#and he lost them all in the blink of an eye

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 62

part 1 | part 61 | ao3

cw: violence, off-hand mentions of drug use

Light bleeds through the cracks in the boathouse walls. Max is the one who found it, spotted the glowing bulb over the door and called them down the slope behind the house to check it out, and now Steve leads the group inside and clings to his nail bat in a way he hopes is reassuring but is probably just putting everyone else on edge. 

Can’t really be helped, though. 

Place gives him the creeps. 

It's dark and dank, overwhelmingly humid, with a smell like mildew and old food over a layer of fear sweat, and the wood groans beneath their feet while the walls sway with the breeze. Makes it feel like the room is breathing, like they're standing inside of a haunted lung. 

Steve braces himself in the middle of the room, head on a swivel while the group fans out around the edges, dipping in and out of shadow. Dustin calls for Eddie. Max checks the latch on a window. Robin points her flashlight at a pile of food wrappers and says, "This looks new." 

Steve flexes his fingers on the bat; picks up an oar, too, just to be safe.

"What?" Dustin snorts. "You gonna dual-wield against your boyfriend?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "He's not my—"

"—Ex-boyfriend, then, whatever. Still can't believe you never told me about that." 

“Okay,” Steve huffs. Dustin’s grumpy muttering sounds more hurt than he’s letting on, but he’s letting on plenty, and Steve’s too keyed up to do this right now. “Can we just—” He gestures around the room with the oar to illustrate how completely not the time for this it is. “Can we not?" 

"No,” Dustin protests, voice rising, “no, we can't not, Steve, because you—" He steps into Steve’s space, jabbing a finger against his sternum and backing him up to the edge of a tarp-covered boat. "—are a liar. You have been lying to me for months! And now it looks like you're gearing up to try and bludgeon my good friend with two blunt objects!" 

"Shut up!” Steve snaps. He takes a deep breath; lifts the blunt objects in question, giving them a little shake. “First of all, it's not the boyfriend I'm worried about using these on, and secondly—"

He doesn't get to finish that sentence. 

He doesn’t get to plant his feet.

With a noise like a war cry, something blue blurs at the edge of Steve’s periphery and launches him across the room, shoving him backward over tarps and tackle boxes until his back slams against the wall and knocks the wind out of him, and his skull smacks the wood and sets off a snow storm in his vision — muffled ringing in his ears, tornado warning wailing through a thick layer of cotton. Steve’s friends are all shouting, and there’s something sharp against his throat, and someone is barking questions at him; hot, stale breath over his chin; a fist balled up in the front of his shirt. 

“Are you real?” the voice demands, hand twisting in Steve’s collar and tugging him against the sharp thing. “ARE YOU REAL?”

Steve blinks. Blinks and sways into the sharp sting beneath his jaw until the dizzy spell ends.

The scene before him comes into focus slowly.

Steve thinks, for the millionth time that day, that he must be losing his mind. That he must have lost it already.

The blurry, shouting thing is Eddie. Eddie, who is glassy-eyed and drooling like a wild animal, who is pinning Steve to a splintered wall with a shattered bottle to his throat; whose face floods Steve with such intensely euphoric relief that he thinks he finally gets why people do hard drugs.

Even now, even like this, the only thought in Steve’s head is how lovely Eddie's face is.

How grateful he is to see it again, even if it might be the last thing he ever sees.

Beside them, Dustin speaks in low, placating tones, holding out his hands and encouraging Eddie to back off. Promising that Steve’s not gonna hurt him, that they’re all just here to help as Eddie’s eyes slip over and past Steve and his body tenses for the kill.

“Not real, not real, not real,” Eddie mumbles, spit shining on his shaking lip.

The bottle knicks Steve’s skin. 

“Eddie!” Dustin begs. Max and Robin's eyes are huge. And Steve—

Steve laughs. A soft, hysterical thing, barely voiced, because of course Eddie’s going to kill him. Of course he is.

He’s already been doing it for weeks. 

"What happened to your knife?" he jokes wetly, tipping his head back to bare his throat.

The question snaps Eddie back to himself. Steve watches from under his damp lashes as Eddie's eyes sharpen on him, darting all over his face with sudden, painful awareness, with something dangerously close to hope.

