#unheard unspoken

[errantce]

solani's cutting it very close the next afternoon. her braids at the salon took longer than she planned & by the time she returns home, it's close to the time she's meant to leave with her parents to the bus stop.

[scribe-of-stories]

Would a culture that had telepaths create a new form of story telling where they pass around unspoken, unwritten, unseen stories?

[cooffeebeast]

People only want, to listen

When, im quiet

- FGkhamae

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x F! reader, momentary mean! Steve, established relationship, lil bit of angst, PIV sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, hate sex turned make up sex WC:2.2K

A/N: Why not? Enjoy!

"So we're still fighting, huh?", Steve narrows his eyes at you from the kitchen entry way.

He's a picture of disarray — shirt misbuttoned, belt buckle in need of fastening, tie draped loosely over his shoulders and hair a wild, mussed up mess.

His unruly state came to be as a result of forgetting to set his alarm after your heated exchange last night, waking to find he was running late for work and you hadn't bothered to rouse him like you usually would have.

His sarcastic barb goes seemingly unheard though when you refuse to look up from the dishes you're scrubbing in the sink, back still turned to him even though the crumbs from your breakfast of blueberry jam on toast have long been washed clean from your plate.

It was a disagreement blown out of proportion that had caused the friction between you two. Steve had hoped sleeping it off would help to cool your tempers enough to reconcile in the morning but now that seems as likely as him making it to work on time.

Or was it?

He sighs, a clear note of irritation coming through because he should be digging through the laundry basket in search of his socks before he tries to shove his feet inside his shoes without them again in his rush, not rooted in place, eyes dark and stony but taking you in.

Of course you'd try to give him blue balls on top of it all too.

He grits his teeth as he stares at you in your too short satin robe, every inch of your legs and thighs on display as the hem hangs high, just a few inches below the swell of your ass. Practically dangling yourself in front of him.

He enters the kitchen then and though it feels risky approaching you the way that he does, he recognizes that the air's thick with a familiar kind of tension when he comes up behind you.

Quickly and none too gently, he rucks up your robe to confirm a suspicion he'd been harboring. He finds you're nude underneath the thin, silky layer when you allow him just a glimpse, swatting his hand away with a look sharper than a knife's edge when your eyes connect with his over your shoulder.

But Steve knows better than to take it seriously. There's no ire behind your glare — no unspoken threat meant to make him retreat. You're still mad, sure, he can feel the heat radiating off of you just as it's made his own skin warm but your expression softens just enough to confirm that what you really want is for him to come closer. And that's exactly what he does.

You feel the warmth of Steve's chest pressing against your back when you turn to the sink once more, his arms caging you in place, leaving you no room to escape. The water continues to run until he closes the faucet too, leaning down to whisper into your ear. "This how you want to solve it?", he asks, pulling his hand back to lift your robe again only this time you don't attempt to thwart him, letting him cup your ass and squeeze your soft skin. Hard.

The heat of last night's fight had died down to a simmer but it left you both burning in a different, much more familiar way as you answer him.

"Yeah. This is how I want to do it", you utter loud enough for him to hear you clearly though this close together, there's nothing he can miss no matter how softly you might whisper it.

The sound of his belt coming undone has you buzzing beneath your skin while you brace yourself, curling your fingers under the edge of the countertop as Steve finishes pulling out his girthy cock. But before he even attempts to get it anywhere near your entrance he holds out his palm to you, knowing that he doesn't need to ask for you to spit into it, something that feels instinctual now at this stage in your relationship as he draws it back and slicks up his cock with your saliva.

With his length coated in a warm, glossy mixture of your spit and his precum, Steve doesn't keep you waiting for long, your legs parting to help with easing the tip of his cock in.

"Does it hurt?", he asks and while it might sound like he's only concerned about you, you can hear the heat still present in his veins.

"A little", You answer with a little heat of your own, no intention of asking him to stop.

"Good. I know you can take it", he tells you, all thorns and shit eating grins.

It doesn't happen as easily as when you two take the time to engage in foreplay first, your body usually opening up to accept him once he's gotten you ready with his tongue or fingers but this time Steve manages to notch his tip by your hole and breach you once it pops inside with a little effort, the rest of him slowly sinking inch by inch into your velvet heat.

Despite the wetness that smears your inner thighs, your whole body tenses and you have to breathe through it, pain marrying pleasure while you're being stretched open, hissing under your breath when he reaches his base. He spends a few seconds all the way inside you, just feeling you wrap around him and squeeze, your walls pulsing when he decides that's as soft as he'll allow himself to be with you today.

And he proves it when he begins pulling himself out, only to grit his teeth and drive himself back in again, making you squeal instantly, getting you thoroughly acquainted with the feeling and the force of every thrust as his pelvis bounces against your ass.

Steve so rarely ever fucks you like this and you're so caught up in taking his cock that you barely notice the way he reaches up to pull the front of your robe open too, realizing what he's done when he finds your nipples and begins to pinch and tug on them, smirking when it draws a high pitched whimper out of you as your steady breathing turns to shallow pants.

But you're not some delicate flower type. You're not one to be so compliant and let him ruin you so easily. So while Steve's busy fondling your chest you're quick to even the score when you grab hold of his right hand, lifting it up to your mouth so you can sink your teeth into the soft skin between his thumb and his wrist.

The pained hiss turned groan he lets out despite himself is a small victory but a sweet one nonetheless, enough to make you smile around his throbbing hand before deciding to remove your teeth from him, making sure to scoff at him all smug as he rubs at the little red teeth marks left behind on his tan skin.

Of course he takes it as well as a throatful of glass, considering the act a challenge for more.

Steve offers you one small moment of respite, slowly pulling almost all the way out, making sure his swollen tip remains inside you while you sigh, only to make you choke on a moan when he pushes all the way inside again in a single hard thrust, punching the air out of you.

You wanted to retaliate again, maybe reach behind to sink your nails into his thigh, scraping at his skin until narrow lines or blood rise to the surface or even rip at the clothes that hang on him in his state of half undress but you're unable to follow through this time with how he's managed to rattle you.

Steve's far too pleased to feel your elbows start to shake as your arms struggle to keep you up at this point, set on making your knees wobble too just so he can gloat about it later when you find it difficult to pick yourself up off the kitchen floor and walk away once he's done with you.

Slowly, Steve withdraws again, glee lighting up his eyes when he pushes back in with the same force of that first sharp thrust and this time you fail to stop a short scream from ripping out of your throat, back arching from how well and hard he's pressing against that spot deep inside you.

"Something you wanna say, sweetheart?", he sneers and taunts, pleased when you struggle to put together a coherent sentence while trying to endure his unforgiving pace. "Spit it out before I stop being so nice."

You muster what you can and manage to whimper it out, feeling so worn out though you haven't even reached your climax yet.

"Cum inside me. Please", you tell him — beg him, fingers turning cold and numb from how hard your grasping the countertop.

He's nothing short of cocky when he hears you whine all desperate and spent, a smug sense of accomplishment washing over him when he sees the thick coating of slick and cream you've left on his cock as he watches it withdraw and disappear inside you one harsh thrust after the other.

And then you tell him the rest.

"M—miss you when you're gone. Need to —ngh. Need to feel you in me when you're not here", you manage to string the words together before letting out a sound that's somewhere between a gasp and a whine, the kind he'll think about later on his own, working himself up until he's got no choice but to pry it out of you again.

But this isn't one of those moments, no matter how much he'd liked the sounds falling from your parted, panting lips.

Steve loses his rhythm before he stills completely inside you, your words sinking in like nails piercing his skin.

This was it. The crux of last night's argument.

You missed Steve. He'd been working too hard lately and you'd grown concerned. With the stress of his job and the little sleep he'd had he'd grown defensive and you'd gotten irritated, both of you clashing when you should have been listening and working together.

When he had woken up this morning Steve had cooled down enough to know he'd been unfair to you the night before. He was usually the type to talk things out but he'd gotten swept up in how things happened to pan out today, wrapping an arm around you tenderly, the hand you'd bitten placed over your thumping heart. He nuzzles his chin onto your shoulder to get closer to you, the stubble he'd been unable to shave this morning scratching against your skin gently as he whispers into your ear with so much sincerity.

"I'm sorry— I'm so sorry."

The sound of him all earnest and ragged makes you melt in his hold because you know how much he means it — you can practically feel how much he means it as it sinks into your skin and reaches into your ribcage.

Like Steve, you would have been open to talking it out had this been a regular fight. This particular fight however had you dumping more fuel on to the fire that roared between you because it required more than just words to resolve everything. It needed more than swapped apologies for the two of you to make amends and return back to normal.

You really needed to fuck it out. All teeth and nails and sore, spent bodies.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too", you answer, a smile growing on your parted, panting lips. "Now fuck me, will you?"

It catches Steve off guard enough to make him snort, thankful that the worst of your fight is behind you now as he starts to pick up the pace again, firm but also tender with the way his lips move against your neck and his fingers brush and roll at your nipples.

"Going to make it up to you, baby. Gonna be around more. Gonna be here for you, okay?", he pants against your skin, all gravelly groans and grunts with his nails digging into the skin on your waist.

You moan out his name, using what little strength you feel you have left to push yourself back to meet his thrusts. "Steve, oh fuck... I'm so close. I need you— I fucking need you, please."

He snaps his hips against your ass again, drawing out a blissful shudder out of you. "Gonna make it all right but until then—", you feel him draw away from you a little bit then, his hands leaving your body as you realize that he's going through his pockets.

With his cock still buried inside you and throbbing, he pulls out his phone and begins dialing, his thrusts commencing again, steady and deep enough to make your whole body draw tight, your release within reach.

"Try to keep it down while I call in sick, okay? Gonna have you all to myself today. Promise I'll keep you nice and full— gonna look so beautiful when you're dripping with me..."

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

OFFERING A HAND. (L.H)

logan howlett x gn!reader

word count. 1369

summary. requested here. logan overhears you crying one night. though the dynamics of your relationship have never been established, he can’t quite leave you alone. and so, he knocks on your door. doing what he can to comfort you

It was a bad day. Another bad day at the end of a bad week. Another bad week. 

You didn’t even know what it was that you were feeling, what had got you feeling this way. All you did know, is that your head hurt, the pressure building behind your eyes as you try your best not to actualise your sadness. Purposefully distracting yourself as a way to manage it. 

You’re in your room at the mansion, earphones plugged in with your door shut – minimal light from the moon creeping through your window. You lay in bed on your side, legs comfortably tucked up as you listen to your music, the volume high enough to drown out everything else.

It was loud, so much so that you’re unaware of the knocks at your door – the presence of Logan on the other side. The smell and sounds of your sobs catching his attention from the room over. 

He knew it wasn’t his responsibility, wasn’t his duty to check on you —the confusing dynamics of your unspoken relationship often making things difficult— though he’s not heartless. He’s not cruel. He couldn’t let you be alone, knowing you were crying in your room. 

His knocks go unheard, though he knew you were in there. The smell of your salty tears just as fragrant as before – maybe even more so now up close.

You see a crack of light illuminate around your room as the door ever so slowly opens, Logan lingering between the small gap in the doorframe. You whip your neck around to follow the silhouette, your hands immediately reaching to wipe your eyes when you spot him.  

“Everything okay in here?” he asks, speaking tentatively. His footing hesitant. 

You unplug your earphones and give your eyes another quick wipe, hastily brushing the wet from under them. 

“Mhm-hm,” you hum, afraid of what your voice may sound like. 

“You sure?” he questions, slowly eyeing around your dim room. “It uh— it doesn’t sound like it.”

You briefly drop your head into your hands and clear your throat, adjusting yourself more comfortably on the bed. Sitting up, you cross your legs and plop a plushie atop – your comfort plushie. Awkwardly playing with the ears as a way of distracting yourself. 

“I’m good,” you shrug, weakly laughing as if to lighten the mood – make it seem like no big deal. 

His eyes hone in on your fidgeting hands, a slight warmness spreading in them once he realises what you’re doing. He looks back out into the hallway like he was weighing his options, until he glances back at you sitting sadly on your bed, bottom lip practically wobbling. 

He exhales as he scratches the back of his neck, clearly unsure of what to do.

“Seriously,” you clear your throat once more. “I’m good. I’m good,” you say, the tone changing by the second repeat – speaking like it was you who needed convincing. 

He shakes his head and steps further into your room, closing the door behind himself as he walks over to you. “Can I sit?” he questions, and once he’s met with a nod from you, he takes a seat at the edge just beside you.

“I don’t know why I’m sad,” you murmur, eyes focused on your lap. Your hands still fiddling with the fluff of your stuffed animal. “I don’t know,” you shrug, suddenly feeling embarrassed by all this vulnerability. 

He nods faintly, the act showing that he’s listening to you. It’s like he’s uncertain of what to say, scared of saying the wrong thing.

“Sorry,” you shake your head, softly scoffing to yourself. 

“No,” he mirrors your head movement. “Don’t be.”

Logan hesitates, his hand slowly reaching for yours. He clasps around it, his fingers interlocking with yours before giving you a slight squeeze. “It’s okay,” he nods, reaffirming his words.

The contact alone of his hand in yours is enough to reopen those feelings you tried ever so desperately to contain. New tears slowly forming in your eyes from his simple act of warmth. 

He keeps his eyes on the side of you, watching you softly while you do everything you can not to meet his gaze – forcefully keeping them on your interlocked hands. 

And with your spare hand, you bring it up to your face, elbow resting on your knee to cover your eyes, not wanting him to see you cry.

But it was too late, he saw it and his heart hurt for you. He pulses your hand, his fingers soothingly skimming over the back of it. He couldn’t bear to see you like this. And though the logistics of your relationship have never been solidified, that didn’t mean he didn’t care for you, didn’t like you.

You cry quietly into your hand, the pads of your fingers briskly wiping away every tear that fell. 

“Come on,” he mutters, voice soft as he adjusts on the bed, turning inward to you beside him. “Let me take care of you.”

Without a second to debate it, you repeat after him – twisting in to face him. You let go of his hand and wrap both arms around him, hands tight on his back as you bury your face into his shoulder. Head tucked in the crook of his neck.

