the moment Lucy brought you home to visit during Christmas."

"Edmund that was three years ago!" His smile grows.

He dips down to kiss you.

"I'm a patient man."

Wait i heart them

I hope that was enjoyable l o l.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for not getting my roommate a birthday gift and insulting them when they got mad about it?

I don’t really think I’m the asshole (or at least the only asshole) but it’s become such a Situation I need some outside input.

So I and my roommate Ollie (both 18, gender irrelevant) have been living together in a college dorm for a couple months now. We aren’t friends, but we’re friendly. We talk a little in passing but nothing more. We get along for the most part, but my main issue is that Ollie has so much stuff.

I’ve lived with it for months but it’s always a mild annoyance. There’s stuff on our bathroom counter, the kitchen counter, always dishes in the sink and their desk is always a mess. We have separate sides of the room and separate spaces for our food and dishes in the sink and for our shower stuff and bathroom stuff but it still drives me crazy because there’s always clutter around. I haven’t talked to them about it because I don’t want them to get mad at me for trying to micromanage them—I don’t know if they would’ve but now they definitely would.

Also, I think we have a pretty big gap in how much money we have. We both have a meal plan so we can eat at the cafeteria on campus but their part of the fridge is always overflowing. They have a ton of expensive and what look like kinda redundant products, like five bottles of perfume on their desk, and I even saw cotton candy grapes in the fridge?? I haven’t been to the store in a while but I don’t think those are cheap. There’s also a ton of Starbucks and takeout food in the trash too. I on the other hand have to save the money I have (a couple hundred) to put towards a summer class. Even if I wanted to get them a birthday gift, I think it would come down to that or, like, gas money to go home for a weekend

Ollie’s birthday was a little over a week ago. They spent the day out with their friends from what I could tell off social media and when they came back they had a few grocery bags and an Amazon box or two, and once they set them down they asked me what I’d gotten for them.

I asked what they were talking about, and they said for their birthday. I told them I didn’t get them anything and then they started mumbling about fake friends and how they were nothing but nice to me and I couldn’t even give them anything in return. I’m not great on social cues so they might have been joking or sarcastic here but I told them they were crazy if they thought I was gonna add to any of their piles of useless stuff around here and called them a hoarder (that may be too harsh but I mean, I saw a Wendy’s receipt from October on their desk last week. It’s February.) They got really pissed and started swearing at me and I forget most of what was said after that but it escalated, we ended up screaming, they left for the night, it was bad.

Since then their friend from high school, we’ll call her Ruby (21F I think) has been blowing up my phone. Telling me I have no right to talk to Ollie like that, that I’m a shitty friend and she ought to just block me (we aren’t friends so idk where this one came from), and told me that apparently Ollie’s mom was some kind of a reclusive hoarder and Ollie has been crying and worrying about becoming like her. I honestly don’t believe this last one because I met their mom when we moved in last September and she seemed like a completely nice person.

Ollie hasn’t been back here. I think they got their essentials while I was in class and is staying with Ruby now, she lives in a building just off campus. I reached out to make sure they were okay and, you know, alive, and they just said “don’t fucking text me I’m fine don’t worry about it.” I have pretty bad anxiety, it’s been six days and it’s still almost all I can think about. I feel like I should apologize but I’m honestly not sure if I’m in the wrong or not. So, aita?

What are these acronyms?

[they-call-me-emmy]

The Past is The Past 3

Part 1 and 2 on my account <3

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tara was faced with her 3 ghostface, and this time got so seriously injured she was in a coma. When she wakes up, she has no memory of the past 3 years...including you, her girlfriend.

Notes: Imagine this as our gals scream 7...since Jenna apparently quit and left me fucking DYING

Warnings: Uh, injury, violence, blood, our boy ghostyface with knives. Coma and memory loss if thats even a warning. Swearing. Uhm. Shitty 7th grade writing.

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

Tara pushed the food around her plate using her fork. She'd barely eaten a bite all dinner, busy glaring at Sam and avoiding any sort of eye contact with Y/N.

"So." Sam began, putting a hand to her mouth and pausing, to finish chewing. "Y/N. How's life been treating you? I haven't seen you around in a while."

There was a second of silence as Y/N finished her food.

"Fine." She stated, setting her fork down on her napkin. "Work's been rough, but nothing besides that."

Sam nodded. "You work at that bookstore, right? The one with the bunny in the window? I drive by it on my way to the grocery store."

Tara had no idea what they were talking about. She hadn't gone shopping since she'd come home. What bookstore? What bunny? It was like listening to people speaking nonsense.

"Yeah. That's the one. Shifts have been longer recently, we're low on staff."

Sam nodded, continuing to eat. Y/N cleared her throat.

"Tara," Tara startled from her daze at the sound of her name, in Y/N's voice no less. "Sam's been telling me your getting back into horror? Is that true?"

Tara glared at Sam.

"I've always been into horror."

Y/N nodded, pursing her lips, sensing the tension in the room. The need to just...not talk.

"I was-" Y/N cleared her throat and took a sip of water. "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to watch some of your favorites...y'know, the few we watched in the last year you really enjoyed? I wouldn't mind re-watching them with you."

Tara couldn't help but feel weird. She's watched movies with this girl. She'd watched horror movies. She'd watched horror movies and enjoyed them. With this girl? This girl she hardly knew now?

"Maybe."

Y/N nodded.

"I've been busy lately." Tara pushed a cooked carrot into her napkin. She didn't like those.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Tara, you've been sitting on your ass for the past week-"

Tara suddenly stood up. "I'm finished. I'm going to go wash the dishes." She took Sam and Y/N's plates and left without another word.

Tara knew they'd talk the moment she left. She hovered at the door, running the sink in the background so they'd think she was cleaning. Maybe they'd mention the big thing tonight. Maybe they'd say something that would finally help her understand her past.

"I'm sorry she's being an ass." Sam's voice was muffled through the kitchen door.

"It's fine. I wasn't expecting a heartwarming welcome. I mean, come on, I'm practically a stranger to her. And it's hard on her too, Sam. Remember she's struggling too."

Tara would have felt mad if anyone else had said this, as if they pitied her and felt sorry for her state of mind. But hearing those words, those words in Y/N's sweet voice...felt like reassurance that someone understand how she'd been struggling.

"I know...I'm trying to get her to...connect. Y'know? Re-enforce those bonds...god, you two were like peas in a pod. I can't imagine how long it'll take for that to be back, especially with her new...attitude." Sam sounded empathetic, but there was still a twinge of annoyance in her voice.

"I'm not expecting it to just click again...but I can wait. I'm assuming you haven't told her?" Y/N asked.

Tara could feel her heart beat a little faster. Was this it? Was she about to learn what this secret was that everyone seemed so desperate to avoid?

"No. I don't feel like it's the right time. I mean, you see the way she is. Putting that much more pressure on her is bound to do no good."

"You have to tell her at some point." Y/N said. "You and her would both prefer you telling her rather then her randomly learning one day, or even worse, getting a flash of memory from it. The doctor did say those happen, especially with traumatic experiences, at least in her case."

"I don't feel like now is the right time."

"Soon, Sam. Please. The girl deserves to know. This is important."

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I'm a slut for comments people.

[oceanlue]

spicy idea but could you write about the yv boys getting their fingers sucked? (this could be sfw too maybe)

Fingers 🖐🏻

Alphonse 🧁 🍭

You were in the kitchen baking some cupcakes and also making some icing for the cupcakes it was going to be a red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing

Alphonse wanted to come help you so he came into the kitchen it was helping with the icing mixing and adding some ingredients

As you finish the cupcakes and put them away for the shop there was still some icing left and alfons being a little sneaky is tried some icing you already put the spatula into the sink so he used his fingers instead

He offered you the bowl since he had some on his fingers but you decide to be a cheeky little sneaker and eat the icing that was on his fingers it was a little bit hot for him to see you do that but he didn't mind

" oh boo if you wanted something sweet we could have gone upstairs and I can make you something real sweet and it won't be cupcakes"

Seth 🏕 🍂

Seth was helping you in the kitchen making some Cinnabons because ever since you started making them he can't get enough of them but he doesn't eat them all the time

You told him how to make them from scratch and this was a lovely evening the weather outside was perfect autumn Breeze and everything in the house was nice and perfect so why not make some Cinnabons

As you were putting the Cinnabons into the oven you taught him how to make the icing for the cinnamon buns

And as the Buns were done and you waited for a bit before pouring the icing on Seth got some icing on his fingers and hands and was going to go wash them off before you stopped him and then start licking his hands he was shocked what you did but he didn't mind one bit

" damn sugar never knew you can do that with your mouth how about me and you can go upstairs and let these Cinnabons cool down and you can put that mouth to good use"

Finn 🌻🪴

Sin was making some food for a potluck that he was invited to and his Orchid was helping him make it too you guys were making a nice warm soup a cauliflower soup to be exact and it was delicious

And he was going to have some trouble bringing it into the car so you helped him with that as you put the pot into the car he got some soup on his hands it didn't burn him but it was really messy

He walked back in saw you doing dishes and ask if he can use the sink to wipe his hand off instead of allowing him to wipe his hand you brought his hand to your mouth and licked the remaining soup off his hand after you were done you said "tasty"

" Orchid that was very s..shameful......... what you did but if you want to continue I wouldn't mind being late to the potluck today"

Auron 🖊 ☕

Auron decided that today's date will be just inside his penthouse he wanted you to teach him how to make a specific kind of dessert of course you said yes because who wouldn't spend a nice evening with a hunk of man like him

As you got into his Penthouse he was wearing his casual clothes that you made him get when you guys went shopping because apparently to you he doesn't have normal clothes

Honestly you did thought he looked very hot In Those Jeans and the way they tightened around his bottom really made you think you were the right person to get him those jeans

I'm not sure he was wearing even though it was black complimented his figure his man boobs his six pack is nice waist hips everything about this man was screaming

But anyways you taught him how to bake from scratch and nice cheesecake, strawberry cheesecake

And when you guys were having fun they're on smiled again showing off is beautiful smile as beautiful face

And as you guys are putting away all the things to let the cheesecake cool down and kind of went in the gutter and swiped some cheesecake cream out of the bowl and pointed it towards you and saying "suck"

You did and after he took his fingers out of your mouth you said tasty

" you know real if you wanted me that bad all you had to do was ask and don't think I didn't notice when you were looking at my ass earlier I think you did this on purpose when you wanted me to wear these jeans I think I should give you a punishment rook"

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

Sorry this took so long things have been busy

Hope you like it

Peace out

💙💙💙

[thatseitagremlin]

gremlyn's danganronpa: despair time x limbus company au: hell's chicken edition (in which arei is also the ultimate conflict escalator)

the number of students who canonically can cook is actually rather high, but with 17 of these bastards running around there's bound to be Multiple incidents... (more yapping under cut!)

drdt cast's canon cooking abilities notes: -) has cooked in-universe: eden (ch1e3 baking + ch2e1 breakfast), hu (ch1e5 dinner), levi (ch2e1 breakfast), nico & veronika (ch2e3 breakfast), charles (ch2e4 cucumber flowers... do they count?? but he can cook eggs by ch2e8 so i'm putting him here) -) implied that they can cook: min (ch1e3 baking; afaik eden does most of the steps but she was there for the scene and understands the processes so i'll just put her here), rose (ch1e3 baking + ch2e6 lunch: "i was apparently supposed to help cook this meal"), j (ch2e1: "...the last thing i feel like doing is cooking"), arei (ch2e1: "but i also don't want to cook. what to do...") -) stated in qnas: whit (best cook in the cast, specialty is french), david (can cook decently but is usually too lazy to), xander (has a weak sense of taste and compensates by adding in Too much flavor, so his food is inedible to everyone else) -) disaster in the kitchen: teruko (ch1e1 investigation + ch1e5 dinner uses this exact wording, but i assume this mostly pertains to her bad luck fucking up electronics since she makes her own food throughout ch2) -) unknown: ace, arturo (afaik these two's cooking ability have never been mentioned so far!), mai (we barely know anything about her. so)

i split up all 16 sinners (replacing whit with mai, since arei banned him from the competition) into four teams of 4. i initially tried randomizing it while sticking to my personal rules of "xander and arei in different teams", "arei and eden in the same team (so they can cook together once before arei's character development)", and "hu in the same team with a 'sabotager' so she doesn't win", but i eventually decided to just make the teams manually. in-universe you can see this as arei rigging the votes.

this didn't end up as chaotic as canon limbus, but i guess that's what happens when most of your cast can canonically cook, so you have to provoke them to beefing with each other...