The hand holding the bottle trembles. "...Baby?" Eddie whispers, wet eyes searching still.

Steve holds his gaze. Nods against the jagged edge.

Glass shatters on the floor as Eddie collapses into him.

—

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #max mayfield #my writing #my fic

[subskz]

multitasking - s.cb

content: sub changbin, dom reader, pegging, lots of teasing, slight dumbification, binnie cries a little, male squirting, praise, handjob, female reader

word count: 4.5k

“One, two, three. One, two, three. Just like that, okay?”

Changbin’s breath came out in shudders, so noisy that you wondered if he could even hear you over them. Judging by his scrunched up nose and furrowed eyebrows coming together to form an adorable look of concentration, you doubted it. He was focused on one thing and one thing only.

“Binnie,” you sang. “Are you listening to me?”

Just to make sure you had his full attention, you brought the steady roll of your hips to a halt, keeping your strap buried inside him, but denying him the friction that had wiped all coherent thoughts from his brain. His body rocked for a few seconds more even after you’d stopped, operating purely off muscle memory. Then, it turned into squirming, hips twisting helplessly in the sheets to try and regain the buildup of pleasure he’d suddenly lost. You watched him wiggle around, half-amused, half-endeared as he finally blinked his hazy eyes open to process what was going on. 

“Mm?” he mumbled; drowsy, like he’d been stirred from a dream. “S-sorry? I didn’t…”

His gaze fully refocused to find you smiling down at him. On your end, you could’ve sworn his pupils dilated just a little bit more, painting his irises black and glazing them over. They looked so innocent, you’d never guess what he was really pleading for.

“I said,” you began playfully, running your palms up his twitching thighs just to tease him. They felt especially thick under your touch with all the tension they were holding, you couldn’t resist digging your nails into his flesh, hard enough to leave crescent-shaped indents behind. The tight clench of his muscles was almost as satisfying as the sweet little gasp he let out. “Are you listening to me?”

Changbin swallowed down the saliva that had begun pooling in his mouth, sucking in a deep breath to find his voice again. “O-oh, yeah.” He shifted on the mattress to inch himself closer to you, as if your strap didn’t already have him filled to the near brim. “Yeah, listening. Sorry.”

“What number are we on, baby?”

He paused, doll-like lips curving deep into a pout. It was almost cute enough for you to let him off easy—almost.

“I…I don’t—” he chuckled nervously, eyes flickering to the side. “F-four?” You shook your head. “Five?”

You could tell he was growing restless, even when he was doing his best to behave himself. His dick twitched against his stomach, crying out for you to just forget about the count and start thrusting into him again. All the blood in his system must’ve pooled hot in his abdomen by now, you couldn’t even blame him for not being able to think straight. 

“S-sorry, I really can’t remember,” he stuttered, embarrassed. “Again?”

It was the second or third time Changbin had lost track by now, and he once again found himself cursing the second he’d ever let his pride rope him into this tortuous little game you’d proposed. He’d never been one to back down from a challenge, even if it was a challenge that you both knew full well he’d fail miserably at. That, combined with his insatiable need to impress you clouding his better judgment, had him playing right into your hands.

“I can multitask!” he’d protested. “Do you know how much work it takes to be this cute and sexy at the same time?”

“So much work,” you’d agreed solemnly, trying not to crack a smile over the defensive squeak in his voice. “Then this should be no problem for you, right?” 

From the moment you’d first bottomed out inside him, Changbin had gotten the sense that he’d already lost.

“I’m trying to help you, baby,” you pouted down at him. His eyes fluttered shut as you dragged your index finger along his plump, wet lips, mesmerized with the cute popping sound they made every time you prodded at them. “If you’re too dumb to count by yourself, just repeat after me.”

“N-no, Binnie’s smart,” he insisted, muffled by your finger. His legs squeezed around your waist like they had a mind of their own, trying to rub against each other and generate some friction. “Not dumb. I can do it, lemme do it.”

“Yeah? Let’s try and make it past three this time.” You gave his cheek an affectionate pat. A shiver ran through his body as your hands glided down to his hips, gripping his soft flesh to stabilize yourself before inching out of him bit by bit. 