His arms follow after you in the same way, hands grasped tight on your back as he soothes you – a palm brushing up the length of it, calming you. The warmth and softness of him only deepen your sobs.

He coos faintly, the sound like he was trying to further the comfort. His large, manish hands running up the expanse of your spine until one situates behind your head, cradling it carefully. Holding it closer to him. 

You mutter something into him, the incohesive words muffling against his neck.

And before you have to repeat yourself, he’s pulling away to look down at you. The hand on your back moving to the side of your face, his thumb gliding under your eye to swipe away a tear bead. He keeps his eyes focused on you, gaze purely soft as he flickers over your face.

“One more time, sweet thing,” he prompts, referring to your prior, indistinct sentence a moment.

“Thank you,” you repeat, a slight waver in your voice. “I mean it, thank you,” you nod and give his back a brief squeeze before parting.

His hand still cupping your face. “I know,” he says, words gentle.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulls away. You hold his eye contact, smiling sadly at him as you do so. He can be so sweet.

“Um,” you start, unsure of what’s about to come from your mouth. “Can you stay with me for a bit?” 

He pauses, his features forcefully stiffening —hiding a grin— before he nods, silently agreeing.

You smile at him again, this time it's far sweeter, the reasoning far sweeter. You resume your original lying position, only this time it’s facing inwards, leaving space for Logan to lay in front.

He follows your lead, moving across the bed to lie in the same way you do – his body facing yours. You scoot closer and wrap an arm around him, forgetting all prior complications and complexities in your confusing relationship. It all felt right and how it should, just like you always wanted. Like what he always wanted.

He pulls you closer, his own arm cradling you like he did just moments before. He looks down at you tucked against his chest, his eyes never seeming to pull away from how soft and sweet you looked. How at peace you looked with him.

And as he watches your eyes flicker closed —presumed exhaustion taking over— he makes a silent promise to you both. Telling himself that he’ll always be there for you when you feel this way again.

But he can’t tell you that, especially now as you’re finally starting to doze off. So instead he holds you just a bit tighter, pressing a kiss into your hairline as he relaxes into your touch – making himself comfortable to spend the night in your room. A night with you.

you guys have comfort teddies too right?

[un-lawliet]

I recently found your blog and <3

I’ve been having some health issues lately and have been struggling so I decided to leave a request! Obviously don’t feel pressured to write! If the prompt doesn’t stick feel free to ignore!

High school Satoru X female reader who had a crush on him in for ages but she’s so shy and Gojos so popular so they don’t really interact. BUT she decides to bake him sweets and leave them on his desk and somehow he finds out it was her and asks her on a date.

CHEESY I KNOW >~< I feel like we don’t have enough fics of reader being head over heels in love with Gojo and it’s a must!

ANYWAY- again this is a ramble feel free to ignore MWAH

hi anon !!! id absolutely LOVE to write this ITS NO PRESSURE AT ALL :) thank you so so so much for the request- i hope you’re ok ! and i’m always here incase u need to talk <3

“Pretty.”

— in which Gojo has a secret admirer.

“Did you hear? Satoru Gojo has a secret admirer.”

“Oh Yea? Who?”

“Dunno, ‘pparently he’s going mad tryna find ‘em though.”

…

Your face was definitely burning, hands sweating and jaw clenched as you listen to the chatter of your classmates. Their voices morphing into the background of your busy mind, blending seamlessly into the slight disarray of (as you would describe it) your dire situation.

Blinking, you raise your hand to scratch the base of your neck, trying to pull yourself together less you reveal your crimes of admiration out-loud to classroom full of people who barely knew of your name.

You could see him, from where you sat, hunched over in your seat at the back of the classroom, your eyes squinted ever so slightly as the unforgiving sun spread her light through the window, gracefully imposing on your face falling directly into your peering eyes.

Leaning against the smudged glass of the vending machine, he had his head tilted back, laughing boisterously at a joke from his friend (the one who was always trying to hide the smoke from her lit cigarette)

In one hand you could see a can of soda you knew was far too sweet for anyone but himself, and in the other, you saw the small tin, decorated with the white and yellow details of pretty flowers and bee’s. Lid concealing the sweets in which you had baked just a day prior, sweets that you had hoped would act as a silent confession of your- oh you’re blushing again.

Your feelings for Satoru Gojo were undeniable, however unspoken. And you doubt you would ever get to a point where you would voice them out-loud to anyone let alone Gojo himself.

But you are unfortunately, still human, and humans have a tendency to want to be acknowledged, and after years of harbouring unheard feelings for someone, the bitter grasp of your own human desire overpowered your confident resolve of silence.

And so, you left a tiny box of chocolates with a tiny pretty note tucked in the back, with a silently cheeky “Enjoy” written in pink pen.

Glancing over to the vending machine once more, you watched as Satoru Gojo waved a hand in-front of his face, pouting as he tried pathetically to dodge the smoke blown at him by his friend, who grinned cheekily in response, flicking the now finished bunt towards the ground and stepping on it, moving her foot side to side to kill the remains of the flame.

You smile.

You had met Gojo two years ago, but had known of him far longer.

In the words of yourself (and probably everyone else who knew him) he was the epitome of perfection. Good in class, the best in any sport he took up and God he was beautiful.

Everyone knew him, the exact opposite to you.

You who quietly stumbles around her own feet, and apologises for even the slightest thing, despite it mostly never being your fault.

You were incomprehensibly shy, and so incredibly frustrated with your own reticence.

And yet two years ago, Satoru Gojo had asked you for a pen, you for a pen.

He had leaned back in his chair, during your math class, turned his head and nudged you instead of everyone else around him.

A pretty grin on his face as he sheepishly explained that he forgot to bring his own, and you had stammered and nodded handing him a pen as you gently said “You can keep it for the rest of the day, I don’t mind.”

“Huh? You serious?” He had replied, his head cocking slightly eyes crinkling under his sun glasses.

“Yea? I mean uh- yes!” Looking away from his gaze shyly. “It’s just a pen you know? I have plenty.”

He laughed, and you couldn’t help but look right back at him, your heart basically stopping as he winked, right at you.

“Thanks pretty.”

And your sure you had died, right then and there. Watching the back of his head as he turned back around, uncapping your pen as he moved.

Since then, Gojo had always smiled at you when he saw you walking past, and always without fail, you would sheepishly smile back, the familiar feeling of butterflies tickling the confines of your stomach every damn time.

The shrill sound of the bell rang throughout the classroom, and you stand up, taking your books with you with a sigh.

The clatters of chairs and bags zipping filtered through your thoughts and pulled you out of your self induced daydreaming stupor, calling you to join the rest of your classmates in exiting the confines of your classroom.

You glance back out the window once more before you move towards the door, and instantly your eyebrows lifted and you almost loose grasp of your balance as Gojo Satoru stares right back at you.

Simultaneously he smiles, lifting a hand as if greeting you and you scramble away from the window, head down, entirely embarrassed.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Could you be anymore useless in your “acting cool” facade.

Ever since you had placed your sweets on Satoru Gojo’s desk you had been a nervous wreck, terrified that at any second your feelings would be exposed and the entire school would point and laugh at your sweaty, flushed face.

Sniffing, you rub your eyes with the heel of your hands, trailing behind your peers through the halls, on their way home.

The lockers were always so crowded at the end of the day and you hated it.

You had no group to hide you from the conversations involving Gojo and his “secret admirer” have to hear every single in and pretend not to care.

“It’s creepy don’t you think? I mean why not just tell him you like him?”

“Maybe they’re nervous?”

“Of course they are? It’s Satoru Gojo for Christ’s sake, man’s beautiful.”

You close your locker, clutching the books and papers you need for your later homework, your bag left abandoned on the floor beside you.

Turning to reach for your bag, you feel another student collide into you. Your books crash to the ground, and you stare mortified as pages fly out, scattering everywhere.

The student doesn’t stop, just calls out that he’s sorry and that he’s late for a bus, you sigh.

You have to drop out, you think, there’s no recovering from this.

You bend down, apologising quietly to those around you who just glanced at you and continued on their way, and start to gather all your papers and books, heat burning your face.

“You ok?” You heard him just before you saw him, his teasing voice making your hands shake.

Satoru Gojo stood, a smile on his face as he leaned down to get closer to you, your eyes widen and you lean back on your knees.

“Um, yea-Yes everything’s good here..just dropped my stuff..” You trail off and end your broken speech with a fake, ugly laugh, internally you die as he nods and bends down to help.

“No, no you really don’t have to do that, I can manage!” You exclaim, hands moving rapidly in-front of you and he just laughs.

“I don’t mind helping ya, ‘kay?” He’s picking up random papers, no longer looking at you, his eyes glossing over your hand writing- a cheeky grin that you do not see flickers across his face.

You’re in a trance, watching as Gojo helps you, jumping when he glances at you and catches you staring, you busy yourself with stacking your books back into your bag, “Ok well, If you’re sure.”

“M’sure.” He’s handing you a stack of papers, ‘I’m very sure.”

The locker area door closes, signalling the absence of everyone else, you gulp.

“Suprised nobody helped you.” Gojo muses, standing up and raising a hand for you to hold.

You blush as you grasp it, it’s warm, you hope your palms aren’t sweating.

“It’s home time, people wanna get home.” You smile, rising to your feet using his hand has leverage.

Gojo let’s his hold linger before he lets go, you don’t notice, too focused on readjusting your top, fiddling with the fabric.

His sunglasses fall down his nose a little revealing the crystallised blue of his eyes, you swear the light causes them to glow as it catches his pupil.

You smile, eyes corrugating with what you hope looks like appreciation.

“Thanks Gojo.” And he smiles right back at you.

“Hey you know..” Gojo says, turning to ruffle in his bag, your eyes follow his movements, you watch as he pulls out a familiar box.

“Someone left these in my desk this morning, they’re really good..You wanna try?”

Your heart stops in your chest.

Your sure you’re bloods turning blue in your arteries.

Act casual, casual Y/N.

“O-oh that’s nice of them.” You mumble, your voice breaking slightly.

He offers you the box again, shaking it slightly to entice you with your own chocolates.

“Um are you sure? I don’t wanna take something that was made for you..” You look away from his sweet face to stare at the floor, then the ceiling and then back to the floor, there’s a crack right below your shoe.

Someone should really fix that.

“Oh come on! They taste great.” He grins, taking a chocolate and popping it into his mouth, letting out a dramatic “Mmm” as he chews.

“I’m sure they are..” You scratch your arm and then move your hand to the box, reaching in.

Your chocolates do taste nice, but you knew that already. Your taste testers from yesterday remaining as memory to your taste buds.

“Well?” His voice is teasing again, and you smile at him.

“They’re delicious.”

“Mhm.. and you know what else?”

He’s leaning closer to you, you try to stop yourself from leaning away, pushing aside your inane awkwardness, willing yourself to stay where you stand.

“They left a note too, wrote it in a pretty pink pen.”

“Oh?..How, how very uh- nice? of them.” You’re scrambling for sentence structure, staring at his stupidly handsome face.

He takes a page from your arms, and turns it towards himself, then lifts your note from out of his pocket.

Your eyes widen in realisation, and you step back, head turning to the door.

“Oh well, I have to go haha..” You trail off, shoving your stuff in your bag and beginning to walk to the door.

“You made me chocolates?” He asks, and you freeze, your eyes falling back onto him, and the soft face he regards you with.

He had turned the note and your paper around, your handwriting obviously present on both, you chastise yourself for such a huge oversight.

How can you deny it now? Oh God He has you cornered.

Embarrassment bubbles in the back of your throat and you desperately try to explain.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt, hands reaching out in-front of you as if begging him to hear you out.

“Huh-”

You don’t let him finish.

“I didnt mean to come off creepy, it’s just I- Well I- I think you’re really sweet, and you- You smile at me..sometimes, I just wanted you to let you know? And I’m sorry for how-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He says, his face falling, “You don’t need to apologise for nothing, I’m not mad.”

He walks towards you, “I’m just glad they came from you, that’s all.”

Hope? Is that what you’re feeling right now?

You dare to look at him, only to see him already looking at you.

“I-”

“I ‘smile at you sometimes’?” He nudges, “You made me chocolates cause I smile?”

“..It’s a very nice smile.” You reply, head dropping.

He’s laughing, it’s a sound that makes your heart flicker, and warms your chest, scarce of mocking you feel yourself breathe normally again.

Gojo tilts his head to look at you, his face glowing with joy, as he asks, “I was planning on going to the cafe just down the street..Wanna come?”

You pause.

“What.”

Standing up straight, he hands you the note and your papers, you hold them and stare.

“A date, I’m asking you on a date Y/N.”

Is this real?

Is this happening?

“Are you serious?” Your voice comes out shocked and slightly higher than normal, you don’t understand.

“They’re very nice sweets.” He repeats with a grin “And they come from a very nice girl no? Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“I- I just-”

Gojo, pulls the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slings it over his own, walking towards the door.

“C’mon let’s go pretty.” And he’s looking back at you, waiting “Else you won’t have a bag for tomorrow.”

You jump and follow, eyes still wide and mouth slightly parted.

And Gojo pulls you towards him the second you get close enough to touch, grasping your hand and tugging you with him, a soft smile on his face as he does so.

All is well.

masterlist <3

feel free the leave a request <3

a/n : all is not well, i’m sick as all balls right now- thank you my dear for the request..i know it’s taken me about 58 years to write this but i hope you enjoy it <33 i loved writing it and sorry for the wait. i love you !!!

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Gīsītsos (little ghost)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Fingering, dubcon, smut. Word count: ~3.7k

Summary: As part of the Red Keep's serving staff, she knows it is better to remain unseen by the family she tends to. Unfortunately for her, an incident involving the second of the Targaryen sons means his gaze is now firmly fixed upon her.

Author's note: For @targaryen-dynasty's sleepover challenge. I was given the AU "meet cute" and the prompt "we have to be quiet". I have put my own little spin on both of these to suit my preference for canon and my particular writing style. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on notifications. Community labels are for cops.