-) team 1: xander, ace, j, david. there was not enough common sense to counter xander's tastebuds and he learned absolutely nothing. sad! -) team 2: arei, levi, nico, eden. there was not enough hater energy to counter arei's sabotage. also arei had fun even disregarding all the sabotage she did but she won't admit that (yet) -) team 3: rose, arturo, veronika, mai. it's less "food" and more "abstract art piece" that horrifies their poor client, inflicting 10 sinking potency and 8 sinking count -) team 4: charles, min, teruko, hu. with hu's guidance they actually made a really good "family restaurant"-style chicken dish. the ones where it's a big portion for a family to share. they try to get teruko to carry the dish but min realizes and stops teruko from touching the plate. Unfortunately teruko's luck kicks in and min ends up dropping the dish anyways -) won by default: mai secretly let whit in team 3's kitchen and let him cook a backup dish just in case every team fucked up. papa bongy accepts the dish and they eventually un-distort him, making him mvp of the mission and winner by default!

[mimisempai]

I wasn't expecting you 1/5

Summary 

When Crowley finally decided to settle down and take a job as a barista at Nina's, he didn't expect to be welcomed so warmly by the small community that lives on Whickber Street. 

The whole community? No. 

In the week he's been here, he's yet to meet the mysterious bookseller everyone seems to love.

What's certain is that neither of them expected the other.

Notes

An ineffable coffee shop AU with lots of fluff... as always.

On Ao3

Rating G -  1389 words

Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3 - Chap 4 - Chap 5

“So, how are you getting on, newbie?”

Crowley wiped his hands and, after setting his dish towel down beside the sink, turned to Nina to answer.

"Not too bad, I guess. After all, this isn't my first job in a coffee shop."

Nina nodded and replied, "I know. I can tell. But hopefully one that will last this time?"

The owner of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death had obviously read his credentials, and Crowley's frequent job and location changes hadn't escaped her notice.

Crowley replied, "I'll do whatever it takes."

Nina winked at him, then headed for the back of the store, saying, "Keep it up and you'll be fine."

After wandering all over the country and moving from job to job, Crowley was looking forward to settling down, and the ad on the coffee shop door had come at just the right time.

Looking for full-time employee, low rent accommodations above the store.

The pay was pretty good, as were the hours, and the fact that he could live right above his place of work was an excellent bonus. Apparently, Nina needed someone as soon as possible, because she'd practically offered him the job after reading his resume, and he'd been working in the coffee shop for a week now.

The only thing he had to learn were the various recipes on the menu, and after a week he was pretty proud of himself for being able to make most of the coffees without having to look at the recipe book.

But it wasn't the work - even though he loved what he was doing - that made him want to stay. It was the street and the people who lived here.

It had only been a week since he'd moved into the small studio above the coffee shop and started working, and yet he felt as if he'd always lived here.

The shopkeepers of Wickber Street were a family of sorts, and not one of them had failed to make Crowley feel welcome.

From Maggie, the record shop owner, who had no idea what treasures she had in her shop, to Mr. Brown, the carpet seller, who - admittedly a little annoying at times - tried to pass off his rugs as treasures. From the entertaining Mutt and his no less amusing partner to the cheerful Mrs. Sandwich, with whom Crowley had strangely become fast friends. Everyone had a welcoming word or gesture for him.

Almost everyone.

There was the mysterious bookseller in the shop across the street from the cafe, whose silhouette Crowley had glimpsed only a week ago, wearing an oversized beige raincoat and a strange old-fashioned hat that made him look like a detective.

Nina had told him that he'd probably gone on one of his exploratory trips, from which he often returned with his arms full of old books. 

Crowley didn't know him yet, but the general opinion on the street was that Mr. Fell was a bit odd, but extremely nice, and everyone seemed to really like him.

He was putting away a cup he'd just wiped down when Nina's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Aziraphale! You're back!"

"Good morning, Nina."

Crowley turned back to the newcomer, his heart skipping a beat as he found himself face to face with the most adorable creature he'd ever seen.

The bookseller was a sight for sore eyes.

At least to Crowley's eyes. 

From his fluffy pale hair to his clear blue eyes, his plump cheeks and upturned nose, everything about him was adorable, even the way he dressed.

Nina continued, snapping him out of his blissful contemplation, "Good timing, it's Crowley who'll be taking your order."

She nudged Crowley with her shoulder, took the dishtowel from his hand and added, "There's no better way to learn the ropes."

That too was new to Crowley, a boss who trusted him.

He turned his full attention to the newcomer, who extended his hand and said, "Hello, I'm Aziraphale, the owner of the bookshop across the street. Welcome."

Crowley took the outstretched hand and they shook hands as he replied, "Crowley, new barista. Nice to meet you."

Had he thought he found Aziraphale adorable before?

Apparently the word wasn't enough, because when the bookseller replied with a smile, Crowley felt as melted as the chocolate fudge on the coffee shop menu.

It took all the professionalism he didn't have to stay calm and let go of the other man's hand before asking, "What can I get you?"

"Two Eccles cakes and a hot chocolate."

"Very well, I'll serve them right away."

As he prepared the hot chocolate, Nina asked Aziraphale, "Oh, a hot chocolate? Am I to understand that Muriel is here too?"

"Yes."

Muriel?

A lover?

A spouse?

He should have known better.

Nina leaned toward him and said, "Muriel is his assistant at the bookshop, if they weren't there he wouldn't be selling anything and the shop would be open at all hours."

"Nina!"

Nina chuckled as Crowley turned and placed Aziraphale's order on the counter.

At this point, Crowley wondered if it was possible to die from an overdose of sweetness, as the bookseller now had an adorable pout caused by Nina's teasing.

Aziraphale paid and then, after taking his order, leaned over to Crowley and whispered in his ear, but loud enough for the coffee shop owner to hear, "Don't pay any attention to what Nina says. I don't want you to think I'm lazy."

Crowley replied, "I never rely on hearsay to form an opinion about people, so I'll wait until I get to know you better to form my own opinion."

He winked at the bookseller and immediately wanted to smack himself on the head. What had gotten into him? Now the other man was going to take him for a flirtatious fool. Crowley was about to apologize for his boldness when Aziraphale replied, "So am I, which is why I look forward to the opportunity to learn more about you.

They gazed at each other and time seemed to stand still for a split second before Nina broke the spell by saying, "Well, that will be possible sooner than you think, my friends.

The two men turned to her, looking confused, and Nina continued, "I suggest we all meet tonight at the Dirty Donkey. It will be an opportunity for Crowley to get to know the shopkeepers of Whickber Street better, and for us to celebrate Aziraphale's return."

"But I've only been gone a week!"

"But, Aziraphale, you know that any reason is a good reason to have a drink together. So you'll both be joining us?"

Crowley tried not to nod too eagerly as Aziraphale replied, "I will be there. However, I believe Muriel is spending the evening with their partner, Eric.”

Crowley gave an inner leap of joy when he heard that Muriel already had a partner and it wasn't the bookseller.

"See you tonight, Crowley."

Aziraphale's soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he replied, "See you tonight. Have a nice day until then."

The bookseller nodded before heading for the door, and Crowley couldn't help but follow him with his eyes.

As he passed through the door and began to cross the street towards the bookshop, Crowley muttered, "A cream puff...He looks like a delicious cream puff"

A snicker to his right made him turn around and Nina said, "That's sad, another one bites the dust."

"What? Me? I don't know what you're talking about."

Nina shook her head and replied, "This vehement denial raises suspicions."

She handed him a tea towel and added, "Get to work instead of dreaming."

Crowley grumbled as he set to work, "I don't even know him."

"Tonight will be your chance to get to know him and..." Nina's voice sounded more serious to him as she continued, "...just leave the door open."

Then she finished before turning to a customer who had just arrived, "But I'd advise you to wait before calling him your cream puff."

"Nina!"

Only a chuckle answered him.

Of course Nina was right.

He could deny it as much as he wanted, but he couldn't lie to himself.

He was looking forward to this evening and had never been more excited.

Deep down he knew it was because of a certain sweet bookseller.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

[familyvideostevie]

Completely felt - I wanted to (selfishly) request a pre relationship w bradley where he like comes over to r’s place and there’s like a random assortment of handyman tasks that are either poorly done or waiting to get done. I’m in my acts of service era. But of course do not feel pressure I will love u regardless

this is so juicy i took 1000 years to write it!!! pre-relationship with the promise of something more :) <3 hope you like! | fluff, pre-relationship, 1.3k

Your new place is a dream come true apart from all of the work it needs. The sink leaks, the kitchen cupboard is crooked, the lock on the bathroom door sticks. The lawn is a mess and the brick path to the front door needs relaying and the door itself needs some paint. But it's yours. A small house in the most beautiful town you've ever seen.

It's hard to make friends as an adult in a new place but lucky for you, you've got some already. You know Nat from before she had set her sights on the sky and you've heard so much about Bob you feel like you've met him already. They both come over to help you unpack.

"This is so charming!" Nat cries when you open the door. She tugs you into a hug. "Bob, don't be shy."

"The infamous Bob," you say, smiling. He grins at you and waves before sticking out a hand.

"Hello," he says. "I feel obligated to say that anything embarrassing Phoenix has told you is probably true."

You laugh. You're about to usher them in when you see a dude in jeans and a UVA t-shirt checking out your mailbox. Nat follows your gaze and sighs.

"Rooster!" she calls. The man -- Rooster? -- snaps his head up, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. "Stop manhandling her mailbox and get in here to be useful." She looks back at you and shrugs. "He's from our squad. He knows a lot about home repair and I thought he'd be helpful since you said this place uh..."

