#I made this post and when I hit post it disappeared and didn’t show up

[mavrintarou]

[4:44 PM] Suna Rintarou

Quickly whipped this because I'm trying to find an excuse to not go to the gym. Nothing edited. I know all I ever post about is Rin, Rin, Kiyoomi, Shinsuke, and Rin again... he was just too fitting for this. I'm really trying to expand my fantasy to the other characters.

Warning: Angst, asshole Rin, makeup smut contents .

Rintarou let out a frustrated sigh having been blocked once again. That was three times now in a row.

“Shake it off!” he heard his teammate shout.

“Suna!” Turning his head, he can see his coach signaling for him to rotate out, switching with his other teammate.

As soon as he was off the court, his coach jerked his head, indicating for him to take the empty seat beside him. “What’s going on?”

Rintarou inhales sharply, “bad day, I guess?” He knew what was going on, just didn’t want to speak of it.

“Well, turn that bad day into a good day, shake it off, everyone needs you.” His coach pats his shoulder, “do whatever you gotta do.”

EPJ Raijin lost their second set, this third game will determine their win or not.

With a towel over his head, Rin zoned out, tuning out the sound of the crowd and everything else around him. The only thing on his mind was Y/n.

Three weeks ago, they abruptly ended their casual fling.

No matter how many times he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault, it was definitely, his fault.

He is a hypocrite.

He was the one who said just casual sex. No feelings.

But the moment he saw her at a table with another man he did not recognize at one of Matsumoto’s top restaurants, he lost his shit.

How dare she doll up and wear a red dress, the red dress he purchased for her to go on a date with this mother fucker.

He watched as Y/n looked at her phone, the smile on her face immediately disappeared. Rin looked down at his phone, seeing the Read underneath the photo he sent her.

Y/n glanced up, her eyes scanning the room until they met his. He arched an eyebrow at her, and she responded by tilting her head, mirroring his expression perfectly.

Bathroom. Now. He texted.

Rin didn’t need to look back to see Y/n following him shortly as he made his way to the restroom.

He tugged her into the private room, locking the door behind him. “Really?” His eyes scanned her from head to toe.

“Really,” Y/n smiled, and she gave him a spin. “Do you not like it?”

Y/n knew how to rile him up, making the green jealous monster within him wake up and flip a table.

Rin stalked towards her, noticing how her smile slowly faded as she stepped back until she hit the counter of the sink. He pressed himself against her, sandwiching her between him and the counter. His fingers trail along her jaw, “does your date know that I purchased this dress and that I’ve fucked you while you were wearing it?”

“Be careful Rintarou,” she only used his full name when she was serious, “jealousy looks good on you but some might believe you’ve developed feelings for me.”

She has become bold, voicing her feelings each day.

Rin was not oblivious. He knows this casual fling between them needs to end. He wasn’t blind to her recent advances.

How her eyes twinkle for him when he comes over.

How she holds him tighter when he’s rocking deeply inside her.

How she whispers his name with love.

How she kisses his palms before a game, giving him luck.

She is expressing her love for him in every possible way except through words. Because the moment she played that card, he would end the game.

“You’re becoming delusional, Y/n.” He gritted, his lips smirking, “I will admit I am jealous, should I show you how jealous I am?”

They glared at one another, Y/n looking deep into his eyes, searching for the man she fell in love with. Deep down, she knew her place. “Do it,” she whispered, “I dare you.”

His eyes darken and she’s flipped around in a blink of an eye. She sees in the mirror as Rin tugs her dress up, bunching it at her hips, his fingers immediately graze over the thin lacy thong, circling her clit.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, biting down on her lip to prevent herself from moaning. “Hurry, I have my date I need to get back to.”

“As you wish.”

Y/n half gasped and yelped at his hand and slapped her right ass cheek. Her thong is pushed to the side as feels his cock sliding in between her thighs.

“You’re soaked, was it me or him?” He began rocking, thrusting in between her thighs. He pulled her against him, locking an arm around her shoulder. He locked eyes with her through the mirror, “answer me.”

“You.” Y/n whispered, “you made me this wet…” she whimpered when he rolled his hips, his cock grazing against her clit. “Please… Rin…”

His teeth nips her earlobe as he reached in between them and align his cock to her pussy and slipped inside in one swift thrust. He wastes no time pounding into her from behind. Y/n’s hand comes to cover her mouth.

His groans are heavy against her ear and he hated it, hated how she made him feel. His teeth bite down on her skin, biting down hard until he can feel Y/n flitching and tightening around his cock.

Rin pulls away, satisfied by his mark, knowing it would be visible. He pauses his movement for a second, maneuvering her until she is bent forward before him. His grip on her hips tightened as he resumed his thrusts, pounding until the small bathroom echoed only of their skin slapping.

Y/n drops onto her elbow, head falling forward as her moans are muffled by her hands. He was thrusting deep inside her, triggering her orgasm faster than usual. “Ri – Rin…” she whimpered, a hand reaching behind to push against his abdomen. “Too fast…”

He gripped her wrist and thrust faster until the moment he felt her pussy flutter around his cock.

“Ah,” he groaned coming undone, pounding into her slowly yet hard with each ejaculation. His eyes suddenly widened, “fuck.”

He forgot to wear a condom.

He let go of her wrist and immediately withdrew, his cock was coated with their essence. It wasn’t a time for his cock to twitch lively again at the sight of his cum leaking down Y/n’s pussy and down her thighs.

He swore again, half turned on and half pissed off at himself.

He always wore a condom.

“Here,” he slammed a few bills on the counter, “get yourself the pill. Let’s end this.”

Rin groaned, covering his face. He was such a fucken asshole.

He glanced down at his palms, feeling disheartened by his poor performance, and was convinced that it was all because Y/n hadn’t kissed his palms before the game.

His mind flashed back to the very first time she had done it. She had come to his game, and just before it started, she called his name and took hold of his wrists. Rin looked at her confused, but she gently turned his palms upward and pressed her lips to the center of his hand. “Good luck kisses,” she whispered with a smile.

“Hey, look it’s Y/n.”

Rin’s head snapped up, and he swiftly removed the towel from his head. Before him stood Motoya, gazing towards the crowd behind Rin. In response, Rin pivoted his upper body and scanned the bustling crowd. “Where?”

“Right there!” Motoya pointed.

Rin’s gaze tracked his pointed finger until it intersected with the eyes of the pair he longed for so intensely.

As if caught in the act, she hastily concealed her face and attempted to make a swift getaway.

“Y/n!” Rin roared over the loud music and crowd chatter, chasing after her. He hopped over the barriers and ascended the stairs with determination. “Y/n!” he called out once more, steadily closing the gap between them as she weaved through the crowd.

Finally, reaching his limit, he lengthened his strides and snagged her wrist, gently drawing her into his embrace. “Stop, please don’t run,” he implored softly. His arms constricted around her, one hand tenderly cradling the back of her head. “Please don’t go,” he whispered.  

She remained tensed in his embrace and softly uttered, “you’re the one who walked away.”

“I know, I’m a fucken fool. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I left you. Please,” he pulled away, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Please come back to me, I am a mess without you. I need you, Y/n. I –” he blinks the tears back, “I’m in love with you, please come back to me, please.”  

Her eyes widen, hearing the words she longed to hear. Tears filled her pretty eyes as she closed them, letting the tears fall down her cheeks before she nodded her head.

Rin sighed in relief and hugged her once more, “thank God. I love you. I love you, Y/n. I love you so fucken much and it took walking away from you to realize I am in love with you all this time.” He leaned back to cup her face, “please, can I kiss you?”

She extended her hand to gently cup his face, drawing him down to meet her lips. Their mouths danced in a graceful, passionate exchange until they parted, both gasping for breath. Their lips inches apart, “I love… I love you too, Rin. I loved you for a long time.”

“I know, I know baby.” He pressed his lips against hers again. “I’m never letting you go again.”

Y/n nodded, “promise?”

“Yeah, promise.”

Her eyes widened and she leaned back, “Rin don’t you have a – “

“Suna! Where the fuck did you go? The third set is about to start!”

.

Rin’s mouth never once left Y/n as they stumbled into his apartment. He pulled away briefly to tug off his shirt before his mouth resumed hungrily against hers.

In the grueling third set, EPJ Raijin fought valiantly, shedding blood and sweat, and managed to secure a hard-fought victory. Finally, with the fortunate kisses pressed onto his palm by his beloved, Rin executed his spikes flawlessly, scoring nine crucial points that contributed to their triumphant win.

His hands rest on Y/n’s hips, guiding her backward towards the hall of his place and into his bedroom. He is nervous, almost shy at standing half naked before her. “I… I didn’t get to shower after the game – do you want to shower together?”

Her lips curved upward as she grabbed his hand leading him into his bathroom. She quickly stripped her clothes off and turned on the shower, looking over her shoulder, Rin stood there gawking as if he had never seen her naked before. “You coming?”

He quickly pushed down his joggers and boxers, striding into the shower with her. The water cascaded down their bodies as she reached for his body wash to spread it all over his body.

Rin caught her wrist that was lathering his chest with body wash and brought it down to his cock, he closed her hand around it. He hissed feeling his cock harden from her touch. “Y/n,” he murmured, slowly thrusting into her hand.

Y/n stepped closer, pressed her lips to his left nipple, sucking it gently and swirling her tongue around the bud. Her hand tightens around his cock as she strokes him faster.

He hissed, reaching with his other hand to find her clit, “missed this.”

“I missed this too,” Y/n squeezed his cock, pressing her thumb against the tip. She was about to drop to her knees when he stopped her.

“I need to be inside you, now.” He lifted her, her legs wrapped around his hips and arms around his neck. He easily slipped his cock inside her pussy.

For a brief moment, they savored the intimate moment of being united as one again.

Y/n leaned down and kissed him deeply and passionately, rocking her hips to meet his thrusts. “Ah!” she breaks the kiss, moaning his name. “We – we forgot a condom – again…”

Rin thrust deeper, pressing his lips to her clavicle. “I’m clean, there – there’s been no one but you…”

Y/n’s arms tighten around his shoulder and neck, her lips to his ear, “that’s not what I mean… Rin – we could risk –“

Rin is reminded of the last time he came inside of her. He is selfish but he wanted nothing more than to cum inside of her again, over again and again until he knows she is pregnant.

Y/n pregnant with his baby, he loves the thought of that.

He wanted that.

Y/n moaned loudly into his ear, “you like that?” She tightens her pussy around his cock, hearing him groan, slowing his hips. “You want to knock me up, Rin? You want me to have your baby?” He hummed, agreeing. “You want to breed me?”

“Yes. Fuck yes. I want to breed you. Cum inside you again. And again.” His nose trailed along her neck until he reached her ear, “I’m not asking Y/n, I’m going to cum inside you. I’m going to put a baby – my baby inside you.” He nipped her earlobe, fastening his thrust. He is so closed, all this promise is knocking him over the edge as he is eager to cum inside of her. “You’re mine.”

Y/n tightens her arms and legs around him, chanting, “yes! Want your baby!” Her tummy coils, tightening and her body trembles in release, cumming around his cock.

Rin pressed Y/n against the tile walls, hooking his arms behind her knees and hoisting her weight so he could pound into her pussy with the purpose to breed.

Her overstimulated pussy fluttered around his cock until he painted her womb with his cum.

Walking over to the seat built into his shower, he sits down, keeping Y/n close as she straddles his lap. They catch their breaths, gazing tiredly yet lovingly into each other’s eyes.

Y/n was about to lift herself off of him when he stopped her, “don’t, not yet.”

She relaxed around him, holding onto his shoulders. “You’re serious about baby-making?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “It sounded like in the heat of the moment talk but I’m dead serious. Were you not serious?”

Y/n threaded her fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back. “Aside from you telling me you love me and want to be with me, I want nothing more than to have your baby.” She lifts herself off, letting his flaccid cock fall limp. “But before that, let us focus on just the two of us for now.” She pressed her lips against his, “take me out on a proper date first.”

Rin grins against her lips, “a little out of order but yes, anything you want.”

. . .

E/n: When I'm writing and releasing my dirty imagination, Rin is the only one I can see getting away with this shit. He can talk about breeding any time and I'll be like... "yes daddy." Please don't be like me. Make good choices. Lol. I'm finishing up on Lord Ushijima... I'll share it soon.

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu suna #suna smut #suna rintarou smut #suna x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna angst #suna fluff #suna rintarou angst #suna rintarou fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #suna x y/n

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hello, sorry from before. I am the illusionist person.

I guess Alastor, Velvett, and Emily (but only if you do her).

I apologize about before.

No problem! I just do not like the idea of taking away credit from others’ choices and picking out the characters for others’ subjects. It just doesn’t feel right. I am sorry for being so… well, I guess, annoying and picky! To be honest, not a lot can be done here so sorry, it’s going to be kinda short! Also, this is my first time handling Emily!

Alastor

Alastor almost thought you were an ordinary sinner. A lady not unbelievably special but special in your own ways. But he is mistaken when he begins seeing your illusions and asks you about it. He is so surprised, jaw-dropped, amazed… that’s incredible!

Alastor is actually really supportive towards your illusion power and eggs you on to use it more than you normally do. Use it to get what you want, use it to mislead, use it to defend yourself. He will be right there to cheer you on

Alastor finds it fascinating when you begin to use your illusions on him. Changing his clothing to 1800s, making his ears disappear, all for shits and giggles but it’s just eye tricks. Everything is still there and hasn’t done anything to you, it’s just so realistic, that it’s incredible. He is impressed and has to remind himself that everything you suddenly ‘make’ is not real at all

It can be considered minor but to your boyfriend, your illusionary power. The most powerful, hyper realistic delusions that even shatter like glass when being hit. Enables Alastor’s pride and he is happily brags about how powerful you can be. He mentioned you a ton during his broadcasts and now, he mentions you as a whole even more. He’s just so proud of you

“My dear. Your mind is quite wild and livid. I can’t help but wonder what else you can do. May I ask, how does this power work? It’s so unique and I’d love to get to know it even more, may we speak over a nice date on my room’s balcony over some tea and cookies?”

Velvette

Velvette actually would much more prefer if her harmless little sinner girlfriend was just a normal demon. Didn’t have any powers that made her override the Overlord of the pair… but boy, she is so wrong and she ends up being jumpscared by your illusion-inducing power, directly falling for it and afterwards, she can’t help but directly fall for you even more

Whilst it’s true that Velvette enjoys being the unique one of this couple, she finds herself not at all salty or jealous of your power. In-fact, she wants to see it more in action and she even asks if she can post videos or pictures of your abilities to show you off, as a way to also demonstrate to the web that you belong to her, and this power belongs to her as well

Velvette is uncontrollably disturbed and annoyed by just how hyper realistic and convincing your mind images are. They are fully seeable to everybody, it’s not just you two but she feels like it’s tricking her individually. Whilst she gets irritated with them sometimes, she has grown to support you as a whole. She does like, however, when you use your mind and dress her in 1800s era clothing. Yeah, the dresses are ugly and old but the effort behind them is adorable so she allows it

As stated before, Velvette takes pictures, videos and stills of your illusionary magic and posts them online. She doesn’t just use this as claiming you as hers, she also uses it to brag about you. You went from just beautiful to beautiful and powerful, and that’s all hers. She has your heart and she wants everybody to know you can render them useless with your illusions. She brags to even the Vees

“Yo. Bae, can you please do me a fav with your luse-power? I want to make a really good fashion runway picture for my social media accounts and this one is shit. Could you please make some accessorises for me… pleeeaase~? I promise I’ll buy ya a present~!”

Emily

Emily is a Seraphim. A powerful, higher-up ranked Angel species of the Heaven Hierarchy, so it’s quite surprising when she is as surprised to seeing the precious ordinary Angel lovely woman she calls hers form a illusion creation of her friend, Charlie Morningstar, trying to cheer her up after a bad day. She is so amazed and so proud, eyes sparkling with awe

Emily is the most supportive and encouraging being ever and she wants to rise you up, even more up above Heaven’s majestic cool clouds. She wants you to feel invincible and she wants to you feel proud of yourself so she’ll, much like a child, ask you to use more of your illusions, explore your power and get more confident with it and everytime she watches it, her mind basically explodes

Emily happily and excitedly spins out when you use your illusionary power on her to change her looks; gorgeous hair, gorgeous dress and even her wings. She feels so different yet so blessed at the same time, even if the new look is just a magical sheet covering her body. She also finds it interesting and funny that you dressed her in human 1800s era style, she wants you two to match so she basically begs you to use your magic on you too

Emily legit goes out of her way and with help from Sera, finds and brings back needed magical training items and spell books to try help you hone your already hyper-convincing Mirakinesis and your skills with that power, so you can expand your percentage and even maybe make it even more powerful, with her right besides you as your biggest cheerleader

“Sunflower! Can you make yourself invisible yet? Did the books and items help you at all? I hope they did! I also hope that you know that I am so proud of you and I love you so much! Please never keep something like this from me ever again! You’re incredible, with and without it”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel characters #vivziepop hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin emily #romantic alastor x reader #romantic velvette x reader #romantic emily x reader #headcanons #alastor x reader #velvette x reader #emily x reader #alastor #velvette #emily #vivziepop #alastor headcanons #velvette headcanons #emily headcanons #hazbin hotel heaven #hazbin hotel hell #romantic headcanons #we’re basically a magician!

[r0ttenhearts]

in another life

thoma x childhood, best friend! reader

sypnosis; with thomas new position in the kamisato estate he strays further and further from you

warnings: angst, suggestive mentions, replaced

sweet, sweet thoma. your blonde haired protector since childhood. now he was ayaka’s “protector.” what a joke. you’d scoff at your own thoughts, holding taroumaru in your arms, his wet tongue licking your tears away as you laughed dryly.

it was cruel, really. your once shared promises on that hill you made while stargazing. he had been the one to speak up. “we’re like glue (y/n). we’ll always be together.” liar. liar. liar!

“it doesn’t matter what happens, i’ll always be by your side.”

“i’ll never leave you.” liar.

“you’ll always be the most important person to me.”

“nothing will tear us apart.”