There is an unspoken rule among the serving staff of the Red Keep; remain unseen and unheard whenever possible. Move as a spectre through the castle, do not draw attention to the mess you are employed to clean up. Those they serve do not wish to be reminded of their imperfections. Blissful ignorance is placed upon the pristine condition of the chambers they return to at the end of each day. They have always been that way, how could they not be? But beneath it lies an undercurrent of I do not wish to see it, do not make me look.

She is content to remain out of sight and mind of the Targaryen family, though her work is thankless, there is serenity to be found in the duties of a maidservant. As long as she completes the tasks assigned to her, then she is otherwise unbothered, and she considers herself fortunate to have a comparatively easy workload to some of the others.

The maidservants that attend to Prince Aegon’s bedchamber are ordered to work in pairs, partly because the mess he so often leaves behind is work enough for two, but also because he is known to sleep late, and there is safety in numbers. A chill runs down her spine at the memory of the whisperings that had passed between the staff about Dyana, brought before the Queen and forced to drink moon tea, before being relieved of her employment from the Keep. From that point on, the maidservants were forbidden from entering his rooms alone, lest they find themselves victim of the Prince’s wandering hands and lustful appetite.

There is no such danger to be found within the sleeping quarters of Prince Aemond, which she is in charge of tending to each day. He makes her job almost too easy, but she does not allow her guilt to weigh heavily enough upon her that she would ask for additional duties, instead she gives thanks to the Seven for this small mercy and ensures she finishes each day having completed her tasks to an impeccable standard. 

As she tugs the crisp white sheets of the bed firmly back into place each morning, there is no lingering body heat or scent to be found, indicating he has been awake for hours. She wonders if he sleeps at all, considering the unrumpled state of his bedding. When she strips the sheets off to change them once a week, there are no personal effects that fall loose, no trace that the Prince she serves exists at all. He is as much an apparition as she is.

When she is finished making up the bed or delivering the old sheets to the laundress, she sweeps the ashes from the hearth and readies the fireplace for Aemond’s return. Aside from that, there is little else to do besides lightly dust the shelves and reorganise the books placed upon his table. She never once sees the Prince, nor does he see her.

The most strenuous of jobs is the one she currently finds herself doing; the once weekly wash of the bedchamber floor, which requires her to get down upon her hands and knees with a brush and scrub the flagstones with a mixture of hot water and lye. The floor is hard upon her knees, her back aching, and knuckles sore from the combination of the soap and how tightly she grips the brush.

Satisfied that there is not an inch left unclean, she drops the scrubbing brush into the bucket, groaning softly as her knees twinge in protest as she stands. She swipes at the perspiration upon her forehead with the back of her hand, before reaching behind her to soothe ache in her lower back.

She freezes as her elbow collides with something on the desk, her heart feeling as though it stops beating within her chest as she hears the heavy splash of it fall into the bucket behind her, splattering dirty water against her skirt.

Snapping herself out of her shock, she quickly turns, seeing she has knocked a book from the table into the water she had been using to wash the floor. Dread swirls in her belly as she stoops to lift it out, her mind running rampant with thoughts of how much trouble she’ll be in if she has ruined one of Prince Aemond’s belongings. At best, she would lose her job. At worst, she is unsure, but she does not wish to fall foul of the man that rides the world’s largest dragon.

Drying off the leatherbound cover with her apron, she is relieved to see her swift action has prevented any serious damage, though the pages within are sodden. She cannot return it to the desk in this condition, so she tucks the book under her arm and picks up the bucket, walking quickly out of the Prince’s chambers, and back towards the servants’ quarters. If she can get it dried and return it in time, then hopefully he will be none the wiser to her mishap.

The scullion keeps the fire in the shared space ablaze all day, and she settles in front of it, opening the dampened book, careful not to place it so close that the parchment might singe. Happy to see the water has not soaked through far enough to smudge the ink, she turns the pages carefully while they dry, her eyes scanning the words. It is a tome of philosophy, far beyond the realm of her comprehension. It serves as a reminder of the divide between her and the Prince, she is beneath such intellectual pursuits. She imagines he would be infuriated that a lowly maidservant would ever dare to read it, and finds herself hunching over the book as it dries, subconsciously concealing it from view, as though she is engaging in something forbidden and shameful.

After an hour, the heat of the fire has returned the book to its original state, or at least as close as it’s going to get. She makes haste to return it to where it belongs, hoping that Prince Aemond will not yet have returned to his chambers. Her skin is heated, a combination of having been so close to the open fireplace for an hour and nervousness at the idea of being caught.

She enters the bedchamber without knocking, expecting it to still be empty, and moves swiftly on light feet, returning the book back to the desk it had laid upon previously.

“An enjoyable read, was it?”

The voice is soft, yet its sinister edge sends a shiver up her spine, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She turns slowly, keeping her head bowed, not daring to meet the unblinking stare of the One Eyed Prince.

“Your Grace,” she utters meekly, “please accept my apologies. I did not mean to intrude.”

“And you did not answer my question either.”

She dares to look up then, watching in wide eyed horror as he walks slowly towards her, dressed in his sparring attire, his expression impassive.

Swallowing thickly, ignoring everything within her that desperately wants to lower her gaze, she forces herself to hold it. “I did not read it, I swear, I would never be so discourteous.”

“Hm,” he murmurs, standing tall in front of her, “a pity. ‘Tis an interesting text. So, tell me, what were you doing with it?”

He is standing so close to her, she can feel the tickle of his breath upon her flesh, see the angry, red indentation of the scar that runs the length of the left hand side of his face, disappearing beneath the leather patch that covers his eye. There is something in the way he looks at her that makes her want to shrink into herself, but she fears she has forever shrugged off the shroud of invisibility that has until now protected her. His eye is piercing, a silent threat. I see you.

She considers lying, but decides it will be worse for her than simply telling the truth, if he catches her out. “I…I accidentally got the book wet while I was cleaning. I took it away to the servants’ quarters to dry it.”

Aemond leans his body into hers, and she can feel the warmth that radiates from his chest, smell the sweat that lingers on his skin from his exertion in the training yard. She screws her eyes shut, icy fingers of fear gripping her insides as she awaits her punishment, but then the heat of him is gone.

Slowly opening her eyes, she sees that he is still standing in front of her, but his attention is now focused upon his book as he flips through the pages, studying it for signs of damage. He had simply reached behind her to retrieve it. The relief that floods her is enough to make her want to laugh, but she knows better, biting it back as she exhales heavily through her nose.

Satisfied that his book is unruined, he snaps it shut, holding it with both hands as he looks at her once more. “Are you always this clumsy?”

She gapes at this, white hot embarrassment radiating from head to toe. “N-no, never. It was an accident, Your Grace, I swear it.”

He smirks, cocking his head. “Perhaps I ought to keep a closer eye on you?”

Please, no.

She wants to leave, to be away from the intensity of how he looks upon her, to have him forget her face and allow her to go back to being invisible.

“I promise I will take greater care in future, Your Grace. I apologise. Can I go?”

He raises an eyebrow at this. “I do not know. Can you?”

This is humiliating. Is he getting some sort of satisfaction from this?

“If that will be all, Your Grace.”

She bows her head to him and hurries from the room, feeling her heartbeat in her throat with every step that she takes. She can sense his eye upon her, boring a hole into the back of her, long after she has left his chambers, and it fills her with a sense of unease for the rest of the day. Her only solace is that she can return to her duties upon the morrow without having to see him.

However, as she enters the bedchamber the following morning she is horrified to find the Seven have decided her spell of good fortune has come to its end. Prince Aemond still occupies the space, standing at the foot of the bed as he fastens his tunic. Halting her steps, she lingers uncertainly, not knowing what she ought to do.

He stares at her as he continues to dress, not making any moves to alleviate her discomfort, and she takes a tentative step back.

“Should I come back?” She asks warily, glancing over her shoulder towards the door - it has never appeared so inviting.

“No need,” he assures her, “do what you need to.”

She hesitates a moment longer, but realising she is in no position to protest, she begins the task of turning down the bed. She can feel him looking at her the entire time, making her feel self conscious. There has never been an audience to spectate over her daily tasks before, and she moves as though she is suspended in honey, afraid to make a mistake while he is watching, despite the fact that these are duties she has performed hundreds of times before.

To her frustration, he moves as slowly as she does, unhurriedly clasping on his sword belt and pulling on his boots, watching her all the while, but never speaking a word. It is not until she begins sweeping away the ashes from the fireplace that he finally takes his leave, silently striding from the room without addressing her further.

For the first time since she entered Aemond’s chambers that morning she feels as though she can breathe, although a voice in the back of her mind tells her she has not seen the last of Aemond, and he certainly has no desire to see less of her.

Over the next few days, he is there every time she arrives, either in the process of dressing, or still laying in bed, causing her to turn away, ashamed at the way excitement flutters in her lower belly at the sight of his well defined bare chest.

He is doing this on purpose, she knows he is, abusing the imbalance of power between them, because she cannot ask him to stop. He is not really even doing anything wrong; it is not uncommon for maidservants to be in the presence of those they serve as they perform their duties, yet there is something about this that feels completely improper. The way his stare lingers upon her, stalking her as though she is prey, it both frightens her and fills her with a sense of mortification, because she knows that, deep down, there is a part of her that likes the fact that his attention is on her. The veil between them has been lifted, and now that she has gotten to know what resides on the other side, at least a little, she thinks of nothing else. It is both exciting and terrifying to have someone in such a position of authority so interested in her and what she does.

It is the day she strips the bed in order to place fresh sheets upon it, and she enters the bedchamber prepared to have to wait for the Prince to vacate it first. However, she finds that he is already gone for the day. Unsure if it is relief or disappointment that she feels, she immediately begins to pull back the bedding, deciding she would prefer not to dwell on the hollow feeling that has settled within her chest.

As she tugs the bedsheet loose from beneath the corner of the mattress, a small piece of parchment flutters from it, landing softly on the flagstones beside the wooden bedframe. Nothing has ever fallen from Aemond’s bed before, he is much too tidy, and so her curiosity is immediately piqued.

Plucking it from the floor, her mouth runs dry at the words she finds penned delicately in black ink.

Though I am absent, I think of you.

Was this meant for her to find? She feels foolish for considering such a notion, and yet she cannot shift the idea that it might be. Her hands shake as she holds the note, her mind reeling with thoughts of what she ought to do with it: keep it, cast it into the fireplace, put it back and pretend she has not seen it?

The latter is impossible, he would notice the fresh sheets upon the bed and know that she has found it. Perhaps she is being presumptuous, and this has been left for him by a bedmate? She decides to simply place it upon the desk, and leave it up to the Prince to decide its fate.

Though she attempts to continue her day as normal, thoughts of Aemond and the contents of his note will not allow her any peace. She wonders if it is indeed her that he is thinking of, and if it would satisfy him to know that he haunts her mind in equal measure. If only she had never knocked that wretched book into the bucket, then she would be free of this torment.

Aemond is fully clothed as she walks into his rooms the following day, standing beside his desk. There is absolutely no reason for him to linger, but she knows precisely why he does, her suspicions confirmed when she spies the note clasped between his fingers.

“You read it?” He asks, lifting his gaze to meet hers as she enters.

“Was I not supposed to?” She asks quietly, setting down the basket which contains the brushes and rags she uses for sweeping and dusting.

“I left it where only you would find it,” he retorts, allowing the parchment to flutter back down upon the desk. “What do you think?”

“I do not know, Your Grace,” she responds simply, attempting to keep her focus on meticulously unloading her supplies.

“Leave that,” he orders coolly. “Come here.”

She trembles as she steps slowly towards him, and he rounds on her, caging her between himself and the desk, its wooden edge biting into her lower back.

“You are beautiful,” he breathes, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. 

The trace of his fingertip leaves a trail of heat in its wake. She feels dizzy, overwhelmed, the urge to run and her body’s insistence at remaining rooted to the spot at direct odds with one another.

“Please,” she whispers, “do not. It is improper.”

His hand drops to his side and he regards her with a look of amusement. “I am not my brother. I will not take anything that is not given freely. But I suspect you want this as much as I do. Tell me I am wrong.”

“Your Grace, I–I…”

The words die in her throat, what can she say? A maidservant cannot speak of her desire for the Prince she serves. How can she give voice to the fact that since he first acknowledged her, he has plagued her every waking thought?

“Say the word, and things shall go back to as they were before, we shall be strangers once more.”

That is certainly the easier of the two options, and yet the idea of having to live without his attention now she knows the sweet torment of what it is to have it seems unfathomable to her. She is playing a dangerous game, treading a knife’s edge, placing herself directly in harm’s way, and the words she speaks next will forever change her life’s trajectory, but as she stares up into his piercing blue eye her judgement is too clouded for her to mind.

“I do not want that,” she says earnestly.

“I want you to beg for it,” he tells her, the slightest hint of malice in his tone.

She feels a stickiness between her thighs, a dull throbbing ache in her core that makes her nerves sing for release. Her voice is foreign to her, pathetic sounding as the single utterance of “please” tumbles from her lips.

“Please what?” Aemond asks, tilting his head, mocking her as he looms over her, keeping her pinned against the desk behind her.

Under ordinary circumstances, she would feel ashamed by such lewd behaviour, but these are no ordinary circumstances, and her actions are driven solely by desire, so she feels no chagrin as she allows herself to murmur “please touch me”.

The Prince’s deft fingers make quick work of moving up her skirt, ghosting along the inside of her thigh as he goes, causing her to suck in a shaky breath as she grips his shoulders for support.

She mewls helplessly as his middle and index fingers work their way beneath her smallclothes, dragging through her silken folds, wet with arousal.

Aemond hums in appreciation as his digits explore her, his entire hand moving beneath the thin cotton of her undergarments, cupping her mound. She exhales a shocked gasp as he pushes two fingers forcefully inside of her.

His free hand clasps over her mouth, muffling her sounds, as he works his fingertips inside of her at a lazy pace. “We have to be quiet,” he tells her, “or we will get caught, and we cannot have that.”

She nods in understanding, whimpering against his palm as his thumb begins to circle her pearl, the pumping of his fingers increasing in pace, the sticky sounds of her arousal accompanying her stifled whines of pleasure.