Bob looks at the chipping paint on the front door. "Needs some work?"

"That's putting it lightly," Rooster says, walking up the brick path. Okay, kind of a dick thing to say, you think. He wiggles a few loose ones as he does so, shoving his glasses into his hair and frowning at his feet. "You're gonna break an ankle on these things." He seems to remember himself and looks up at you. He grins and it's like someone steals all the air from your lungs. Yeah, that was kind of a dick thing to say, but he's tall, tanned, and so very, very handsome.

"If you can fix them, be my guest," you say. "I'm --"

Your name rolls off his tongue like it was made for him to say. "Nat talks about you all the time. Sorry to crash the unpacking party. I'm Bradley." Nat scoffs and covers it with a cough. He sticks out his hand and you take it. It sounds ridiculous in your own mind but you swear you feel something when your skin touches. Get it together, you tell yourself.

"Wellllllll," Nat drags out. You pull your hand back and hope you're not noticeably flustered. "Shall we go inside?"

You lead the way. Bob starts to unpack your books while Nat tackles unwrapping your frames. Someone starts to play '80s classics on their phone and you're hit with a rush of gratitude. These people, two of them who don't even know you, are so quick to help. You hope the rest of their Navy friends are this nice.

The boxes of dishes seem to be calling your name so you start on those, pulling off paper and opening cabinets. Who knew you had so much shit?

You feel him next to you before he speaks. "This is a little loose," Bradley says, wiggling the kitchen faucet. "Do you mind if I fix it?"

Apparently, Nat was serious about his handyman knowledge. "Uh, sure," you say. It feels like he takes up the entirety of your small kitchen. "There's a toolbox underneath already."

"Smart," he says. You cannot believe how warm the praise makes you feel. You just met.

You start talking so he won't see how flustered you are. "Sorry if this is a dumb question," you start, not looking at him. He's tightening something, arms bulging under this t-shirt. "But should I call you Bradley? Or Rooster? Which I assume is your...pilot name?"

"Callsign," he corrects with a smile you can't help but notice. "It's up to you," he shrugs. "You'd be the only one to call me Bradley, probably."

"I just don't know how to call a grown man Rooster," you admit. He laughs.

"Fair enough," he says. He looks up from the sink and his eyes narrow on the cabinet you're opening. "Hey, careful," he says, reaching for it. His fingers brush yours as he grabs the door, moving it back and forth a little. "This looks loose. Can I..."

"Be my guest."

You have no idea how much time passes. Bradley tightens every single cabinet door in your kitchen and fixes the jammed utensils drawer as you talk about his job on base, your new one close by, the rest of the squad, the best restaurants in town. Anything and everything. Part of you wonders if you're going to wake up in your own bed and all of this is going to have been a dream.

The music pauses and Nat and Bob come into the kitchen. The sunlight through your un-curtained has changed and you realize it's been hours.

"Do you guys want to go to the Hard Deck?" Nat asks, eyes bouncing between you and Bradley. "I could use a drink."

"You can meet more of the squad," Bob says. "And Penny. She's going to love you."

"Alright," you say. It really does sound nice -- meeting new people, and starting to create your own community here. "Do I need to...change?" You look down at your own jeans and t-shirt.

"Nah," Nat says. "You're perfect as you are." Bradley hums and you allow yourself to think that it's in agreement.

"I can drive you if you want," he says suddenly. "I parked down the street."

Bob and Nat seem to do some weird pilot-WSO silent communication thing and then they smile at you both. "We'll meet you there." They're out the door and down the driveway before you can say a single thing.

"Let me grab my keys." Bradley waits by the front door, arms crossed as he looks at the chipping paint.

"Hey," he calls as you walk back towards him. "I hope you don't think I have been implying that your place is..."

"Shitty?" you supply, laughing. He grimaces as you shut the door and start across the crooked bricks.

"It's really nice," he amends. "To have your own place. You're going to make it really beautiful."

"That's kind of you."

"You can say no," he starts, and you look back at him, wondering where this is going. "But I'd be happy to get some of that stuff fixed. Paint the door, redo the bathroom lock, and relay these bri--"

Your foot catches on a half-crumbled brick and you stumble. Bradley's hand darts out to catch you by the arm firmly but not too tight.

"Whoops," you say. You look up and his face is much closer than it was, brows drawn in concern. "Thanks."

"Please let me fix these damn bricks," he says. He does not let go.

"Okay," you breathe. "Can I help?"

Bradley releases you but doesn't step back. The concern melts into amusement. "You know how?"

"No," you say, stepping carefully now. "But I bet you can teach me."

He doesn't say anything for a second and you worry that you've overstepped, you've read it all wrong, you're going to have to fake sick and beg out of drinks.

"Alright," he says. You look back to find him grinning and spinning his car keys around one finger. "I'll teach you." You manage to contain the shiver that wants to run down your spine.

All of this is exciting. A new town, a new house, new friends in Bob and Bradley and whoever you're going to meet tonight. This right here, you and a naval aviator you met a few hours ago standing in your driveway grinning at each other, feels like a beginning.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

[athenadione]

'overcoming the fear of you and something more'

(What started out as a tiny drabble turned into THIS monstrosity of a fic, and nope I couldn't leave it without adding a little bit of *angst*. I hope you all enjoy, and find that opening yourself up to love isn't always a bad thing ;)

Read on ao3 HERE

Words: 9286

Rated: M

Fear is a fickle thing. 

It’s usually something Raven can never quite grasp. On the rare occasion that she does, by then it evolves into something different, something more. 

Something that she doesn’t want to name. 

And as much as she knows that it has a tendency to manifest in a way she never anticipates, she shoves down that feeling at the dinner table in favor of ignoring it. The less attention she can bring to herself the better. 

Especially since the root of it all is sitting across from her. 

If she could she would be able to rationalize that her conglomeration of emotions are natural — a testament to her humanity rather. It’s good that she’s able to feel things so freely for once, but she can’t think straight right now. 

Not when Damian is helping Mar’i settle back into her high chair, taking extra care to buckle her in and wiping the corner of her mouth with his thumb. 

Her heart pounds in a way that unsettles her deeply at the sight, and she can’t help when her power takes hold of a dish on the counter and slams it back down.  

It’s a good thing it’s plastic. And that Mar’i is used to loud sounds.

Emerald eyes flash to her with immediate concern, along with similar looks from everyone else at the table. 

“Raven, is everything alright?” Richard asks her as Kori takes advantage of a distracted Mar’i with a spoonful of mushy peas in one hand. 

“Ah, yes. I’m sorry,” the scrape of Raven’s chair makes her wince even more apologetically when she scoots back, “let me go set that in the dishwasher.” 

“Oh, just put it in the sink and we’ll get to it later,” Kori says without looking at her, “I have to wash some of Mar’i’s bottles anyway.” 

“You’ve been having more slip ups lately, is something bothering you?” Richard presses further, ever the nosy older brother. 

Knowing that Damian’s eyes are still on her, even as she lowers to her knees to grab the plate off the floor, she takes great care to keep her voice even. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. It’s probably just a cold or something, you know I’ve been sneezing more lately.” That much was true. The turn of the season to Spring left something to be desired — which was clear sinuses. Raven was as surprised as everyone else to find out that a half-demon could get allergies. So lame.  With the attention focused solely on her, Raven feels her desperation rising to change the subject. She clears her throat after placing the plate into an already full sink, 

“So have you both figured out if you’re able to make Gar’s wedding?” 

Richard chews the side of his lip, casting a glance to Kori before answering, “We think we can make it, but we’re not completely sure. I heard Jamie is going with his new fiancée.” 

Raven raises a brow, “I didn’t know he had one.” 

“We just found out this week,” Kori tells her, still battling Mar’i over the peas, “she seems nice, but we haven’t met her yet. She’s from his hometown.” 

“Hmm.” Raven slides back into her seat, both hands going straight for her cup of tea. The conversation continues with Richard and Kori talking back and forth about Gar’s wedding plans with Terra. Apparently they finally decided on a venue out on the Grand Canyon. Raven thinks it’s fitting. 

By the time her nerves settle enough to pick up her fork to continue with her chicken alfredo, she sees that Mar’i’s attention is back on Damian. Her little fingers reach for the necklace around his shirt, grasping the chain she knows has two dog tags on them — both with written words in Arabic. Raven hadn’t gotten close enough to try to read them. Not that she’s fluent anyway. 

The slight burrow of Damian’s brows is the only sign of his hesitancy towards the little girl. Raven watches as he drops his own fork, then attempts to gently pry Mar’i’s fingers from them. Instead of letting go completely, Mar’i decides to grab one of his fingers in all of her tiny ones. 

There’s that funny feeling again, working its way up into a lump in the back of her throat as Damian looks down at their hands in a quiet wonder. Kori smothers a laugh while Richard watches, looking strangely proud. 

“She loves her Uncle Dami,” Richard says, chuckling when Damian sends a bewildered look his way. He motions back down to Mar’i’s fingers. 

“They’re so… small,” he says, looking back to their joined hands. 

“I know right? It’s crazy. I still can’t believe that we have her sometimes, it’s so unreal. Being a parent is…” 

“Unlike anything I could have ever imagined,” Kori finishes, a faraway smile on her face. Mar’i swings her head back over to her mother, babbling in confirmation. Richard chuckles at the noise.

“One-hundred percent.” 

Raven swallows hard. 

The rest of dinner goes as smoothly as she can expect with the growing storm of emotions threatening to spill over with every stolen glance to the pair across from her. She forces herself to eat, if just to stop anyone else from asking too many questions. 

Her mind drifts as the conversation takes another turn. To her friends. To everyone that had scattered with the winds over the years. Gar to adventure with Terra wherever they wanted — and about to be married. Kori and Richard, now settled in Blüdhaven with Mar’i. Even Jamie, apparently finding love in his hometown. 

Damian had stayed with her in Jump. As much as she wanted to ask why back then when the Titans officially disbanded years ago, she still hasn’t.

Mostly because she’s not sure she’s ready to hear his answer. 

Dinner is over when Mar’i begins to fuss, and it heightens to the point that she can’t be consoled. She doesn’t want to listen to the Tameranean lullabies of her mother, or the soft rocking of her father. She doesn’t want the warm milk Richard heats up for her, or even the pacifier that Kori tries to stick in her mouth. As time goes on and her parents run out of options, nothing seems to quiet her down. 

Raven’s eyes soften in understanding that sometimes you don’t know what you want or need. 

Raven takes the time to clean up after everyone while the screaming ensues, waving Kori off when she thanks her profusely and apologizes all in the same breath. Richard walks away further into the house, most likely in search of something to help calm Mar’i down. 

“No worries at all, truly. Thank you for inviting us over,” Raven responds in earnest. 

The invites had started to climb since Mar’i was born. It’s easier to invite them because of her ability to create portals. And the boom tube of course, with one now built inside of their home for easy travel. Still, Raven figures that both Kori and Richard haven’t had a night out in months. It’s probably also easier to have Mar’i at home, and Raven doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

Except for the little moments that throw her off balance until she’s teetering off the edge into something she doesn’t understand. 