“i promise, i’ll never love someone the way i care for you.” shut up, shut up, SHUT UP.

his voice was ringing in your ears, the same voice you used to find comfort in during your younger years. taroumaru licked at the salty tears running down your cheeks, something you hadn’t noticed.

you always suspected it, now you knew it was true.

he had strayed away from you, again.

he had picked someone over you, again.

the only times you’d ever see him now were when he needed a favor. that being to dogsit taroumaru, or help each other rid of the loneliness you both felt late at night. every time you’d come over to feel his warm hands on your body, soothing your numbing heart, you’d lie to yourself and think you were both lovers.

it wasn’t a sad secret between two childhood friends, but two people in love and showing it to each other. the lie would dissipate once the morning came with thoma rushing you out before ayaka would arrive.

climbing out a window to avoid the white haired girl he claimed as nothing more than a friend. you knew he was lying to you, hiding it from you. but you didn’t want your fantasy to disappear. not yet.

so much for protecting your delusion. here it was right in your face, his latest post. ayaka and thoma’s hands interlinked in frame, heart emojis as the caption.

a loud laugh escaped your lips as you chucked your phone to the wall without thinking. he had the nerve to ask you to watch his dog while he went out and asked ayaka out officially? what a fucking joke.

you got up, leaving a whimpering taroumaru on thoma’s bed. your now cracked phone in your hands as you hastily sent out a text. scrolling through your device you hit the red block button on all of thoma’s profiles you could find, deleting every single photo you took with him and of things you associated with him. it was time to stop. it was time to let go.

your finger hovered above the delete chat button. did you really want to delete him out of your life completely? all of the memories?

fuck yes.

the way he barely spoke to you at all, messages now limited to a few times a week. never to talk about the things in each others lives, only to watch his dog and sleep together.

with that last button being pushed that was your last door closed to his life. closed to knowing about him and being around him. not like it would have made a difference as he was already a ghost in your life now.

on his desk you left behind the evidence of what used to be what you once believed to be a lifelong friendship. the key to his apartment, a pendant that matched the same one he wore around his neck, and the love letters he had failed to write to ayaka.

taglist: @yuumaofc @jaderose18 @samarill @lelemnh @linkookie197

#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #thoma angst #thoma x reader angst #thoma x you #thoma x reader #thoma x y/n

[koiiiiijiii]

hiii! i really love your windbreaker scenarios😭❤️ can i request a hyuk kwon scenarios with friends to lovers trope, if you don't mind? thank you so much!!!

AHHH U READING MY THOUGHTS! i had it in my drafts, but already posted!! so here like a short scenario in same timeline, just take it as what happened in gaps here

author note ; seminar week in uni hits hard, but random tequila shots with flatmates in the middle of the week hits harder.... but don't worry i played through and won this fking hangover and dropping this post now😌🫦

warnings ; fluff, cute hyeok, not proofed

(bro is the type of guy who will show off a trick on his bike he hasn't trained enough yet and end up falling)

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friday evening started out great - all the lectures were over, the weather was beautiful outside, the sun had not yet disappeared behind the horizon and was giving the city its last rays. this week you didn’t miss a single lecture, and in general today you were quite active in class, you also agreed with your classmates to meet next week to complete a group project, so your socially active duty for today has been completed and you can calmly relax on weekend.

entering cozy apartment, you set down your bag and kicked off shoes, ready to delve into usual routine of household chores. you took a slow shower, completed all the steps in the skin care routine and now you wanted to start that series that you had been putting off for a long time when you heard a soft knock sounded at the door, interrupting your thoughts. curious, you opened the door to find Kwon standing there, with his usual calm and relaxed face. his presence caught you off guard a little, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. "hey..." he began, his voice a gentle murmur. "i was wondering if you'd like to go to that shop near our building with me. i wanted that banana drink you recommend me recently... and i thought you spent whole day in uni, so we could take a little walk together... you know to catch some fresh air and stuff..." your initial surprise quickly gave way to excitement, as your lips curling into a grin. despite his usual reserved demeanor, Kwon's offer filled you with pleasant a sense of warmth, joy and anticipation. "sure, i’d love to," you replied, grabbing a jacket and slipping on her shoes.

together, you ventured out into the cool evening air of Seoul, the streets alive with the hustle and bustle of city life. As you walked side by side, you couldn't help but steal glances at Hyeok, marveling at the way his stoic facade softened in the glow of the streetlights. small conversation about everything flowed effortlessly as you made your way to the shop, sharing stories and laughter along the way. but little did you know that Kwon had something else up his sleeve, a secret he was eager to reveal. of course you notice bike he took with him, but you genuinely thought he was so obsessed with these races and bicycles that he just wouldn't get off his bike.

upon reaching an empty playground nestled within a quiet corner of the neighborhood, Kwon's eyes twinkled with mischief as he hopped on his bicycle, a gleam of excitement dancing in his gaze. "watch this," he murmured, his voice tinged with excitement as he prepared to demonstrate a new trick he had been practicing. however, fate had other plans in store, and as he attempted to execute the trick, a misstep caused him to lose his balance, sending him tumbling to the ground with a muffled thud. your heart felt like it skipped a beat as you rushed to his side, concern etched across your features. ignoring the pain coursing through his knee, Hyeok tried to brush off the accident with some kind of incomprehensible emotion. but you saw through his facade, your heart aching at the sight of him in distress. without a moment's hesitation, you took charge, guiding him to a nearby bench and inspecting his injury with gentle hands. rummaging through your bag, you retrieved a pack of cute adhesive bandages adorned with playful images of bananas, a small smile tugging at your lips. with utmost care, you cleaned his wound and carefully applied the bandages, your touch felt so tender that Hyeok could feel goosebumps down his spine.

in that vulnerable moment, when he saw you on your knees before him as you tended to his injury with unwavering kindness, Kwon felt a surge of emotions wash over him, his heart swelling with a newfound warmth. as he looked into your eyes, he realized with startling clarity that what he felt for you already went beyond mere friendship.

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#[ ~ koi.talks🗣] #windbreaker #windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker x reader #webtoon #x reader #windbreaker headcanon #imagine #kwon hyuk x reader #hyeok kwon sabbath #hyeok kwon #kwon hyuk #hyuk kwon #hyuk kwon x reader #hyuk kwon sabbath #sabbath crew #sabbath windbreaker #sabbath x reader #anon ask

[pearlsinmyhair]

˖⋆˚₊⊹ his muse

hobie brown x fem!reader

this has been in my drafts for. forever. like it was summer when i wrote it on a whim. this initially started as a request for hobie with a reader that came from wealth. the vivienne westwood imagery picked up from there, and i just kinda had fun with it. and now im posting it- huzzah!

warnings: smoking (cigarettes). mentions of drinking. slight nsfw at the very end. meet-cute that leads to smut. hobie being a flirt. fem!reader.

hobie is in the midst of a creative rut that he can’t get out of, no matter how much he tries to. that is, until some inspiration walks through the door.

hobie was in a musical rut.

which never happened to him. never. if he needed a subject for a song, all he had to do was look outside for five minutes or watching the news for even less to have a subject.

that was the wonderful thing about hating the establishment: infinite cruelty, infinite song ideas.

but here he was, staring down at his guitar and picking at strings aimlessly. nothing came to him, no note or melody stuck out to him as song worthy.

he was sitting on the worn couch in his band’s makeshift studio, crosslegged and hunched over his guitar like a madman.

a soft knock came from the doorway, and he looked up to find one of his band mates hitting their knuckles against the doorway.

“you need to get out, man. you’re cooped up.” he said, stepping into the room to stand over hobie like a mother hen. “some fresh air will do you good.”

hobie scoffed, never one to take orders from anyone. but then he exhaled and leaned back, looking up at his friend with an exasperated expression.

“and where exactly do you intend for us to go?” he asked lowly, grumbling.

that’s exactly how he ended up here, in a music club full of bodies he didn’t want to touch and liquor he didn’t want to drink.

it wasn’t a traditional club scene by any means. It was a bit more artistic, leaning away from rave-style places that he’d gone to before. but it still wasn’t his preferred place.

he nursed a shirley temple, which his friend had shoved into his hand unceremoniously before disappearing into the crowd. hobie had decided that he would be the designated driver, and he understood that his band mates were going to take full advantage of that fact.

when they entered the place, his drummer had leaned over.

“maybe you’ll find a muse, hobes. i’m sure there’s plenty of pretty things in this place to give you ideas.” the boy wiggled his brows, and hobie promptly shoved him away with a chuckle.

now, he leaned against a counter and wondered what the hell he was doing. this wasn’t air. this was just distracting noise.

and said noise was becoming a little too much for his senses.

he made eye contact with one of his more sober mates, gesturing that he was going to go somewhere private. he sent a text to their group chat as well saying the same thing.

not a role model

-> heading to the back, text or call if you need me

little drummer boy

-> you’re no fun, man.

not a role model

-> 🖕🏿

he moved down a hallway, the sound of bass and electronic beats fading into a pleasant jazz sound that made its way through the speakers overhead.

the space behind the actual club was a kind of lounge, filled with warm ambiance and vinyl records and leather arm chairs. when his friends brought him here, he always inevitably retreated to this quieter space.

it was ironic really. the punk unable to handle crowds and noise. but this was a much different setting from his own shows, so he cut himself some slack.

he sunk into one of the armchairs in a side room, his head lolling back to look up at the ceiling. his head slightly throbbed, and he began to regret not drinking water.

he reached in his pocket to pull out a cigarette box.

he wasn’t a casual smoker, not by a long shot. it just helped to have something to drag on sometimes, something to burn his throat while he was thinking.

right as he put the cig to his lips, the door banged open and slammed shut once more, the lock sliding home.

his spider-senses told him to prepare, but when he looked up they stopped buzzing.

because a girl leaned against the wall across from him, her chest heaving and her eyes wide.

she looked afraid, scared. the way her fingers trembled alerted him to the sheer amount of adrenaline running through her veins currently.

and she hadn’t even noticed him yet. he took a moment to glance over her.

she wore a pretty little lace dress, black and short, with straps that barely cling to her shoulders. his eyes drifted down her bare legs to the black platform gogo boots on her feet, and he was impressed with the height she was balancing on. he knew from experience that those shits weren’t easy to master.

he had been a model once, and he knew enough to see that the girls clothes were expensive. like, wearing his rent expensive.

she took an anxious step, only to wobble like a baby deer, legs too long to stand properly.

maybe not so stable after all.

when she still didn’t notice him (too busy listening to the door), he opened his mouth to make himself known.

“runnin’ from something, little fawn?”

her eyes snapped to him, and she jumped slightly when she realized that someone else was in the room with her. her wide doe eyes did nothing to help disapprove the nickname. she opened and closed her mouth to speak, struggling to get the words out.

“i’m not running.”

he chuckled.

“no? do ya’ slam and lock doors at clubs often then?”

she scoffed at him, rolling her eyes. she took a step away from the door, though he could tell she was keeping track of any noise.

“i’m just…catching my breath.” she said, pulling at the necklace around her throat.

hobie’s eyes drifted down to it, surprised to find a string of pearls with an all too familiar saturn pendent.

his curiosity got the best of him. “real or fake?”

her eyes darted up to meet his, and she looked away in embarrassment as she said “real.”

he let out an impressed whistle. “that’s why you’re running.” he mumbled as the pieces clicked together.

she gave him an incredulous look, eyebrows furrowing in a way that he found adorable.

“my guess” he said as he stood from the chair, taking a step towards the girl. “is that you definitely aren’t supposed to be here. rich girl, pretty dress, innocent look. this place is practically forbidden for your like.”

her gaze hardened into a glare. “and what exactly is my like, hobie brown?”

he smirked. “you know my name.”

a statement. she deflated slightly.

“i’ve been to your shows.” she said, voice lowering. it was just enough to make him realize how close they were. he registered her body language quickly, noting how she didn’t shy away. so he didn’t either.

“interestin’, doll. does your daddy know?”

“don’t condescend me.”

he took a step back then, raising his hand in an ‘i come in peace’ gesture. “easy there. just askin.”

he went to grab a lighter to light his cigarette, reaching down into his jackets pocket. when he found nothing, he groaned softly.

a click made him look up, only to be met with the girl holding up a lighter of her own. he leaned forward to light his cigarette, and she held his gaze as the sizzling sound breiflu filled their silence.

“as you can see” she said softly. “i am not quite ‘my like’.”

he let out a puff of smoke, making sure to turn his head so that it didn’t flow into her pretty face. she coughed anyway.

he chucked. “what you doin’ with a light if you don’t smoke?”

she flipped the lighter in her hand, and it took a moment to notice that it was one of the silver heart ones that were popular.

“you like vivienne, huh?” he said, looking down at her with half lidded eyes as he took another drag.

“what can i say, i have a thing for punks.” she replied, looking up at him through her lashes.

oh, he was going to eat her.

“s’that so?” he asked, wanting to drag whatever admission she was holding in. he leaned close over her, and she stretched her neck to look right up at him. this close, he could smell whatever shampoo she used.

she was off limits. but he never really abided by rules, did he?

“what’re you runnin’ from, doll?” he asked, tapping his cigarette out as he waited for an answer.

“my father sent a body guard out to find me. i snuck out, and the man’s in the club right now.” she said, watching the way his lips curled around the cigarette.

the air kicked on, and the girl below him shivered. he shrugged off his jacket with a sigh, pulling it around her. she accepted it gratefully, practically nuzzling up against the collar.

fuck, he was a goner.

“better get you out of here, then.” he said, using the edges of his jacket to tug her closer. she smirked, allowing him to pull her against his body. “that would be great.”

he leaned down as he texted the chat, brushing his lips against the top of her ear as he typed.

not a role model

-> hey, i got someone i need to take home. anyone sober?

little drummer boy

-> the fuck are you on about, why would anyone be sober.

fresh meat

-> i am, go enjoy yourself hobes.

thank god for tyler, he thought as he pulled back the collar of his jacket to press his mouth to the girls jaw.

as she snuck him into her room later, the lyrics of a song began to write themselves in his head.

and as he thrust into her, her hands fumbling against her silk sheets and her moans in his ear, he realized that he had found his muse after all.

hobie’s masterlist

#hobie my beloved #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown blurb #atsv hobie #hobie brown atsv

[l5byrinth]

dress

“even in my worst times, you could see the best of me”

pairing: cam cameron x fem!reader

summary: in which you and cam have hated each other for as long as you can remember. but what if that hatred wasn’t actually what you thought it was.

warnings: fluff, angst (a little idk), enemies to lovers, lmk if i should add more, not edited

a/n: FINALLY i’m back yall!! i’ll probably disappear for like another few months again but i really had to post this one bc there aren’t enough fics for my bae cam 🫶🏼 and my requests are open!! i don’t want my work copied, translated and/or posted on another platform without it being discussed with me.

my masterlist

Inhale. Exhale.

The nerves were flooding in as you waited for your turn to be ‘presented to society’. Being a debutant and actually participating in the stuff you found nonsense at first was the last thing you expected you’d be doing this summer. What you didn’t expect in a million years either, was falling for the one you sworn you hated with every single part of you.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it began, but it hit you hard when you heard that Belly broke up with Cam. Thoughts of the two of you being together flooded your mind, and though you tried to push them away, they lingered.

Instead of pursuing these thoughts, you distanced yourself from Cam, which turned out to be more difficult than expected since he seemed to be everywhere you were.

Cam was taken aback by your sudden distance. Although you both disliked each other, you never missed the opportunity to bicker. Now, whenever he tried to engage, you either ignored him or replied formally without any insults.

And if Cam had to be honest, it made him feel this pain in his chest. Especially when you started to hangout him with this guy you had met at the bonfire. The same guy you befriended to try to forget Cam. And also the same guy who was your escort to the debutant ball.

Cam tried to come up with reasons for your distance, and one day, he found himself standing in front of your house. Cam wasn’t sure what he was going to say or do, but he was determined to see you. His heart skipped a beat when he made it to the porch and he halted in front of the door, taking a deep breath in.

He was about to knock, when a thought jumped into his head.

You were scrolling on your phone, trying everything to get Cam out of your head. But everything you saw reminded him of you. You even came past a video of whales and wanted to scream out loud. Why was your phone working against you?

A knock on your window interrupted your furious thoughts and confusion washed over you. You don’t remember meeting up with anyone, or telling someone to come by your window. Scared that it might be a burglar, you grabbed the first object you saw to use as a weapon. However, when you opened your window, the last person you expected was in front of you, heavily panting. “Cameron?” You questioned, lowering your weapon since there wasn’t an actual real threat.

“Hi.” He simply greeted with a grin, before climbing into your room. He stood way too close to you, making your breath hitch as he dusted himself off. But you weren’t going to let him notice what kind of effect he had on you, so the best you could do is just bicker like you used to to mask it.

“What are you doing here? Trying to rob me or something?” You asked as you took a few steps back, “‘Cause I’m not afraid to use this!” You showed the bedside table lamp in your hands.

“Calm down, Y/l/n,” He chuckled as he put his hand on your arm to lower it, and you just allowed him to do so. You felt yourself relax at the warmth and touch of his hand and mentally cursed yourself for this. He liked at you with a small smile, a smile that made your heart flutter in your chest.

Cam’s hand lingered on your arm, before he cleared his throat and quickly removed it. Around everyone, he was always shy and reserved, but with you it was different. You brought out some confidence in him he never knew he had. And Cam never understood why, but with you, he felt at ease and weirdly enough, safe. Whenever he even looked in your direction, his worries would vanish as if they never existed.

Cam walked past you slowly and looked around your room. He tried to memorise every object on your desk, every little detail in your room. “Why are you ignoring me?” He asked, throwing his head over his shoulder to look at you. You were standing there at loss for words, trying to come up with a good excuse. He nodded to himself when you didn’t answer before continuing his walk around your room.

“I should be asking you the questions! Why are you in my room, Sextus?” You crossed your arms over chest and watched him let out a laugh at the name you called him. The sound made you burst of out happiness, but you weren’t planning on showing.

“Please, Ceres, be honest with me…” He started walking back towards you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. The way he remembered the name you used at the latin convention made your heart skip a beat. “Why would I?” You said with a loud huff and you turned your head to the side with your eyes closed.

When you opened your eyes, Cam’s face was only an inch from yours, and you felt your guard fall down. It would’ve been so much easier if Cam didn’t have this effect on you. Your face fell. “Stop.” You mumbled, inaudible for him to hear.

“What was that?” He inquired genuinely, getting even closer if that was even possible. “Stop!” You spoke out louder, making him jump out of his skin, but soft enough for it to be a whisper. “Stop what?” Cam asked curiously. You stared into his eyes, trying to find something, think of something to make you hate him again. But as you looked into his deep eyes, all you could think about what you could be, as something else than enemies.

You looked at the ground in defeat, before continuing, “I’m trying so hard, Cameron, so hard.”

Cam was quiet as he looked at you with a confused look on his face, and he wanted you to tell him everything that was on your mind. When you looked up at him, Cam noticed that there was something else in your eyes. Something else than what he usually saw, and he couldn’t quite place what it was. “Cameron, I’m trying so hard not to hate you.” You whispered.

Cam’s heart was pounding out of his chest, while he was looking at you with his mouth agape ever so slightly. He hoped your words meant what he thought they meant, and his hand reached for yours.

A yell of your name woke both you and Cam out of your trance, eyes widening in panic. “Is everything okay up there?” Your mom yelled from downstairs, and you heard her footsteps coming up the stairs. Cam rushed towards your window, and you helped him get out quickly. Before he got down, he said something that you spent thinking about the weeks that followed, “I’m really trying hard to hate you too, but I can’t. No matter how hard I try.”

Ever since he dropped by, you had avoided him more than you initially did. And that made Cam wonder what he did or said wrong that day. You were all what he could think about, and if he wasn’t thinking about you, he was dreaming about you or speaking about you.

Whenever you saw him, you would walk the other way, you would pretend you didn’t see him standing. You basically ignored his existence. And for Cam it felt like a stab through the heart, a deep and painful one.

This continued until the debutant ball.