Immediately, Changbin’s attempt at counting was cut off by his own whine, stretching out for every second the silicone dragged along his walls. Then, you heard it, shaky and breathless as you pushed back inside him.

“O-one.”

His stomach rose sharply under your palms as you pulled out a second time. Before you’d even snapped your hips forward again, he gasped out a “two”, all too eagerly. You giggled, waiting a few extra seconds just to test his patience 

“Two,” he repeated with a tinge of desperation. He looked lost, like he was genuinely wondering if he’d already managed to mess up the order somehow.

You felt a tinge of pity; he really was trying his hardest for you. So, you followed through, deciding to take it slow this time so he actually stood a chance in counting your thrusts. His foggy brain was grateful for it, but his body, not so much. 

“Th-three—ah. Three. Faster, please?” he barely got the words out in time before he felt that delicious stretch again, coaxing an especially high moan. “F-four.”

You could practically taste the hunger rolling off his skin in warm waves. Every needy noise that grew louder his throat, every jerk of his hips begged you for more, even if he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up with it. His teeth sank into his bottom lip when you pushed back inside of him without missing a beat—faster, just like he’d asked for, and as deep as your position would allow. You dragged your hands up and down his stomach in unison with the slide of your strap; such a simple touch, but enough to disrupt his concentration all over again. 

“Fi—” he began. His voice failed him, cracking pitifully as you grabbed his bouncing chest at the very same instant you brushed against his sweet spot, digging your fingers hard into the plush skin. “F…f-fi…fuck.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head back against the pillows as his resolve fully crumbled. The sensation of your palms pressing against his nipples was already dizzying enough, but once you took the hardened buds between your fingers and pinched, he was a complete goner. He made no effort to keep counting even when you didn’t stop rocking your hips, instead letting his mouth hang open uselessly, spilling out another long, shameless moan that made goosebumps rise on your skin. Just a few strokes in, and he was already so far gone.

You let him get away with it for a bit longer, taking the time to admire his dark, messy curls sprawled out against the white pillowcase, even fluffier than usual from all his tossing and turning. Everything about him was so soft. His pecs spilled out between your fingers as you pawed at them, his full cheeks were flushed red and his lips were swollen into a cute, puffy ring after how much he’d nibbled on them. It took all your willpower to not give in to the irresistible sight and keep pounding into him until his head really was too empty to think anymore. 

“So pretty, Binnie. Wanna keep you like this forever,” you murmured. You could feel his heartbeat pick up over the praise, pulsing faster under your palms. Then, all at once, you forced your hips to stop and snapped him out of his daze yet again. “But a pretty boy like you still needs to listen.”

“M-mmph,” he mewled. His body chased after your touch, protesting the loss before he even fully realized what was going on. “N-no. Sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t stop, please?”

“I only stop when you stop.” Your hum was deceptively sympathetic as you watched him fist the sheets in frustration, biceps bulging and chest heaving. His throat bobbed as you closed his slack jaw and tilted his chin up, brushing your thumb delicately over his tiny scar to urge him to look at you. “What’s got you so distracted, hm? What’s on my baby’s mind?”

He forced his eyes open again, so dark that you could see yourself reflected in them clear as day. They gave you your answer before he even said it. 

“You,” he breathed. It was a reply he’d normally be proud of, but with the way you were staring him down from above, he couldn’t stop a sheepish giggle from rising in his throat, lips twitching at their corners and cheeks bunching up.

“Me?” you echoed. “Or this?”

You slid your strap back inside him in one sharp thrust, angling it so that the tip rolled against the roof of his walls and hit his prostate perfectly. He cried out as if on command, high-pitched and sweet. “Ah! Yes, r-right there.”

Even your own rules were becoming less convincing of a reason to deny him when you knew those were the kinds of sounds you’d be missing out on. But you were on a mission, today; teaching Changbin how to multitask, or, toying with his body until he couldn’t take it anymore—whichever came first.

“There’s my answer.” You feigned disappointment, flattening your palm against his stomach and pressing down right around where you guessed the head of your strap had reached inside him. “All you care about is being filled up, huh, baby?”