Which has inadvertently caused her current predicament. 

So focused on her own thoughts and rinsing off plates, Raven nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand at her lower back. She doesn’t have to look behind her to know it’s Damian. 

His touch burns her through the silk shirt of her blouse. 

“Let me help,” he says, rolling up the sleeves of his button-up and his arm brushes against hers. The grip on her sponge slackens as a familiar heat runs through her. She takes a step to the side. 

“I’m okay, you can—”

“Take her, please. I don’t know what else to do.” Kori unceremoniously pushes Mar’i up against Damian’s chest, and he’s forced to put his arms around her to keep her from falling. 

“Just hold her for a minute while I run her a bath, that usually helps calm her down.” Kori runs away just as fast as she came, yelling across her shoulder, “Thank you!” 

Mar’i’s face is an angry red as hot tears roll down her face. Damian wraps a hand around the back of her head to keep her secure against his chest while the other settles against her bottom. For a minute or two all either of them can hear is her high-pitched screaming. Raven holds back a grimace. 

Then Damian starts to hum a low, foreign tune, while patting her bottom gently. 

Raven chokes back on a suggestion, enamored by the way Damian seems to immediately calm her. 

Mar’i hiccups, tears still falling but not as frequent as Damian continues his hum in her ear. It’s some kind of lullaby, that much she can tell. Mar’i moves her head to stare up at him with big eyes, just as bright as her mother’s. 

Damian gently nudges her to settle her back against his chest in a move that makes her sigh with another hiccup. As Raven continues to clean up the kitchen by finding the tupperware and putting up the leftovers, Damian continues to hum and pat in a rhythm that quickly puts Mar’i to sleep. 

The room falls silent while Raven sets the dishwasher to start. She glances back over in time to watch Damian place the smallest of kisses against Mari’i’s head. 

It’s such a small and intimate gesture that takes Raven by surprise. It’s genuine, and raw, and the open look on his face nearly undoes her. Seeing this side of Damian with Mar’i only further threatens the hold over her power. She yanks back on the transparent black that encases a cup she missed, hoping that Damian doesn’t notice. 

One look behind her shoulder tells her that he does. 

“Grayson’s right. You have been on edge lately, any reason why? And don’t tell me it’s allergies because we both know that you were lying earlier.” 

Raven just barely holds back her wince. She doesn't know why she ever thought she’d get something past him. For all the years they’ve spent together at the tower, she knows he can now read her like a book. 

In fact, he knows exactly how she takes her tea, what time she likes to meditate in the afternoons. He even knows when she’s starting to get a migraine by the extra gel ice pack she finds in the freezer. 

A frown tugs at the corners of her mouth. 

He knows her. 

So why does that terrify her so much?

���Honestly there’s just been a lot on my mind…” her voice falters, not able to meet his eyes because she knows he’ll see the half-truth in that statement. 

“Raven…” 

The sounds of her name from his lips brings her eyes right back up to his. 

She knows he won’t push her — that he’ll always defer to her choice when to speak her mind. She also knows that he allows her to hear the concern in his voice just as he can hear the uncertainty is hers. 

She starts to chew the inside of her cheek, a habit she had picked up after gaining the freedom to express her emotions more. A nervous one that Damian knows from the way his brows knit further together. She sighs, opting to ignore the question altogether and focus the attention back on Mar’i. 

“I’m impressed, and a little jealous that you’re so good with her,” she admits jokingly.  

Damian sees through her blatant attempt at avoiding him, but thankfully he allows it. 

“I’m not sure why all it took was me holding her,” he admits.

“Maybe because of your energy. You’re always calm and so sure of yourself.” It’s just a theory but Raven has a hunch Mar’i might already be stepping into some of her power.  

“I imagine Mar’i might be able to sense that.” 

Damian looks at her, his face now unreadable, and Raven can tell that he’s analyzing her words  — trying to figure out what exactly they mean.

No doubt from years of back-handed compliments from not only the press but also the socialites of high society as a Wayne. She briefly remembers an encounter with a Calloway that left with the blonde man on the floor of the Wayne Manor ballroom clutching his nose and loudly cursing. If Raven was correct, Damian had simply rolled his sleeve back down and walked promptly outside to the balcony, ignoring the stares that followed. 

But there was no ill intent to her words now. 

“I’m serious. Mar’i seems to be a bit of an empath in my opinion.” 

“Hmm, maybe.” Damian says, although still unconvinced. Raven shrugs, then resists the urge to bite her lip, looking for a reason to cut their conversation short. She doesn’t want them to circle back to talking about her just yet. 

“I’ll go look for Kori, maybe since Mar’i is asleep they’ll want to put her down.” 

Damian nods, still patting the little girl in his arms in fear that she may wake again. Raven tears her gaze from him, if a bit reluctantly, and goes in search of her friend. 

Raven had always felt close with Kori, even as a younger teen when trust didn’t come easy. Kori tore down her walls just as quickly as Raven had tried to build them back up. She paved the bridge of friendship between them and after a while Raven stopped running from it. 

Now, with a little care and communication, they had grown together in a way that Raven thinks fondly of. 

Yet with the closeness that Raven feels with Kori now, she can’t quite bring herself to talk about what’s been bothering her. Not that she’s figured it out herself. To be fair she hasn’t really tried, and has been avoiding thinking about it more than anything. But dinner has suddenly brought it to the forefront, and the only thing that she now knows for certain is that Damian is at its centerfold. 

Raven finds Kori in the guest bathroom, kneeling over the tub on her knees as it’s filling with water. She gives her back a soft smile, feeling the exhaustion in her aura weighing on her. 

“Hey Kori,” Raven says gently to not startle her, “Mar’i fell asleep on Damian’s chest. I came to see if you wanted him to help you put her down in her crib.”

Kori’s relief from her words is immediate, “Oh yes that would be perfect. I’ll go get them, thank you Raven — and don’t think I didn’t hear you cleaning up in the kitchen. I hope you know we didn’t invite you over just to clean. Not that I’m not grateful of course, but you’re our guests.” 

Raven waves off her concern, “You know I didn’t feel obligated in the slightest, now go ahead and get Mar’i. I’m sure you and Dick are ready to settle down for the night.” 

“I’ve only slept five hours in the past three days. I. Am. Dying.” 

The graying circles under her eyes are more prominent now that Raven gives a closer look, although with her tangerine colored skin it looks more purple than anything. Still, she can’t help but feel a little bad for her.  

“Maybe you can get a night’s rest tonight.” Raven tells her with a hand on her shoulder in sympathy. It’s a fool’s hope really with a one-year old, but Raven still thinks it’s worth saying. 

“A woman can dream,” Kori snorts, then covers Raven’s hand with her own. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” 

As Kori leaves Raven cuts off the water and pulls the plug. She has a feeling Mar’i will be skipping bath night as long as she sleeps soundly — and if Damian has anything to do with putting her down for the night, she will. 

The thought of him again disquiets her. With a quick flick of the bathroom light, she strays back towards the living room and decides to take a seat on the couch to wait for them. At this point she knows it’s better to just stay out the way. Cleaning was the best way she could think of to help. 

After a moment Damian walks back in alone while running a hand through the dark curls in his hair. 

“She’s down. Kori and Richard are already in bed too. I think it’s okay to leave now.” 

Raven nods and stands. Wordlessly she creates a portal back to their home at Titan’s tower. Even though they did disband years ago, it’s the only place that feels welcoming enough to stay. 

Slipping through a wormhole of her own power always raises gooseflesh on her arms. It pulses through her veins when they both step in and back out in the common room. 

Tonight it’s empty, but in a few days all of their friends will be in to visit just before the wedding. Somehow Raven had been roped into teleporting them all to the Grand Canyon the day of. She has a sneaking suspicion it’s more of an excuse for them to all be together in one place again — not that she minds. 

She admits that she misses it all. Wait —

“I thought Jason and Rose were supposed to be coming in early before everyone else, shouldn’t they be here by now?” Raven asks. 

The thud against a wall in a room further down the hallway is her answer. Damian scowls while Raven suppresses a smirk. “Well it’s a good thing there’s a guest masterbath in the bedroom I think they're in. We won’t have any awkward run-ins with each other.” 

Damian snorts, “I’m glad that you’re able to see the positive in this, because I can’t.” 

Raven hums in amusement, “There’s no other way to look at it now that they’re here.” She steps into the kitchen, “Tea?” 

“Sure, I could use some before I go out on patrol.” 

Starting the kettle is easy work, and the habitual movements help to ease her mind. Setting it on the stove, she reaches for two cups and grabs a packet of black tea and chamomile. Damian doesn’t have to tell her that black is his favorite, she just knows. 

Sometimes it surprises her by how easy it is to talk to Damian, and the irony of that thought is not lost on her when dinner was so… unexpected. 

“I’m thinking about inviting Kori and Rose to a girl’s night before the wedding. I think Kori needs a night out, and since Rose is here now I don’t want to leave her out.”

“Oh?” Damian raises his brow when he takes a seat on the stool in front of the island. “That could be… interesting.” 

The corners of her mouth quirk together as she turns the dial to turn the heat to high on the stovetop. 

“I just want her to be able to relax for a bit, and maybe talk with her about a few things…” her voice trails as she traces the marble in the countertop. “After tonight, do you think you could offer to watch Mar’i? Or even just go over to the house with Richard to keep him company. I’m sure —”

"Yes I can do that, just let me know what day.” 

  His quick response to her surprises her, and she thinks of calling him out on it but decides not to in the end. She’s sure he has his own reasons for helping too. 

“Thank you, hopefully Kori will be up for it. I’ll check in with her tomorrow after she’s had more sleep.”

“Good idea.” 

After that she brews in silence as Damian reviews the routes on his communicator for the night. They tend to alternate a couple of different pattern types, and have had to make some changes to include the docks for the next couple of weeks. Receiving an anonymous tip that a ‘deal’ was about to go down in the next week or so kept them extra alert. The details of that deal? Well neither of them have a clue, which is just a little worrisome. 

Raven pours Damian’s tea into a to-go tumblr when it’s finished, knowing that he’ll want to take it with him. 

She meets his eyes at the hand off, the brush of his fingers against hers sending a sharp tingle up her arm. 

“Thank you,” he says, already making his way to the boom tube off in the corner of the common room that had just been recently installed. 

Raven hesitates for a moment, the thought of the docks heavy on her mind, before she calls after him. 

“Damian.” she waits until he twists back to her. His domino mask is already covering his eyes. 

“... be careful.” 

He actually smirks. “No promises.” 

The flash of the boom tube declares his departure before she can respond. She rolls her eyes at his absence anyway. 

There goes the root of all my troubles, off to make even more trouble. 

Her hands cup her tea, taking a small comfort in the warmth it provides her. 

What am I going to do with you?

.

It turns out Kori had been itching for a night without Mar’i. 

Making plans had been easy enough. 

Rose had wanted to go bar-hopping, and Kori wanted to bring over her new crochet projects. Raven decided on a compromise — a night in the common room. With lots of alcohol. And pizza. 