Cam was standing on the flight of stairs behind two other escorts and in front of many others, waiting for the girl’s name he was escorting to be announced. He didn’t know how he ended up here, escorting a girl, who he didn’t even really knew that well, to the debutant ball, But he would do anything to keep his mother happy, so here he was.

He was nervously fidgeting with his fingers, his mind on you like it always has been since the first time he saw you. A part of him wished it was you he was escorting. He wished that he was the one who first saw you in your dress before your presentation.

He fantasised how he actually wanted this day to go. You standing there in a beautiful dress, looking drop-dead gorgeous like you always did. Him being the one to look at you with an encouraging smile and mouthing to you how enchanting you looked. It was all you deserved and more. It killed him he wasn’t the one to be doing it.

When it was Cam’s to turn to go up stage and escort the girl, he imagined it was you by his side. He flashed her a polite smile as she did the same and watched as her eyes drifted off to behind him. Cam followed her eyes and saw that she was looking at none other than the guy who was escorting you.

Cam and the girl got off the stage and walked over to the other debutants, waiting for the next debutant to be presented. And when your name was called, Cam felt a heavy flutter in his chest he most certainly couldn’t ignore.

The girl beside him watched his demeanour change at the sound of your name and smiled to herself. She always had the feeling Cam had a thing for you.

When you appeared on stage, Cam’s eyes were drawn to you. The way you looked in your dress was indescribable and the way you glowed made his heart race a million miles per hour. You scanned the crowd, trying to find a familiar face to ease your nerves. And when your eyes locked Cam’s warm ones it felt as if the world stopped turning. Every single person around you disappeared, it was just you and him.

And your nerves disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

You never pulled your eyes away from his gaze as you walked down the stage with your escort. The escort who had picked up on your crush on Cam a long while back.

Cam tried his best to keep his composure, he was refraining himself from running over to you and holding you like there was no tomorrow, he tried his best not to think about all the ways he would compliment you and make you feel good.

You and your escort halted in front of the table your parents were sitting at and you finally broke eye contact with Cam. Your heart was pounding out of your chest and you were thinking about Cam all the damn time as you waited for the presentations to finish.

When they did, every debutant with their escort bowed down to the table with their family. Afterwards, everyone sat down and waited for some surprise performance the escorts were giving. Your escort waited for you to take a seat next to one of your parents, before he parted as well after flashing you a small smile.

“You looked amazing, honey.” Your mom praised, putting a hand on your shoulder. You thanked her and looked around the ball room, trying to find the one person who lived in your mind rent free. Cam was just walking past to get to the other escorts, when his eyes met yours once again. But this time you looked away after a few seconds, trying to nonchalantly brush off the fact you had a major crush on the guy you had thought was your number one enemy.

After the sudden dance performance, your escort had disappeared somewhere, along with the girl Cam was escorting. But neither of you seemed to care, as all you did was gaze at each other longingly, waiting for the people to announce when the first dance was about to take place.

Your parents, who were seated beside you, had noticed your stares and stolen glances towards the boy and smiled at each other knowingly. You tried to hide it, but they knew you. They knew when their daughter was actually in love.

The sound of glass clinking was heard, before a woman announced that it was time. And at that moment you woke up from your trance, realising your escort was still nowhere to be seen. Every debutant, alongside with her escort was gathering on the dance floor, except for you and, well, Cam.

“Mom, where is he?” You questioned worriedly. “It doesn’t matter,” She answered, making your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “I think there’s someone else you’d much rather want to share this dance with.”

She tilted her head towards a certain direction, and you knew immediately who she was referring to. But your eyes followed the direction she meant anyway, with a racing heart.

Cam was standing there, looking at you like a man in love. That’s because he is. He is in love. And before you knew it, your feet made their way towards him. You halted in front of him with a smile. You were panting like you had just run a marathon, but you didn’t care, because you were right in front of who you wanted to be.

“Seems like we both don’t have a dance partner, huh?” Cam chuckled, scratching the back of his neck nervously. All you could do was nod in respond, the words you actually wanted to speak out seeming to be stuck in your throat.

Your hands reached for his and when your fingers intertwined, you could’ve sworn you heard Cam let out a deep breath. The music started playing, and the two of you were drowning in one another’s eyes as you danced to the music just like you had practiced. The tension between the two of you was unbearable throughout the entire dance.

And once the dance ended, when you were in the end position, his face was awfully close to yours and you had to do anything in your power to not plant your lips on his. He pulled you back up, with way more force than he intended, which resulted into you being flush against his chest. Your faces only a few inches away, which made it even harder to refrain yourself.

You pulled away slowly, even when you wish you could stay like that forever. The words you desired to speak were stuck in your throat, and your eyes fell down, feeling flustered by everything that has happened this night. He wanted to say so much as he looked at you with a lovesick smile, but he didn’t know how. His right hand fine yours as he put his left hand under your chin.

He stroked your cheek gently with his thumb, his eyes fixated you and only you. You were the only thing that mattered to him any day, anywhere, anytime.

Every couple around you started to leave the dance floor, but you and Cam stayed there without a care in the world. “Let’s get out of here.” He whispered, in which you grinned to in response.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze as you walked towards the exit of the ball room, giggles and chuckles leaving your lips. Your parents watched from afar, knowing you were finally with the one you liked all along.

#cam cameron x reader #cam cameron #the summer i turned pretty #fluff #angst with a happy ending #enemies to lovers #conrad fisher #david iacono #jeremiah fisher #steven conklin

[bluebeary-jay]

CONGRATS!!! 1000 FOLLOWERS IS SO AWESOME AND I'M HAPPY FOR YOU!!🥰🩷

For the celebration I'm thinking Joel has lived in Jackson for months and has a bad reputation so people mostly avoid him and he always keeps to himself. BUT reader is the exception, always with a big smile and really polite to him (and he has a terrible crush on her). She always sees him alone at the bar looking around and seeming dislocated and decides to ask him "may I have this dance" cause she likes him too, but he panic and refuses. Later he realizes he's missing his chance with her and tries to fix it. Just some nice fluff (with age gap please🙏)

HIIIII SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT NONNIE

(okay so I'm back-ish, I apologize to everyone for disappearing but i had a rough couple of weeks and had to deal with a lot of stuff. i actually finished this fic some time ago but didn't have strength to post it but i'm more ready now so here you go <3 i hope you'll like it, i had a lot of fun writing it!! and thank you for requesting!! love you 🥰)

Joel Miller was a recluse. Everyone knew that, though not many were aware that he didn’t exactly choose this kind of life for himself.

He really hoped that things would get better after he settled down in Jackson with Ellie, but the residents of the town made it very clear that they didn’t want his company. It stung a little, especially since Joel didn’t think he gave them any reason to be wary of him, but he hid his hurt well. With time he got used to nasty whispers, people giving him a wide berth and basically everyone but Tommy and Ellie avoiding him. It was unpleasant, sure, but he learned to just deal with it.

Well, there was also you.

Joel had no clue what your deal was. Why you weren’t shying away from him like your fellow peers and why you went out of your way to always catch him into a conversation or smile at him whenever you saw him.

“I think she’s crushin’ on ya,” Tommy told him once during a dinner at his house. Ellie and Maria weren’t present, the latter showing the teen some clothes she might want – and thank fuck for that. Joel would murder his little brother if he said such nonsense in their presence.

“The hell you’re talkin’ about?” he spluttered, his eyebrows furrowed when Tommy sent him a smug, knowing grin. The question was completely unnecessary, of course, since they were already talking about you, but still Joel hoped he somehow misinterpreted his brother’s words.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Joel.” He sprawled out on the chair, still with that stupid smirk. “I really think she’s into you. I’d ask her out if I were you.”

“There’s no… I assure you she isn’t.”

“But if she was–”

“She’s not. Now can I eat my meal in peace?” Joel placed his hands on the table, but Tommy shook his head.

“But you like her, right? She’s nice.”

Joel sighed. “Yeah, she is.”

“And pretty.”

That Joel didn’t fall for. He glared at his brother.

“Jesus, Tommy, let me have it. I’m lucky she even wants to talk to me, with all her friends tellin’ her I’m bad news and me being half her age older.”

His eyes became solemn and voice took a lower, quieter tone, which told Tommy the matter was hitting Joel harder than he let on. He sat up straight, getting rid of the teasing smile.

“Alrigh’. Sorry for bringin’ it up.” Joel sighed and nodded, signifying that everything was okay. “I just want you to be happy, y’know. Maybe you should give yourself a chance.”

The older Miller didn’t answer and took a big swig of whiskey out of his glass.

The problem was, he didn’t need Tommy to tell him all that. Joel would have to be blind and stupid not to notice how breathtakingly beautiful you are, and this, combined with your intelligence, passion and sense of humor, was his ultimate undoing. Every time he talked with you, it was all he could do to hide the redness in his cheeks and the weakness in his knees.

But he did. ‘Cause, let’s be real – even though Joel recognized he had a terrible crush on you (though it took him weeks to make peace with this fact) he knew there was no way in hell you’d find him even a fraction as attractive as he found you. He was almost twice your age,  for heaven’s sake, and such a young, gorgeous woman as you would never agree to throw her life away to be with an old man.

But God knew that with each day you broke down his walls, the desire to kiss you was becoming more and more agonizing. Every smile you sent his way worked only to feed his imagination of how soft your lips would surely be if he could only brush his thumb across it, not to mention touch them with his own. He wondered how your hands, so much smaller than his calloused ones, would feel on his stomach or shoulders. How it would be to embrace you with his arms, skin to skin and without any layers in-between.

Those were not the thoughts he should be having, especially in public – yet here he was, several days after his conversation with Tommy, imagining impossible while he watched you laughing on the dance floor with your friend. You looked so carefree, so happy and full of life, your energy only reminding Joel sourly of his own old age.

He noticed you glancing his way several times throughout the evening but he knew it didn’t mean anything, it would never mean anything other than your innocent friendliness. So he just quickly looked away lest you realize he was staring.

Joel took a swing from his glass and looked around the bar, trying to take his mind off you – fruitlessly. His eyes still darted back to you every few seconds, involuntarily roaming over your exposed skin visible under the nice outfit you picked for tonight. It was driving Joel insane with longing and need, and all he could think of was the mental image of how kissing and touching you gently would feel like.

Bet you’d feel so perfect under his palms.

He closed his eyes and propped up his forehead on his fist, trying to tune out the music and all the distracting background noises.

Keep it together. 

He had to remember that he was way too old to be this enamored with a young, pretty girl like you. You would surely be repulsed if you had any clue about what was going on in his head, and some of the thoughts he had–

Then, Joel felt a light touch on his shoulder and lo and behold – there you were, standing right in front of him with a bright smile, as if summoned by his thoughts.

“Hi,” you said, tilting your head in that endearing way that made his insides tighten. “What are you doing here alone, cowboy?”

Joel prayed that he wasn’t blushing, though his hope diminished increasingly when your eyes wandered curiously across his features. Your eyebrows rose slightly and he cursed internally.

Fuck, you were so beautiful.

“M’not…” He cleared his throat and started again. “M’waitin’ for Tommy. He had to sort somethin’ out with… uh, someone.” He drummed his fingers against the table but stopped immediately, not wanting to give you an impression that the conversation with you was boring him. “You don’t have to do it, darlin’.”

You gave him a puzzled look, and he explained. “Y’know. Hang out with me. The people like to talk nasty things and I don’t wanna expose you to that.”

“It doesn’t bother me.” You shrugged with a sweet smile which Joel could kill for just to see it one more time. “And I… enjoy spending time with you.“

It didn’t mean anythin’. You were just bein’ friendly.

But even though he kept repeating it to himself like a mantra, Joel could not take his eyes off you. You were a vision – your profile bathed in the soft lights of the bar, your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked over your shoulder, deep in thought, at the stereo tower. The current song’s notes died down and a new one, much slower and romantic, started to play. You took a deep breath and let out a nervous laugh. “Actually I wanted to ask you something. If you don’t mind.”

“Ask away, darlin’.” He offered you a small smile, hoping to put you at ease, and you wetted your lips – which nearly gave him a heart attack and caused him to almost miss your next words.

“May I have this dance?”

Joel’s world stopped for a moment. He was in the middle of lifting the glass of whiskey to his lips but his muscles stiffened and the tumbler slipped out of his cold fingers. It didn’t shatter, but the rich liquid spilled all over the table. Your eyes flickered to the overturned glass, but Joel didn’t pay it any mind, too stunned to look at anything else but you.

“C-come again?” he stuttered, his voice strained and small. In the corner of his eye he noticed people at the next table glancing their way, alarmed by the noise, but he forced his attention back to you.

“This is my favorite song,” you explained shyly, an adorable blush spreading across your cheeks and neck. “So… may I have this dance, Joel?”

Now the people sitting around them definitely heard that, because they started smirking and whispering, and one person went to another group standing nearby on the dance floor. Joel felt his own face growing hot as he watched them pointing not-so-discreetly in his direction.

It was like the most wonderful dream and the most horrible nightmare come true at the same time.

He couldn’t do it. There was no way, not in front of all the people of Jackson who hated and despised him. He didn’t want to give them a show to gossip about or worse, subject you to their disdain.

But you still stood in front of his chair with an innocent, hopeful smile, though you started to shuffle the longer Joel was silent. The song – your favorite, supposedly – was passing in the background but you kept waiting patiently for an answer to your question.

He had to come up with something. Or just explain to you that he doesn’t dance – the sweet little thing you were, you’d probably understand and not pressure him into doing it. At least he hoped so.

C’mon, say somethin’.

“No.”

Your face fell instantly and Joel’s eyes widened at the mortifying realization of what just came out of his mouth.

Anythin’ but THAT.

You stared at him for a couple of seconds in the silence of the bar before your eyes started to glisten and you averted your gaze. Someone to Joel’s left snickered derisively and in the next second whispers erupted all around you two. You seemed to shrink in yourself, embarrassment and regret marking your beautiful face, and Joel’s heart almost broke when a tear slipped from your eye, and then another one fell down your other cheek.

“Okay,” you murmured, wiping the treacherous tears quickly and keeping your gaze trained on the floor. “Sorry. Sorry.”

You turned on your heel and went to exit the establishment, your step gradually turning into a run when the giggles and whispers around you became louder. The door swung open on the winter wind and just like that, you were gone.

Then all eyes turned to Joel – and the shame Joel felt increased at least tenfold.

He saw Tommy standing up and walking toward him from the other side of the room with worry written all over his face, but Joel didn’t stick around to hear what he had to say. He stood up and left through the same door you did, glaring threateningly at anyone stupid enough to still snicker at the situation they witnessed.

Ten minutes later Joel was standing in front of your door, trying to keep his knocking below the ‘desperate’ level.

He realized that he had to tell you. He intended to keep the feelings he harbored for you bottled up for the rest of his life but you needed to know the reason why he turned you down. You needed to hear from him that he cared about you, that it wasn’t some malicious act toward you but sheer cowardice stemming from the problem that he was madly in love with you.

“Hello? It’s… it’s Joel,” he choked out through his tight throat as he knocked again, a little louder this time. “Darlin’, can I talk to you?”

No response came, though he saw the lights in your house were on, and Joel had to take a deeper breath to calm his nerves. He prayed that he hadn’t completely screwed it up, but for now all the evidence spoke against him.

You wanted to dance with him. You gathered your courage just to ask him for a dance and he said no.

Joel knew he lost his chance. He lost you. You were his only friend in town and he somehow managed to fuck everything up with just one word.

He was so lost in his wallowing in despair that he almost missed the door opening slightly. In the gap of the doorway he caught a glimpse of your iris – and though it was only for a split second, Joel could clearly see that your eye was red. A pang of guilt pierced his chest but once you saw it was him, you shut the door again.

“No, darlin’, please. Please, just let me explain.” A wave of desperation and fear threatened to drown him and Joel’s heart clenched in his chest. “I’m so sorry, I acted like an asshole but I never wanted to hurt you, I just… I-I panicked.”

He was babbling, not even knowing if you were still there on the other side of the door, but the desperate and remorseful words were spilling out of him like a waterfall.

“I’m so sorry. Sweetheart…” Joel sighed, putting his hand on the cold wood of the door and listening for a couple of seconds, but there was no sound coming from inside. “Please. I’m beggin’ you, open the door.”

Then he heard something – a sound like blowing one’s nose. Joel froze for one, two… three seconds, and nearly collapsed in relief when you unlocked the door.

“You can come in,” you said, but didn’t meet his eyes. “You’re probably freezing, no?”

Joel nodded, feeling his throat going dry at the sorrowful sight of you. He crossed the threshold, closing the front door quietly behind him and looked you over. You hadn’t changed out of that pretty outfit of yours yet, although it was now covered by a long cardigan that you draped over your shoulders. In your hand you held a crumpled tissue but quickly pocketed it when Joel’s eyes fell on it.

He opened his mouth with a sharp inhale but before he could apologize, you beat him to it.

“I’m sorry for that,” you blurted out and glanced up at him but quickly looked down at the floor again. “I shouldn’t have asked you to dance in front of all those people and I overreacted because then everyone was looking at me… Look, it wasn’t even that big of a deal so don’t read into it. Everything is fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he said softly and you pressed your lips into a thin line. “You have nothin’ to apologize for. I’m sorry for embarrassin’ you. I panicked ‘cause I–”

“It’s fine,” you muttered again. “Just forget it.”

“I can’t. Listen, sweetheart, I panicked ‘cause I wish I could let myself read into it.”

Your head snapped up and Joel swallowed heavily, realizing how stupid that sounded.

“What I mean–” Fuck, he really was shit at talking so openly about these stuff. “I… I have feelings for ya. Had ‘em for a long time now but I never planned on actin’ on ‘em ‘cause I know I’m too old and you’d never…”

“You’re… really?” you asked with wide eyes, but he tuned your words out, fearing that you were going to kick him out at any second.

“I’m only tellin’ you all this ‘cause I need you to know I care about ya and I didn’t say ‘no’ outta malice or… or ‘cause I don’t like you. I do. Too much, I’m afraid.”

You were staring at him, mouth agape and silent. Joel didn’t move, awaiting your reaction – whether you tell him to get out or scream how disgusting he was, he was going to take it. And then, if you never want to see him again, he’ll accept it. One day. But he doubted his heart would ever recover.

“Let me fix it,” he begged, his voice just above a whisper when you didn’t give any reaction to his confession. “Please, darlin’.”

Your eyes skimmed over his face as you hummed to yourself, almost irritably calm. Joel swallowed, the weight of guilt and anticipation pulling him down – and he was ready to fall to his knees before you when finally you lifted your hand to brush his lower lip with your fingertips, so delicately he could barely feel it. He froze and tried not to breathe, not wanting to cause you to pull away.

“I noticed something when you were rambling,” you said with a hint of reflection. Joel had no idea what was happening or why were you acting that way, but he daren’t move. He briefly entertained a thought that he was dreaming, but then his attention got caught by the sight of the corner of your lips twitching slightly, as if you were keeping yourself from laughing.

His chest expanded with hope so strong, it was almost unbearably painful.

“What is it?” he forced himself to speak, the nerves making his voice weak and raspy.