They have not even shared a kiss, there is no romance to be found here, but she does not mind. If anything, the depravity of the act serves to heighten the sensations and renders her more responsive to his touch.

His eye bores into hers, the pupil so large it almost eclipses the blue of it, his lips parted slightly as his nostrils flare. He crooks his fingers, brushing against a spot inside of her that causes her to buck against his hand. He grins wickedly, speeding up his movements both inside of her and against her bud.

The pleasurable ache she feels building winds tightly within her gut, and her thighs tremble with the effort of keeping her upright. Her fingernails dig into the fabric of Aemond’s tunic, as she feels her body tense in preparation for what’s to come.

With a final press of his fingers, she falls apart, her cry almost silenced by his hand over her mouth as she breathes erratically through her nose. She tightens around him in quick pulses as waves of warm relief pass through her body, making her pliant against him. 

She maintains her grasp on his shoulders, not trusting her shaking legs to keep her upright as he releases her mouth and withdraws his hand from beneath her skirt, his fingers glistening with her release.

He tuts, examining them carefully as he holds them up between them both. “What a mess you’ve made”, he says condescendingly, pressing them against her lips and forcing them into her mouth. The taste of herself upon her tongue is tart, the very idea of what she is doing lewd to her. “Something else for you to clean up,” he coos, watching as she sucks her essence from his fingers.

With these words she is brought crashing back down to earth as she is reminded of the power imbalance between them. She will always be the woman who tends to his messes, who serves him, except now she is also a vessel for his pleasure and, whatever the outcome of that may be, it is too late now to take it back. He has seen her, fully, and she will only ever see of him what he allows her to.

[gwenhysteria]

bsf!ellie williams x reader

cw: weed , intended lowercase , not proofread , that’s it me thinks

you held the joint up to your lips, taking a long drag. the smoke filled your lungs, a familiar earthy taste filling your mouth. you held your breath for a long moment before you exhaled slowly. a small cough escaped your lips and you rubbed your chest. ellie couldn't help but chuckle as she watched you cough and gasp for air.

"you alright there?" she asked with a smirk, grabbing the joint from you and taking a drag with ease. "i don't think i'm every gonna get used to it.." you admitted, giggling softly as you watched her exhale the smoke out of her lungs.

she huffed out a small sigh, a knowing smile on her lips as she looked at you. "yeah, you will." she said, passing the joint back to you. you two were only a few hits in, and the high had just washed over you like a wave of warm, tingling sensations. your muscles relaxed, a hazy feeling set in as your mind swam in a world of its own. everything felt different and strange, yet pleasant. you felt the faintest smile tug at the corners of your lips, a sense of contentment washing over you.

"feels nice." you declared, biting the skin on your lip. ellie hummed at your comment, nodding her head. "it's supposed to." she expressed, but it went in one ear and out the other. you were staring at her. you couldn't help but notice her beauty, your eyes studying the curves of her face. your gaze lingered on her features, taking in every detail; the way her eyes seemed to sparkle, the coy smile that tugged at her lips, the collection of freckles scattered across her face.

"you're staring." the sweet sound of her voice snapped you out of your trance, your eyes shooting up to meet hers. "what?" you questioned, blinking a bit. "you were staring at me.." she repeated herself, a small, knowing smile played at the corners of her lips. a wave of embarrassment washed over you. your eyes darted around the room, desperately avoiding eye contact. "sorry.” you blurted out, rubbing your hands on your jeans, suddenly hyper-aware of the sweat that collected in your palms. “i didn’t realize.”

you tried to not look at her again, but there was just something so unbelievably captivating about her, a subtle allure that drew your gave back to her over and over again. it was impossible to not notice how pretty she was, the thought slipping deeper into your mind, making it the only thing you could think about while you kept staring at her. everything she was saying was going unheard by you.

you finally managed to blurt something out, “you’re pretty.” the moment the words left your lips you felt a surge of confidence race within you. your heart started to beat a little faster as you waited for her reaction. “shut up.” she laughed, shaking her head. “why? i’m not wrong.” you couldn’t help but laugh with her. her eyebrows rose and she began to scan your face, her gaze lingering on your own features. “says you..” she retorted with a hint of playfulness in her voice. the way her eyes stayed on you as her words hung in the air made a slight shiver run down your spine.

the air felt charged, as if something unspoken was happening between the both of you. her words, spoken so simply yet held such weight, left you feeling a little flustered. you tried to act cool, opening your mouth to say something but no sound came out. it felt like a dream. you were suddenly at a loss for words, an unprecedented reaction you’d never felt before around her. your mind was fuzzy and unfocused, your thoughts swimming with the high. you figured it must’ve been the weed that brought out this reaction, loosening your inhibitions and making you more open and vulnerable than usual.

your eyes trailed down to her pink lips. her lips were soft and parted, just begging to be kissed. your eyes lingered there for a moment, tracing the contour of her mouth, you focus intense and unwavering. your mind was filled with thoughts of what it would be like to kiss her, to feel her lips against your own. the way her tongue occasionally darted out and to moisten them didn’t help one bit.

it was as if you were being drawn to her magnetically, an invisible force pulling you closer and closer until her lips were suddenly on yours. the moment they met, you felt like fireworks were going off in your brain, your heart thumping loud in your chest. but just as she started to kiss you back, you suddenly broke away, your back unintentionally hitting the mattress of the bed the both of you were sitting on, your hand shooting up to cover your mouth.

“oh my gosh, i am so sorry. i don’t know what’s gotten into me, i think it’s the weed– oh my god.” you rambled off different variations of apologies, before she started to wave her hands in front of your face and repeatedly shushed you. you shut up after you heard her repeated ‘shh’s, looking at her with sad and confused eyes. “it’s okay, it’s okay… you just didn’t give me any time to react.” she motioned with her hands for you to sit back up. you hesitantly sat up, and at you did, you and her were inevitably close. your lips were only about an inch away from eachother, almost touching, again.

her hand slid to the back of your head, tangling in your hair. she brung you closer to her face, and when your lips finally met, it was electric. the kiss was soft at first, a tentative brush of lips against lips, resting the waters before you both fully gave into the sensation. your mouths moved in perfect harmony, exploring and tasting one another as your body pressed against hers. you hands trailed to hold her face, and her free hand went down to grip your waist. tongues danced and tangled, breaths coming in ragged gasps as you melted into her. the kiss grew more intense as the moments passed, her hands wandering your body as you lost yourself in the kiss. it felt as if the world was fading away around you two.

don’t use the word you in every sentence challenge GO! and i immediately lose. and i’m so bad at ending stuff omg sorry this is bad guys

[haechoxo]

[9:26 pm]

pushing past everyone to reach the front door, not daring to look anyone in their eyes, let alone look up from the floor, praying no one would notice you leaving, but your prayers went unheard because someone’s hands were planted on your shoulders in an instant.

“where’re you going? didn’t you just get here?” renjun.

“please, jun, let me go, i just want to go home,” you plead, hoping the dim lights would conceal your glassy eyes. the ambience couldn’t conceal the crack in your voice though.

his brows furrowed before looking around, only to darken when he realized what you witnessed.

renjun sighed, “i don’t want you going home alone, i’ll deal with him later. mark’ll take you, alright?” you nodded and followed him to the porch to find him. they shared a knowing look and turned towards his car on the street.

you eyed him warily as you were buckling in, but he only chuckled, “don’t worry, it’s only cola, i figured i would’ve been someone’s driver tonight. though i was expecting jaemin.” he giggled, trying to lighten the mood. it was comforting, but you couldn’t help the slight painful feeling creeping up from your stomach and into your chest.

he broke the silence after a while, “we all knew, you know, that you and hyuck have a thing, though i’m not sure you guys were even hiding anything in the first place,” he said lightheartedly.

“we weren’t hiding anything, we—i thought, we were just going with the flow, maybe something would’ve just led to another after these past few years, but i guess i should’ve picked up on the signs a couple of months ago.”

“you guys were fucking for years? and neither of you made a move at all?” even if he tried to hide the disbelief in his tone, he was doing a shitty job.

“we weren’t just fucking though, it was more than that.” your voice was weak, trailing off with a frown. it started near the end of university, you were both close to begin with, nearly best friends, and school stress on top of work was just getting a little too hard to cope with alone. so it just happened. and then again. and again. and again. it became almost like routine.

your personal endeavors with haechan weren’t a secret either, it was quite normal for the strong romantic relationships that formed between your friends because of the friend group itself. jeno and aeri, jisung and yizhuo, even jaemin and jimin, all entered university together as friends with the rest of us, graduated with the rest of us, just as more than friends this time.

everyone assumed it would just be the same for you and haechan. you weren’t in denial either, but it just seemed unspoken, unnecessary, to say anything about it. as if it was just obvious the line between friends and not friends was just blurred. that you were his and he was yours.

well, the line faded before it could be blurred out.

the kisses became less and less, the “dates” came to a halt, the ‘morning-after’ activities ceased to exist anymore. the only constant that remained was his late-night calls, to which you answered in an instant, showing up to his place shortly after, and vice versa. but even then, he stopped staying.

even the little things, hidden possessiveness, lingering touches, hidden goodbyes, despite everyone knowing.

was it all a lie?

you couldn’t tell how he felt anymore, and it made your head spin, losing touch with yourself being preoccupied with someone who was bad for your health.

“i think i’m done.”

“what? what are you talking about?” mark looked over at you, confusion written on his face.

“with donghyuck.”

he sucked in a breath, but you stopped him from saying anything more.

“i can’t keep going on like this, mark.” you couldn’t help that your voice cracked a little, “he doesn’t care the way he used to, clearly. his interest isn’t in me, he’s not mine, and i’m not sure if i was even his in the first place. i don’t think i’ll be able to move on for a while but i know that i did love him, i do love him, more than a friend should,” you suck in a breath, “but i can’t continue being his for convenience. i’m tired of trying to find where his head is, where his heart is. mine was his, but his isn’t mine. and that’s okay. i don’t think it’s healthy for either of us, you know?”

mark nods in understanding, but remains silent.

“and mark, please don’t tell anyone.”

“not even renjun?”

“...okay, only renjun.”

previous - next

a/n ; part four!! im glad ur all enjoying this as much as i am, its so exciting seeing ur msgs and comments u guys r so silly :p the next parts may take a while to be posted as theyre still being written and edited, most of it is drafted in a notebook rn so i still have to type it out anyway but ill try to get the next chapter out asap!! (tomorrow..) ANYWAY hope u kike this chapter, idk if it adds as much substance as i wish it would but,, advice is appreciated! xoxo jelly <3

[mitfloya]

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

pairings. Yandere Rafayel x gn!reader

wc. 2k

synopsis. You find yourself lost searching for answers that slip through your grasp. There is a mysterious force that lures you back to the vast depths of the sea, a pull that you can't quite comprehend, a strange connection. It haunts your thoughts, you wanted to find out why does your soul keeps guiding you to ocean.

Only to find the truth that you wish to never uncover.

warnings. The following content contains elements of obsessive behavior, yandere thoughts, stalking, possessive behavior, and may include poorly written narratives. Reader is referred to as 'you'. Proceed with caution, as this writing may be unsettling or uncomfortable for some individuals.

a/n. Hiii, I'm back from the dead, I hope it's good (be gentle with me this is my first fic I've created) or evoke some kind of emotions, whatever it may be. I may have gone a little overboard with everything. This will be a small series, maybe there will be 3 parts or up to 5 parts, depends on my mood. Also, this is my thank you gift for the celebration of hitting another milestone on my c.ai acc ♡

The waves, like gentle giants, rolled towards the shore, their white foamy crests crashing against the rocks with a resounding roar. The sound echoed in your ears. With each surge, the water created intricate patterns, as if painting an ever-changing masterpiece upon the canvas of the beach.

Some crashed against the rocks with a powerful force, while others gently caressed the sand, their touch as gentle as a lover's whisper. 

Standing there, your feet were gently lapped by the waves near the shore, your eyes fixated on the vast expanse of the sea, you felt an inexplicable pull, as if there was a profound bond between you and the ocean.

Yet, you couldn't quite comprehend why.

Lost in contemplation, you imagined how the cool waters of the sea would embrace you, enveloping you in their refreshing embrace. It was in these moments that you found solace and tranquility in the presence of nature.

The ebb and flow of the waves became a soothing rhythm that seemed to wash away any worries or troubles that burdened your mind.

Yet, amidst the serenity, there was a sense of familiarity, as if there were fragments of a forgotten memory lurking within your subconscious. Every time you found yourself by the sea or on a sandy beach, a whisper of a memory danced at the edge of your thoughts, just out of reach.

Lost in your thoughts, distant calls of your name went unheard as you drifted into a daze, completely captivated by the sea, you didn't noticed the water has gone up to your knees level. It was only when a familiar hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back from the water, that you snapped out of your daze.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" His voice rang out, a mix of concern and annoyance. "You were about to walk straight into the deep sea! Do you have any idea how dangerous that could have been?" he exclaimed, gently pulling you back to the safety of the shore.

Startled, your gaze locked with his eyes, a blend of deep purple with delicate speckles of pink. In that moment, you found yourself drowning in the vastness of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away.

His eyes held a mix of emotions, like a tumultuous sea that you couldn't quite decipher. You couldn't help but wonder if your encounter was more than just a coincidence, if there was a greater significance to the intertwining of your paths. The depths of his gaze seemed to hold the answers, yet they also posed more questions, leaving you both intrigued and captivated.

There was something undeniable about the connection you shared, a magnetic pull that transcended mere concern. In that moment, you realized that his eyes held more than just worry for your safety—they held a glimpse of a deeper connection, an unspoken understanding that seemed to bind you together.

The depth of his concern in the eyes are as clear as day, it momentarily puts you lost at words.

The situation slowly sank in, you realized that you had been so absorbed in your thoughts that you had unconsciously ventured into dangerous waters. The level of danger had escalated beyond what you initially thought, as the water had gradually risen without your awareness.