It had taken both Rose and Kori awhile to warm up to each other and find some common ground, but after an hour or two everyone’s now laughing at one another in good fun. Raven’s sure the alcohol has more to do with it than anything else. 

“Okay, so maybe a night in isn’t so bad.” Rose says, bending forward for another slice. The three of them had ended up on the floor of the common room, pizza boxes and wine bottles alike spread out. The heated flush of Raven’s cheeks is the only indication of her intoxication. Well, that and the wobble walk back from the bathroom. She plops down next to Rose with a chuckle from her lack of grace, waving at Kori with encouragement to go for another glass. 

“I’m so glad we have Mar’i on formula now,” Kori tells them when she takes a sip straight from the bottle of sangria, “I’ve missed wine.” 

Rose makes a face, “What I’m hearing is don’t have babies.” She barks out a laugh when Kori reaches across the pizza boxes to smack her arm. 

“Mar’i is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We’re just struggling with getting her on a sleep schedule. Once we do that I swear babies aren’t difficult at all. It was really nice of Damian to babysit with Dick tonight so that I could come over.”

Rose gives Raven a knowing look, “Yes it was, wasn’t it? I heard about dinner the other night. Mar’i seems to love Wayne.” 

“Yes definitely, he’s —” 

“Speaking of Wayne!” Rose cuts Kori off in favor of turning directly to Raven, “What is this weird thing-not-thing going on between the two of you? It’s driving me crazy staying with you in this damn tower.” 

In hindsight, Raven should have known that Rose would pick up on her sensitivity. At least some of it anyway. The interactions between her and Damian a few days after dinner had been amicable of course, but Damian had known she'd been acting strange here and there for a while. Raven responded in kind, retreating to what she knew best and avoiding him when she could. Solitude in the face of internal conflict will always be her greatest ally. 

Raven frowns into her glass, deciding to take another gulp of her own wine. “What do you mean? Nothing’s going on between us. We’re just —”

“Don’t even say ‘we’re just friends’. That’s bullshit. Have you seen the way he looks at you Raven? He makes you tea in the morning. Tea! And it’s your favorite too, I noticed.” 

“Oh that?” Kori says flippantly, “They’ve been doing that for years. I thought that finally they’d end up together when everyone else left the tower. Dick thinks it’ll be another year before Raven finally realizes that Damian’s completely in love with her.” 

Even through the haze of her growing intoxication, Raven gives them a glare. “That’s not true. As close as you’re implying we are, wouldn't he have said something to me? And besides, I like our friendship. A lot. I don’t want to jeopardize that.” 

“Damian’s been keeping it to himself for a reason Raven. Everyone knows how skittish you can be about feelings .” Kori bumps her shoulder with a laugh, then takes another swig from her bottle.

“It took us years for you to finally be comfortable even talking to me about things outside of Hero work or me and Dick.”

Raven knocks back the rest of her wine and decides that she needs another glass. “That’s different, you wrangled me into your friendship.” 

Kori looks affronted, mouth poised to argue when Rose cuts her off again, “Yeah I can definitely see that happening. I can picture it now, Kori cornering a young teenage and timid Raven to try and convince her to be best friends.” 

“It didn’t happen like that.” 

Both Raven and Rose stare at her in disbelief at the same time. Kori holds up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, it kind of happened like that but look how it turned out? Better than what I thought.” 

“Hmm, true.”

“So are you into him?” Rose directs the question to her. 

Raven rolls her eyes. “If I tell you I think he’s hot will you stop asking more questions?”

“No, so you do think he’s hot.” 

“I’m not blind Wilson.” 

Hot is more of an understatement in her opinion, and the new suit that Damian had opted to start wearing out on patrol was doing him many favors. Not that she would ever admit that to either of them. That would just be adding more fuel to the fire. 

“So have you fucked him yet?” 

“Rose!” Kori yells at her. 

“What? I’m just curious. Don’t tell me you guys have been living together, alone , for years and haven’t fucked.” 

“No actually, we haven’t.” Raven’s brows knit together as her stomach tightens from something she’s not sure. Annoyance from Rose asking deeply personal questions so casually? Or jealousy at the sudden intrusive thought that maybe Damian has, but with someone else? If so, did he bring her to the tower? 

“So you two haven’t even tried to just have a little fun. You know, do something casual? Like friends with benefits?” Rose asks her. 

“Do you know me? I don’t do casual.” 

“And neither does Damian,” Kori points out. 

“So maybe he’s dating someone.” 

Raven looks back at Rose with a dangerous look. The wine in her system doesn’t help hide her sudden disgust. She ignores the flip of her stomach that feels like nausea at the probability of Rose’s theory. 

“I’m done talking about this.” She says, tone final. “Why don’t we talk about how you and Todd broke in the guest bedroom last night. We could hear you two from the common room.” 

“Damn right, that shit was good too. We haven’t seen each other in months . Some of the best sex I’ve ever had.”  Raven smirks while Kori chokes on her bottle.

Jason and Rose are like fire and air. Mix them together and they become a fire whirlwind, burning everything in its path. It’s passionate, sure, but unpredictable and something that would always keep Raven on edge. 

“Dick and I have barely had sex since Mar’i’s been born,” Kori sighs, “It sucks.” 

“No alcohol or sex? Yeah, I’m never having kids.” 

Kori laughs, “Never say Never Rose, someone might come along and make you eat those words one day.” 

“Gods I hope not.” 

“Who knows, Jason might be working on that right now.” 

The room erupts in laughter, and the conversation only further derails after that. 

.

Raven wakes with a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

With a groan, she blinks groggily as her head spins from the alcohol still thrumming in her body. Somehow she had made it to the couch with Rose at the other end, passed out. 

Scattered pizza boxes litter the floor, one open and empty with the other with a couple pieces remaining. She doesn’t count but she does see a handful of empty wine bottles grouped together in the middle.

She doesn’t see Kori as she scans the room, but her eyes do land on the person that shook her awake. 

Damian. 

His quiet demeanor is a contrast from the clear amusement swimming in his eyes. 

“Where’s Kori?” Raven asks, the sleepiness still evident in her voice. 

“I helped her back home, Grayson has her.” Ah. That explains the fading light of the boom tube in the corner. 

“Oh okay, how’d it go with Mar’i?” she asks, accepting his hand to help her sit up. A wave of vertigo hits her, and she leans heavily on the arm of the couch. 

“It went well,” he takes another glance around the room, “how much did you drink?” he asks, taking note of the way she curls back into herself on the couch. 

“Too much.”

Another voice speaks up behind Damian. “Yeah that checks out, by the wine bottles on the floor I’m sure you’re all still plastered.” 

Jason. 

She turns her attention to the end of the couch where he scoops up Rose effortlessly. She doesn’t even move in the slightest. 

“You’re heavy as shit.” Jason talks down to her, but Raven can see the fondness in his eyes that betrays the truth. Rose isn’t heavy at all, and Jason’s enjoying having her around. 

“See ya Wayne, Raven. Gonna take this one to bed.” 

Damian spares him another glance, “Night.” 

“Don’t you want to sleep in your bed too?” he asks her, leaning over a little closer that makes her heart jump. 

The thought of getting up right now and walking anywhere is so unappealing that Raven burrows back further into the couch. 

“It’s okay, just leave me here. I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning.” Intoxication didn’t last as long for a half-demon. 

She closes her eyes with a small yawn, sleep threatening to take back over, which is perfectly fine with her. That way she doesn’t have to dissect the way Damian is looking at her right now, another unreadable expression on his face. Reading him had never been easy, but now with her own emotions at war with themselves, they’ve gotten in the way of being able to determine his. 

There’s another moment of silence between them when Raven realizes that Damian is actually weighing the pros and cons of a decision. She opens her mouth, is about to ask him what’s wrong, when he stoops down closer to her. 

One of his arms weaves its way around her waist while the other settles under the back of her knees. 

A small squeak of surprise escapes her when he lifts her, cuddling her body close to his chest. Her arms wrap around his neck instinctually to help stay balanced in his own. 

“You’ll get a cramp in your neck if you sleep here,” he says simply, explaining away the question in her eyes. 

“I can walk to my bedroom if I wanted to Damian,” she reasons with him, though not exactly resisting as he continues to carry her down the hallway. 

“I know,” his breath is warm on her neck, “but you didn’t want to.” 

Raven holds her tongue, only because she knows he’s right — and he does too from the small smirk on his face. Thankfully he doesn’t say anything else when they get to her bedroom, and the door scans her for entry. 

It slides open and Damian steps inside. Raven suddenly feels uncomfortable with him seeing her room. It’s not like he hasn't seen it before. 

But he hasn’t, at least not now that she doesn’t even know what to think of him anymore. Not when she feels so… vulnerable. 

It’s cozy, and packed full of things but not messy. The shelves need dusting, and the books need to be re-stacked. It’s a show of her true nature — organized chaos. Damian doesn’t seem to mind. He only takes a short glance, probably out of her respect for privacy, and walks straight to her bed. 

He helps her slide under the covers, and is careful not to touch her more than necessary. It makes her heart squeeze. This barrier that seems to be growing between them since dinner is unwanted, but she feels helpless to fix. 

Damian hesitates as he leans over her, the closeness between them oddly intimate. She notices his dog tags have slipped out of his shirt, and she impulsively reaches for them. He watches quizzically as her fingers glide over the indentations. 

She doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol, or the sudden change in tension between them, but she finally decides to indulge in her curiosity. 

“What do they say?” she asks him. 

“laā yuhimmu kam ʾanta baṭīʾ ṭaalamā ʾannaka lan tatawaqqaf. It means ‘It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.’” 

The air feels heavy when Raven takes a breath, “and the other one?” 

Damian gives her a look, one that holds too many emotions for her to understand. 

“I’ll tell you what that one means another time.” 

.

For the first time in a long time Titan’s Tower is full of heroes. 

There’s an excited energy all around as the rooms fill with chatter as more and more people begin to show, dressed up for the wedding. Some people hadn’t seen each other in years. 

Raven’s content to keep to herself in one corner of the common room, exchanging pleasantries with the people who approach her. Damian is somewhere in the chaos, but she doesn’t try to look for him yet. Not when just thinking about him is causing her stomach to tie into knots. 

“Hey Raven, it’s good to see you!” 

Raven turns with a smile. “It’s good to see you too Donna, you look great.” Her black dress covered in sequins accentuated her curves in a way that made many heads turn at her arrival. That and her charming personality can make anyone she wants to fall to their knees in front of her. 

“Me? You look breathtaking, girl. Blue is such a good color on you.” 

Raven accepts the compliment with grace, something she’s been working more on doing. She slides a hand over her satin dress. The ends of it reach her toes, with a long slit up one side that gives everyone a slight tease of a long leg. Her black heels only emphasize the swell of her calf, the ankle strap a final touch. 

“Thank you. How are you?”

“Oh fantastic, work has been going well and crime is starting to slow down. Maybe because we’re finally getting some good weather and people want to enjoy it for a change. Who knows. How’s patrol in Jump going? I spoke with Wayne earlier and heard that there might be some kind of trade deal at the docks?” 