“Your accent gets heavier when you’re nervous,” you mused, as though to yourself, now trailing your fingertips down his stubbly cheek. “It’s cute.”

His heart lurched at your words. You gazed up at him and absently bit your lip, which Joel found downright sinful.

“Do you have any idea how long it took me to gather the courage to make the first move?” Your words were bitter, but there was a trace of relief in your voice. Joel let your fingers wander across the lines of his jaw and cheekbones, wishing he had enough boldness to touch you like that, too, but suddenly, your hand stilled and your eyes met his again. “Did you mean it? The things you said?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation, his own fingers twitching as he restrained himself from reaching for you. His head was spinning, trying to comprehend the meaning of your actions and words. “But do you–”

You touched his lips lightly again, silencing his question, and your features slowly were overtaken by a large, bright smile, which seemed to lift all the heavy weight of worry from Joel’s shoulders.

“You wanted to fix it, right?” you asked in a teasing whisper. He nodded. “Then just ask me.”

You weren’t angry. You weren’t pulling away.

You wanted to dance with him and you gathered the courage to do so, and now Joel had to do the same. He couldn’t waste this second chance you gave him.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards and he exhaled shakily.

“May I have this dance?”

You pursed your lips to hide your joy and side-eyed him, but your eyes were sparkling with playfulness. “You know, I think I should respond the same way you did. Just to be fair.”

“Sweetheart, don’t play with this old man’s heart,” he whispered and smiled shyly when you giggled at the exasperation but also uncertainty in his voice. Joel still felt kind of out of it, too stunned to trust his mind that this was really happening – but the sound of your laughter brought him right back to Earth, to the place he wanted to be more than anywhere else.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight, Miller.” You took his hand and brought it to your hip, making Joel’s breath hitch in his throat and cheeks grow warm. His reaction didn’t get past you, and you smiled at him so radiantly that his world started to spin. Then your arms wrapped around his neck and you pressed your body against his. “But you’ll have some atoning to do.”

His throat was dry, but Joel returned your shy smile, stepping to the side and guiding you carefully to the thumping rhythm of his heart.

And a couple of minutes later, after more hushed apologies and assurances during your slow-dancing, Joel placed his hand on your cheek, almost letting out a relieved whimper when you nuzzled your face into his palm.

And after another few minutes went by, when he leaned in and you didn’t stop his lips from meeting yours, he knew he was a goner.

He couldn’t get rid of the big smile on his face – perhaps the first real one since arriving in Jackson all those months ago.

#bluebeary-jay's 1k party #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #peepaw needs some love and we need a volunteer #joel miller x you #the last of us #i love writing joel so shy and fumbling over his words #he might be an unstoppable force and ready to kill people without batting an eye but he WILL blush while talking to a pretty girl

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 - 𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: attempted murder, swearing, parental neglect, overall sad vibes

A/N : this post is to set up context for the rest of the series (i have to set up the lore so everything makes sense lmao). this is my first time writing for luke, i promise i’ll get better at it with time :))

you essentially grew up at camp, having arrived at the young age of five

monsters began creeping their way into your life ever since you learned to speak. death seemed to be drawn to you.

first was the dracanea disguised as a nanny that tried to eat you while your mother was out of the house (she was a florist that prepared bouquets for funerals). you only survived because the dracanea was interrupted by your mortal older brother. when he saw you on the ground with the nanny about to wrap her hands around your tiny throat, he screamed so loud that the dracanea fled immediately. he then called the cops on her, but she’d long since disappeared. you were only three at the time.

the final straw was when an Aeternae attacked you on the preschool playground. it lept out from the large bushes near the fence and nearly ripped your face off. you would have died if your teacher, a satyr in disguise, hadn’t scared it off. 

your preschool teacher, Mr. Maciolli, escorted your to camp the next day. he had a long talk with your mother, who didn’t put up much of a fight to keep you at home. you attracted trouble that she had no time to deal with. 

with that, you were uprooted from your normal life and transported into the world of the Olympian gods. 

you were the youngest camper by far. the older campers took you under their wing, helping you adjust to camp life as best as they could. they gave you a wooden sword and taught you the basics of combat. they made sure to keep you away from anyone who could cause you harm. and most importantly, the many unclaimed demigods that you met while staying in Cabin 11 taught you that the gods didn’t give a flying fuck about their kids.

though it was difficult at first, you were happy. sure, you missed your mom sometimes, but you reminded yourself that she hadn’t been interested in keeping you around anyways. 

your first five years at camp were relatively peaceful. you developed your personality and learned your likes and dislikes, just like any “normal” kid. 

however, there were occasional incidents that were absolutely unexplainable. 

the worst one of all was this: a son of ares kept throwing pebbles at you while you were supposed to be picking strawberries. no matter what you said, he wouldn’t quit. after a particularly large pebble hit you in the back of the head, you turned around and screamed “stop it!”

the kid immediately collapsed, his skin turning pale. the other campers rushed him to the infirmary, and the apollo kids immediately got to work. 

they concluded that his heart had stopped. he had been dead to the world for almost a whole minute. if not for the nectar that had been poured down his throat, he probably wouldn’t have made it.

campers did their best not to anger you after that. nobody could explain what had happened, but clearly, you had caused the son of ares to have a close brush with death.

you were claimed by Thanatos, the god of death, at the age of ten. 

your social life turned on its head after that.

basically everyone except for Chiron and Mr. D avoided you like you were the walking Black Plague (which you kinda were)

after getting claimed, your powers increased. you could touch a small plant and kill it instantly if you wished to. wherever you sat, the grass would wither around you. you could even kill small animals with a simple touch (only if you wished it to die). 

nobody wanted to risk crossing you and getting killed. so nobody tried to get close to you. they would say the occasional “hello”, but that was it. 

you grew to resent not only your father, but all of the gods. they had everything, it seemed, while you had nothing. they didn’t even have the heart to check in on their own children. 

you learned to thrive without any companions. you spent your days sparring against invisible enemies, building muscle, and developing stamina. you rarely conversed with the other members of Cabin 11, staying in your bunk in the far corner of the cramped space. during your down time, you killed flowers, dried and pressed them, and used them to make collages. 

things were relatively stagnant for awhile.

until you turned fourteen. 

at age fourteen, luke castellan arrived at camp, and changed your life forever. 

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!! I plan on making this a series, but I’m not sure how I’m going to format it yet. Stay tuned for the first official installment!

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy series #rick riordan #pjo series #pjo tv show #charlie bushnell #demigods #percy jackon and the olympians #the lightning thief #thanatos #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #luke castellan series

[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

The Last Call

Nanami Kento x You

I give the biggest credit to @namikyento for this idea! Thank you so much for it! I hope you guys enjoy it!

I’ll post more of Our Love Story after this weekend!

(Song Inspiration: we can’t be friends (wait for your love) by Ariana Grande)

You stared blankly at the blank word document on your laptop. The ringtone from your cell phone pulling you out of your daze. You looked at the caller I.D. with a racing heart. All of the hope you had was suddenly gone when it wasn’t who you wanted it to be.

“Emi. Are you okay?” you asked, tone with disappointment but also worry that she called.

“Let’s go out,” she said. “You need a night out.”

“I’m fine.”

“You haven’t been fine for the past four months. I think you got worst,” Emi pointed out.

You were quiet. You felt everything disappear from your grasp. And you hated yourself for letting that feeling consume you more and more.

“You helped me out from my last relationship,” Emi pointed out. “I can’t let it consume you, too. He’s a jerk for leaving you like that. He’s a jerk for that to occur. He hurt you. Show him that you can be happy without him.”

“I—“ For the first time in a while, you let your tears fall. You tried to muffle your sobs, however, Emi heard.

“You’re my sister from another mister,” she said. “If not tonight, then I’m going to come over with both of our favorite snacks and we will watch Legally Blonde, 500 Days of Summer, and maybe John Tucker Must Die.” You let out a breathy chuckle and nodded.

“Okay,” you said as you wiped your tears away. “I’ll get the living room ready.”

The two of you huddled closely together on the couch. A large, fuzzy blanket wrapped around you two as she quickly ate a bag of chips and you slowly ate your popcorn.

“These two, I still wish they ended up together,” Emi said. You nodded, your expression very melancholy.

“But he’ll find someone for him,” you said. All you could think of was him. The love you two shared that slowly disappeared and is forever gone. “We broke up once but he called me and we tried to make it work.” Emi looked at you. You haven’t spoken about the break ups. You indulge in work and an attempt to write a new book. But all of your inspiration was gone.

“And now?”

“I thought it was going to work,” you said, your voice breaking from the tears. “But…but…” You shook your head. You brought your knees towards your chest and buried your face on your knees. “Maybe I did something wrong. It had to be me.”

“No, no, and no! It was never your fault in the first place!” Emi exclaimed. “The asshole hurt you! Because I thought everything was going well! Until I started to barely see him too!”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know. You know him better than anyone. At least, that’s what he always says. So, prove that fucker wrong!”

“Okay,” you said with slight defeat. “I’ll prove him wrong.”

It didn’t happen overnight. But week by week, you would step outside and go about your daily routine. You slowly went back to your morning or afternoon walks. You stopped by your favorite bakery again, a smile becoming bright like it was before.

Today, you and Emi went shopping after you attempted to write something in the morning. You were happy to even start with brainstorming ideas. You made yourself give yourself a “me day”. And Emi never felt so proud before.

“I need new facial products,” you said. “And hair products. I need to take better care of my appearance.”

“Honey, you are gorgeous just the way you are. Your hair, beautiful. Skin, like a baby’s bottom.” You laughed and playfully hit her arm. You blushed from the compliment. It has been a while since you even received such compliments. “Everything okay though?”

“Better than before,” you said truthfully as you looked at her. “Thank you, Emi.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You helped push me,” you said. “And I needed it.”

“Good, good. Shall we do something?”

“After we shop, let’s get some alcohol and drink. It’s been a while.” Excitedly, Emi wrapped her arm around your shoulders. Again, you let out a laugh.

“Finally! My drinking buddy is back!”

The drinking didn’t last too long when you found Emi passed out on the couch by 6PM. In a drunken state, you threw the gray blanket on top of her. You poured another shot for yourself and drank some more.

And more and more, you kept drinking and drinking. You went to your room that lead to a balcony and sat down. A bottle of tequila with an empty shot glass sitting in the glass table. The cold air helping you cool down from the heat radiating within you. You scrolled through your phone. Pictures you didn’t bother to delete angered you. The happiness all gone. And it was a mistake going back down memory lane that you couldn’t stop cursing at yourself mentally. So you poured another drink for yourself to quickly down.

“Fucking jerk…” you mumbled. “I’ll give him a piece of his own damn mind…”

You went through your contacts. You forgot that you deleted his number. You felt your heart break. Much more than it had before. But why? Why would it hurt so much now? You dialed the number you only knew by heart. Your heart was racing as it rang and rang.

“Is everything okay?” That voice. The same, deep voice that brings you weak in the knees. The same voice that brings goosebumps all over your body. And the same voice that made you forget how to breathe and made your chest heavy as hell. “Y/N.”

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” you questioned, words slurred. The alcohol really hitting you to its core.

“You’re drunk.”

“Obviously, Captain Obvious.”

“You shouldn’t call me, sweet—Y/N.”

“Nanami Kento, you jerk! How dare you do this to me.” Your tears slipped, and sobs escaped your lips.

Nanami was in bed, tan slacks still on with his blue button up, the first few buttons undone with his sleeves rolled up. He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt at peace. All he could see with closed eyes were your tears. Your tear-stricken face filled with so much hurt and pain. The sounds of your heartbroken cries before he left your apartment was engrained in his mind. And all he could feel was his own heart breaking every single day.

Every night, he goes home and pours himself a glass of whiskey. Maybe even drink two or three more to help him fall asleep, even if it’s for an hour. Tonight was the first night that he chose to not drink anything. Gojo and Shoko both encouraging him to change his bad habits. And of course, of all nights, you called.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw your name on his phone. And even though it wasn’t a greeting he usually heard from you, hearing your voice again brought him great relief. A voice he missed hearing everyday. Your voice that always makes his heart skip a beat and bring butterflies to his stomach. It made him feel something, even for a moment. But he knew, he just couldn’t lure you back in again.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. He imagined you out in the balcony, your knees hugged against your chest. And it was exactly what you were doing.

“It’s not fair,” you said. “I miss you so much. I still fucking love you and I don’t think I could love anyone else like I love you.” Nanami was silent. He swallowed the large lump in his throat, tears forming in his eyes.

“It isn’t fair…”

“We were so happy, Kento. I never understood why we broke up the first time, but you came back. And I was so happy. You were so happy. We did what we always did. We both worked, ask about our days, and we enjoy every moment we have together. I don’t know what I did wrong. If I did, I’m sorry. I thought I was doing everything right. Did I annoy you? Was I clingy? Was I overbearing?” Nanami took a deep breath, his tears falling. His heart broke more. He knew there was no way that you were in the wrong.

“No. Not at all.”

“But you! One day we spent all day together, you had a freak out moment, we came home, and made love! And the next day, you were distant! You were rarely home. You always went to bed early. You haven’t…I couldn’t…Kento, I needed you so much and you weren’t there for me. And then you break up with me.” You heard him inhale, obvious that he has been crying as well. “I don’t understand why you’re crying.” Nanami couldn’t help but just chuckle.

“You know me so well, sweetheart. Better than anyone else,” he said. His name for you. You always loved it. But tonight, you hated it.

“A-And you know what? I think I’m a great catch! Any guy would wish to have me!” Nanami held in his breath. Because he knew that was true. He glared at every guy that eyed your way flirtatiously. He always pulled you closer to him when the two of you were out, showing everyone that you were taken and his. Nanami got to be the lucky one. He had you. “And I hope you regret letting me go. Sometimes, I even hope you wouldn’t find happiness like you did with me.”

He knows that he wouldn’t.

“But I still love you,” you confessed. Everything you wanted to say to make him feel bad, you couldn’t help but pour some of your love in your rant.

And he still does, too. He sniffled. You heard him, and you cried a little harder.

“I hurt the love of my life. And I hope you find the happiness you truly deserve,” Nanami said.

His heart broke. Because he planned to have a future with you. He planned to love you to the fullest. He planned to be the one to support you. He planned to be the one to give you everything you could ever ask for. But now, all he could do was listen to you cry and keep breaking your heart.

“Goodbye, Kento.”

“Goodbye, my love.”

Immediately, you hung up. You put your phone on the table and hugged yourself tighter as you let your tears spill. You said what you have to say and it was all you could do. Your closure that didn’t feel like a closure. And all you want to do was call him to hear his voice again. To hear him tell you how much he loves you and how he’ll always be there for you. A part of you hoped that he would call you back.

Nanami lied there, tears spilling out of his eyes. His hand rested on his chest with his phone in hand. It was only past 7. A man already in bed the moment he arrived home. Everything you said to him repeated in his mind. Memories of you and him playing over and over. But it stopped when his phone rang again. He had hope. Was it you that called him?

But it all went away when he got a phone call from Ijichi. He wiped his tears away and cleared his throat before he answered.

“Ijichi-san.”

“We need you in Shibuya. It’s urgent.”

“I’ll be there.”

He sat up in bed, looking at his phone. A picture he saved of you that he never had the heart to delete. His favorite picture. A picture where you were busy typing your recent famous book. The smile on your face as you typed. Your smile so bright it added so much light to his dark and brooding life. His only regret was leaving you like this. Heartbroken and in tears. And he’ll regret it, even after death.

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #nanami jjk #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #jjk nanami #nanami fanfic #nanami #nanami angst #jujutsu angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk angst

[bumblebugwrites]

chapter 6: bite the hand

Pairing: Victor!Treech x fem!Reader

Summary: Over the next four years, you speak only five times with Treech, each conversation proving more confusing than the last.

Warnings: Cursing, Suggestive Themes, Mention of Injuries, Character Death, Weapons, Violence.

Word Count: 6.6k

Taglist: @nekee-lilac02, @mr-panda357, @yourfavmiki, @blackoutdays13, @dialuvsbangtan, @emgunther

A/N: Well, this is admittedly late, sorry y'all. Also on that note, the update schedule is about to be completely fucked for this fic. As it turns out school is lowkey catching up to me so unfortunately I think I may need to move to posting every two weeks. Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter, which according to my original outline puts us at about halfway through No Evil Angel But Love!

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“I just think that it was a mistake. It should never have happened, and– And it won’t happen again.” And just like that, your heart was shattered, scattered across the floor in a million pieces. Well, maybe not just like that. In fact, for a moment, you’d thought the whole thing was a joke of some sort. But then his eyes had caught yours, cold in a way you’d never seen them before, and you had to stop yourself from staggering back, from hitting the wall, because this Treech, the one standing before you, he looked just like the man who’d put an axe through your heart in a dream you’d tried so hard to forget.

“I don’t understand. Does this have something to do with the fact that you disappeared this morning?” Sure, you had been out of it when he’d left, but it didn’t take long for the panic to set in, waking once more to a cold bed, mind reaching out to a memory formed only an hour ago. A mystery phone call to your room. Treech disappearing out the door.

“No, I– No. Just listen to me. This is it, it’s over.” Not the phone call. Him. He wanted this, and next to that, the phone call felt like something to be forgotten in its entirety.  But why?

“You came here last night. You showed up at my hotel room, saying you couldn’t take it anymore, and now, what? You’ve changed your mind?” Anger was quick to follow confusion in those fleeting moments, and as you surged forward, hands tangling desperately in his shirt, you weren’t sure if the intent was to pull him in or push him away.

“You’re just not–” And his hands were on yours, brushing a sweet, delicate pattern across your knuckles, bringing you that soft, quiet feeling he always had. And for a moment, you could feel him leaning in. To hold you? To kiss you? You weren’t sure. “I don’t want you.” 

It is like a punch in the gut.

“I was enough last night.” Tears cloud your vision as you hold steady willing him to look at you, to pull his gaze from the ground, to wrap his hands around yours once more. They are limp now, hanging uselessly at his sides.

“Maybe you weren’t. Maybe you never were.” You want to scream. To cry. To lash out and disappear and explode with the unmistakable rage inside you. You cannot. You can barely speak.

“Treech, I–”

“We’re done. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me. Don’t even look at me.” And with that, he pushes you away, spinning to exit out the door just behind you. Leaving you to crumple to the ground. Alone. Unwanted. 

Over the next four years, you had five more conversations with Treech alone, each leaving you more confused than the last.

The first time you spoke was just over two years after he told you that night had been a mistake. That you had made a mistake.

It was harder to stay away in the beginning. Hardest at night when you could hear his screams, telltale signs of the nightmares you knew he fell prey to. The nightmares that formed mirror images of your own. Several nights, you found yourself frozen outside his door, compelled for some unearthly reason to stand guard, to make heavy, unyielding eye-contact with the painted number 7 as though waiting long enough might make it open without any necessary action. You knew then what you really wanted. To go inside. To assure him it would be okay. To offer him the same place in your room you always had. But then, he didn’t want that. He’d made that clear enough. And so after minutes, or sometimes, hours of waiting, you would escape back to your own room before your presence could be noted. Afraid of the harsh words, he might have stored up this time, lashings for your petty emotions.