“N-no, no.” His hand pawed around blindly in the sheets for a moment before he found you, grabbing on to your wrist and pushing your hand harder against the soft pudge of his tummy. You weren’t sure if he’d done it just to gain some kind of stimulation, or because he was just aching to be as close to you as physically possible, but to his credit, he forced himself not to lose his train of thought even as the sensation had his eyes rolling back.

“Binnie’s a good boy. ‘M only like this ‘cause of you. I need you, please.”

He was right; he was such a good boy. He could forget how to count, forget how to close his mouth, forget how to listen, but he’d never ever forget how to say please. That was something you didn’t have to teach him. Still, you didn’t give him what he wanted just yet, instead tracing gentle patterns on his skin, just above where his cock was leaking out tiny drops of precum. It took a few moments for him to connect the dots, but finally, he rasped out the word you were looking for.

“Four…n-no, wait, it was five,” he stammered. “Please, don’t stop, please?”

“Good boy,” you cooed. Grabbing hold of his thighs, you used all your strength to pull your bodies closer together, lifting his legs and settling them around your waist for easier access. A cute, flustered giggle escaped him as he scooted down the mattress, melting into a sigh of pleasure when you were able to nestle your strap even deeper inside him than before.

His fingers sank into the sheets, gripping them so tight that you could see the muscles in his forearms flexing. “S-six,” he gritted out. “M-mm, feels so good. More, please, more.”

The sound of skin on skin began to fill the room as you finally picked up your pace like Changbin had been begging for. You made every stroke count; deep and heavy, pulling out until just the head of your strap was left teasing his entrance, then sliding all the way back inside until your hips smacked against the back of his thighs. The new position immediately took a toll on him, you could tell by the growing lapse in his counting. Every time you left his walls fluttering around nothing, it took a few seconds before he remembered to call out the next number, just so he could feel the relief of you burying the toy inside him again.

“Nine,” he gasped. The building pressure in his core drained his concentration little by little, making for an adorable show of reactions for you the more his self-control slipped. Every pretty sound he made rang out in the thick, hot air around you, unrestrained and heavenly. Your gaze fell from his blissed out face to where his dick laid half-hard against his stomach, bouncing from the impact of your movements. It gave you an idea. 

Changbin choked on his next number as you brought your hand to his head, scooping up the tiny beads of precum and curling your fingers around it. You felt him swell in your grip almost instantly, and when you began to pump his cock along with your thrusts, he fully throbbed in your hands with a fresh wave of heat.

“El-elev—ngh,” he slurred out, barely intelligible. “Three…four. No, t-ten.”

“Four? Ten?” you mimicked. “That’s not right, baby. Try again.”

You swirled your thumb around his leaking tip, effectively fizzling out the last of his thoughts. It was hopeless; the strokes of your hand were mixing up with the pump of your strap, muddling his everything together until he couldn’t distinguish between the pleasure. “Six…n-no, ah. Good, so good. I c-can’t—”

“You usually listen so well, Binnie,” you frowned. “What happened to my good boy?”

Changbin bit down on his bottom lip, so hard that you worried his cute little fang might dig deep enough to split the plush skin. You timed your thrusts seamlessly with the rhythm of your hand, sinking down on his cock as you pulled out of him, and gliding back up his length as you bottomed out again.

“Y-your hand,” he whimpered. “It’s confusing me, I can’t…feels too good.”

“Should I stop touching you, then?”

You released him from your grip, letting his dick fall against his stomach to twitch over the loss. His hips surged up in protest, a soft whine spilling out of him and growing even louder when you pulled your strap out of him in one fluid motion, leaving his walls clenching wildly for you.

“No, no,” he groaned, locking his ankles around your waist to try and bring you closer. “Please, ‘m so close. Please.”

Taking the silicone into your hand, you lined it up with his entrance, pressing the tip just hard enough against him to add an exhilarating pressure. His reaction didn’t disappoint; a full-body shudder, rippling through his muscular thighs, making his chest jump and his biceps tighten.

“You want it, baby?” you asked sweetly, circling the head of the toy around his rim. 