“Yeah,” Raven sighs, walking Donna to the kitchen in search of something to drink, “Last night there was some movement, but not much else going on. I’m starting to think it’s all a hoax but I don't know. I guess we’ll find out soon.” 

“Hmm, well there’s no need to worry about it right now. Wayne doesn’t seem too worried about it either so I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

Raven holds back the retort that she isn’t worried, and that Donna’s the one who brought it up in the first place. 

“Yeah, punch?” Raven asks her, gesturing to the island in the middle of their kitchen. An assortment of light snacks filled the table, along with punch, tea, and water. Raven’s grateful that Kori came over earlier to help her and Damian put it all together. 

“Oh nice, thanks. So…” Donna trails, smiling sheepishly when she accepts the glass Raven hands her, “is Damian seeing anyone by chance?” 

Raven’s hold tightens on her own glass of water she poured for herself. “Not that I’m aware of.” 

“Oh good, I was thinking about asking him out later after the wedding. It’d be nice to catch up in Jump again — see what all’s changed.” 

“Go for it.” Raven clears her throat when Donna gives her an odd look at her curt tone, “I just mean I’m sure he’d… appreciate the company.” 

“Are you sure? Because if you’re —”

Raven’s not exactly sure what Donna is about to say but she doesn’t let her say it at all. “I’m not. You should ask him.” 

Donna blinks, then laughs, “It looks like some things haven’t changed after all. Don’t worry, I won’t.” She throws her a wink, “I’ll see if Roy is free tonight. I’ve always had a thing for red-heads anyway.” 

Raven deigns not to answer, instead taking a long drink of her water. Not because she really needs it but to keep her from revealing anything that might give her away. That and she doesn’t need to explain anything to anyone, not even Donna. 

A quick glance at the microwave tells her that it’s nearly time. She takes a breath, preparing to create a portal that will last long enough for everyone to get through. It will be tenuous at best, but it should work. Should. 

The sound of an announcement in the common room distracts her from her thoughts, especially when a small group starts making their way over to the boom tube.  

“They’re probably lining up for the boom tube since the wedding’s about to begin.” Donna says. 

“Boom tube? I thought that everyone was going through my portal?” 

“I’m not sure,” Donna looks as confused as she feels, “Damian’s been going around the room and assigning a specific time for everyone to go through. A lot of people are already gone.” 

Raven’s eyes dart to the common room that now looks a lot emptier than it had been about five minutes ago. 

“Looks like my time is in another minute,” Donna gives her a wave, “I’ll see you there.” 

Raven tells her bye, and stands there as the rest begin to file out, one by one until there’s only her and Damian. Her eyes meet him across the room before he whips his head in a signal to come join him. She does just that, taking the time to appreciate his suit. 

It’s Armani, of course, black and sleek, and it’s fitted to him perfectly. The pant legs do nothing to hide what’s beneath, and she feels her neck heat at the sight. One hand is tucked into his pocket while the other is holding the boom tube open for the both of them. As she walks closer she realizes that he’s wearing a darker navy blue tie — nearly identical to the color of her dress. 

Only when she reaches him does she ask him why they weren’t going by portal. 

“I didn’t want you to overexert yourself so I had a boom tube placed at the site of the wedding temporarily.” 

His gesture hits her hard, and she doesn’t know what to think when he reaches out his hand for hers. She places it in his delicately as he helps her step up inside. 

“I probably would’ve been fine, you know. I’m sure there wouldn’t have been much to worry about.” 

Damian steps in after her, his chest brushing up against her back as the door slides shut behind them. 

“Well now neither of us have to worry at all.” 

She turns to face him and smiles. 

“Thank you.” 

“Anything for you Raven.” 

Her eyes widen at his words and the blatant truth in his voice. Suddenly the air around them feels hot, and she leans back up against the wall, trying to put as much space in between them as possible. The proximity of him, the small space of the boom tube, his words — it all feels like too much. She feels the familiar tug of her body as they teleport — something that lasts only milliseconds. 

By the time they’re on the other side she’s breathing hard, not feeling like she’s getting enough air. The boom tube isn’t opening fast enough and it’s still too hot. She’s getting lightheaded and the pounding beat of her heart is only getting faster. The door begins to slide open, but before she can slip away Damian has a hand on her wrist. 

He pulls her back inside, shuts the door, and presses the button with the AC. The cool air helps a little, but there’s still a rising panic in her that she can’t tame. Raven has half a mind to slide down the wall to hug her knees but Damian grasps her shoulders, forcing her to face him. 

“Hey Raven, look at me. Look at me.” Emerald eyes search hers imploringly and she chokes back a sob. 

“I-I can’t do this, Damian, I don’t know what’s wrong with —”

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he says. His words are gentle and soothing as his hands begin to rub her bare arms. Up and down, forcing her to stay tethered to the present. Not allowing her to retreat into her mind. 

“Just breathe, Raven. We’re not going anywhere until you breathe.” 

It takes a few minutes. He starts whispering to her in Arabic, much like the way he took care of Mar’i, and that thought puts a heavy weight on her chest. She breathes through it anyway knowing that the wedding will start at any moment, and she doesn’t want them to be late. When her breaths become more even Damian pulls her into his chest, wrapping her into a hug. 

“Whatever is going on is okay. I’m not going anywhere and neither are any of our friends. You’re okay, and it’s okay that you don’t know what you’re feeling.” 

Raven inhales a shuddering breath. 

She doesn’t know that she needs to hear him say all of those things so desperately until they’re already spoken. She takes a moment to cling to him, to thank him, before pulling back. Whatever Damian sees in her face must be enough for him to deem her capable enough to go back outside because he opens the door. Then he takes her hand again. 

“Watch your step,” he murmurs to her, helping her across the rocks to the venue. The sight of it is breathtaking. An archway is just a couple of feet away from a ledge that overlooks the entire Northern rim, and Raven sees that most of the chairs are already full of their friends. Garfield is already at the front, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve and trying not to bite a hole with his canines from worrying his lip in a nervous tic. 

Raven smiles, because even though it’s clear that he’s nervous, she can also tell that he’s happy. It’s all she’s ever wanted for him, and he deserves it. 

They find a seat in the back just before the ceremony begins. Damian puts his hand on the back of her chair, steadying her. For once she decides to lean into it, finding it to be a comfort. 

Terra’s dress suits her perfectly. It’s whimsical with long sleeves that hang off of her shoulder, with the length of her dress flaring out with floral and vine lace covering the bodice. Her hair is braided down her back with a string of hair pulled out and curled around her face. She’s gorgeous, and she can tell that Gar thinks so too. The love and excitement is pure in both of their eyes solely focused on each other. 

The ceremony doesn’t last long, but it is beautiful and genuine, and Raven stands and claps with everyone else as the newly weds are announced. Terra and Garfield practically race back down the aisle. 

It’s a welcoming sight. Raven smiles softly the entirety of the reception, even when meeting Jamie’s fiancée. From the moment she sees them she knows it’s a good match. 

“They look good together,” Damian says from beside her with two glasses of water in each hand. He gives one to her. 

“Yes, they do. I’m sure we’ll be getting another invitation soon.” 

“How are you feeling?” he asks her. 

“I’m okay actually. Thank you… for earlier.” She runs a nervous hand down the length of her dress to smooth it out. 

“You don’t ever have to thank me Raven.” 

He stays with her the rest of the night, which more than a few people notice, Donna included. When she smirks in Raven’s direction she doesn’t even scowl back. 

For some reason her mind is more at ease than it has been in weeks. 

.

The trade at the docks happens the next night. 

It’s around 3 o’clock in the morning whenever a small fishing boat slips up with the mooring line. Three people, dressed head to toe in black, get out with multiple coolers that look dubious. Mostly likely drugs . Then from the right, five more meet them on the dock, dressed the same. 

Damian signals to her from the other side of the building, and she nods her understanding. She presses the button on her cloak silently, alerting the JCPD of their location. 

They take them by surprise, but they recover quickly. A few of them barricade behind barrels while Damian starts to fight off the three that are scrambling back inside the boat. 

It’s not until Raven hears the first gunshot when she realizes they all have weapons. 

It takes her another moment to realize the gun had been aimed at her whenever the sharp pain flares at her side, and her hand presses it. When she brings it back up to her face shakily it’s covered in blood. 

Then more start to ring out, and Raven drops to her knees. She remembers that Damian is on the other side of the group of thugs still fighting on the boat. He hadn’t seen her get shot, still hasn’t had the time to even look in her direction. She tosses up a quick shield just before bullets rain down in his direction. They bounce off her shields uselessly and Raven releases a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding. 

Another wave of her power throws everyone in the crossfire back. Some hit the water with a loud splash while others scrape up against concrete away from the docks. Damian takes advantage of the momentary distraction, apprehending everyone still on the ground with quick, practiced motions. 

Raven attempts to stand, but stumbles back to her knees. She feels around the wound, her finger prodding for the bullet that’s still lodged inside. She bites back a cry at the pain, her teeth gritting. It will need to come out before she can heal herself, but she’s starting to lose more blood than she’s comfortable with. She takes off her cloak. The material is too strong to tear so she wraps the entire thing around her waist anyway. It will have to do. 

As Damian pulls the last one out of water and throws him on the ground, black spots are beginning to dance in her vision. 

She can hold on until he finishes the job. They’ve been looking into this lead for weeks, she won’t ruin it all by letting him know that she’s bleeding out. I can make it. 

Squatting is no longer an option. Raven finds herself forced to lay down on the concrete, her hand tucked into her side to staunch as much of the blood as she can. The pain heightens to a point that makes the rest of her body feel numb. 

She clings to consciousness as long as she can, until she’s sure that Damian has arrested them all. The police will be here at any moment and can take over. 

By the time Damian finally looks up and is searching for her the adrenaline wears off. All she feels is pain, so whenever unconsciousness calls back out to her she answers. 

He finds her as she’s losing the battle. 

“Shit, shit. Raven!” 

She’s fading rapidly when he reaches her. One hand cradles the back of her head while the other presses into her wound. She hisses weakly. 

His voice sounds like it’s underwater. 

“Hold on Raven, not yet,” he presses on her wound more insistently, the pain causing her to stay conscious. Then he’s pulling out gauze and hydrogen peroxide and medical scissors from his belt. 

His words are rushed and thick with emotion, “I need you to stay awake, you’re losing too much blood. You have to portal us to the med-bay now. You won’t make it if you don’t.” 

It sounds like too much, every breath is more agonizing and tiresome than the last. 

“ Please habibti, you have to try.” 

Her eyes open at the pleading in his voice.

With her remaining strength she does her best to meet his request, and portals them back to the tower. 

The look in his eyes is the last thing that she sees before she drowns in a sea of darkness. 

Fear.

.

There’s no noise when she wakes. 

She’s in her healing trance, hovering above the hospital bed. By the familiarity of the metal walls she knows that they made it to the med-bay. A sweep of the room also tells her that she almost didn’t make it. Blood covered just about every instrument. The bullet lays in a tray beside her. She looks down at herself, noticing for the first time that she’s not wearing anything except for a pair of sweatpants. Her entire upper body is covered in gauze. Specks of blood dot where she had been shot. She won’t need to change it again fortunately, her healing trance had made sure of that. 