It was one of those nights, the first time you spoke, although the nightmare was yours, not his. It had left you in a cold sweat as you jerked yourself from the duvet, still sobbing, and you found yourself wondering when the room had become so unbearably large. A glass of water, you’d thought. A coffee, maybe; chances are you’re done with sleep tonight anyway. You’d wondered how Treech was. You always did when your own nightmares exceeded their typical limits, and the thought had infiltrated your mind until the minute you’d pulled the door open, revealing his seated form just outside your door. Alert. Awake, as though certain his presence alone might ward off any oncoming evil. 

He appeared nearly as shocked as you at the reveal, quickly launching himself to his feet and plastering a grimace across his features, darkened by the little light in the hall. And just as you’d opened your mouth to speak, to question his attendance at the foot of your door, he’d bit with words of his own.

“Could you try not to be so loud? Some people here are sleeping.” You did not populate the hall outside his door so much after that. You did not populate his presence at all.

The second time was out of necessity. It was that same year of the 13th Games, and you had found yourself down a tribute, the girl, Rhea, having lost her life in what was beginning to be known as the bloodbath. Skinner was older, the boy. Eighteen and a walking tragedy, so close to escaping. That was the year before they stopped locking you all in the Academy. Before Lux convinced them that sponsor relations could only bear to improve if mentors were allowed the ability to mingle with the people of the Capitol, within reason, of course. Before the Games grew longer, sometimes lasting over a week. 

The night was young, but you were on your third cup of coffee, unable to tear your eyes from the screen. From Skinner’s restless movements as he sat back to a tree, with eyes that scanned his surroundings in wide, impatient arcs. He was alone, and no allies meant no sleep, so he clung to the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, begging it to carry him to safety. 

On your right, Teff fidgeted with his screen, clearly agitated by an increased sense of anxiety at the prospect of both of his tributes escaping the mess of fighting that began the Games. It was harder that way; you had come to learn. Longer survival meant hope. Hope that will infiltrate your thoughts. Your emotions. Higher risk of attachment. And with two tributes, a higher risk that the death of one would only serve to destroy the other. Or worse, a higher risk that they would be forced to take each other on. You’d seen it happen. In the 11th Games, both remaining tributes came from 2, and while Octavian remained firm and unmoving in his seat, Antonia could barely force herself to watch.

Still, you had liked Skinner, cursed with the gangly limbs of a teenager on the verge of adulthood, with a crooked smile and a biting sense of humor reserved only for Rhea in their short days together, so you pushed on. And if the lingering claws of hope had curled their way around your heart, so be it. Maybe this would be the year you could save one. Maybe this would be the year you saw a kid survive.

To your left, there was Treech. Always Treech, who endlessly invaded your thoughts in those weeks you were forced to travel back to the Capitol. In the years since your first visit, the trips had only increased, with Snow managing to find a reason to gather you all in the ‘Gem of Panem’ at least four times a year. Press, he called it, and Hilarius often assured you that networking of the sort was necessary, but it was hard to believe even from his mouth, and you often felt yourself feeling more inclined to believe Teff’s theories. They just want to remind us who’s in control.

Treech was down a tribute, too; though both had escaped the initial violence, the career pack had managed to track the pair, quickly ending the boy’s life and leaving only his girl to escape. Arbor. It had been some time since you had noted her presence on your screen, but you didn’t dare to even attempt casting a look in Treech’s direction, fearing a rash display of the temper you had come to know as reserved for you and you alone.

And you wouldn’t have had to, really, if it weren’t for what happened next, the crushing of underbrush underfoot, the cacophony of voices infused with a false confidence. Skinner’s head shot up in an instant, fear plain on his features. He stood slowly, pushing himself up from the ground with the bark of the tree cutting into his palm for support. The career pack was coming, and he was as good as dead.

Several low branches stuck out to you, and silently, you begged him to climb in spite of a display earlier that day which assured you he did so with the elegance of a toddler. Still, it was all that was left, and you were clinging to hope. Stupid, useless hope. He turned to size up his route upwards, and the voices grew nearer. It was now or never. The pace was the first problem you noticed as Skinner inched up the tree with the speed of a snail. You realized in passing he’d probably never climbed a tree before. Sure, they weren’t a rarity in 10. There were plenty out on the ranch, and as a child, you often sought solace among their branches when your father had allowed you to tag along with him to work. But for a kid like Skinner, confined to 10’s more industrial parts, spending days cooped up in the slaughterhouse, climbing a tree wasn’t exactly within the realm of knowledge he should possess. 

“Fuck. Come on.”

The second thing you noted was the noise. Certainly, there aren’t many silent ways to climb a tree, with the continual brushing of leaves against the fabric of your clothes, but the footfalls were doing little to help in the way of masking his presence, and though he’d made a bit of progress, you almost wished Skinner would stop moving completely. 

The third and most glaring problem, however, was that you’d finally managed to find Arbor, crouched and observant several branches above Skinner. No weapon. That was good. What wasn’t good was that it would be well within her rights to give him up. And beneficial, too. You suck in a large breath. 

The pack has reached the foot of the tree, though doesn’t seem to note the two tributes hidden within its branches. Still, they idle for a moment, and your whole body tenses with anticipation. Skinner’s foot slips. And you know you shouldn’t, but you shield your eyes, waiting for the impact, incapable of watching him fall into death’s open hands. It doesn’t come. Instead, as you remove several of the fingers obscuring your vision, you find Arbor, hand clinging to the back of his shirt, and her face screwed up into a scowl from the effort of keeping him upright. Skinner’s clumsy hands manage to catch a branch, and he pulls himself up, mouth already opening in a question, but she is faster, pressing a hand to his lips and shaking her head with a vehement look that encourages only silence.

And so he says nothing, and for a while, that’s how they remain, waiting for the pack to move on, her hand over his mouth, simply taking each other in. It’s only once the coast is clear that he dares to speak.

“Why did you save me?”

“Well, I didn’t need you making a bunch of noise and giving me away,” she says, releasing any hold she has on him, and for a moment, her face only serves to support the harsh words, cold in its regard, but the instant his eyes shift towards the ground, it softens, revealing the true intention, simple and unbridled care. She reminds you of Treech.

“Are you gonna kill me now?” Skinner sounds almost defeated, and he does not even bother to meet her gaze as he asks. Her expression, safe from his sight, twists into one of concern before she masks it once more.

“I couldn’t if I wanted to. I don’t have any weapons, and the chances of me strangling you are low at best.”

“I don’t have any weapons either,” Skinner admits before appearing embarrassed by the confession. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not a threat, so– please don’t try to kill me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you could kick my ass,” Arbor returns, her tone flat and a small smirk gracing her features. Skinner flushes at the expression before admitting defeat with laughter of his own when she lets out a chuckle.

“So where’s your partner?” He asks.

“Dead.” The response is factual, but the traces of pain on her face remain obvious. “Yours?”

“Dead.” It is quiet for a moment, and though neither of them speaks, you note Arbor eyeing Skinner's rope.

“Maybe we could make a deal?” She asks.

“Like what?” He is slow to respond but less guarded than before.

“Like allies?” And she extends a hand in a truce, only continuing after noting Skinner’s hesitation. “Listen, I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted, and if I’m gonna sleep in this tree, I’d prefer to do it tied down and with someone to watch my back. We could take shifts. Even if it's just for tonight?”

“Okay.”

It is not then that you speak with Treech. Nor is it over the following days, watching the pair grow closer. Watching them reach the final five with the boy from 11 and the girls from 1 and 2. No. The days register simple interactions. Nods indicating bread and water will be sent, and curt conversations regarding strengths and weaknesses. It is only on the sixth night that you share more than a handful of words, and even then, it isn’t much. And yet, it is more. Heavier than any of the terse exchanges you’d held since you stopped speaking altogether.

Because, on the sixth night, Arbor and Skinner share a kiss. He had fallen earlier in the day. No simple fall either. His leg would only carry him so far, but Arbor remained loyal, and the two traveled as a unit. Under the moonlight and the cover of darkness, she had stopped them to take a look at the injury, steady hands unraveling the makeshift bandage she had torn from her own shirt. Skinner only cringed in pain, regardless of her soft-spoken attempts to comfort him as she poured water from a nearby stream on the wound.

“It’s no use. I’m dead weight. You should go. Get out of here before I accidentally screw you over.” The defeat is evident in his tone, but so is something else, something more. A need for her to make it out. To survive.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Her jaw is tense as she focuses on the work before her, but you sense it is not out of a need to concentrate.

“Arbor, I’m not gonna let you die for me–” He is exhausted, eyes heavy with sleep and glistening with pain. Sweat collects at his brow, and he raises a lazy hand to wipe it away, but she gets there first, swiping her thumb across his forehead before speaking again.

“Well, I’m not gonna let you die, period. So, just drop it.”

“Arbor.” His hand moves to still her own, as though begging her to meet his gaze.

“Skinner?” She asks, annoyed by the disruption but looking up nonetheless.

“What happens if it’s just us?” And you could hear a pin drop in the Academy lecture hall; not even Lucky Flickerman bothers to present his input.

“Well, we aren’t– That’s not… I’m gonna get you out of here,” she states with finality. Beside you, Treech stiffens, the scene beginning to appear all too familiar. Two kids from 7 and 10, with nothing and everything on the line at the same time.

“I wouldn’t let you do that. I wouldn’t be able to let you do that.”

“Why? Why are you being so selfish? Just let me save you–” And she pounds at his chest, but there is no feeling in her attacks. It takes Skinner no effort at all to stop her fists, collecting her hands within his own.

“I don’t want to live if it means you have to die. Because I– Well, I know I haven’t known you that long, but I– Well, I–” And suddenly she is kissing him, telling him wordlessly she feels the same. And suddenly, the world is crashing down, fear pooling in your stomach at the consequences you are sure will come, and you can’t help it, looking at Treech, who is already looking at you. Your mouth is dry.

“I don’t– I–” Your chest is constricting, and the room feels hot, hotter than ever before, and your mind is spinning at a million miles an hour. You cross to the entrance in mere moments, not even noting Treech directly behind you until you have shoved your way out, back slamming into the wall just outside as you crumble to the ground.

“I– I–”

“You’ve got to breathe. You– We have to get back in there. It isn’t something until we make it something.” His tone is cold, but he’s crouched before you, and when his hands reach to pull you off the floor, you swear his thumb runs carefully over your arm once. Twice.

“But it is. You know it is. And if those kids die at the Capitol’s hand, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wondering if it's my fault. If it’s our fault.” And it's true. It may not have been love for him, but for you, the echoes are everywhere. And though you’re sure the Capitol never saw what happened that night, Dr. Gaul knew enough for the connection to be dangerous.

“You don’t know if that’s what they’ll see–”

“Is it what you saw? Because it’s the first thing I thought about. And I know you hate me now, but you can’t be stupid enough to think that Coriolanus Snow could miss it.” His face only grows more tense before it passes to stone once more.

“What other choice do we have?” He’s right. Of course, he is right. So you reenter and take your places, fix yourselves with masks of unbothered poise, and for nothing. They are dead by morning, carcasses wrapped around one another in a pile of bones and flesh once the Gamemakers’s mutts have finished. And as the camera pans away, you swear you feel a lingering gaze on you, but you do not look, only fake a cough as you brush the tears from your cheeks and fix your steady gaze ahead.

That was the year Teff’s boy won, Reed, and once more, before you are allowed to return home, you are forced to attend a party at the President’s mansion, this time with the inclusion of a Victor’s dance. 

“Teff, come on, I am begging you–” You begin, but the older boy is already shaking his head.

“I can’t, alright. Octavian already asked me if I’d dance with Teresa, and I gave my word that I would. He registered us a week ago,” he sighs, and you want to scream; how could you have been stupid enough to forget about this?

“What about Reed?” At this point, anyone will do. Anyone who isn’t Treech.

“He’s not doing the dance; his leg is broken, remember?” And you do; the boy had fallen off the top of the cornucopia while securing his win, landing on top of the girl from 1, whose neck broke on impact.

“Well, do you think Mags will switch with me?” You are grasping at straws, aware the answer will be no the moment the suggestion passes your lips.

“You know the deal, the only reason we are allowed to have partners from other Districts is because–” But you interrupt him, already knowledgable of your oncoming defeat.

“We don’t have any from our own. I know. I just don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“It’s one dance, it can’t be that bad.” He reassures, but you know better.

“We haven’t spoken in years.”

“You spoke the other day–” Teff corrects.

“That was different; I was basically having a meltdown.” You recall that moment in the hall. His thumb on your arm. Part of you is convinced it never happened at all.

“I don’t know what to tell you; take it or leave it; this is your only option.” He shrugs, and the conversation is over; you both know it, but not before you vocalize your frustration one last time.

“Fuck.”

That is it, the third time you talk to Treech, at the President’s mansion, surrounded by Capitol citizens. Before you take the floor, you recall your last dance in this place with a certain Heavensbee. Your mind drifts to the events of that night. To what happened after you departed. You shake the thoughts away. Now is no time to linger on what used to be. 

When it is time to go, Treech appears at your side, extending his arm to lead you onto the floor, and you note that he seems to flinch away from your touch, which barely grazes the crook he creates for you. You are already seething. Was it really so painful for him to even touch you? Were you really that deplorable? It is a simple waltz, one your escorts were able to instruct you on with ease, and though the first few steps are taken in silence, as the music continues, you hear the other victors around you begin to chatter. You and Treech remain quiet, your eyes fixed on the floor below, watching the pattern of your steps. Thinking about anything except his hand on your waist and the other delicately gripping yours.

“You’re not supposed to look at your feet,” he mutters, and that gets your attention enough to force your gaze away from its previous target.

“Excuse me?”

“You aren’t supposed to look at your feet. It makes it easier to screw up the steps.” You don’t answer, only fixing your sightline over his shoulder instead, fully expecting the silence to engulf you once more.

“I hate dancing.” He sighs bitterly, and you almost have to resist a smile because it makes sense that the stoic boy before you would loathe the exercise in trust and coordination, ripe with opportunities for embarrassment. For creating holes in his well-kept facade.

“I don’t.” And you aren’t really sure what prompts you to speak, but maybe it is his clear discomfort with the practice, evident in the way his shoulders bunch awkwardly with each turn and his eyes, in spite of his own advice, continue to flit down towards the floor.

“There’s lots of dancing back in 10. Line dances, mostly from a long time ago. But there’s other stuff, too. Once a month, there's a big dance at City Hall. There’s this big open barn connected to the back, and they decorate it, and everyone goes. My dad taught me how, so it reminds me of him.” You can’t help but smile at the memory of your father, pulling the hat from his head and dropping it onto your own before spinning you around the kitchen in preparation for your very first dance. When the day finally came, you’d already forgotten all the steps, but he didn’t mind setting your feet atop his own, the two sets of boots moving in a stilted pattern around the barn, all shrieking laughter and love.

You feel Treech’s shoulder relax beneath your touch, his gaze now fixed on you and nothing else. The movements become more fluid, and by the end of the dance, it feels like flying. That is until something else seems to catch his attention just outside of your sightline. And suddenly, his grip on your waist tightens, ushering you closer, but his eyes grow cold. For a moment, you could have sworn he was shielding you from something until he wasn’t. Until the music came to an end, and he was pushing away, but not before leaving you with a cutting remark.

“Thanks for the story; I’ll remember that the next time I’m pretending to give a shit about you.” You almost gape at him, unsure how to respond, but as rage, hot and untethered, licks its way up your spine, you give into the cruelest thing you can think to muster.

“I hate you.” And he flinched as though the words had hurt him. As though he hadn’t spent every moment of the last three years trying to probe that very reaction from your lips. And you knew he must not have meant it. That it was nothing more than the residual regret leaving his body, but a part of you relished it. Relished causing him pain after the torture he had put you through.

“Good.”

Victory Tours weren’t uncommon by then, so when it was announced the tribute from 11 and his mentor would be making their way to 10, people were well prepared. Lennox in particular seemed to be veritably jumping with joy, unable to sit still after having received the knowledge that you would be hosting the visitors in your new home in the Victor’s Village. Even Fawn who at the now ripe age of fourteen was determined to allow nothing to faze her seemed excited at the prospect of the celebration that typically occurred in tandem with the arrival of a victor. 

You on the other hand were simply happy to see Teff, pulling the taller man into a warm hug the moment he set foot off the train. He seemed not to mind, laughing as he pulled you tighter against him and after a long day of festivities including a night of dancing and the best food 10 could offer, you found yourselves sat around your kitchen table, enjoying one another’s company and a couple of drinks.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened at the mansion? That night, at the party? Quite a scene you two caused,” Teff asked, finally digging into what you knew he’d been itching to talk to you about. You allowed your head to slump forward, burying your face within the comfort of your arms with a groan.

“What am I supposed to say? I was being very civil. He’s the one that ruined it.” Teff only nodded in understanding, having come to know the events that made up your rocky relationship with Treech through snippets divulged over the years.

“You know I’m just worried about you is all. Just wish you would fly under the radar like the rest of us–”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Tell me about you. About home. How’s Harvest?” Teff was quick to relent, never displeased when talking about his favorite subject, his wife of two years. 

“She’s good. She’s– Well actually I’ve been meaning to tell you this– She’s pregnant.” And though the news reeks of joy, there is an uneasy smile on his face. Still, you are quick to rid him of it.

“That’s incredible! I’m so happy for you.” And you are, beaming from ear to ear, but a part of you aches, just as you know it does for him, for that unborn child. For the world they will surely face.

The fourth time you spoke, it was your fault. At least, that’s what Treech told himself. It was the year of the 14th Hunger Games, and in preparation, the Capitol was running a television program highlighting each of the Districts. It was for that reason Treech told himself it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the small screen in the corner of the hotel bar filled with Lamina’s face, especially given that she was his District partner and, as he was the only existing victor from 7, an obvious choice for closer study. Still, it didn’t stop the shock from cutting to his core like a knife. 

You had taken the seat beside his, though clearly not intentionally. It was the only place left in the whole bar, and upon your arrival, he had watched you hesitate to even stay, but with the Games set to start in two days, you needed a drink, exhausted by the prospect of another year.

It was as though you could sense his discomfort, gaze clearly flitting in his direction and dragging across his tense form. The television program blared out, filling any gaps in conversation left by the bar’s occupants, and you observed it keenly following Treech’s reaction.

“She seemed kind.” And there you were, attempting to comfort him after all he’d done to push you away.

“She cried a lot.” It is easier than telling the truth. Than admitting he had known Lamina long before the Games. That she was family, a cousin on his mother’s side.

He often saw Lamina in you. In your quiet moments of soft kindness and generosity. Even in moments of fear, watching you steel yourself and move forward in spite of the difficulties. Sometimes, he would imagine a world with no Districts or Games. A world where a gentler version of you who had not been left hardened by survival had met Lamina, and the two of you had become fast friends, spending your days whispering confessions among the branches of the tallest trees or stretched out in a field, you with a pencil and paper and Lamina fashioning a crown of flowers.

“You remind me of her.”