“Yes, yes, please.” The way he rolled his body was nothing short of sinful, you almost gave in right there. His tiny grunts of frustration only grew the more your strap prodded at his hole, teasing the sensitive nerve-endings without giving him the satisfaction of slipping back inside. “Please, b-been so good. Give it to me, please.”

“I know, baby.” You inched the toy away before he could get any real stimulation out of it, brushing its slick tip against his inner thighs in a playful taunt. “Just tell me where we left off, and I’ll fuck you like a good boy.”

Changbin shot you a look of pure helplessness, eyebrows scrunching in dismay as it dawned on him what you wanted.

“I-I…I don’t remember,” he mumbled, not even trying to muster up a guess before he surrendered. “I got it all mixed up, I can’t—”

“I thought Binnie was smart?” 

He squeaked in protest as you pulled your strap completely away with a click of your tongue. “I am! I a-am. Again, please? I’ll try again.”

It wouldn’t make a difference, he knew that as well as you did. But he said it anyway, as a last resort—anything to feel you stretching him out again, anything to hear you whisper honeyed praises into his ear as he fell apart for you.

“You’re hopeless, baby,” you murmured, brushing back his fluffy bangs to reveal his eyes. They were wide as moons, full of desperation and welling up with tears at their corners.

“Please.” The droplets spilled over before he could blink them away. You softened as they trickled down his flushed cheeks, darkening his eyelashes and glazing over his pupils. 

“You’re crying?” Gently, you cupped his face to soothe him. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin as you wiped away his stray tears, only for new ones to take their place again. “You want it that bad, angel?”

The wet gleam in his eyes spoke for itself, but still, he managed a tiny nod. 

“You look so pretty like this,” you marveled, rubbing the pad of your thumb under his eye to scoop up another bead trailing down his face.

Despite himself, Changbin perked up over your words. “Pretty?” he sniffled.

“Mm.” A mix of lube and tears smeared his skin as you tilted his chin up, looking him straight in his eyes to admire the fresh droplets gathering at their edges. They caught the light like rhinestones, a visual captivating enough for you to give him anything his heart desired in that moment. “Beautiful boy. My pretty little crybaby.”

Changbin’s nose scrunched up, a shy, downturned smile tugging at his lips. He knew there was a condescending hint to your words, but when they were spoken so sweetly, when you called him pretty in that voice—when you called him yours in that voice—he could do nothing but melt.

“Seriously. Don’t you like me too much?” He pawed your hand away in embarrassment, but you didn’t miss how his face lit up, visibly yearning for more compliments, for your approval. 

You let out a fond hum. Just like that, you’d found the key to keeping him motivated. He sucked in a sharp breath of surprise as you took hold of your strap, realigning it with his entrance.

“Let’s try again.” You tapped the head of the toy against his rim, just to bask in the way it made him wriggle in the sheets. “Show me how good you are, baby.”

He nodded again, still timid, but revitalized by your encouragement. His lips puckered into a cute little rosebud for you, and with a soft giggle, you took the hint, leaning down to press them against yours. The wet trails on his cheeks cooled your skin as you kissed him, slowly, dragging your lips past the corner of his mouth to kiss away away his tears, too. His shaky sigh fanned out around you, warm and feather-light as you sank back into him, all the way to the hilt of your strap. 

“One.”

You rested one hand on the mattress, bringing the other back to his dripping cock. It was still fully hard even after being neglected so long, jerking gratefully in your palm as you began to stroke it again.

“Two. Th—mm—three.”

“That’s my boy,” you praised. “I know you can do it for me.”

You matched the rock of your hips with the glide of your hand, just as you’d been doing before. It immediately took effect on Changbin, slurring his speech and making his face scrunch up. But he kept trying for you.

“Four…ah, please.”

“Good boy. Keep it up, okay?” You rolled your strap against his sweet spot, teasing it repeatedly with the curved silicone tip before pulling out again. 

“Five. F-five, again, please.”

You indulged him. “Doing so well for me, Binnie,” you crooned, swiping your thumb over his swollen head and making his hips buck. “My smart boy. My good boy.” 

“Mm, mm. Binnie’s smart. Your s-smart boy,” he agreed. He was so simple; spurred on by your doting, even as that familiar, hot coil in his abdomen started nipping at the edges of his mind again. “Your g’boy…ngh. So good.”