Her eyes continue to scan the room until she sees Damian, hunched over in a chair right beside her. His head is in his hands, not yet knowing that she’s awake. His hair is askew. She imagines that he probably ran his hands through it over and over. He’s still wearing his uniform, covered in her blood. Guilt sweeps through her, knowing that she’s the cause of so much worry. 

“Damian,” she whispers. 

He jolts upright so fast that the metal chair falls backwards. He doesn’t care, his eyes are on hers as he grasps her hand. 

“Raven, you made it,” he chokes on his words. “Do you need me to change your dressing?” 

“No I don’t think so.” she tells him softly, then lowers herself on the bed to lay down. He helps her adjust. “I think I’ll be sore for a while, but I’m okay. Thank you for saving me.” 

He sighs deeply, “You scared me Raven. Never do that again. Never wait to tell me if you’ve been hurt. You could have died. You almost did .” 

“I know,” she whispers, squeezing his hand, “I’m sorry.” 

They’re silent for a few minutes, with Damian stroking her hand with his fingers. She lets him, figuring that he needs the touch to remind himself that it was just a close call, nothing more. 

“Did the JCPD get all the arrests?” she asks, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah,” Damian says, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand, “They found fentanyl in the coolers. Enough to OD the entire city. Interrogations are going on right now. They think they’re just pawns in a much bigger drug deal.” 

“That makes sense,” she says, chewing on his words, “Looks like almost dying was worth it.” She jokes darkly. 

“No,” He shoots her a sharp glare, “Almost losing you was not worth it Raven. It will never be worth it. When will you realize that?” 

The veracity in his words is like a slap in the face. She recoils at them. “I’m sorry Damian, I was just trying to do the right thing.” 

He breathes deep, seemingly at war with himself on how to respond. He settles for acceptance. “I know you did, I’m not going to say that it was okay, because it wasn’t. But it happened, and at least you’re here. Just don’t do that again.” 

She swallows the lump in the back of her throat. “Okay.” 

“Get some rest, I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“Thank you Damian, I am too.” 

.

Damian isn’t there when she wakes, but this time she’s in her own bed. She smiles softly, knowing that Damian probably wanted her to be more comfortable, but also didn’t want to intrude in her space. 

A familiar feeling blossoms in her chest that Raven wants to pull back down, but she doesn’t. She lets it stay, and the longer it does, the more she realizes it’s not as scary as she thinks it is. 

It grows with each thought of the past few weeks. All the little moments that Raven had ignored, now resurfacing with a renewed vigor. It pumps through her veins, filling her completely. 

It all hits her at once. 

She doesn’t know how she could have been so oblivious to it all. 

Maybe she did see it, but favored ignorance so that things wouldn’t have to change. 

But change happens whether I like it or not. 

She gets up, pushing past the aching muscles in her side to get dressed. Confronting her feelings is long overdue, and she can’t afford to put it off any longer. Not with the thought of dying without telling Damian about how she feels. 

She finds him outside, looking out across the bay. Laps of water splash gently against the rocks. The wind whips her hair as she draws closer. If Damian notices her presence he doesn’t acknowledge it. She can see that he’s deep in thought with the far away look on his face, brows knitted together. 

She sits down beside him. 

He meets her stare when she looks at him. She takes a breath, it’s now or never. 

“You love me,” she states, looking into his eyes for confirmation. His expression doesn’t change, he’s not surprised. He just stares right back. 

“Yes,” he says simply. 

Raven sucks in a breath, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“You weren’t ready for me to tell you,” he says as his eyes soften, “It would have scared you.” 

“That’s — true,” she admits with a frown, “I’m still scared, but, I love you too.” 

He smiles, “I know.” 

“You do?” 

“Yes, but that’s okay. I didn't mind waiting for you to figure it out.”  

She laughs then, bewildered by him. The wind reveals the dog tags underneath his shirt, and Raven decides to ask again. 

“Will you tell me what the other one means now?” 

He recites to her first in Arabic. A poem. 

“في أيّام الصيف.. أَتمدّد على رمال الشاطئ وأمارس هوايةَ التفكير بكِ.. لو أنّني أقول للبحر.. ما أشعر به نحوكِ لترك شواطئَه.. وأصدافَه.. وأسماكَه.. وتبعني”

Then he holds her stare when he translates, “ In the summer I stretch out on the shore And think of you. Had I told the sea What I felt for you, It would have left its shores, Its shells, Its fish, And followed me.”

With tears in her eyes she reaches for him so that she can rest her forehead against his. 

“I love you.” 

He responds to her in kind, his mouth whispering against her lips for the first time. 

“I love you too.”

[weebsinstash]

I WATCHED IT. YOURE SO RIGHT. Miguel would hold you down and rail you so good and if you struggled he’d threaten to bite you and put a baby in you WOW I can’t believe I left the theater pregnant!!!!! 8:30 showing, only adults watching, someone audibly moaned at a certain part

I've been experiencing something I'll dub Prompt Sluttiness where, I'll get an idea, and I'll really want to share it, and I wind up just sharing the concept and talking about it instead of actually writing, and I feel like it can be counter productive or that I actually have reached the point where I have to focus on tasks now

BUT ANYWAYS TO TURN AROUND AND DO IT AGAIN, I haven't watched either Spiderverse movie so I only know a handful of things, but like

I've been starting to hatch up a really specific idea that absolutely refuses to leave my head where, you know, Miguel is doing his thing running the Spider Society, minding his own business in Nueva York, and you know, either scouts or his computer or whatever is all "beep boop this alternate universe has a spiderman AND a spiderwoman? Actually one just died, womp" and Miguel decides, "well ok that sucks, better go check on that other spiderwoman since theres only one left and that universe needs a protector" and he gets there and it takes some time before he finds you clumsily swinging through the streets, clearly just getting a hold of your powers, and he just kind of, rolls his eyes. You're kind of a disaster, he better help you out before you get shot at by cops

But when he approaches you, the second you see his face out of the mask, all sense of color drains from yours. You're just a tearful, sniveling mess at the sight of him, barely forming sentences and looking up at him with big wide tortured eyes. And he tries to take you to his own Nueva York to "show you the ropes" and have you take some pointers from similar spiders, and maybe he even finds you a little creepy. You're relatively quiet but you can hold a decent conversation with everyone EXCEPT him, where you fight to avoid looking him in the eyes and you start tearing up at the slightest provocation and his Spidey Sense has caught you staring at him more than once. Why are you so weird?

But then you're sent back home and he can't help but wonder how you're doing, if you're still trying to train and improve, because you had been awfully anxious and reluctant about, something, he's not quite sure, he wasn't as hands-on with your case as maybe he should have been. And after a certain amount of time, maybe you were meant to report back but didn't, or he gets reports that there is tons of crime in your universe's city and you're suspiciously absent, not donning the mask at all, and he pulls up your address and goes to find you

Your apartment is barely kept together. Some surfaces have thick layers of dust, dishes in the sink, laundry unwashed. He's busy thinking in his head that you must be a pretty mediocre hero if you can't take care of yourself.

And he passes a framed picture that makes him pause, feeling his blood go cold. One of the only decent surfaces in the apartment has a collection of photographs and mementos, but what catches his eye the most was what was at the center. A photograph of two people looking like they're absolutely glowing with joy, and the man looks all too familiar, a silver urn with a name engraved besides it, and a sealed envelope. You had been in an apparently very intimate relationship with this universe's version of... him.

And suddenly his Spidey Sense goes off in that familiar feeling and he whips around and, there you are, hovering from around the corner, surprised and shocked he's in your apartment as your eyes drift from between him and the photographs and trinkets he's looking at. Suddenly he can understand all too well the pain in your face when you look at him. Miguel, YOUR Miguel, had been this universe's Spiderman that had died. And here you were, the one left behind

...one who's pregnant. Your clothing had been very baggy and unflattering when he had met you before and it was only a couple weeks at most, but now it's months and months later and you approach him with the roundest biggest baby bump and gently, oh so weakly tell him, he needs to leave, you can't see him right now, and you refuse to look him in the actual eyes as your face is coated with tears. His mask is down and you can barely glance up to see the way he suddenly can't stop looking at you, and you can't stand it. The sight of him is too upsetting. It brings back too many memories of what you've lost. You can't help but look at this man in front of you, who looks and sounds and SMELLS the same as your own beloved, and your heart aches, thinking how your Miguel never got to meet his baby, or even know what the sex was

And you open your quivering lips to ask him to leave again when he just. Slowly puts a hand on your big round tummy. And you can't bring yourself to stop him, thinking of how terribly you wished he was YOUR Miguel. And he looks at your face with those broken eyes and weeping heart and under his palm he feels your baby suddenly kick and his heart MELTS. He's crouching down to put his ear to your belly and you're just crying quietly at the sight, at how many countless nights you wished you could have this, how you could see and hear and talk to him again, and you sob at Miguel, even if it's a different one, clearly caring for, maybe even already loving, your unborn child

You open your mouth to tell him that you're sorry, you're so sorry you can be Spiderwoman right now, that you can't risk your baby, the only piece you have left of, him, but O'Hara stops you. He doesn't need to hear another word, he already understands and more. He's insistent on bringing you to HIS Nueva York, not just for your protection, but your baby's protection and wellbeing, too, and you really have nothing to lose since, you've already lost what was most important to you, and maybe there's more than just a little exploitation and manipulation of the fact your new mentor and "savior" just so happens to have every single pore and hair of the father of your baby

Part of you screams that it's wrong and you're betraying your former beloved when you and New Miguel start bonding and spending lots of time together, since he's always checking in on you when he isn't busy, always making sure you've had good hearty meals and all your cravings are met and, are your feet sore, do you have a headache, whatever you need, he's willing to get it for you. He's devoted, almost like, a husband, and there are times when he's speaking of the baby almost like he considers himself its father. You've caught him calling it "our baby" more than once

You even open that sealed envelope with him, that ultrasound of the pregnancy you never got to open with YOUR Miguel, the ultrasound that would have told you and your husband the sex of the baby. You swear he tears up every bit as much as you to see that it's going to be a little girl. He becomes clingy after that. He basically can't stand being apart from you. He's fussing over you all the time, but now, he's slowly becoming more aggressive towards others. Are your eggs a little too salty? He's snapping at a chef that too much sodium is bad for you and the baby. A Spider swings by, getting too close for his liking? Suddenly he's chokeslamming them against the nearest surface and raving about how they should know to be more careful, didn't they see that a pregnant woman is here?! What if they had knocked you over or hit your stomach?! Which wouldn't have been very likely with everyone's Spidey Sense but he's starting to become unreasonable when it comes to you

You see the signs and maybe you're afraid. You need to go home, to your REAL home, and get away from this man. As much as you wish he was, he isn't the Miguel you knew before, and maybe you're finding yourself starting to project and transfer some of that affection onto this new man, and you're not sure how to feel, whether to consider it real love or some unhealthy manifestation of trauma. The more aggressive he becomes, the more people he puts his hands on, the more you wonder, would he ever hurt YOU?