“Because I’m weak?” Your brow furrowed as you gazed down into the drink before you, preparing yourself for the harsh words you had come to expect of Treech.

“Because you’re brave.” He couldn’t help it really, the way it sprang forward from his lips, toppling out before he could fight to keep it in. He suspected somewhere in the wide universe, the spirit of Lamina was laughing at him. That she was somehow responsible for the admission. He hated her for it. Hated himself. Your own face revealed little more than an obvious state of shock, blank blinking eyes staring back at him when he finally summoned the courage to fix your gaze with his own. Your mouth moved, jaw seeming to hinge and unhinge, but nothing came out. Nothing until the soft syllables of his name slipped from your lips in a stilted sort of way, like a sharp breath. 

Treech was on his feet before you’d finished, the remainder of his drink easily downed in his haste to depart, but as he turned one last time to eye the television in the corner, he could have sworn your eyes were brimming with tears.

The final time you spoke to Treech, it felt as though he had something more to say. Like the words he wished to express had caught on his tongue like glue, unable to escape. It was the final day of the 14th Games, five years exactly since your own. On days like that, you forced yourself to remember the things that often felt too painful. The names that sunk like stones in your chest, fading each year into more distant memories. Rye, with his eyes like two wide saucers. Orion, who was so close to victory that he had nearly succeeded in having it. Baron, the boy from back home who’d lost his life within minutes, figure slumped and unmoving in the center of the arena for the remainder of the Games. And, of course, there were others. Brandy and Tanner. Bee and Colt. Rhea and Skinner. Kids from home. Kids just like you. Except here you were, not dead, while they lay, presumably rotting in some mass grave deep within the Capitol’s walls. The thought made you sick.

That year, your fourth as a mentor, your tributes hadn’t even managed to outlast the bloodbath. The second Rochelle’s body hit the ground, you knew it was over, but it didn’t keep you from hoping. Hoping against reason, she would find a way to fight it. To get back up. She hadn’t. And that year, as the buzzer rang out and the bile rose in your throat as it always did, you noted that the pain was less. Less intense. Less crippling. And then the disgust was back again, drowning you, with its aim pointed inwards, armed and ready to feast on your heart. How could you be so cruel? How could you allow yourself to become so hardened and unfeeling? 

Because it is easier. Because there has to be a better way. Because you will never survive this if you cannot learn to leave some things behind. Still, you’d never left a single thing behind your whole life, clinging to every passing thought, person, or feeling like it might be the last. So when Rochelle was gone, signaling your Games had finished, you pulled the small notebook from the inner pocket of your vest and scribbled her name just below Gavin’s with its own set of notes. 

Rochelle. Two sisters, no parents. Lived with her father’s brother and worked nightshifts at the slaughterhouse. 15. Kind. Enjoyed the color green. Was learning to knit with some of the excess wool from her uncle’s work at a nearby farm, sheering the sheep.

Your fingers traced over the list, gently passing each name with the pad of your thumb. So many names. It was easier now to write them down. It was easier now to emote, to feel openly without the watchful eye of the Capitol analyzing your every move just behind Lucky Flickerman. Well, at least without it trained directly on your soul.

A bit further down the bar, Lux sat by herself as well; Beau tucked into the seat beside Trawl, the two having become closer over the years. Maybe even too close, you thought regretfully, mind flitting to a time you had caught the former making a quiet escape from Trawl’s room in the dead of night. Still, you’d bit your tongue, refusing to lecture someone you were aware already knew of the potential consequences. Besides, words often fall on deaf ears when spoken from a position as precarious as yours.

There were three kids left then, each with no alliance in place to keep them safe. A boy from 2, a girl from 5, and Maple, Treech’s girl from 7. She was ruthless, doing little in the way of preserving any image of humanity with her kills, but you understood that there was more than what appeared to pool on the surface. That those who seemed the most heartless were often the most human of all, filled with an unparalleled desperation to return. For a loved one. For themselves, hoping to go back to some semblance of a childhood they would never see again. Your heart swelled for her. For all of them. Still, you’d been doing your best to avoid her mentor since your last encounter. Afraid that he might snap once more, leaving you frustrated and hollow. Or worse, that he might plant some ridiculous seeds of hope as he had with your fourth conversation, calling you brave before disappearing completely. He was infuriating. Aggravating. Annoying, vexing, and completely incensing. 

He was also sitting directly across the bar, arm draped over the seat of the woman beside him with the same lazy arrogance you had come to register as a part of his Capitol persona, a smirk painted light and unshakable across his face. It was as though you could not even recognize the man before you. Still, he looked good. That much, you could easily admit, curls on the lengthier side now compared to the more cropped cut you’d last seen him with. You wondered if they still felt the same, if running your hands through them would still have the intoxicating effect it had years ago. You want to punch yourself in the face for the indulgence of a thought like that, forcing your gaze away with the heat that rises to your cheeks, and just in time, it seems, as the screen switches to capture Maple, finishing off the girl from 5. It is over in a second, and all of the sudden, there are only two remaining. 

Your heart aches for her, the dead girl from 5, without a mentor or guidance, left in the dark. Still, you cannot stop your gaze from traveling across the bar again to fix on Treech, only to find he is already looking at you. The woman beside him has rid herself of all pretense and is curled into his side, back arched like a cat. And yet, he appears almost regretful, eyes trained on your face with the sort of steely focus that rarely graced his features these days. 

Hours later, when Maple does win, pushed over the finish line with the help of several grandiose sponsorships, you can’t say you are all that surprised, no. The real shock comes as you move to exit the bar when a hand catches your forearm within its grasp. You almost ignore it. Almost push to continue on your steady path toward freedom, but it pulls hard, whipping you around, nearly sending you barreling into the chest of your assailant. Treech. And he stands there, blubbering like a fish, features painted with the unsubtle earnesty of a boy. And that alone is enough to stop you in your tracks.

“I– I–”

But not for long. You’d learned your lesson long ago. Wrenching your arm from his grasp, you spin on your heel before he so much as forms a second word, making for the elevator. You would not fall prey to him again. Not now, not ever. In your eyes, Treech was as good as dead.

It was another month before you saw him again, although, on the morning of the Victory Tour’s arrival, you were nowhere to be found within the awaiting procession. Despite the Capitol’s wishes, you’d continued work on the ranch in your free time, and this morning was no exception. Especially considering you’d requested the shift, putting as much distance between yourself and the upcoming ceremonials as possible. 

Just last night, you’d sent notice to the mayor that you’d been feeling unwell, vomiting, and the like, pleading to be kept from the tour for the safety of those involved. He’d kindly agreed, considering your consistent attendance in previous years, and so you’d spent the last few hours with Bluebell, who had grown over time into as much your horse as one could be, walking the ranch’s perimeter and assessing the different pastures for any sign of intrusion the previous night. Finding none, you dismounted, ridding the creature of everything but her bridle and allowing her to graze within your sightline as you sat in the grass, pencil at the ready and sketchbook perched easily in your lap. 

And so the morning passed in easy silence between the pair of you, only returning to the barn just before lunch due to necessity, though you nearly turned on your tail as the building came into view. The form was clear enough from afar, leaned up against the side of the old building, and at first, you felt your chest fill with anxiety, concerned that perhaps the mayor had caught onto your lie from last night to come get you. But as you drew closer, you noted that familiar head of curls you would recognize anywhere, accompanying the lanky form of a young man. Treech.

#treech #treech fanfiction #treech x reader #treech thg #treech tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #hunger games #thg series #district 7 #x reader #neabl #no evil angel but love

[aizawasbrazybaby]

❥𓂃𓏧 If you let me

𖦹Warnings: fem!reader, p in v sex, smoking, mentions of sex work, pet names (ex. Baby) , Dom!Yami x sub!Reader

𖦹Word Count: 1.4k

🫧: Hope everyone had a good new year🫶🏾sorry for the late post and any errors

Summaryᐕ Captain Yami walks in on the crews biggest prude trying to please herself…

“A bit scandalous, no?” you muttered.

Your eyes fixed on the figure in the mirror. A pink long sleeved shirt, that happened to be snug enough to accentuate your large breasts, wrapped your torso. Below, a white and pink plaid flounce skirt stopped inches above the knee.

“Scandalous my ass!” Vanessa shouted, “you’re a black bull not some fuckin child librarian it’s okay to show some skin. Live a little.”

Turning your back to the mirror you gasped quietly. Heat rushed to your face and just as swiftly your hands covered your ass that poked out too much.

“Absolutely not!”, you pressed your back to the mirror checking that none of the guys were around, “this is far to risqué! I need a cardigan better yet I’ll just put on my usual attire.”

Noelle scoffed with her arms folded tight, “the dark corduroys that make you look like an old hag not happening. You need to loosen up and stop being so modest.”

“M’not,” you said more to yourself.

“Really? You had us wait almost an hour when we took a trip to the beach last month because you didn’t want to put on a bikini,” Magna spat entering the room with Yami. His eyes roamed your body as he listened to his junior. By then your face nearly stung from the heat. You held onto your shoulders as if shielding your exposed breast from his hungry eyes. More self aware and self conscious than before.

“What Miss Vanessa had to offer was no more than a mere pile of jumbled up string and cloth patches not swim wear.” You spat through gritted teeth, “I would have stayed with the novels in my chamber if I knew this was what I was walking into.” Putting out an old cigarette the captain pushed the burning side into a black ashtray that had the logo. You stopped mid march back to your part of the hideout at his assertive tone. His words smashing bits of your heart.

“You could use an upgrade. You walk around here lookin like a grandma who gave up on herself. The least you could do is change your wardrobe.” Yami grunted with a chuckle. The whites in your eyes blackened as they narrowed in on him. With that he knew to drop the banter. Knowing there would be no financial benefit in having yet another “accident.”

“The hell do you know old man,” your voice was like venom.

The heavy door slammed behind you locking automatically. Your knees hit the floor of the bedside as a sob ripped through your body. Cries muffled as your face shoved into the mattress and your hands caressed the cotton sheets. Aching echoed in your chest as it always did when he made those snide remarks. Those stupid fucking jokes.

Too sensitive, too rule abiding, too by the book, too much of a goody two shoes to even notice

You were so sick of hearing it all but you couldn’t go back to the way you were. Before the Black Bulls. Before the grimoire. He knew what you were. The things you did to survive yet he still sang those hurtful words. At one point you were convinced he actually forgot about your past and why he really recruited you.

Tap tap tap

“Screw off!”

Yami was the only person to use his fingertips instead of knocking like any normal person would.

“Why do you always take shit so personal?” He sighed.

Silence.

“I know you’re in there, don't ignore me.”

Again there was nothing from your end.

“Speak or I’m coming in, that's an order,” he hand tightened around the door knob.

“Leave me alone captain,” you said hardly above a whisper. You didn’t bother lifting your head from the initial spot.

“I’m sorry.” A genuine apology. His footsteps echoed from your door down the hall until they disappeared behind his. It felt like hours passed by at lightning speed. The sun that once sat in a blue sky left it in a variety of pinks and orange. You dared to peek over your arm to adjust your vision to the lights in the bright room. The clothes you wore were cautiously peeled off.

Eyes gawked at the sight in the mirror. Wearing the borderline non-existent undergarments the girls gifted for your birthday. Cranberry red thongs made of pure silk with a matching push up bro that covered no more than the tip of your areola. There was only one way you knew how to drown the pain.

With pleasure.

Toys of different varieties, sizes and uses dropped on a pillow. Choosing two you lubed up the flame printed butt plug and inserted it. A low hum vibrated in your throat. Something you received from your favorite client. The sweet stretch reminding you of the first time Fuegoleon’s thick cock barreled its way into you. How he introduced you to anal play.

“Fuck,” you swore plopping down atop the clear dildo. Trying to remember how sex with another human felt. Imagining that it was Yami’s pretty cockhead you were screwing yourself on and not some stupid piece of silicone. Alas it didn’t work. Not this time nor last time or the time before that. Masterbation was a skill set you never mastered. As someone who used to get railed for money you relied on others to give you orgasms.

A growl of irritation rumbled in the room as the back of your head sunk in the pillow. Legs still spread wide open.

Why was it always so hard to please yourself?

You plunged the toy back in your pussy thinking of him, the captain's name spilling from your mouth repeatedly as the excitement pulled to your core. So close, your walls fluttered around the thing.

“Ready to talk-” Yami stood in the door frame wide eyed. His cigarette fell to the floor from between his lips. The door automatically shut behind him from any other onlookers. “Is this why…I heard you calling for me..”

Pure humiliation. That’s the only way to put it.

“Yami,” you searched your brain for words, “please.” He knew what you meant. Knew you’d been avoiding sex like it was the plague. Avoiding any man who showed you the slightest bit of interest. Knew you felt dirty for wanting to be touched.

“I can’t do it alone,” you whispered, “but I, Captain..”

“You did what you had to,” his fingertips trailed up your legs stopping between your thighs making you shudder, “it doesn’t make you a bad person.”

His fingers replaced the dildo and you swore for a minute you saw stars. Moans found their way out. “When I found you all bloody in that alleyway I knew I had to take you in,” his fingers made contact with that spot that had your eyes rolling back. And when his thumb rubbed circles on your clit, “I had to protect you.”

Your release was beyond shattering. Causing you to clench around his fingers, loosen up and clench once more.

“You deserve to be loved too,” his lips met yours as he climbed over you, “loved on.” He said lowly nipping at your ear.

“Yami..please,” was all you could muster. Hands unbuttoning his tented pants. His cock sprung to his belly button upon release. “Need you now.”

“I know baby I know,” he fixed himself between your legs thrusting inside you. Just sex you told yourself. He just wanted sex.

He didn’t.

It was always you he wanted. Got himself off too. Pictured bearing his offspring. Even if you did have an awful sense of style to blanket your promiscuous past.

He pulled back excruciatingly slow driving his hips back into you. “You feel so good,” he kissed your neck, “look so pretty.” He fucked into you harder and the sounds of your cries only confirmed he had you getting closer to cumming.

Yami threw your legs over his shoulders thrusting uncontrollably. Only slowing down when you tightened around his cock leaving your cream at the base of it. Rocking his body into yours until he pulled out sliding between your thighs as he nutted on your stomach.

His thumb grazed over your bottom lip. Blush pouring over his face and chest. You watched his lips move as he mumbled your name and your heart skipped a beat at what he said after.

“Yes.” You answered with a smile creeping across your mouth.

#black clover x black reader #black clover x poc reader #black reader #Yami x black reader #Yami x poc reader #yami x reader #black women #brown skin #dark skin #light skin #poc reader #black clover #captain yami

[steddieas-shegoes]

This is for the request from @mogami13 : Werewolf den mother steve being seduced to be eddie's mate which they wrote a post on found here. My post is not related to theirs, but you should ABSOLUTELY go read it and let them know if you want more!

This was so out of my comfort zone and it shows to me, but I wanted to try. Hopefully it does not disappoint! - Mickala ❤️❤️

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

Everything you think you know about this town is wrong.

The raspy voice of Eddie’s mother on her death bed echoed in his head often over the years.

He was nine when she died.

She died before explaining what she meant.

When he moved in with his Uncle Wayne, he got an explanation in the form of a wolf suddenly running into his room, biting his shirt, and dragging him outside.

As he stood on the back porch, heart racing, he realized the wolf was his Uncle Wayne.

He didn’t know how he knew, he just did.

He watched as Wayne disappeared into the trees for a few minutes, unsure if he should follow or not. He assumed Wayne would have waited for him if he was supposed to, so he stayed put.

When he came back, he nudged Eddie to sit on the step, and rested on the porch next to him.

They stayed like that for a while, Eddie fighting sleep as much as he could.

Finally, Wayne stood up, moved to part of the porch that was hidden from neighbors, and transformed back.

Eddie just stared, flabbergasted.

It was one thing to just know the wolf was Wayne and another entirely to watch the transformation.

Wayne walked back inside, probably to put some clothes on, and Eddie followed slowly.

They talked for hours, almost until dawn, about the history of the town, the history of their family, how Eddie would have his transformation when he hit puberty. How his mother got sick because she wasn’t able to transform anymore due to an injury his father gave her years before.

“When we can’t become our true selves regularly, it hurts every version of us. Drains us. It’s important you let this part of you out. I can’t lose you like I lost her.”

He told Eddie about how he spent a decade trying to convince his sister to move in with him instead of Eddie’s father, that it would be harder to leave when Eddie was born.

And it was.

She never left. She got hurt. Then she got sick.

Now she was gone.

———

Eddie loved being able to transition whenever he wanted.

Wayne told him stories of other families in the area that would only do so once a month, on the full moon, how stereotypical, to keep from dying. They didn’t let their kids run in the woods, or curl up in a cuddle pile. Sure, Wayne and Eddie didn’t make much of a cuddle pile, but it was perfect the way it was.

The Harringtons were an example.

According to Wayne, they hid the fact that they were even wolves from everyone else. The strangest part, according to Wayne, was that their son, Steve, had a very delayed transition. Most wolves have their first transformation when they hit puberty, but his didn’t happen until he was 16. They didn’t know what finally made it happen, but Eddie hoped it wasn’t anything that would make him sick like his mom.

When he told Wayne that, Wayne smirked.

“Worried about Steve Harrington? Who are you and what have you done with my nephew?”

Eddie slapped his arm, but couldn’t ignore the blush on his cheeks.

So what if Eddie had a little, tiny, baby crush on Steve Harrington? Who didn’t? He was hot, he was popular, he was athletic.

Maybe he hung out with some of the worst bullies in the school, but he never actively bullied anyone.

It’s not like anything would ever happen. Steve wasn’t into guys and Eddie was probably the farthest thing from his type he could get.

————-

When he met Dustin Henderson, he knew immediately he had to protect this kid at all costs.

High school was a fucking war zone and he was the weakest link, it was clear to anyone with eyes.

But he came with a couple other kids, Mike and Lucas, who probably would be fine if they just kept their heads down and got involved with the right things.

Hellfire Club wasn’t the right thing, at least not if they wanted to be popular or even just remotely average.

But they insisted they wanted to be a part of it, that D&D had been their lives for so long, and it was the only way they could kind of stay connected to their friend Will, who’d moved before school started.

It took him too long to realize they meant Will Byers, the boy who got sick like his mom, but somehow survived. He couldn’t transform anymore, but would lead an otherwise normal life.

He welcomed them into the club, made everyone else already in it welcome them, explained that it was important for Freshman to get involved so that the upperclassmen had someone to pass it all down to.

Eddie was going off the assumption that he’d graduate, that all of them except Jeff would graduate.

But when spring break happened, he didn’t find it in him to care nearly as much about graduating. He just needed to survive.

————

When he woke up in the hospital, he felt instant dread.

He was alive, but at what cost?

Wayne was asleep in the chair next to him, Dustin asleep in the chair at the end of his bed, and Steve fucking Harrington was sitting next to Dustin, watching Eddie.

They were clean and changed, so it had to have been at least a day since his whole world nearly ended.

“How long?” His voice was barely even a whisper, but Steve must have incredible hearing.

“Four days,” he whispered back, probably trying to avoid Dustin and Wayne waking up.