More tears trickled from the corners of his eyes as he squeezed them shut, trying to get ahold of his thoughts long enough to get out the next number. You were being so patient with him, so kind to him, he had to do his best for you. 

“Six,” he whimpered. A new wave of droplets spilled over, this time, because the pleasure was growing too strong to bear. You picked up your pace as you drank in the addictive sight; his clenching stomach, tear-stained face, his bulging muscles grasping at the sheets. He deserved it when he took it all so well and looked so good doing it. 

“Seven, eight—close! I c-can’t—!”

“Almost there, baby. Just a little more,” you encouraged him. “You’re so perfect like this. Don’t you wanna show me how pretty you look when you cum for me?”

His dick stiffened in your hand, both over your words and the way you wrapped your palm around its sticky tip. The squelching noise that each roll of your hand created started to mess with his head again, distracting him from his count.

“Eight…e-eight—ah, please. Please, please, please. ‘M gonna—”

“C’mon Binnie, you’re so close. Don’t give up now.”

“Ten, n-no, nine? Nine—?”

He clenched his jaw, hips surging up and walls tightening around your strap like he was afraid you might pull out at any moment. It was useless. No matter how desperately he tried to concentrate, the pressure in his stomach consumed everything else, emptying his mind a little more each time you filled him up. “S-sorry, ‘m sorry. It’s so good, t-too good.”

“I know, baby,” you purred, sensing that he’d reached his limit. “It’s okay, let it all out for me.”

Changbin’s words melted into moans again as you thrust into him with more force, giving him no chance to brace himself for each dizzying stroke, let alone keep track of them anymore. He wasn’t sure if it was because of how tortuously long the buildup to his climax had been, but the sensation creeping up on him felt more intense than usual, like a dam of water waiting to break. Everything felt amplified—the drag of the silicone along his ridges, the sensitivity of his nerve-endings at every point of contact, the dancing of your fingers around his cock—it was all dialed up to a hundred.

You thumbed at his leaking slit, unprepared for just how powerful of a reaction it’d elicit from him. He stiffened beneath you as a jolt of pleasure shot straight to his core, breaking the dam loose all at once.

Changbin’s broken sob sent a shiver down your spine. He arched his back off the mattress as his orgasm racked his body, spurting his release against the pad of your thumb. You stopped rocking your hips to admire him, completely taken by the sight unfolding before you. His cock pulsed in your hand with every wave of pleasure that passed through him, spraying out more cum than you’d ever seen before. It was noticeably different from the sticky white ropes you were used to—watery and messy. The streams splattered against his contracting stomach, glazing his skin with a translucent layer of fluid and coating your hand in the process.

He was panting by the time the last few drops of his release spilled from his aching head. Even as it dribbled down his hips and sank into the sheets underneath him, he didn’t quite understand what had happened, far too preoccupied with the tiny aftershocks rippling through his body. 

Your fingers uncurled from his dick, letting it fall limply against his ruined stomach. He flinched as you ran your hand over his soft, soaked flesh, still hypersensitive after the climax that had shaken him more intensely than either of you bargained for. 

“Look at that, baby,” you marveled, holding up your dripping fingers for him to see. “Your dick’s crying, too.”

Changbin’s eyes fluttered open, shiny with residual teardrops. They widened when he registered why his skin felt so wet, why the bed beneath him felt so sticky and warm, and why his muscles felt deliciously sore, like when he stretched them after a good workout. His cheeks flushed beet red, legs squeezing around your waist in a pointless attempt to cover himself.

“Oh my God. I c-can’t believe—” His face was hot with shame as he buried it into his palms, muffling a noise that sounded something between a giggle and a miserable wail. “I didn’t mean to. W-wait, don’t look, please.”

His babbling trailed off when you stroked his stomach, a gentle touch that masked how fast your heart was still racing over the effect you’d had on his body. You wanted to make it happen again.

“That was intense,” you murmured. “Are you okay, Binnie?”

He couldn’t find the courage in him to reply, too mortified to face you after making such a wreck of himself, too dazed to string a proper sentence together. All he could manage was peeking out shyly between his fingers.