You blinked, your voice betraying a tinge of guilt as you stammered out. "I… I didn't even realize," you admitted, your words laden with a sense of remorse,. "The ocean… it just pulls me in. I can't explain it." Your eyes darted around, avoiding contact with Rafayel.

He sees the way you looked at the sea, sensing that you were searching for something, perhaps a connection or understanding.

In that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope momentarily danced across Rafayel's face, as if he believed you had finally recollected something significant to him.

…But as he searched your eyes, that tiny glimmer faded, replaced by a mix of disappointment and frustration.

A deep sigh escaped Rafayel's lips, his eyes rolling with visible exasperation. "Oh, please," he scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "As if the ocean has some deep, personal connection to you," he muttered dismissively.

The atmosphere grew heavy with an unspoken tension, as Rafayel's words hung in the air. It was clear that he felt let down, hoping for a shared understanding that seemed to elude him once again.

Rafayel's frustration grew evident as he let out an exasperated huff, pushing away his bangs with an irritated sweep of his hand. "Look, we've got enough problems trying to win this damn classroom competition. We don't need you drowning yourself in the process." His head shook slightly, a clear expression of annoyance etched upon his face.

You felt a pang of regret wash over you, seeing the frustration etched on Rafayel's face. "Thanks for being worried, I guess," you mumbled, your tone tinged with a touch of bitterness. He could've said it nicely at the very least, you thought.

Feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you for nearly getting yourself drowned, you quickly shifted your gaze to the expanse of the ocean stretched out before you.

The colors of the sea danced before your eyes, shifting seamlessly from the vibrant hues of turquoise to the deeper shades of indigo, as if an artist's brush had painted a masterpiece on the water's surface.

You couldn't help but wonder if there was a hidden world beneath the surface. Little did you know, you had been conversing with one of those hidden beings all along.

You noticed Rafayel's hands waving in front of your face, interrupting your oceanic reverie.

"I've heard the locals said that there is a mythical creature who roamed around this water, can you guess what it is?" His voice took on an eerie cadence. His head tilted slightly, as if he was assessing your reaction.

"Legend has it that those who make a pact with this sea creature are granted a special favor," he weave the tale as his gaze were penetrating your skin. "However," he paused, his words dripping with anticipation. "If one were to forget or break their oath, the consequences would be nothing short of catastrophic."

Drawing near, he leaned in, his voice a mere whisper in your ear. "They would face a fate far more harrowing than their most dreadful nightmares could ever conjure." His breath made your skin crawl, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

The tale he spoke of leave you with an eerie sense that there was more to this tale than met the eye. It was as if the threads of the story resonated with a deeper part of your being, stirring emotions and images that had long been dormant.

Yet, you shook off the discomfort, determined not to let Rafayel's words unravel your sense of reality, even as they lingered in your mind, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease.

With a light-hearted push, you nudge him away with your elbow, mustering a witty retort to maintain the casual banter. "Nice try, but I'm not one to fall victim to the legends of mermaids."

Unfazed, Rafayel continues to weave his tale, his voice dripping with a seductive charm. "How so? Don't their enchanting melodies and mysterious allure at least pique your curiosity?"

The weight of his words settled upon you, causing a shiver to ripple through your body. Yet, you maintain your composure, "Well, Rafayel," you taunt, "if mermaids are truly as captivating as you claim, perhaps I should take my chances. Who knows? Maybe I'll be the one to befriend a mermaid."

Oh, you already did and it was more than that.

Your soul remembers him, resonating with a familiarity that defies logic, while your conscious mind grapples with the mystery of who he truly is and where your paths have crossed before.

It's like your souls hold a hidden story, a shared history that teases the edges of your awareness, just beyond your grasp. The unspoken bond that lingers between you cannot be denied, as if your paths are intricately woven together, waiting to be unraveled.

In his presence, you find yourself both anchored and adrift, caught between the intangible and the tangible. The ties that bind you are not of this physical realm, but of a deeper dimension where emotions and memories intertwine like the ebb and flow of the tide.

There is a profound bond between you that goes beyond mere attraction, as if you have shared lifetimes together before.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the water, you and Rafayel became entranced by the moment, surrendering to the breathtaking beauty of the sea.

The scenery sparked a creative fire within you, the gentle dance of the waves mirrored the rhythm of your thoughts, as if the ocean had bestowed upon you the ideal theme for the upcoming classroom decoration competition. It was as if the universe had handed you a vibrant palette, ready to bring your ideas to life.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as an idea began to take shape in your mind. "Hey, what if we choose the ocean as our theme? We could create an underwater wonderland, wouldn't that be cool?" you suggested, your voice filled with enthusiasm.

Rafayel eyes widened with surprise, he took a moment to consider the suggestion. "That's actually not bad," he shrugged, his tone casual yet intrigued. "We could use blue and turquoise hues to mimic the ocean's colors, and hang paper jellyfish and other sea creatures from the ceiling. It'll be like stepping into an enchanting underwater realm."

The two of you continued to brainstorm all the way home, ideas flowing like a current, as you imagined transforming your classroom into a captivating oceanic paradise.

As the sounds of crashing waves slowly faded into the distance, replaced by the comforting rhythm of your footsteps, a familiar banter and laughter filled the air. The easy camaraderie between you and Rafayel created a warm and comfortable atmosphere, where the worries of the day seemed to melt away.

Minutes passed by, as if time had lost its grip on the endless conversations and moments of solace shared with Rafayel. He was like a soothing balm for your weary soul, a safe haven where your restless mind could find peace. His presence was like a sanctuary, where the weight of your worries seemed to dissipate into thin air.

Regrettably, the front gate of your house loomed before you, signaling the end of this cherished connection. With a warm smile, you waved goodbye to Rafayel, a bittersweet farewell that left an ache in your heart. "We'll talk more later, see you at school tomorrow!" you called out, hoping to preserve the thread of conversation that had woven its way into your shared journey.

He reciprocated with a smile and a wave, his eyes following you until you disappeared behind the closed door. As the facade he wore crumbled, a torrent of emotions flooded Rafayel's mind the moment you were safely inside. Frustration tightened its grip, as he struggled to understand how something so vital between the two of you could slip from your memory.

However, a twisted sense of satisfaction settled within him, as he relished in the knowledge of your home, a piece of your personal life that he now possessed, fueling a dangerous determination to claim you as his own.

This was never your home, and it would never be, for he had vowed to create a sanctuary where only he could offer you peace and happiness you deserved.

He knew that he had to do more, to make you realize the depth of his feelings. With unwavering resolve, Rafayel promised himself that he would build a world for you, free from any disturbances or distractions.

No one else would have access to this sacred space; it would be an intimate domain that existed solely for him and you.

"Wait for me, my love. I'll show you how much I adore you."

© mitfloya 2024. Kindly refrain from altering, translating, or reposting my works on any platform without obtaining my consent.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

the general of the luofu has a habit you've picked up on. a habit in which when he finds himself in a place of predicament, he will gracefully place his hands atop each other at the small of his back. that is why you also decided to develop a similar habit of standing just slightly behind him.

never when you had first relocated from a separate xianzhou alliance ship to the luofu's exalting sanctum did you imagine you'd be standing within the seat of divine foresight on a near regular basis. of course, the notion was not unheard of since it is the office of general jing yuan, but then again you hadn't expected yourself to eventually be working so close to him either.

working nearly in step with jing yuan was not in your relocation papers. when you first arrived and he was always on your heels, it nearly made you lose your cool more than you'd care to admit. the way he would just smile your lack of alone time off irked you further. you figured he was just doing it because he could, because no one would demand the general to knock it off aside from the master diviner and- more often than not- her nags were brushed aside unless absolutely dire.

but with that same, insufferable smile and persistence of his, jing yuan did what he did best and used it to his advantage until you were absolutely smitten with him, and he knew it.

you had attempted moving your work to central starskiff haven where all the hustle and bustle of the main hub for all things imaginable could take your mind off the dozing general, but it was a useless feat.

the bond between general jing yuan and yourself was something precious yet unnamed. it was seen and noticed, but you both refused to adapt to the way of labels- another thing jing yuan had a habit of. superstition about labels and them ruining everything he holds dear to him was a belief he had yet to be proven wrong.

the labeling and eventual tragic fall out of the high cloud quintet was more than enough proof for him. he would not risk you slipping away from him if he were to try and repeat the mistake. jing yuan was more thankful than you could ever imagine when you told him you understood.

"labeling a relationship with you, general, would surely bring unwanted gossip."

a rather poor excuse to try and ease his mind, since you both would float around each other's orbit, but it still worked nonetheless. thus, the nameless, labelless, and unspoken relationship that everyone aboard the Luofu knew about grew.

"he's like a weed," you had told fu xuan when she was once again pleading with you to try and convince him to do his job behind his desk and not run around avoiding it. once successfully coerced, fu xuan admitted she had no idea how you could withstand his stubbornness. "he's persistent and tough to get rid of. i just kind of let him be after getting too tired of trying to fix my garden."

jing yuan was easily within earshot of the jab, whether you meant to hurt his ego or not, you did bruise it. how could you not when you were calling him a weed just 20 feet away from the very desk he was confined to?

time can be both noticed and unnoticed by long-life species. on one hand, the passing of time seems so endless it just flits by seamlessly. 100, 200 years are nothing short of youth to them. until you reach the gate of older age where you then worry about when the mara will eventually strike.

jing yuan did not speak much of his past to you, and you never found a reason to harp and pry on it. you knew more than enough from texts and scrolls recorded in the halls you were fortunate enough to work in; no need to reopen old wounds he is too stubborn to admit still bleed.

the general who cares for the luofu cannot decide if he fears being stricken with mara himself and slowly losing his sense of identity to the point he cannot recognize you, or you being marked as an enemy for him to strike down because the mara struck you first more. should the former ever come to pass, he has faith that what needs to be done will be and you will stay safe with yanqing.

now, as you stand in the seat of divine foresight with the newly arrived trailblazers from the express also occupying the office with jing yuan, you notice his hands neatly folded behind him.

a slight advantage to the many layers of clothes he puts himself through dressing every day is that his two-tailed half-cape that rested on his shoulders and flowed down to his hips can offer some peripheral coverage.

like clockwork, when you noticed his hands placed in the small of his back, you took half a step closer to his diagonal and placed the pads of your fingers in the middle of his open palm. his fists would never fully curl behind his back, left open and lazily sitting on top of each other.

jing yuan's shoulders would drop just a fraction- hardly noticeable to anyone even if they were looking directly at him- every time you did so. the tips of your fingers were warm, a reminder of the present and also a teether to not let his mind wander too far.

he could feel the callouses on them, the rough skin so accustomed to battle ingrained into the skin of your hands and it brought him such comfort. his eyes gently shut and a smile lifts his lips, not one to mask behind, but one brought about naturally.

and just like always, when he felt your fingertips push lightly into his palm, his hand opened further, fingers pulling apart before he was curling them into yours.

yes, the general of the luofu has a habit you've picked up on. but he has also picked up a new habit of waiting for you to hold his hand when they're behind his back.

[kte-alxxndr]

Voiceless

Summary: In the heart of Small Heath, Tommy Shelby finds an unexpected connection with Y/N, a talented seamstress who lost her voice in a mysterious accident. As their relationship deepens, they navigate the complexities of love, trust, and the shadows of Small Heath. Amidst the whispers of betrayal, Y/N faces life-threatening challenges, and Tommy discovers the shocking truth about the accident that silenced Y/N. As their love withstands the tests of time, they build a life filled with resilience, family, and the unspoken language of love.

A sinister secret waiting to be unveiled in the chapters that follows.

Authors Note: This story has been with me for over two years. I have given this story to authors who I thought would deliver it as I am not a writer myself, but sadly none of them accepted the story as it was difficult to deliver. I have spent two years writing this story; I do hope you'll love it as much as I did. Please feel free to reblog, or share your thoughts on the story, I would appreciate it

Chapter 1: The Accident

Chapter 2: Learning to Adapt

Chapter 3: The Silent World

Chapter 4: The Shadow of Silence

Chapter 5: The Unheard Language of Love

Chapter 6: Whispers in the Shadows

Chapter 7: Stitches of the Heart

Chapter 8: Shadows Resurface | Shattered Trust

Chapter 9: Shadows of Betrayal | Resilient Hearts

Chapter 10: Awakening Shadows

Chapter 11: Veiled Whispers

Chapter 12: Shadows Beneath the Veil

Chapter 13: Echoes of Retribution

Chapter 14: A New Beginning

Epilogue: Threads of Eternity

[lunaji]

I could get used to this.

Pairing: Bangchan x afab!reader

Genre: Mature 18+ (MDNI)

Warnings: /below the cut/

Synopsis: The classic one bed trope. Unspoken feelings, which lead to a very steamy game of 'never have I ever.'

Word count: 4.9k

Authors note: My original plan was to have this be more heavy smut, but I fell in love with a softer side of Chan and the way he'd praise the reader, soooo... tadah.

Be added to the taglist here

If you like my work, please do let me know, it makes my day ♡

Lightly edited*

Please do not repost or reword any of my works onto any platform.

════════❀•°❀°•❀ ════════

Warnings: explicit smut, piv, mutual pining, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), swearing, praise kink, softdom!Chan, sub!Reader, oral (f receiving), finishing inside reader, hickeys, fingering (f receiving), eenie weenie breeding kink, fluffy sex :) , Chan is in awe of the reader, reader is kinda bratty (magnifying glass needed), names such as baby, baby girl are used so if you are uncomfortable with that be aware!

----

“I must’ve messed up the reservation.” You had your face in your hands as you looked to the very obvious one bed in the hotel room, as Chan pulled his phone out, “I swore to double check the booking before I made it, I promise you Y/N.” Chan muttered, scrolling through the email as his face paled slightly. “Oh. Wait here, I will see if they have another room.” He spoke with an embarrassed look on his face, the tip of his ears bright red as he turned to the door, opening it with haste as you sighed, moving your hands from your face to open the bathroom door, leaning against the sink.

Your own face was a scarlet red, as you ran the tap cold, using your palms to cup the water, splashing it on your face to cool yourself down, as you sighed heavily. You and Chan were currently on a trip around the world, after he had finished his comeback with the other members of Stray Kids, he’d asked you, his best friend, if you would like to travel. It had always been something you had wanted to do since you were young, and Chan knew this, and now that he had enough money to do so, he wanted to spoil you.