Have they been here the whole time? Wayne couldn’t miss that much work, he’d get fired. And Dustin. Dustin’s just a kid. His mom must be worried.

Steve couldn’t possibly have sat here for four days. His parents would lose their shit.

“I’ve made them go home every day to shower and eat, try to sleep in a real bed. Told them I’d call if anything changed.”

So Steve had been here the whole time.

That explained the bags under his eyes.

“Eddie? You awake?”

Wayne’s sleepy voice made him turn his head. He let out a pained groan, his whole body resisting any movement.

“Stay still. You’ve got a lot of stitches holdin’ you together. Let me get the nurse.”

Wayne hurried out of the room, Steve watching them with a small smile.

“He’s been worried. I don’t think he’s slept more than a couple hours since he first got here.”

“Dustin?”

Steve looked over at Dustin, worried frown on his face.

“He thinks it’s his fault.”

“What? How?”

Eddie could ignore the pain pulsing through his veins for now. He had to understand how Dustin could possibly think any of this was his fault.

“He thinks if he’d jumped back through sooner, you wouldn’t have lost as much blood. Or that if he’d come up with a better backup plan, you never would’ve had to do it at all. We’ve never been this close to losing people.”

Wait, people, plural?

“Max?”

Steve stood up and came closer to his head, keeping his eyes on Dustin to make sure he didn’t wake up.

“She’s still in a coma. They don’t think she’ll come out of it.”

So she wasn’t dead, but she might as well be.

Eddie fought the tears welling up.

“Mr. Munson! Wonderful to see you awake.”

Steve and Eddie both jumped, Eddie letting out a hiss as he felt a searing pain along his side.

And then Dustin was awake.

“Eddie? Eddie!”

He was crowding in next to Steve, ignoring everyone else in the room. His eyes were wide and teary, and Eddie knew if Dustin started crying, it’d be game over for him.

“Hey bud. Doing okay?”

Not the right thing to say. Dustin let out a sob and collapsed against Steve, who wrapped his arms around him to hold him up.

“I’m just gonna bring him outside for a minute while you get checked over.”

“No!” Dustin exclaimed, pulling away. “I can’t leave him, Steve! Please.”

“Dustin, it’s okay. He’s okay. They have to check his bandages and we’ll be just around the corner.”

Steve looked at Eddie and silently asked him to reassure Dustin. He could do that. He was tired and in pain, but he could do this.

“I’ll see you in ten minutes, okay? Just take a lap, grab me a soda or something.”

“Sir, I don’t recomm-“ the nurse started, but was waved off by Wayne.

“Ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Okay.”

Dustin let Steve lead him out of the room, Wayne following to close the door behind them.

“Alright, just have to check your vitals and do a pain assessment,” the nurse started. “This probably won’t be fun, but I’ll need to check the wounds on your legs and sides.”

Eddie nodded and let her get to work.

It hurt. Everything hurt.

But Wayne was holding his hand, and Dustin was coming back with a soda for him, and Steve was here for some reason.

He’d almost been eaten alive by demon bats, he could survive this nurse checking him over.

————

As soon as he was out of the hospital is when it started.

Dustin always found reasons to have Steve come with him to visit.

First, it was just because he was his ride, Claudia having to work a bit more because many of her coworkers had left town after the “quake.”

Then, Steve would stick around because Dustin insisted he wouldn’t stay for long and he didn’t want Steve to have to make two trips so quickly.

Which was kind of bullshit, Eddie and Steve both knew it, because Steve actually only lived about 8 minutes from Eddie and Wayne’s new trailer.

But they let him get away with it.

Eddie liked having another adult around. None of his friends from high school were allowed to talk to him, so it was pretty much just the kids and Wayne for the last two months.

Steve would sometimes even bring Robin, who Eddie would probably be in love with if he liked women at all.

Especially when she came out to him while Dustin was making sure the kids cleaned up the table after a campaign.

“What’s up with you and Steve?”

“What do you mean?”

She looked nervous. Were they a secret for some reason?

“Like, if you’re dating, you should just tell everyone. Pretty sure everyone thinks so anyway.”

Robin let out a loud laugh.

“Dude, no. We are obnoxiously platonic. Trust me.”

“Kinda hard to believe when you do everything together. You finished his sentence yesterday.”

Robin rolled her eyes.

“I’m super gay, Eddie. Not interested in Steve even a little bit.”

That…should’ve surprised him more, actually.

“So you’re just best friends?”

“Yeah, I mean, we’re pack, ya know?”

“Oh! You’re…” Eddie started, using his hands to pretend he had claws.

“No, actually. But I helped Steve get more comfortable with his whole wolf thing when his parents wanted nothing to do with it. My cousins on my dad’s side are wolves so it wasn’t really a secrecy problem.”

Eddie had kind of forgotten that there was any secrecy left. All the kids were wolves, so they openly talked about it often. He hadn’t really thought about the fact that any of them might not be.

“Have you done it since everything happened?”

“Uh. No. Owens said I had to heal completely before I tried.”

“Haven’t you been healed for two weeks?”

Eddie was silent.

“You’re scared.”

It wasn’t a question and he wasn’t going to deny it. He was scared.

He was scared that he wouldn’t be able to, sure. But he was even more scared that he’d face the same sickness his mom had, that Will had but managed to get through. He knew he wouldn’t be as lucky as Will, though.

“Would it be easier if you had someone with you the first time?”

“Maybe. Wayne offered, but I don’t want him to see if it goes wrong.”

“What about Steve?”

“What about Steve?”

“He could stay with you when you try. He’s good in emergencies, especially if you end up hurt. He knows everyone so even if he couldn’t help, he could call the kids or Wayne or hell, Claudia. And I know he hasn’t spent much time with just you, but I think he wants to and doesn’t know how to do it.”

“She’s right,” Dustin said from the doorway.

“Why the hell were you listening to a private conversation?”

“Is it really private if you’re talking at a normal volume in a room where anyone can come and go at any time?”

“Watch your tone,” Eddie replied.

Dustin was right though. And so was Robin.

“I don’t wanna bother him.”

“Steve’s not gonna be bothered. He loves taking care of people! He’s basically our mom.”

“Jesus, dude, I’m not your mom,” Steve said as he walked into the room holding more trash than Eddie remembered there being on the table.

“You’re saying that holding a pile of trash that the children should’ve been cleaning up,” Eddie said with a smirk.

“Well, they’re getting distracted and I don’t have all night.”

“Spoken like a true mother.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but Eddie could see a small smile on his face. He was proud to be considered their mom.

“Eddie’s got a favor to ask, Steve.”

Eddie glared at Dustin.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“He’s lying. He needs someone to be with him when he transforms for the first time since, ya know, everything.”

Eddie glared at Robin now, too.

“Oh. Sure. When?”

“Uh. You really don’t have to. It might not even work. Don’t want you to waste your time.”

“It’s not a waste of time. We can try tomorrow after my shift if you want?”

Dustin was practically bouncing off the walls in excitement and Robin was hiding a smirk behind her hand.

“Yeah, okay. If you’re sure.”

Will started to walk in the room, then walked right back out when he felt the tension pouring from Eddie.

All the kids had done plenty of meddling, helping Dustin find reasons for Steve to always be around Eddie.

El and Max even convinced Steve that Eddie needed him to sit next to him at the diner when they had breakfast because he couldn’t cut his pancakes alone.

Which was fucking ridiculous and Steve actually believed it. Eddie would’ve been more annoyed if he wasn’t completely endeared by the fact that Steve hadn’t even asked him, just grabbed his fork and knife when they were brought to the table and started cutting them.

He didn’t stop him.

It was kind of nice to be taken care of.

So if he could have more of that for something like this, maybe he could just let it happen. No embarrassment, no arguing.

“Sure. See you at 9:30 tomorrow night?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Cool.”

————-

Eddie was a nervous wreck.

For all of Dustin’s meddling, he suddenly had no interest in helping Eddie through his anxiety.

He tried calling him three times, every time going to voicemail. He tried calling the other gremlins, same thing.

So they were all in on this, Dustin was just the boldest one.

He was nervous about the actual wolf part, definitely.

But he was nervous that Steve would be there. He would see him at his most vulnerable, possibly even worse if he couldn’t even change any more.

When he told Wayne about what he was doing, he just smiled and said “you’d know if you couldn’t, son.”

So Eddie waited for 9:30. He paced inside. He paced outside. He took a shower that he didn’t even need. He sat on the couch, twiddling his thumbs. He stood by the window watching for Steve to show up even though he knew he wouldn’t be there early.

He was a mess, plain and simple.

He could feel his heart thrumming with anticipation.

And then headlights flashed through the front windows and Eddie was opening the front door before Steve was even out of his car.

“Hey Eddie. You ready?”

How did he look so good coming from work? Still in his stupid vest, hair tucked behind his ears. A little sheen of sweat on his forehead because the AC was out at the store and the ride here wasn’t long enough to cool off in his car.

It was so fucking unfair.

“Eds?”

Jesus, okay. He had to get it together. Seriously.

“Yeah! I’m good. I’m just a little nervous. Don’t wanna end up bleeding out in the backyard,” he laughed nervously.

“Is that a possibility?” Steve asked, his voice choked and wobbling.

“Sorry! No. I don���t think so. I think I’ll be fine. Honest.”

Steve visibly relaxed and Eddie kind of hated himself a bit.

Dustin was the one who told Eddie about Steve being the first to get to them in the Upside Down, how Steve performed as much emergency care as he possibly could with Nancy helping before carrying him through the gate.

How Steve had been covered in more of Eddie’s blood than his own by the time the ambulance arrived.

How Steve didn’t sleep for nearly 48 hours because he wouldn’t leave Eddie’s side, half convinced he’d imagined rescuing him.

Eddie shouldn’t joke about bleeding out when the man who had to watch him nearly do so before was his only help tonight.

“Where are you doing this?”

“Uh. Back porch has a lot of space that neighbors couldn’t see. And then the woods are right there after.”

“Should I…um…stay human?”

“Yeah, just in case.”

Steve nodded and followed Eddie as he led him through the front door.

“Want a drink or anything? I have water, or beer, or…that’s it actually. I can run out and get you something else though if you want. You’re probably thirsty. Been a long day. I’ll be right back-“

“Eddie. I’m fine.”

Steve’s hand was on his shoulder. Warmth flooded through Eddie, his body relaxing under the touch.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Eddie led them out the back door and over to the side of the porch hidden from view.

Steve turned away while he stripped off his clothes and left them on the floor for after.

He took a few deep breaths and let his body relax.

He could do this.

It was natural.

One moment, he was considering telling Steve it wasn’t gonna happen, the next he was a wolf. He was so busy relaxing into the feeling, he didn’t notice Steve moving closer.

Until Steve’s hands were cupping his head, his fingers gently scratching at his fur.

It felt good and Eddie couldn’t help the low growl he let out.

“Feel okay?”

Steve still looked worried behind the unreadable look on his face.

Eddie nodded his head once.

He stood there, kind of afraid to move, kind of wanting to stay here just to keep Steve’s hands on him, kind of dying to run.

His human form was clumsy, could barely walk in a straight line sometimes without tripping over his own feet. His wolf form could run through trees at a speed most people couldn’t even fathom.

But Steve had his hands on him.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Oh.

Oh.

“I mean, you always are. It’s just. I’ve never seen anything like you.”

Eddie wasn’t sure how long he could stand there taking Steve’s compliments. He knew Steve was still new to the wolf thing, maybe had never even properly seen another adult, so he tried not to let it mean much.

But Steve looked so earnest.

And then his hands moved to his neck, running his fingers through the fur there.

He paused suddenly, letting out a small laugh.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe Dustin was right.”

He felt Steve’s finger circle a spot near his shoulder blade, right where he knew he had a shock of gold fur instead of the dark brown that covered his whole body.

“I know I’m staying human tonight, but I have a spot of dark brown fur in the same spot. But the rest of my body is gold like this. I’ll show you next time.”

Next time, next time, next time.

“Dustin said that makes us soulmates.”

Of course Dustin said that.

But then he remembered his Uncle Wayne telling him about a spot he had in his fur for over a decade, a black circle instead of the gray of the rest of his body.

How his Uncle Wayne told him that he believed his soulmate had the same kind of spot, but gray.

How his spot disappeared randomly and he never got any explanation.

How a few years ago, he’d found out his high school sweetheart had died tragically in a car accident right around the time he lost the spot.

How he never put much stock into soulmates until then, but was now a firm believer.

It felt impossible. It had to be impossible.

“Oh my god.”

Steve’s hands dropped and Eddie whimpered.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbled as he rested his hands back in Eddie’s fur. “I just realized. The first time Dustin tried to convince me to come to D&D was after the first time he saw my wolf. That little shit’s been trying to set us up for almost a year!”

Eddie huffed out a breath of disbelief or an attempt at laughter, he wasn’t sure.

“And Robin! She’s been trying to convince me to hang out with you since you came home from the hospital.” Steve pulled away and started pacing as Eddie watched. “The kids are all in on it. That’s why they always find reasons for me to stick around when you’re around.”

Steve plopped down on the floor, back to the wall of the house.

Eddie trotted over, plopping down on the floor next to him and placing his head in Steve’s lap.

He nudged his nose against Steve’s hand, wordlessly asking for Steve to pet his head.

He got the message.

“You don’t wanna go run?”

Eddie sighed against his lap.

“You could. I’ll be here when you get back.”

He didn’t want to. Not alone.

Maybe he could convince Steve to come with him to the lake next time, go for a run in those woods together.

Steve rested his head back against the wall.

“Do you believe in mates?”

He wasn’t really sure at this point. Maybe they were real, maybe they weren’t. Maybe Steve was his, maybe it was just a weird coincidence.

He nodded his head once.

“Do you think we’re mates?”

Eddie considered it.

He was part wolf. He was attacked and almost eaten to death by demon bats not that long ago. An evil half monster half human had nearly destroyed Hawkins.

So, yeah, they could very well be soulmates.

He nodded his head.

Steve curled himself inwards, letting his head rest on Eddie’s.

“How long are you staying like this? I kinda wanna kiss you.”

Well, he kinda wanted to kiss Steve too.

He pulled away and focused on what it would feel like to kiss Steve.

As soon as he was human again, he planted himself in Steve’s lap, not even caring that he was naked.

Steve looked at him, amused grin in place.

“You survived.”

“Worried I wouldn’t?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Soulmates, huh?”

Steve’s face was a cherry red, and Eddie was pretty sure he’d never been so in love.

He gripped Steve’s face between his hands, a mirror image of what Steve had done when he was a wolf.

“Can you believe Dustin wanted a dad so badly, he set his mom up like this?”

Steve snorted.

“Not his mom.”

“Sure about that? Didn’t you just punish him by taking away rides to the arcade for two weeks because of his attitude?”

“So?”

Eddie just raised his brows at him, smile widening as Steve shrugged.

“Okay, fine! Are you gonna kiss me or just keep teasing me about my favorite kid?”

“Oh, you want a kiss? From me?”

“Please.”

How could Eddie resist when he was asking so nicely?

Eddie’s kissed a lot of people. Girls in school, guys at the bar, Jeff once when he was really drunk.

But not a single one of them compared to this one.

Or any of the kisses they shared after.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #dustin henderson #robin buckley #wayne munson #the party #werewolves but not a/b/o #i mean you can definitely assume that could be added somewhere but i didn't write that #i'm not brave enough #requests #ficlet #i say ficlet like this isn't 4000 words

[miamochi-writes]

Always on My Mind

A/N: Hi! Been awhile since I posted Wolfwood x reader. I was inspired by a Wolfwood art piece made by @usuallynana​ ❤️ Please check out her beautiful work! Hope you enjoy!

You hated that cockiness. You hated that smirk. You hated how smug he was. You hated how he looked at you. You hated how he teased you. You hated him, yet he made you feel things you had never felt before one night. That person was Nicholas D. Wolfwood, who lived rent-free in your mind.

Meeting Wolfwood was a happy accident. The gang was driving past the desert dunes into the next city. All of you were lost in your thoughts until something hit the van. One minute, everyone was panicking about nearly killing a passerby. The next minute, he was fine and walking on his own two feet.

Your first impression of him? A mysterious person that knew how to smooth talk his way out of any situation. He was the kind of person that was nowhere near your type. He lied about being a priest, wore a shit-eating grin, and held many secrets. Plus, he carried this high-tech cross weapon that could annihilate a gigantic sand worm or human life at any moment. Any time you tried to dig any information out of him, he would either reply with vague anecdotes or tease the living daylights out of you. 

Whenever you found yourself in sticky situations or fought with pesky enemies, Wolfwood was always there to alleviate or take care of things. Some people can say he was helping you, but the thing was you never asked for his help. You were competent enough to diffuse any fights and beat up some baddies. Despite your efforts, Wolfwood always had to come at you with the nickname he gave you no matter the situation.

“You looked like you needed some help, Your Highness.”

“Careful there, wouldn’t want to see yourself get hurt, Your Highness.”

“On your left, Your Highness!”

Oh how that name irked you. Every. Single. Time. You don’t know where he came up with that nickname for you, but you were far from a spoiled brat. You can fight just like him and Vash with your gun and fists. You made sure everyone was taken care of before even taking care of yourself. So who was he to go around and call you that nickname so matter-of-factly?

Anytime you fought bandits, police, military, sandworms, or anything getting in your way, you made it a point that you were capable of fighting on your own. Sometimes, you would knock out one of the enemies for Wolfwood if he wasn’t careful enough.

“Just thought you needed a hand, Nico~” you told him one day. Oh did that strike a nerve for him. You could see he was red with rage as you laughed at his reaction.

“That’s Wolfwood to you, Your Highness!” he yelled. Sometimes, the teasing between you two would start silly competitions such as “Who could finish the fight faster? How many enemies can you knock out?” Meryl and Vash never heard the end of it with the constant teasing and bickering from you two. It didn’t matter where you two where or who was there with you, but one of you had to had the last word. Eventually, Meryl and Vash would get used to it or they would:

a. Break up the incessant arguing (Vash always resorts to this).

b. Someone will threaten to stop or swerve the van (that someone is always Meryl).

Option B only happened when Wolfwood was fighting recklessly to where he got injured multiple times. When you saw how bad he looked, you ran to his aid immediately once you took care of the men shooting at you. Before you could apply first aid, Wolfwood refused your help. He kept turning you down and said he didn’t need treatment. You two practically yelled at each other until Meryl halted the van. She couldn’t take the fighting anymore, and locked the two of you inside until someone gave in. Eventually, Wolfwood explained why he refused your help when you saw his wounds disappear. He showed you the ampule he took and disclosed a bit of his past to you. You saw his more vulnerable side, and appreciated that there were less secrets between the two of you. From that day on, you held a bit more respect for Wolfwood and the teasing toned down...a little.

~*~ Fast forward to many weeks of fighting and visiting new cities ~*~ 

Vash and Meryl were resting at the bar after a long day of fighting off bandits and police in the city. Overwhelmed by the loud cheers of drunken men and how stuffy the bar was, you decided to get some fresh air. Welcomed by the cool crisp air, you smiled at the fresh breeze. Plus, the moon looked beautiful tonight. You wanted to take advantage of the scenery, and how peaceful outside was. That was until you picked up the faint smell of smoke. The universe really said you’re not getting 5 minutes of peace. You were about to tell the person to quit smoking until your eyes landed on him.