And the day comes where he catches you trying to sneak into his hideout and use his computer to send yourself back home and he's just got this barely contained quiet rage where he's speaking to you in near-whispers like it's taking everything he has to not be screaming. You flinch when he comes close and he doesn't like that, and softens, starting to try and talk to you, laced with all his theories and delusions. The hormones from the pregnancy are just making you more paranoid. It's good you want to protect your baby but it's SAFER for you here, don't you know? Oh, you're looking so scared and stressed, and that isn't good for you OR your baby, and you're torn between fear and some fucked up traumatized form of love to the point where you can't move away when he comes to separate you from the controls and ruins your plan.

And he'll rub your shoulders just like how you're used to and speak to you in such a sweet and caring voice as he sees, you're just scared, CLEARLY this is why it's so great and NECESSARY that he's looking out for you. Your resolve crumbles when he holds you and you take a deep sobbing breath of his personal scent and remember smelling this on the bedsheets when you woke up together with your old Miguel.

You're just crying and crying because you're not sure what to do and you feel the clothing around your neck being moved and, a prick, just ever so quick and gentle but you're still looking absolutely shocked and betrayed as Miguel pulls away, licking a little bit of blood off his lips.

"Don't be scared: my venom won't affect your pregnancy. I've already run the experiments to make sure."

And you're becoming paralyzed, the venom combining with your overwhelming panic as you're feeling your consciousness fading, knees wobbling as Miguel cradles you like a fragile, precious egg

"I would never hurt our baby like that. Just trust me. I'll take care of you both."

[valentiyne]

𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗓𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗉𝗍. three ☆ 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽

Calum Hood x Fem!Reader part one part two Summary: It had been weeks since you heard Luke's voice- something needed to change no matter who stood in your way. Warnings: Mild cursing & Mentions of infidelity. Word Count: 2.1k Copyright © 2023 Valentine. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻

Calum Hood was guilty. He didn't show it though, putting on a smile every time he stepped out the door and posing with the numerous fans alongside his best friend, Luke.

Luke Hemmings wasn't guilty. He put on a front that he was the happiest man, having everything at the touch of his hand. His hand loosely wrapped around your waist as you both stood on red carpets together, showing off your "Hollywood couple" status.

But in reality, you hadn't talked in weeks. You'd been staying with Calum, you on the couch and him in his room. You couldn't dare sleep in that bed again, could hardly stand being in the same vicinity as him. He wasn't mad, neither was Luke, but you were mad at yourself and that was enough. The night Luke found out, he didn't tell you to leave or pack your stuff. He just pulled you in for a hug and turned on the balls of his feet and walked back into his room.

Luke wanted to hate him, he wanted nothing more than to march over to the end of the tour bus and knock his ass out- but for some odd reason, he couldn't put one foot before the other. Maybe it had something to do with you, knowing it'd made you upset. It shouldn't even matter to him how upset you were because you were the last person to take anyone's feelings into consideration.

Calum took note of the amount of uneasiness Luke showed, almost always going out of his way to sit as close to him as possible during interviews, borrowing his stuff without asking- even going as far as stealing his guitar picks to throw him over the edge.

"What are you thinking about", Calum asks from across the dining room table, his voice echoing through the room. I stared down at my plate, my fork trembling in my hand as I recounted all the times I've left Luke in the middle of the night- just to end up in this house.

"Just not hungry", I reply quietly, pushing my chair back as I stand, scooping up the plate and marching over to the trash can.

Calum sighs loudly and drops his fork onto his plate, letting it clatter loudly as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

"For god's sake, Y/n", he starts, standing up and walking towards me. He grabs my arm gently and turns me to face him, examining my face. The rings under my eyes were apparent, regardless of the layers of concealer and powder I packed on. I looked like shit, and I didn't need a sympathetic look to tell me- I felt like shit too.

"When are we going to talk about this?". He pleads, his grip on my arm tightening ever so slightly.

"There's nothing to talk about, we did what we did and now I have to pay the price", I shrug softly and tear my arm from his reach, walking towards the trash can and scraping the food into the bin. He doesn't say anything as I slowly walk towards the sink and drop the dishes in, clasping my hands on the edge of the sink and I close my eyes and focus on my breathing.

"I'm going to Luke's tonight." I finally say, turning to Calum who stood in the dining room dumbfounded.

"Do you think that's a good idea?", He asks, turning to grab his wine off the table and taking a small sip.

"I don't know, but I want to see him", I rub my eyes with my hands, hard enough that I see fireworks. "I need to."

Calum nods a few times, swirling the red liquid in the glass before raising it up to his lips to finish off.

"Okay, do you want me to drive you?"

I shake my head; that's probably the last thing we need.

"I'll be okay", I say unconvinced, moving towards the living room which held my pile of stuff in the corner. I crouch down and bury my hands through my bag, pulling out my car keys and shoes before turning to look at Calum. He stood in the same position I left him in, staring at me cautiously. Almost as if I was a ticking time bomb, and he was scared that if he got too close or said the wrong thing, I'd explode.

"I'll call you if I need anything." I mentally curse myself, hating the very words that slip out of my mouth. It should be an innocent saying, but I was saying it to Calum Hood- the same person who was one call away when I needed him more than anything. With a swift movement, Calum stands in front of me and places a gentle platonic kiss on my forehead.

I sat in the driveway of our house for a while, looking up to see all the lights were out. I wanted to reverse back out and pretend I never came, it's been weeks since I've seen him and I don't want to rub salt on a fresh wound. But I also couldn't bring myself to shift the car into gear, staring frozen in time at the kitchen light that was now flicked on. I could see his silhouette, his messy hair, and his oversized shirt.

I could almost paint the picture in my head, the brown shirt encased in holes that he so desperately loved, the gold hair clip he stole from me knitted in his hair to keep his curls from his face, and the embroidered socks on his feet that I made him two years ago.

I opened the car door slowly, sliding out cautiously and onto the pavement. The light was still on so I picked up my pace towards the porch. I stepped over the creaky panel and placed my hand on the handle, the cold metal unwelcoming me. I look down at my feet, mentally telling myself to "get this shit over with" and see him.

The door swings open before I can react, dragging my hand with it, and my foot stumbles inside the door. I look up in horror to see Luke towering over me, a bag of chips in one hand and his phone in the other. He wore the brown shirt, his hair in the gold clip, and the socks were placed neatly on his feet.

We both don't say anything, he continues chewing a mouthful of chips before swallowing. I finally let go of the door handle and Luke steps aside, allowing me to fully walk into the house. I drop my purse on the shoe stand, my keys rested on the hook next to the door and I slip my shoes off- a habit Luke made me pick up. I slowly put my shoes on the stand, eyeing Luke's Converse now caked in mud. I turn around slowly to face him, the same emotionless eyes staring back at me. He shakes the chip bag, peering down inside before turning it towards me with a raised eyebrow.

"No thank you, i'm okay", I say quietly, putting a hand up at the offer.

He shrugs his shoulders and turns around, walking towards the living room and sitting on the floor- where the couch once was

"What happened to the couch?", I ask, following hot on his trail up until he sat down.

"Threw it out", Is all he responds with, stuffing his mouth with a handful of chips again.

I nod slowly, looking around the house to take note of anything else that's change. Everything else remained the exact same, aside from the couch now being gone and a photo of Calum, Luke and I surfing now shattered on the ground in the far corner.

Luke didn't dare look me in the eyes for a second time, just eating what was left of the bag and keeping his eyes focused on the movie playing in front of him.

"Lu?" My voice is quiet, almost like I was saying it for the first- or last time.

He mumbles in response, his body turning to slowly face me but his eyes meeting anywhere but me.

"Can we talk?"

He laughs now, a heartfelt chuckle that makes his cheeks turn red and the ground beneath us to vibrate gently.

"Talk? Talk about what, Y/n?"

I didn't have a response, I wasn't even sure we'd make it this far in a conversation.

"Luke," I start, crossing my hands over my body, "I love you. What I did-"

"Fuck you, Y/n" He spits out, finally meeting my eyes as he stares me down, mentally shooting daggers.

"Wha-"

"No fuck you for even trying to pull that on me right now. 'I love you Luke' and 'It was all a mistake, I'll never do it again." He mocks me now, standing up to his feet and walking up to me. "Were you rehearsing that in your head for the last year while my best friend took you on every fucking surface of this house?" His voice raises drastically, his body inching closer to me.

I don't cut him off, I let him speak his mind- knowing it's probably been bottling up for a while.

"I trusted you with everything, you've been by my side since day one- back when I had nothing. I just can't believe this, you show up here after a few weeks thinking things will go back to normal?", he throws his hands up in the air, "Nothing that happened was normal, I have to scrub my body in the shower for hours to try and get the idea of Calum touching you like I used to out of my head."

I stare at him, silent for almost an eternity before I dare to open my mouth.

"Luke, I'm sorry. I fucked up-"

"Fuck that, there's no fixing this. I don't want to kick you out but I think it'd probably be for the better. I'll help you pack and pay for a place, but I just don't think you being here is a good idea anymore." His voice cracks.

Nodding my head, I bite down on my tongue to stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks. It'd be selfish of me to cry, unfair to him and the pain I put him through.

"Okay", I walk past him, slowly inching my way up the stairs with our eyes locked. His hands were clenched at his side, watching my every step.

Once inside the bedroom, I closed the door behind me and sat on the edge of the bed. Many emotions ran through my head, I wasn't quite sure what I was feeling- but I knew I didn't like it either. The clock on the nightstand ticked agonizingly slow, causing my leg to bounce before I finally stood and made my way into our once-shared closet. To my surprise, all of my stuff was already packed neatly into a few boxes; my glassware was delicately wrapped in newspaper and my valuables were stored safely. I could hear the door swing open behind me, my eyes not averting from the box as I heard his footsteps slow right behind me. His hands wrapped around my chest, crouching down to put his head on mine as he rocked us both slowly.

"I'm sorry", his voice cracks for the second time tonight, and I feel my body start to tremble underneath his reach.

"For what", I whisper quietly, almost mentally praying he couldn't hear me.

"For not being good enough."

Luke had helped me carry all of my belongings to the car, gently placing them down in the truck and putting my stuffed animals behind the seatbelts. We had avoided each other's touch since the shared moment in the closet, retracing quickly if we even bumped hands reaching for the same object. It was killing me and I knew it had the same effect on him.

"I think that's everything", He dusted his hands onto his basketball shorts, a mere smile painted on his face. I return the smile towards him, rocking on my feet before nervously playing with my hair.

"Thanks for the help.", I watch as he slowly averts his gaze to me again, scanning my eyes before walking closer. His face is almost millimeters apart from mine and I could feel his breath on my cheeks. His eyes were emotionless, almost dark blue in hue and deadly.

He stares at me, almost contemplating his next actions before he bends down and plants a gentle kiss on my lips in one swift action. I return the kiss, almost too quickly- causing his to pull away and clear his throat.

"For what it's worth, I really hope Im the last person who gets to do that", He laughs innocently, swinging my drivers door open and letting me slip inside. I give a sympathetic smile, closing my eyes for a moment before sighing.

"I do too"