After all, you were childhood friends, and he had promised you if he had gotten famous enough to afford a holiday for you, he would. One thing you knew about Chan was he was a definite man of his word. He had a rare 3 weeks off, which was practically unheard of, especially with big companies such as JYP, so much so you had /begged/ Chan to leave his laptop in Korea, which was a hard fight which ended up with you in floods of hot tears and Chan finally agreeing after seeing your point of relaxing. What you hadn’t managed to keep away from him was his work phone, but he had insisted he would only use it if absolutely necessary.

You wandered out of the bathroom, as you wandered to the window, looking out and down at the people wandering past, wondering about each and everyone's backstory as you hummed to yourself, before you heard a sigh from behind you, one of defeat almost. You turned on your heel to see a despaired Chan, as he kicked the door with his foot shut behind him, smiling sheepishly to you. 

“Turns out I had indeed only booked one bed, and the lady on reception tried her hardest to find us a twin room, but they only had doubles left,” Chan sighed, as he looked to you apologetically. “I can set up a bed on the floor, I don't mind-” he was silenced by you shushing him as you pinched your hand together in a ‘be quiet’ motion, shaking your head as you laughed softly.

“We’re old enough now to share a bed, Chan. I’m okay with it really. What’s the worst that could happen, one of us kicking the other out in their sleep?” You offered a joke, sighing slightly in relief as Chan seemed to loosen up, his shoulders untensing from their harsh position by the sides of his head, his hands letting go of his shirt he had balled in his fists.

“Yeah, you’re right, we’ve slept on the couch together before, what is a bed for us?” He asked rhetorically, as he leant down to take his shoes off, as you lifted your hoodie up and off, slinging it on the back of the chair at the small desk that was positioned in the corner of the room. Chan had already begun to unpack the case you two had shared between yourselves, placing the clothes you had onto one shelf, and his own on the shelf below. What you hadn’t realised whilst you had your back turned, was the fond expression your best friend had given you throughout your conversation, as you now turned to face him, a cheshire grin on your face almost.

“The next step in our relationship. I don’t know if friends take it to second base. Bed sharing.” You stated sarcastically, pushing your trainers off your feet, and flopping onto the bed, “We’re only here for 4 days, we can even cuddle.” You taunted, as you patted the bed next to you expectantly, stretching your arms above your head, as Chan moved from his current activity of playing housewife with the clothes and sat on the bed next to you, his hands taking advantage of your exposed midriff, tickling it gently as you pulled you arms down quickly to try and defend yourself, a squeak leaving your lips as Chan laughed, unrelenting on his mission to make you laugh too as you squirmed under his attack, doubled over in a ball to hide from his hands. “Chan! I- stop!” You managed through breathy laughs, as he finally let go of you, lying back next to you as you hummed in defeat, feigning death as you stuck your tongue out dramatically.

“It wasn’t that bad Y/N, you’ve been around Hyunjin too much. So dramatic.” He mocked, as you looked over to him, a look of ‘first of all, ouch’, but he was right. But you were always like this together, so you knew he didn’t mean it really. You loved that about your friendship with Chan, everything you did together was always full of laughter and happiness, even when things were hard, like when Chan had left to train, you had still called when he could, making sure he checked up on you, always having time for you despite his ever growing and incredibly busy schedule. You admired him for it, and you couldn’t imagine anyone else being your best friend. 

Best friend. That’s all you had ever seen him as, well, as far as you knew anyway. Sure, he was absolutely beautiful and he knew that about himself, he was confident enough to know and show his body to fans, and you would be lying if you hadn’t swooned over his abs, they were the best thing you had seen since sliced bread. Yes, your best friend was fucking attractive and you loved it. Did you love him? Sure, as a friend. At least, you told yourself that, but a few drunk thoughts would tell you otherwise. Besides, Chan was way too busy to be a dating man, you knew that, you just knew how to admire goods. That was all.

—

“Okay right, my turn.” Chan hummed, as he thought of his move, “never have I ever thought about an idol in a pervy way.” He smirked as you rolled your eyes, putting a finger down.

“In my defence, have you SEEN Hongjoong? He’s incredible. And do not get me started on Changbin.” You giggled, taking a sip of your lemonade as you spoke, Chan making a ‘bleh’ face as you spoke about his friends, “Hey, you asked me. I am being honest.” You shrugged as you hummed, “okay, never have I ever thought about my friends naked.” You wiggled your eyebrows, as Chan sighed dramatically, putting a finger down as you raised a brow.

“Let’s not get it twisted,” he started, repositioning himself so he was propped up on one elbow as he faced you, a blush painting his cheeks a rosy colour as he contemplated his words, “I have one friend in particular who I wouldn’t mind seeing naked, that is for sure.” He coughed awkwardly, as you made a noise of amusement, “They are stunning. But, there’s no way they would ever say yes.” He laughed softly, as you shuffled to sit cross legged on the bed, pillows propped up behind you as you watched him.

“They are incredibly stupid then, imagine saying no to Bahng Christopher Chan.” You teased as you used his full name, which you both only used in unserious situations with each other, “hit me.” You hummed, as you fiddled with the can’s tab, waiting for his next ‘confession’. 

“Never have I ever touched myself to my best friend.” He said, a look on his face you couldn’t quite read as you furiously blushed, coughing as you looked away. “Well?” He murmured, as he leant up slightly, trying to see your face. 

You hesitantly put a finger down as you felt the atmosphere change, it felt thick with unspoken confessions suddenly, “T-this is a fun game!” You forced a laugh as you looked at him again, noticing he had also put a finger down. “You know the whole point of this game is to say things you haven’t done.” You breathed out, as Chan shrugged.

“Oh well, you know I like to be honest.” He clicked his tongue shifting so he was fully in front of you now, lying across the bed sideways as you put your can down, pulling your cushion from behind you into your lap as you looked away from him. “Would you rather I lie to you Y/N?” He questioned as you shook your head, looking at him again.

“It caught me off guard, that’s all Chan. You can’t just ask me that.” You choked out, hitting him softly with the pillow as you spoke, as you bit your lip in concentration at your next ‘question’. You could be very straight forward with it, or, you could play dumb. The second option seemed very appealing, so you smiled reassuringly at Chan who seemed to be concerned at your lack of response, “Never have I ever fallen in love with my best friend.”

Chan’s breathing hitched as it was his turn to look away, before he licked his lips in haste. “Yeah.” He answered simply, as he looked you dead in the eye. “I have, and I still am.” 

“Oh.” Was all you could manage. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife, and as you gulped, Chan shifted so he was leant against the headboard, his hands nervously running through his hair as he watched you, similar to the way you were watching him. 

“Never have I ever wanted to kiss you.” There it was.

Time felt like it had stopped, neither of you said or did anything for a moment, but soon enough you found yourself crawling up the bed towards him, having only stopped prior to discarding the pillow you had placed on your lap. You tentatively sat on your knees in front of him.

“Never?”

Chan’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling at a fast pace, his hands reaching to pull you into his lap, your legs either side of his hips, as you both matched the same shade of crimson. You held your own hand up to his face, putting down a finger tentatively slow on purpose, as Chan’s breathing hitched in his throat, a hum leaving his lips as he moved to rest his hand on the small of your back, and pushed your body closer to his, where your chests touched, syncing in the rhythm of rising and falling. 

“All the time.” 

The shakiness of your breathing mixed with the sensation of his hand on your body made you feel dizzy with anticipation, as you rested your head on his shoulder, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as you tried to ground yourself, before you felt Chan’s hand moving to bring your chin up to face him. His finger moved to trail your jawline, before his palm cupped your cheek, a look of seeking approval written in his eyes as you hummed softly, your lips parted slightly as you tipped your head to the side slowly, your eyes never leaving his. 

Chan took a silent moment to work up an ounce of courage as he leant forward, the gap mere centimetres between your lips as you let out a tiny laugh, your nerves making your stomach twist as you felt his hot breath on your lips, the feeling intoxicating almost as you closed the distance. Your lips tingle at the sensation as he led the kiss between you, his hand on the small of your back now moving to gently hold your waist, keeping you close to him as you both shared at first, a sweet, simple kiss. The excitement of being able to finally feel what it was like to kiss him bubbling in your body whilst you let your arms drape loosely around his neck, Chan humming gently as he spoke against your lips, “you taste like lemonade.”

You chuckled softly as he spoke, his lips tickling yours almost in a ghost of a kiss, as you let your hands run up his neck to his hair, finding themselves lost in his brown locks. You felt his body shiver under yours. Chan’s tongue slid along the underneath of your bottom lip as you granted him access, letting your lips part slightly as his tongue trailed the outline of your own, feeling the warmth of his breath and sharing saliva felt so personal, making your head spin. Chan’s hands found its way onto your waist, his fingers drawing swirling patterns into your flesh as you hummed in delight at the feeling of his fingertips on your bare skin. They slowly made their way to the hem of your shirt, as he broke the kiss only quickly to ask for permission, your head nodding slowly as he lifted it gently, making sure to take in every part of your top half as he did. 

When he had removed the garment to the floor, his breath hitched in his throat as he licked his lips slowly, “You are so gorgeous, my love.” He murmured, his fingers moving to trace hearts into your stomach as he spoke, moving carefully to make sure he got a touch of every inch of you, your eyes fluttering shut as you enjoyed the intimacy of the moment. The room was silent apart from the staggered breathing from both of you as you moved your hands to Chan’s chest, sliding them under the fabric of his top, feeling the hardened abs he sported, letting a small gasp of pleasant surprise out. It wasn’t like you didn’t know he had a fit body, but feeling it on your own accord made it all the better. He smiled at your curiosity, and lent back to pull his own top off, before he brought his hands back to caress the soft flesh of your back, pressing your chests together. 

“I want to take this slow, we have all evening. Maybe even multiple rounds.” He whispered, his lips pressing faintly on your neck, trailing soft kisses of adoration along your jaw and up to your ears, “You belong to me, and I belong to you.” His words shot straight between your legs and you whimpered quietly, before his lips engulfed yours in a hot, passionate kiss, his hands wandering to your bra clasp, un-clipping it with insane ease. Every time his fingers caught your skin, it felt like hot lava encasing your skin, the whines from your lips suggesting neediness as Chan chuckled softly against your shoulder, the feeling of his eyelashes fluttering against your bare skin as he did so. You didn’t need to see his face to know the expression he was wearing at that moment.

“Chris..” you hummed, feeling the straps of your bra slip from your shoulders, Chan’s hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs finding haven in rubbing small circles to each of your nipples as he let a small ‘hmm?’ out, a smirk of pure love on his face as you tipped your head back slowly, baring your chest to him, whilst Chan’s lips worked delicate, purple bruises into your skin, trailing from your neck, down to the cavern of your breasts, marking you as his own. His, and his only. “I- you..” 

Chan looked up to you, his breath hot on your skin as he let his tongue run along the top of your left breast, “words, baby.” His hand made light work on winding your nipple up to arousal, his mouth taking care of your other as his hand slipped down to your shorts, hesitating slightly as he ran it along the waistband. “Can we remove these, hmm?” He spoke against your nipple as you let a breathy giggle out, at his politeness, nodding as he shuffled to flip you both, resting you carefully against the bed as he let his mouth place sloppy, undirected kisses down your stomach, his hands working the buttons to your shorts, wriggling you out of them as you lifted your ass for him, making it easier for him to rid of the cloth covering you.

Chan’s lips pursed as he soaked in the view of how beautiful you were under him, his hand running to caress your inner thigh as his head lowered to press a deliberately drawn out kiss to your clothed pussy, before he raised his mouth a little to the pantie line of your underwear. He let the material rest between his teeth as he painfully slowly pulled them down, the butterflies in your stomach transferring to between your legs as his hands gripped onto your waist, supporting himself more than you as he maintained eye contact with you the entire time, the air thick with lust and emotions unspoken between you both as your own hands found haven in his hair once more, running them gently through it. The pure adoration you had for him had never changed, even so with him between your legs intimately, he was still the man you knew and had loved unconditionally.

You hadn’t even registered Chan’s current location until you felt the titillation of his hot breath against your thigh, a small mewl leaving your lips as your eyes followed his actions - one of which his lips trailed against your skin, daring closer to your pussy as he inhaled sharply, the way you were dripping for him and he hadn’t touched you yet drove him insane. His fingers ran up and down your other leg as he let his tongue kitten lick a stripe from your cunt to your clit, an obscene noise leaving your mouth as your back arched from the bed, hands gripping at the sheets below you as Chan took that as a compliment, now applying more pressure as he circled the tip of his tongue around your hole, before bringing his actions up to your clit, small but repetitive flicks on your bundle of nerves sending you to the stars without much effort already. 

Chan hummed against you as his fingers slid under his mouth, so he could work your tight pussy at the same speed as his tongue, inserting a finger into you as he pumped it into you, his mouth and finger in sync as you shook slightly at the stimulation, your legs squeezing around his head as you felt him huff against you, his free hand moving to separate your legs so he could have better access. The sounds filling the room were disgustingly pleasing, from the squelching of your wet cunt being fucked by his finger, to the slurping and sucking sounds from Chan’s mouth. You’d never received head quite like it. 

“Cum for me, then I’ll fuck you so good you won’t remember your own name.” Chan muttered against your clit as he introduced a second finger, pumping into you at a merciless pace as you could do no more than whimper incessantly at the feeling of your orgasm on the brink of tipping over the edge, your face contorted in pleasure as your eyes squeezed shut, mumbling incoherent words. And, when Chan’s fingers hit just that spot inside you, you let out the most intense scream of pleasure as your hands came up to clutch his hair, almost grinding your pussy against his face as he helped you through what would most likely be your first orgasm of many that evening. 