Despite how dark it was, you could tell it was Wolfwood as he was lighting up his cigarette. The light from his cigarette highlighted Wolfwood’s calloused hands that carried the heaviest weight. Yet, those same hands were delicate enough to protect the fading embers from the night’s cool breeze. Furthermore, that light highlighted and accentuated his facial features. You never knew how well-sculpted Wolfwood’s face and jawline wer until now. The way his dark brown eyes met your e/c eyes gave you goosebumps. Finally, once he realized it was you, he gave you a small smirk that you knew all too well. Anytime you were with him put you in an irritable mood. Yet, the way he looked at you tonight felt different. His gaze made your heart race, and his smirk made your stomach do cartwheels.

“Fancy seeing you here, Your Highness,” he spoke. When did his voice start to sound so sultry and make your cheeks flush? Was this the same Wolfwood you traveled with that Meryl and Vash were familiar with? 

“Hey, Earth to Y/n? Are you going to answer me? Or let me guess. Cat got your tongue?” Wolfwood asked as he cocked his eyebrow at you. His smirk grew slightly as he asked you those questions. Your head was spiraling, and you needed to act fast.

“As if! You know how I feel about smoking, and you calling me that nickname. It’s so appalling, I can’t think properly,” you argued and pouted at him.

“There’s that feisty spirit of yours. So what brings you here to join me?” he answered with a hearty chuckle. He then blew the smoke away from you as the cold breeze carried it away.

“First off, it was too stuffy inside the bar. Second, I didn’t know you would be out here. So don’t flatter yourself,” you explained. He chuckled again at your response. He then closed the top of his lighter and put it away in his breast pocket. Since when did he have such defined pe-

‘SNAP OUT OF IT Y/N! WHY ARE YOU LOOKING THERE?!’ you screamed internally.

The more you looked at him, the more disoriented you were with your thoughts. You managed to look away and stare at the moon to gather your thoughts. What in the world was happening to you?

“Hey, Y/n,”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

You don’t know why, but you reluctantly looked at him again to see his hand approaching your face. You panicked at what he was planning to do, but you froze at his touch. His fingertips gently brushed your cheek as you held your breath. You couldn’t look away from his eyes as he was focused looking at you. Finally, he pulled his hand away from you as you exhaled away the tension.

“What was that for?” you asked.

“You had a stray eyelash. Make a wish,” Wolfwood answered with a grin as he held it before you. The way the moonlight shined on Wolfwood left you speechless. You were nervous all because he was trying to remove a stray eyelash on you. What has gotten into you? You shook away your thoughts and blew away the eyelash. At least you managed to do that.

“What did you wish for?” he asked.

“I’m not telling you, or else my wish isn’t coming true,” you replied. Then another cold breeze hit you. You regretted not taking a swig of beer to warm you up before leaving.

“Bet you wish you had something warm,” Wolfwood teased as you scoffed. Then you felt something on your shoulders. You turned around to see Wolfwood smoking but with his button-up only.

“You need it more than I do. Hate to see you catch a cold anyway,” he continued talking as you looked at him. He then started walking past you as he put his arms behind his head.

“I’ll be inside taking a shot before calling it a night. You can keep that for tonight. Just make sure to give it back in the morning ‘kay?” Wolfwood added as he winked at you. You didn’t say anything, but nod your head at him. You could feel your cheeks turn a tinge of red as he continued walking.

“Don’t do something I wouldn’t do Y/n,” he waved off without looking at you. You slowly slid down to the ground once he was gone from your peripheral vision. Your knees were close to your chest as you held onto his clothing. It smelled just like him and cigarettes. Your heart raced at the thought of him. 

The way he looked at you. The way his hands carried the Punisher. The way he was always next to you in battle. The way he grinned at you. The way his fingertips touched your cheek. The way he winked at you. The way he spoke to you just now was overwhelming. After being alone in your thoughts, it hit you. Your eyes widened at the realization as your face flushed. Despite no one being around you, you covered your red face with both hands.

“I think I like him,” you said out loud.

@invisible-imaginary​

#wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x y/n #wolfwood x you #trigun reboot #trigun fic #trigun stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun wolfwood #wolfwood #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader #trigun x you #trigun x y/n #miamochi writes

[circle-with-me]

Where Do We Go From Here?

Pairing: Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x ofc (fem reader)

Content Warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, mentions of smut, if i missed anything let me know.

Taglist: @thesazzb, @tearfallpixie, @synthetic-wasp-570, @nerdraging4point0 (thanks to them for cheering me on and dealing with me being a complete psycho as I freaked out over posting this. You're the best)

Author's note: This is the first thing I've ever written, or at least written and shared with multiple people. I don't have a clue what I'm doing but I'm kind of proud of it, so I hope you all enjoy it :)

PART 2

You’ve known Jolly for years. You met him not long after he moved to the area, striking up a conversation in a bar one evening. After hitting it off he had invited you to come watch his band play the following weekend. At first, you thought it was an attempt to get you in bed but when he caught up with you after the show he seemed genuinely interested in your opinion. You couldn’t help but find it adorable how nervous he was waiting for your review of his band’s performance.

As you gave him your very serious but glowing seal of approval, you watched Jolly’s once nervous features transform into pure joy. His infectious smile soon caused you to smile back at him and Jolly picked you up in his arms hugging you tightly. He laughed at you as you squealed from the unexpected bear hug. You spent the rest of the night parked on a cliff eating fast food and talking about anything and everything. You only realize how long you’ve been talking when you see the sun come up.

And then suddenly, Jolly was in your life. He would come over after you got home from work, and you’d make dinner and watch movies. The two of you would spend most weekends together; drinking, going to shows, or being useless couch potatoes. You were friends; best friends, never crossing any lines. Cuddling on the couch was the most “touchy-feely” the two of you would get and even then, Jolly would keep his hand on your upper arm or your head softly playing with your hair. 

It got to the point where the two of you spent so much time together that you questioned whether your friendship was affecting his love life. You had seen him with girls in the past, but they had mostly been one-night stands or short flings. None of them had lasted longer than a couple of months. You tried to make yourself scarce when a new one came along. You figured they didn’t want their boyfriend’s girl best friend hanging around much. Jolly always made a point to hunt you down, though, asking you why you were disappearing on him. 

“I don’t know” you’d say, shrugging. “I’m just trying not to interfere with your love life.” Usually, he’d roll his eyes and tell you to stop being ridiculous, but this time was different. This time when you said it his gaze fell from yours to your lips and back. The action was so quick you could have blinked and missed it. He pulled you into a hug and placed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“Ah, Käraste.” He said quietly into your ear. “You are my love life.”

Then, one night, after a particularly difficult breakup and a little too much to drink he kissed you. Kissing Jolly wasn’t at all what you expected it to be. You didn’t expect it to happen whilst inebriated in a poorly lit alley. You also didn’t expect it to be as soft as it was. You assumed it would be somewhat rough like his calloused hands. Instead, it was gentle and way too quick for your liking. He pulled back and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, staring at the ground. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

You grabbed his chin gently to make him look at you, running your thumb lightly over his bottom lip. Jolly had one arm next to your head as he leaned against the wall behind you watching you intently. With your other hand, you grabbed him by the belt loop of his jeans and pulled him closer to you. He groaned as his hips slotted into yours and he pressed his hardening cock against your core. Your lips crashed together, and it wasn’t long before he had flipped you around against the wall and was fucking into you like it was his only purpose in life.

The rest of the night had been spent in bed with Jolly slowly taking you apart and putting you back together. Over and over again until you both fell asleep, sated and exhausted. 

After that, you were inseparable. More so than before. Things were perfect the first two years, but you never made it to the third. Something had changed, but you weren’t sure what it was. The spark wasn’t there anymore. You both found yourselves spending more and more time apart. He was spending more time working on music and you spent your days on your hobbies and work. Neither of you could pinpoint what caused you to drift apart but after a few months and a lot of fighting, there was no denying that things weren’t getting any better. 

So, you broke up. You were both devastated but couldn’t figure out a better way. Thinking back on it, you could have tried harder, and gone to couple’s therapy. Something other than just giving up, but the damage had been done. Living life completely without Jolly had proved impossible. He kept showing up with food or a terrible movie to watch. You couldn’t resist going to his shows. Old habits die hard. The romance was gone but you were best friends first. That was where you’d settle. Best friends and nothing else. You could still manage that, right?

At least that was what Jolly had planned.

Now, a year after the breakup, he’s sitting in your living room trying to keep his composure. You’ve been with this dipshit a couple of months and seeing you with him makes his skin crawl. He can’t even remember the guy's name. Kyle? Andy? Kody? Something stupid. He just knows that this gangly pathetic excuse of a man is making out with you on the couch less than two feet away from him and he’s ready to implode. 

This evening was supposed to be a group movie night with the guys from the band included but they all bailed for one reason or another. Deep down Jolly knew that the guys were trying to push their friends back together. They had seen how much the breakup had affected Jolly and hoped that by passing on the movie night it would give the two of you some time to reconnect.

Unfortunately, none of them, especially Jolly, knew that you would invite your shit-for-brains boyfriend. 

So now he’s stuck on this couch with the two of you. You’re leaning into Connor’s (Tyler’s?) chest, and he has his arm around you. One hand is resting on the arm of the couch and the other is rubbing the outside of your thigh. 

Jolly tries not to stare, but you’re wearing those fucking shorts. They’re pink satin pajama shorts with a slit at the side seam. He knows you’re not wearing underwear with them either because you never do. He’s fucked you in those shorts so many times he’s lost count, bending you over the nearest surface he could find. Sometimes he’d pull them down over your ass but most of the time he’d just push them to the side and pound into you until you had drenched both the satin material and his cock.

Fuck, he loved those shorts.

You were wearing them on purpose, Jolly figured. You were in a completely different outfit when he arrived at your place earlier in the evening: an oversized t-shirt and black leggings. Your idiot boyfriend showed up right after with pizza and beer and ruined Jolly’s hopes for a quiet evening alone with his best friend. You gave him an apologetic smile as Chris loudly made his way into the living room with dinner.

Chris. That was his fucking name. Still stupid. 

The three of you were eating quietly on the couch. Well, the two of you were. Chris was blabbering endlessly about his day at work. This was the fourth job he’d had since the two of you had started dating a little less than six months ago. He had left everyone because they “didn’t understand him”. Jolly knew that was code for “I fucked around and got fired.” He wondered what the hell was so appealing about this guy.

Chris continued along with his animated storytelling, his voice becoming even louder and more annoying every second. He started to wave his arms around, because how else do you get a point across? As he flailed his arms, he hit the beer bottle you’ve brought to your mouth, barely missing your lips and knocking it out of your hand. 

You stand up abruptly, gasping at the sudden sensation of cold beer in your lap. “Jesus Christ, Chris!” 

Chris just sat there, mouth agape, and laughing. “It’s not funny, you asshole.” Chris continued laughing as Jolly headed to the linen closet to get you a towel. 

“Thanks.” You mumbled quietly as you took the towel. Jolly nodded and sat down, glaring at Chris who was still quietly giggling. You cleaned the excess beer off your pants and the couch with the towel, annoyed at the fact you’ll have to deep clean your cushions later to avoid them reeking of cheap beer. 

“Babe I’m sorry, but that was funny.” Chris finally spoke. Jolly winced at his comment. Wrong thing to say. Both men watched as you slowly turned to meet Chris’ gaze. Jolly had been on the receiving end of that look on more than one occasion and was not envious of the man sitting beside him. 

You threw the now wet towel at Chris’ face. “You’re an idiot that needs to watch what the fuck he’s doing.” You hissed. Chris watched you wide-eyed as you stalked towards the stairs. “W-Where are you going?” He stammered. “I’m not going to sit all night in wet clothes reeking of beer, am I?” 

“Why bother changing? You could just strip here. I’m sure Jolly wouldn’t mind, would you?” He said, laughing and nudging Jolly with his elbow. Jolly started to say something but was interrupted by an object flying and hitting Chris directly on the side of his face. Chris yelped and held a hand to his face looking around wildly searching for the culprit. The object landed on the couch between the two men. Jolly erupted with laughter when he realized you had thrown your flip-flop from the top of the stairs and made perfect contact with your boyfriend's head. 

Suddenly, Jolly is brought back to the present by the sound of you giggling. He glances over to see the two of you had made up as you and Chris were making out. Your back is facing him, so you have no idea that he is currently watching the show. He stifled a groan. He liked it better when you were pissed and throwing things at him. Jolly dares to sneak another glance and watches Chris' hand not so subtly begin to slip into your shorts. He can hear you softly gasping and attempting to hide your moans in Chris’ neck, but he can hear them even over the movie that was playing. While I’m right next to you, are you fucking kidding me?

Jolly considers making a scene, bursting their little love bubble. He couldn’t decide who he was more pissed at, Chris or you. Then, as if he could hear Jolly’s thoughts, Chris made eye contact with him. Fuck. He didn’t realize he was watching again. He refuses to look away in some piss-poor attempt at establishing dominance. He’s the one fingering your girl right in front of you. Pretty sure he has the upper hand here. 

Chris smirks and Jolly breaks eye contact and watches as you begin to pant harder and whine. The noises go straight to his cock, and he has to avoid adjusting himself because he knows Chris is still watching. He can tell by the way you’re breathing that you’re about to cum and all he can do is sit there and watch. He could get up and leave but those pretty little noises you’re making are keeping him glued to his seat. Even if they’re not for him. Jolly watches as you roll your hips into Chris’ hand one last time and you’re seizing in his hands and bury yourself into his neck further to stifle a very loud moan unsuccessfully. 

Jolly mistakenly makes eye contact with Chris again, whose smirk is even bigger than before, and he winks. He could have strangled the motherfucker right there and not felt bad about it, but you love him. He quickly gets up off the couch and stalks to the kitchen because he’s pissed and the tightness in his joggers is getting to be too much. 

He stands in the kitchen trying to calm down. He should just leave. Just get in his car and leave. Later, he could tell you that he got a headache or something and that’s why he left. It had nothing at all to do with the fact that your boyfriend made you cum two feet away from him. No, she would know something was up. As upset as he was, Jolly didn’t want to embarrass her. He sighs and closes his eyes trying to think.

He hears footsteps coming into the kitchen and his eyes fly open thinking Chris was coming to brag in his face. Instead, you walk in, legs still a little wobbly from before. You lock eyes with him and instantly know something is up as his hazel eyes are now a dark brown. He stares intently at you, gripping the kitchen counter in front of him.

“Is everything okay?” you ask quietly, almost afraid of his response. His gaze flickers down your body and back up to your eyes as he licks his lips. You swallow harshly. Jolly hasn’t looked at you like that in over a year. You knew exactly what that look meant, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty at how much it affected you.

He pushes off the counter and in two quick strides has you by the throat and is licking into your mouth. He snakes his other arm around your waist and pulls you into him. You considered protesting but knew it would be a waste of time. Aside from his bruising grip, Jolly was always your weakness. You’d spent a year pretending you didn’t still care about him while also pretending your boyfriend had a chance at satisfying you the way Jolly did. If it was Jolly who had just taken care of you on the couch, you wouldn’t be walking at all. Jolly’s hand releases your throat and slides up into your hair. He pulls away, both of you panting. He stares at you for a moment and says “Tell me you love him. Tell me you love him, and I’ll stop.”

You blink for a moment, confused. Why would he say that now? Was he suddenly feeling guilty like you had been? You startled slightly as you heard your boyfriend laugh loudly at the movie in the living room. He wasn’t bothered by your absence. You continue to stare into Jolly’s eyes, still blown wide with lust but there was something else to them. They were almost pleading. You knew you didn’t love Chris. How could you? He was a placeholder, and you knew it. You couldn’t resist the beautiful Swedish man who had his grip on you, physically and emotionally. You feel his grip loosen slightly and watch his gaze drop. You realize in the time you’ve been considering his statement it appeared to him as if you were afraid to respond, which gave him his answer.

Quickly you grab his face with both of your hands and pull him close to you. Your noses bump and your lips are so close that they would touch with the slightest movement forward. “I don’t.” You breathe, “I don’t love him.” Jolly scans your face for any hint of insincerity. Seeing none his grip on your waist tightens and he sighs. “I can’t stand watching him touch you any longer. I can’t stand that he thinks you belong to him.” You tilt your head to the side slightly, pushing the hair out of his beautiful face and smile. “Then why don’t you show me who I belong to?”

#joakim jolly karlsson #joakim karlsson #jolly karlsson #jolly karlsson x reader #jolly karlsson fic #jolly karlsson x ofc #jolly karlsson fanfiction #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens band

[c-rowlesdraws]

what don't you like about made in abyss? (don't worry I've never heard of it so I'm not invested in disagreeing with you)

you can read my other recent replies to people on this very blog for more of an idea, but I also made a few posts in the past that you should be able to find in my “made in abyss” tag— grabbing the links is a bit annoying on mobile but I’ll try to edit this post with some. It’s hard to explain why I don’t like it without also explaining why I wanted to like it, and I feel like I’ve explained that more eloquently in the past, but I’ll give it another shot here.

It’s a story that, like the titular abyss itself, lured me in with wildly creative worldbuilding and a fascinating mystery: a town is built around the rim of an enormous, apparently-bottomless hole in the ground filled with magical treasures and strange animals, and explorers called “delvers” get down in there for fame and fortune and scientific curiosity. The pit grows more and more dangerous the deeper you go, because of increasingly hostile terrain and wildlife but also because of supernatural properties that make ascent increasingly painful and dangerous. The deepest levels of the pit are shrouded in myth and mystery, because the few humans who have delved that deep invariably die attempting to return.

This is the abyss that swallows up the two young heroes of the story: twelve-year-old Riko, whose legendary Delver mother went missing at depth when Riko was a baby, and Reg, a strange amnesiac cyborg boy who was found by Riko on the edge of the pit. They befriend each other and together Get Down Into That Thang to solve the mysteries of Riko’s mom’s disappearance, Reg’s origins, and the very nature of the abyss itself.

It could have been SO good. But the mangaka has a lot of awkward-to-upsetting fetishes and he super likes drawing them into the story, to the point where I decided a ways in that it just wasn’t worth reading anymore for me personally. Everyone has their own threshholds for objectionable content and I hit mine. But every time I see news about a development in the story (both the manga and anime are ongoing), I’m reminded of how incredibly cool and beautiful some aspects of the story are, and how much fun I could have had following it if the majority very young cast just.. didn’t get mutilated or naked or put in sexually suggestive situations so often.

But the manga and the show are both, it has to be said, incredibly successful, so a lot of other people just have their personal comfort threshholds in different places than mine and that’s how life is. But in my opinion the sexual and voyeuristic gore aspects (and I love me some gore!! But not like this!) give the whole story bad enough vibes that I wouldn’t recommend it or watch/read much more of it than I already have.

#catie talks #ask #made in abyss #made in abyss negativity