Your eyes fluttered open as you felt Chan massage his hand up your side to your face, his own now centimetres with yours as his lips glistened with your release, his hair messy from where you had gripped it insistantly as you had face fucked him, a rosy tint spreading your face as he smiled gently at your embarrassment. His hand cupped your cheek gently as he let his nose nuzzle your cheek as his breathing hitched - mainly because you had pressed a cautious but firm leg to his crotch, feeling his hard on bulge through his shorts. 

“Off, please.” You whined, as you made grabby hands to the top of his waistband, as Chan let out a chuckle, standing up slowly so he could remove his shorts and boxers, his erection springing free from its confined space as your eyes drew to his impressive length. His dick was the right amount to fill you up, you decided there and then as Chan kicked the shorts to the side, before he hooked his hands under the bends of your knees, pulling you down the bed to the edge, as he looked to you.

“Are you sure you want this?” 

“Chris, you just ate me out and you’re asking me if I want this?” You snorted, as you could feel the heat of his body against yours, his strong hands tucked perfectly under your knees as you looked up to the ethereal man above, the same dorky smile painted on his lips as he moved down to kiss your lips slowly, savouring every second.

“I’m just making sure. I don’t think we could go back to being friends after.” He chuckled, stroking your face with his thumb.

“I don’t want to be just friends,” You started, your hands moving to wrap around Chan’s body, earning a small grunt from the male, as he let his hand move to grip the base of his cock.

“Good, because I don’t plan on being nothing short of your boyfriend once I'm done with fucking you.” He hummed, as he ran the tip of his cock up and down your slit, collecting your slick on it as he let out a small groan of pleasure, as you faltered slightly at his words. Your boyfriend. That made you let out a small giggle of giddiness, before it was quickly replaced by a tiny whimper of pleasure as you felt Chan lean one of his knees on the bed to support himself, pushing the tip of his cock into your tight entrance, a plethora of curse words leaving his lips as he furrowed his brows at the feeling. “Fuck baby girl, this wet and tight for me?” His words sounded like pure honey to you as you managed a nod, your hands gently gripping the soft flesh of his back as he continued to stretch you until he was sitting snugly inside your walls, leaning to kiss each corner of your mouth as he let you adjust.

His cock fit so perfectly inside you, it had you wondering just why it had taken you this long to fuck, as Chan’s thumb rubbed circles into your calf that was placed over his shoulder now, which had you split almost in half for him. He hummed as he let his head rest against your leg, before he moved his hips slowly, testing the waters. The moan that spilled from your lips was more than enough indication to Chan that he had you right where you belonged. He let his thrusts start at a mediocre pace, enjoying the feel of you clenching around him, his head tipped to the side so he could kiss a trail of saliva filled kisses to your leg, whilst his other hand ran down your body to your clit, his finger massaging an almost perfect circle around it as you whined from the back of your throat, hands gripping onto his back, leaving small but noticeable marks that were a sure indicator of your rendezvous of the evening. 

The romantic atmosphere was nothing short of pure adoration from both sides, as Chan caught your eyes in a deep, meaningful gaze, his hips rolling into you with ease as he let grunts of pleasure leave his lips, all the while working you up to your second orgasm, his finger still on your bundle of nerves as he timed his thrusts into you with the same time he applied pressure in bursts, sending you up the wall almost at how well he was fucking you into the sheets.

“Chris- feels so good.” You babbled, hands desperately trying to ground you as you let them run down to his shoulders, earning a low moan from Chan, who had beads of sweat collecting at the centre of his forehead. He slowed his motions for a moment, before pulling out of you, earning a whimper of desperation from you, before he shook his head, sitting at the headboard, patting his lap to you, which you gladly complied, crawling up the bed to him, settling your thighs either side of him as he held his cock in place for you to slip back down onto him, filling the room with moans from both of you.

You placed both of your hands onto his chest, rolling your hips into Chan as his own gripped at your waist, supporting you as you began to ride him, leisurely at first, getting a feel of just how good he was inside you, before he let out a low growl, pulling you into him closer so he could attach his lips to your neck, decorating it with his own personal jewellery, a selection of varying shades of purple bruises. Marking you as his. Only his. That sounded so good.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” His words tickled your skin as you leant back to cup his face, your hips still rolling into him as your breathing slowly fell from its steady pace.

“Why didn’t you just say?”

“Work,” Chan huffed, as he pushed your hair from your face, “along with the fact I wanted to make sure you really loved me the way I love you.”

"Of course I love you, I always have." You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes, the confession made your heart race. You finally could tell him how you felt.

The look on his face told you everything you needed to know, as you captured his lips in a deep kiss, feeling his hands cup your ass, lifting you up slightly so he could fuck into you from below. You tried to match his speed, bouncing down onto his dick as he fucked up, but the dizzy, intoxicating feeling of his words, along with how good he felt, made you falter. He really cared about you, and it showed. He fucked deep into you, pressing against your g-spot with the tip of his cock, his mouth moving down to wrap around your nipple, licking and grazing his teeth against it. Chan really understood the female anatomy, your anatomy.

“Easy baby, let me take care of you.” He whispered against your lips, before he rested his forehead against yours, your arms wrapping around his neck as your bodies fit as close as they could together, two pieces of a puzzle perfectly aligned. The room was quiet, apart from the concentration of sloppy sounds from your wet pussy, Chan’s grunts and your own whimpers of ecstasy. “Look down.”

You complied, your mouth falling open in pure shock at the sight of Chan’s cock disappearing inside you, as you caught a glimpse of his face, concentrated on how well you were taking him, his lip bitten as you let your head roll back in pleasure, a string of words absolutely inaudible as you did, the familiar feeling of the knot of an orgasm in your stomach.

“Please, s’ close.” You hummed, licking your lips in haste as you chased your high, letting you pussy bounce down onto his cock, earning a throaty groan of enjoyment from Chan, who’s own hips seemed to snap up quicker into you now, both of you finding solace in each others bodies, your highs climbing quickly. 

“Cum around me, let your tight cunt squeeze my own cum from me.” His words were filthy, but it drove you insane as you came undone on your newfound lovers cock, his name spilling from your lips loudly, sweat dripping from your forehead, before you felt Chan twitch inside you, “fuck, (y/n), I need to pull-”

You shook your head, bringing your hands to clutch him tightly to you, your eyes wide as you begged, “no, inside. P-pill.” Your words sounded so desperate, so needy, that it awoke something inside Chan, his thrusts becoming ruthless into your cunt, which would surely leave bruises in the morning.

“Baby girl wants to be bred? Fill you up so well?”

“Mhm..p- please Channie, need it.” 

That was enough for him to spill inside you, your walls gripping his cock tightly as he moaned your name out, as you rocked back onto him, helping him through his own orgasm. Neither of you moved for a moment, the room filled with the heavy breathing from both of you, the smell of sex and the sure knowing of unspoken feelings finally laid out on the table. 

You let your head fall onto his shoulder as his hands ran up and down your back carefully, as you felt him soften inside you. His lips pressed dainty kisses onto your head, leading down to your ear where he spoke quietly, barely above a whisper.

“Hey, (y/n)?”

“Chris?”

“I don’t think one bed will be a problem anymore, do you?”

════════❀•°❀°•❀ ════════

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[fanaticsnail]

Snail’s Fic Rec List

Masterlist Here

Hi everyone! I haven't done one of these before, but I thought I should! I love these fics, and find myself revisiting them often because I adore them. 

I add to them as I go

One-Shots:

Roronoa Zoro

Black Tea, With Honey by @bby-deerling.

Themes: mutual pining, a final push to engage, first kisses, soft Zoro

Did I Miss It? by @writingmysanity.

Themes: birthday, drinking, fluffy, soft Zoro

Not A Chance by @willowbelle.

Themes: NSFW, jealousy, flirting, possessive!Zoro x afab!reader. 

Guilded by @eelnoise.

Themes: NSFW, drinking, smug!Zoro x afab!reader

Blackleg Sanji

Parted Lips by @turtletaubwrites.

Themes: eating disorder, soft Sanji, understanding Sanji, sweet domesticity. 

Confidence by @gingernut1314.

Themes: NSFW, age gap (older reader), confident!afab!reader, small angst, alcohol use

Koby

Safehouse by @discordantwritings.

Themes: NSFW, subordinate!afab!reader x captain!Koby, unrequited love - requited love, one bed trope. 

Dracule Mihawk 

Fixing What Ifs by @sordidmusings.

Themes: old friends, friends to lovers, soft Mihawk, kissing, flashbacks. 

A Dark and Stormy Night by @thus-spoke-lo.

Themes: suggestive, flirty Mihawk, rain, gothic castle 

The Hat Stays On by @sordidmusings.

Themes: NSFW, desperate!Mihawk x afab!reader, pure smut 

Let Go and Grip Me Tighter by @sordidmusings.

Themes: NSFW, Mihawk’s strength, sub!afab!reader, Dom!Mihawk

Buggy

Switching up Roles: part 1 & part 2 by @sordidmusings.

Themes: NSFW, sub!Buggy x Dom!afab!reader, relief, comfort 

Donquixote Rosinante

The Things That Go Unheard by @indydonuts.

Themes: white day, Valentine's Day, mutual pining, date day

Masochism Tango by @cinnbar-bun.

Themes: NSFW, afab!reader, the love of corazon, intensity.

More Than Enough by @standfucker

Themes: NSFW, soft-dom!Corazon x afab!reader, established relationship

Benn Beckman 

Two Days by @jintaka-hane.

Themes: existing relationship, longing, kissing, flashbacks, suggestive themes, pretty. 

Unspoken Affections by @icy-spicy.

Themes: idiots in love, refusing to label it, mutual pining. 

Together by @cinnbar-bun.

Themes: dad!Beckman x mom!reader, they're parents to the Red-Hair crew, pure fluff, pining, longing. 

Distractions by @discordantwritings.

Themes: NSFW, mutual pining, flirting, kissing, afab!reader

Give (in) & Take (me) by @sordidmusings.

Themes: NSFW, flirting, drinking, pining, longing, Dom!Beckman X brat!afab!reader 

Eustass Kid

Cherry Girl part 1, part 2, part 3 by @macbethsymphony

Multiples x reader:

Themes: NSFW, drinking, flirting, longing, amazing descriptions, overstimulation, Dom!Kid X f!reader.

Heat

Shared Smiles by @a-killer-obsession

Themes: NSFW, mutilation, cathartic crying, missing limb, injury, hurt, comfort, one bed trope.

Rotation by @standfucker

Themes: NSFW afab!reader, Eustass Kid, Massacre Soldier Killer, Heat, Wire, drug use, acts of revenge, slaughter, brutality, flirtatious dialogue

Series: 

Songbird by @gingernut1314.

Themes: buggy x f!reader, enemies to lovers, strawhat!reader, singer!reader, NSFW.

The Heartless Giant by @cinnbar-bun.

Themes: Sir Crocodile x gn!reader, prisoner!crocodile x royal!reader, villain!crocodile, storyteller au

The Luck Child by @gingernut1314.

Themes: Buggy x f!reader, storyteller au, fairytale au, buggy is lucky, fantasy themes.

We’ve All Got Needs by @turtletaubwrites.

Themes: Zoro x afab!reader x Sanji x Robin, NSFW, strawhat!afab!reader.

Pain Management by @thus-spoke-lo

Themes: doctor!Law x afab!reader, medical impairment, semi-malpractice, NSFW

Masterlist Recommendations

Bby-deerling 

WillowBelle

DiscordantWritings

EelNoise

Gingernut1314 

Thus-spoke-lo 

[tomboy014]

Dun Dun Dunnn!!! Arkham Security Guard Danny's Epic Backstory! with Dick Grayson

I fell in love with the Arkham Guard AU by @xy-is-i and like most projects I work on, rather than starting where the story starts, I end up going backwards and delve into the backstory.  And I mean waaay into the backstory.

Because while the stories might start when the Bats run into Danny and Jazz working at Arkham Asylum isn’t where they first met.

Long, long ago, through shenanigans unknown, Robin and Phantom became friends, and honestly, they both really needed it. 

Dick Grayson, age 16, has been Robin for a while, but this is so early in the day that there just aren’t many teen heroes or sidekicks yet.  He’s basically pioneering the field of child heroes.

For Danny, 14, Sam and Tucker are great, but there are just some parts of superhero-ing that they just don’t get when you don’t have to hide a secret identity. 

Batman, for his part, does not approve of the friendship.  He’s already not a fan of metas in his city, but when the two of them get together, the chaos twin energy between Dick and Danny multiplies.  Worse, it brings about the pun-pocalypse, and there are only so many puns Bruce can take.  And then there’s the sibling discourse…

After all the stories Danny has told about his family, Dick is desperate to have a little sibling of his own, and the two repeatedly gang up on Batman to adopt another kid.  Their acting may be stilted, but the efforts are constant.

It never works.  Bruce doesn’t have empty nest syndrome yet, and tiny, homicidal Dick was already more than he could handle while he was trying to figure out how to adult, but he also can’t stand that he’s disappointing Dick.  Alfred isn’t helping either; he wants more grandkids.

And there’s no way in HELL that he’s adopting Phantom.

But for Robin and Phantom, they finally have someone they can talk to who gets it.  They can vent about their rogues, get help with homework, bitch about balancing their vigilantism with going to school, talk about whatever TV they’ve been watching, anything and everything.  It’s not uncommon to see them hanging off the Gotham gargoyles or grabbing a bite on top of the Nasty Burger.

There’s an unspoken rule between them that neither pries into the other’s personal life or secret identity, but as they get more comfortable with each other, little things slip out.  Then more.  Numbers are swapped, bits and pieces about their families come out. 

Later on, homes and secret hideouts are visited and they know each other’s first names.  It’s not a problem for Dick to go to the Fenton’s, but technically, Danny isn’t allowed in the Bat Cave or the Manor.  Those visits happen behind Batman’s back, and they were almost caught when they hid in the chandelier before Danny remembered he could turn them invisible. (Alfred encourages the friendship and bakes extra cookies once when he finds out Danny is over.) 

And eventually the relationship grows until they’re comfortable enough to swap full names.  No more secrets.

Dick likes going over to Danny’s place since it’s a chance to feel a lot more normal, even if they have to be very careful and either stay in civilian clothes in the shared areas or stay locked in Danny’s room if they’re in uniform.  Danny also goes out of his way to keep Dick from ever meeting his sister, Jazz (Danny knows he has a type).  It doesn’t stop them from swapping their numbers under the door.  (Jazz will unofficially be Dick’s therapist for years after this)

But being this close, Dick can also see just how stressed Danny is trying to maintain this lifestyle.  Doesn’t help either he has to listen to Danny’s parents go on and on about wanting to rip their own son apart, molecule by molecule.  Sure, Danny has a couple friends to help him, but he doesn’t have the same mentor or support system Dick has.  For a kid his age to be anything other than a sidekick is practically unheard of in this day and age.  Superheroes are still fairly few and far between, but Batman helped start a group called the Justice League a couple years ago with the idea that heroes could help each other.  Maybe there’s something there…

So, Dick starts the Teen Titan.  He had originally intended for Danny to join him as one of the founding members, but are you kidding?  Jump City is on the opposite side of the country!  He has school! and parents! (That’s the point, Danny. We’re trying to get you away from the parents that want to dissect you) He can’t just up and leave home and run halfway across the country!

So, Dick found the other iconic members and still joined the Titans, but Danny will always have an open invitation to join them and a room at the Tower, something Danny does occasionally take advantage of.  Jump City doesn’t spawn as many natural portals as Gotham, but he visits whenever he can and basically haunts the tower the entire month of December to get away from his family.

Still, the distance and growing up are hard on Dick and Danny, and they grow more distant over the years, but they’ll always have each other’s backs in an emergency.  Dick was there when Danny thought he was turning into a monster (it was just ghost puberty).  Danny stole the Spectre Speeder so they could scour the Ghost Zone after Jason died.  And Danny would eventually become godfather to Dick’s daughter, Mar’i. 

But things cooled down between them… at least until a panicked Danny called because his sister just took a job at Arkham…

Next>>

[syntheticavenger]

Splinter - Two

Hehehe. Worlds are COLLIDING.

One

Dark! Alpha! Thor x Omega! Female Reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, world building, Alpha/Omega dynamics, intimidation. This is probably the last tame part for a while.

Summary | Your dream job provides prestige, security and a chance to shape your future. When one little mistake leads to Thor saving you in a time of crisis, his past promise comes back to haunt you.

“It was a star-studded night as two of the Avengers attended a charity gala for the Omega designation. Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes made their red-carpet debut with Captain Rogers’ ever elusive wife attending. Though she was not pictured alongside her husband, eyewitnesses report that Captain Rogers may just have a new role on the horizon: becoming a dad,” the reporter says with a cheerful smile.

Your slingback heel falls to the ground from your hand when you see Steve Rogers, posing with Bucky Barnes, unable to tear your eyes away from the screen before another clip of the gala is shown, Steve giving a speech.

“It is my duty, my one guiding principle in life, to stick up for those who can’t. I hope that I have done so thus far,” Captain Rogers says, charismatic smile on display.

“Do they know how you found your wife?” you mutter, picking up your shoe and slipping it on your foot, reaching for the remote and turning it off, Steve’s smug face disappearing.

You could never prove it, of course. Little whispers that the most advanced surveillance specialist had just given away her career was unheard of, even in your circles. No one questioning why, to this day, the position had never been filled.

Too many unspoken rules, too many hushed conversations that hid the truth.

Forcing yourself to file it away for later, the notification that the car has arrived pops on your cell, grabbing your purse and coat to head outside, locking the door and verifying that its closed. The half-run, half-walk to the waiting car is purposeful and with good reason.

Your first opening comments as a National Advisory Council Member of Intergalactic Diplomacy. Despite your sweaty palms, you’re prepared, going over your remarks at least five times since you had opened your eyes this morning.

“As a reminder,” your assistant Paloma interjects over the phone. “There will be Asgardians in attendance. I know you probably won’t mind but with the Intergalactic Alliance, there is a chance that he -”

“Thank you, Paloma.” Your hand grips your phone tighter. There’s nothing to worry about. It’s been months since you’ve seen him, since that fateful afternoon when you had ordered him out.

He had obliged, leaving you alone to pick up the pieces, rumors swirling that he and Jane had found their way back together. The nuisances of their relationship did not concern you, throwing yourself headfirst into work, learning all you could for it to lead up to this moment.

Asgardians or not, it doesn’t matter. You’ve worked hard to find a seat at the table and no one, not even an Asgardian God, is going to take that away from you.

“T-minus forty minutes until we go live,” Paloma reminds you. “You’re going to do great.”

⚡️

Paloma was right.

Asgardians clamor to be in attendance in the hall, their eyes on you when you walk past them.

They whisper your name, hushed voices fading once you reach the podium. You’d visited Asgard once in your life, when you were deep into wanting to know everything about Thor and his people. It was a world so much alike and unlike Earth that it unnerved you to think that one day he was planning to come back and rule as king.

You’d never be a queen.

You aren’t even sure if you ever wanted to be one as a child.

The audience quiets, multiple cameras on you, not a hair out of place when you finally lift your head to speak after being announced, applause quieting after a few moments.

“Thank you, Mr. Secretary General, your Excellencies, and ladies and gentlemen in attendance and beyond. I am here today to discuss our worlds and our role in creating an open dialogue of trust,” you begin, taking another breath. “With the newly formed Intergalactic Diplomacy Division, I am pleased to be a part of such an important agency as we recognize that our world is unique. It presents many challenges as we all work toward an understanding of what intergalactic diplomacy looks like in an ever-changing universe. It is crucial that we listen to understand, to listen for solutions and not to listen to react.”

The door opens, Thor strolling in his Asgardian garb, his red cape flowing out behind him, cameras panning to him as you swallow, ignoring him and the delectable scent that reaches your nose.

He keeps his attention on you, the cameras panning back to you.

“It is my hope that we share our strengths, our challenges and our opportunities for a bright future ahead. For us to be strong together, we must first be vulnerable with what we do not know, be willing to be educated and to open our minds and hearts to others that we may not readily understand. Our future is bright and will only become a reality when we work together. Thank you for your time.”

Thunderous applause erupts, with Thor standing up, Asgardians following suit.

Paloma’s voice is in your ear, telling you that you did a fantastic job, multiple people surging forward to shake your hand, the room slightly spinning with how often you have to greet well-wishers.

You try to block Thor’s never fading smile out of your head and his direct eye contact that seemingly burned into your soul when you’re ushered into a conference room for a talk through.

⚡️

“I didn’t expect the future King of Asgard to be in attendance,” Robert chuckles, looking up from his notes. “It’ll do wonders for media. You know Thor can’t be bothered to show up to these events.”

“I think I know why,” Susan says with a wink in your direction. “Did you tell him you were speaking?”

“No,” you reply through gritted teeth. “I did not.”

“Well, it worked out for us. Great job with the pace. I could really feel your passion in the message,” Robert praises, sitting back in his chair. “You aren’t with him anymore, are you? I think he was dating that physicist, Dr. Jane something, I believe? Whatever happened with you and him?”

“I’m sure she doesn’t want us in her business,” Susan answers for you, noting your discomfort. As Omegas go, she’s astute. “You did a great job today. You should be proud.”

“Now that it’s over, I can relax.”

Robert laughs at your comment, shaking his head.

“Not by a longshot. You embody our cause. Your journey is just beginning. I hope you’ve dusted off that passport.”

⚡️

Paloma meets you outside the conference room, beaming with pride as you walk out together. 

“The Asgardians being present? That was wild!” she exclaims. “How did you pull that off?”

“I didn’t,” you respond, seeing her confusion.

“So then… Thor…”

“That was all him.”

“Romantic,” she sighs, clutching her clipboard.

“Romantic that he broke up with me months ago to stare me down during my first media spot? I think we differ on what romantic means.”

“Oh, I just, I didn’t,” Paloma mumbles, her cheeks going red. “I didn’t realize how that sounded. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’ll be better when I’m in the car.”

“Then let’s get you there.”

By the time the door opens, Paloma’s steps halt at the sight of Thor, surrounded by throngs of his people.

“Ah,” he says with a wave of his hand. “There she is.”

The Asgardians begin to applaud, Paloma looking over as you force a polite smile,

“I wanted to extend my appreciation for your comments today. It is my hope that we come to a strong understanding of interstellar people and Midgardians as well,” Thor continues, cameras flashing as he smiles, giving you a sly up and down gaze. “We are in your ever capable hands.”

“Thank you,” you respond quickly, Paloma ushering you into the car, seeing Thor watch you as Paloma waves for the driver to take off.

Looking out from the backseat, Paloma picks up her phone, dialing a number.

“I think it might be helpful if you have some security, don’t you?” she asks nervously.

You don’t have the heart to tell her that it’s pointless to fight against a god.

⚡️

Your phone rings twice, enough for you to answer it, a towel wrapped around you when you answer.

“Hi.”

“Thor,” you respond, unable to hide the irritation from your voice.

“I wanted to ask for a truce.”

“We weren’t fighting.”

“Is that the wrong word? Bruce told me to ask for a… branch?”

“Olive branch,” you respond tersely. “You already showed up to my media spot.”

“You needed support. Asgardians are excited for the news. They were happy to come.”

You feel a ripple of guilt for being irritated when he frames it that way, remembering the little children in attendance. 

“Well… thank you. I appreciate it.”

“And I wanted to ask about the olive branch. Have dinner with me.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, chewing on your lower lip. 

Dinner means a chance to relive the memories – good and bad – and make small talk about things you know either of you won’t care about. He’s moved on and you have too, in your own way. Dating hasn’t been an option, neither has even thinking about uploading a picture of a dating site, let alone signing up for one.

It seems harmless, this ask, to have one dinner and have it be done. Your confidence from the media event makes you wonder if you’re allowed to ask him questions about things you’ve only wondered about.

Maybe you shouldn’t wonder anymore.

Maybe you should demand.

“Okay,” you reply.

“Perfect. I’ll meet you around seven? I’ll give the details to your assistant.”

“Seven sounds fine.”

“See you then.”

⚡️

Gone is the red cape, replaced with a black sweater and black pants, his blond hair tied in a loose bun as he listens intently on what you’ve been working on.

You’ve tried to keep it light, ignoring the ways he sneaks in comments of how he misses you.

“I saw Steve on TV,” you continue, trying to change the subject. “The news says his wife is pregnant.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” you press gently, Thor taking a bite of his dinner. 

“Hmm as in… hmm. Interesting.”

“So you will not confirm or deny.”

“It is not my business to share. That is Steve’s.”

He has a point. You try another angle, hoping to get some traction from it.

“I’m sure you’ve seen her. Does she ever miss her old job?”

Thor sighs, looking at you as he swallows.

“Why does she interest you so much all of a sudden?”

“All of a sudden? She was on TV, they mentioned her.”

“She’s Steve’s wife, why wouldn’t they?”

“She allegedly gave up her job for him? She was the surveillance director! That’s a big deal.”

“Is it?” he asks. “Or was it that she rearranged her priorities? Maybe Steve came first and then work fell to wayside.”

Frowning at his assumption, you shake your head.

“Didn’t seem like the sort.”

“Well, she was.”

You both eat in silence for a moment, background conversations taking over while you seemingly retreat from asking any additional questions about her. There’s no point if Thor is going to be so tight lipped, which only makes you more suspicious.

After a moment, he sighs, placing his knife and fork down.

“I want to talk about us.”

You sit still, waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t like being apart. I know I hurt you and I hurt myself in the process. I think we need a fresh start.”

“A fresh start,” you repeat, nodding at his words. “A fresh start before or after you were seeing Jane?”

“I wasn’t seeing Jane until we were completely done.”

“And what changed?”

“She’s a Beta, for Gods’ sakes. We were incompatible, you know that.”

“Didn’t exactly stop you from dumping me.”

You can see the flash of anger in his eyes, quick but palatable. He doesn’t like your tone – you can tell that by the tick in his jaw – but that doesn’t stop you from feeling free enough to speak your mind. You aren’t his anymore and there are no boundaries you need to be mindful of.

“I didn’t dump you, you left me no choice but to leave a once fulfilling relationship because you wanted to chase a dream. A dream that has come true and while I am happy for you, you know that you and I belong together.”

“You could have thought about that before you cleared out your things.”

“I need you to listen and understand me clearly,” Thor counters, his tone low. “Listen to me very carefully.”

At your silence and the set of your jaw, he lifts his head with a smile.

“You have made your point. I hear you loud and clear. I want a reconciliation. You and I make sense. You need me, especially with this job you’ve decided to take on.”

“I did need you, once,” you agree meekly. “I appreciate the dinner, Thor, I really do. I’m glad we had a chance to catch up and I wish it was under a better circumstance. But I can’t go through that again. I’m sorry.”

You can see his eyes darken when you stand, placing your napkin on the table.

“Goodnight,” he bids tersely, seeing you walk away.

Smiling to himself, he cuts into his steak, popping a piece of meat into his mouth.

“As if you have a choice in the matter,” he muses to himself.

⚡️

Paloma seems pleased with herself when she enters your hotel room with a paper drink tray filled with coffees.

“You’ll never guess what I managed to do,” she greets you excitedly, plopping down on a chair.

Packing the last of your things, you stop for a moment.

“What?”

“I got you twenty-four seven, around the clock security.”

“From where?”

“After you left, I was able to talk with some security agencies and before I knew it, they were able to offer three names. I have them on retainer but we can move onto a contract since it’s covered. They’re on their way up to be interviewed. I figured you’d want to have the final say.”

The knock at the door sends Paloma running, looking through the peephole before she flings the door open.

Your phone rings at the same time, Thor’s number popping up as something tells you to answer it.

“I was hoping to catch you before they arrived,” Thor says, your eyes going to the opened door. “But I forgot to tell you. Inked a security detail for you. Robert and Susan were overjoyed to know you would be in such great hands.”

You recognize them, the burly and massive men standing in a straight line.

Fandral, Volgstagg and Hogun.

“I trust you won’t be looking for any additional security since they know how important their job is to protect you by any means necessary.”

Paloma turns around, nodding her head excitedly as you swallow hard.

“What do you think? They’re great, right?”