You rested your hands over his to tug them away from his eyes and get a look at him. A soft objection rumbled in his throat, but he let you, anyway, mustering all his self-control to not shove his face in the pillows and hide away from your stare.

“M okay,” he reassured you quietly. 

“Felt good?”

“Good,” he mumbled. “Too good. Wh-what did you do?”

“Ask yourself that, baby,” you drawled. Changbin shivered as you gave his hips a squeeze, an embarrassing mewl slipping past his lips when he clenched around your strap reflexively and realized it was still nestled deep inside him. “Look at the pretty little mess you made for me.”

Changbin let out another low whine. He gave up on maintaining eye contact, turning his head to squish his heated cheeks against the pillow. “Binnie’s shy.”

“You’re so cute.” You ran your fingers through his messy curls to ease his mind, relieved when you felt some of his tension relieve under your touch. “Do you have any idea how hot that was?” 

Your words seemed to snap him back to his senses, clearing the fog in his head and reminding him of how he’d even reached this point in the first place. He made a tiny grunt of effort as he scrambled to prop himself up on his unsteady elbows, eyes widening with guilt. When he spoke, his voice was shot, edged with a delicious rasp after how much he’d strained it.

“I…” he giggled nervously. “I-I lost count again.”

You puffed out a light laugh of your own. Even you had completely forgotten about keeping track of your thrusts after watching Changbin fall apart so beautifully for you. Your little experiment may not have worked out, but you were far more interested in the outcome, anyway.

“Guess we’ll just have to keep practicing, yeah? Until we find out how many it takes for you to cum for me like that again.” 

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!changbin #changbin smut #skz x reader #changbin x reader #dom!reader #seo changbin smut

[swordsandholly]

Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #cod x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #ghost x reader #cod #ghoap x reader #ghoap #ghostsoap #plus size reader #fat reader #reader insert #slow burn #reader has pots #soapghost x reader #johnny soap mactavish #simon x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #I’m so pumped for the next chapter you have no fucking clue babes

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Spinoff: Elysian

Pairing: Doctor/Mafia!Kim Seokjin x Intern!Reader 

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: if this ain't the most unserious hiatus ever XD

Masterlist, Part IV of __

“If you know in one glimpse it’s legendary…what we thought was for all time was momentary…”

You tilted your head to the side as you watched the young man mumbled the lyrics to a song, his head resting on his forearm on the table. He was holding the glass of soju on his other. His voice had a certain melodic tone in it, and you were certain that he could be a singer had he wanted to. But now, he was a man that was too drunk to sit straight.

“Still alive killing time at the cemetery. Never quite buried…”

You blinked from your seat across him before turning to the doctor beside you who was busy grilling meat. Kim Seokjin appeared to not be bothered by how his brother was acting, only flashing you a smile when he saw you looking at him. He added another one on the pile of grilled meat he kept on placing on your plate. Meanwhile, Jungkook’s was almost gone and Seokjin still prioritized your plate over his.

You leaned closer, your voice barely a whisper amidst the din of the restaurant. "Is he going to be okay?" you asked, your gaze never leaving Jungkook's slouched form as he continued to sing. The noise inside the tented restaurant made it harder for him to hear you. It was like he wasn’t thinking too hard for the first time since you came barging in his life as he leaned down his head to hear you, his ear almost touching your lips from his proximity.

This seemed right, he thought, to be near you. It was like he was finally following his urges, letting his control slip for just a little for you.

And for the second time that night, your heart beat so loud it was a miracle that he couldn’t hear it, or that you didn’t go into cardiac arrest.

“Hmm?”

You cleared your throat before repeating your question. “He’s singing Taylor Swift’s new song. The album only came out this morning and it seems like he already memorized it…Is he okay?”

Seokjin looked up to watch his brokenhearted brother who was now unstealthily stealing meat from your plate, unaware of both your eyes on him. “Talking rings and talking cradles………I wish I could unrecall-“

Jungkook sniffed before eating the meat. It would have been hilarious to watch the tears falling from his eyes as he chewed, except that he looked like a child that was abandoned by the way his lips were pouted. The tattoos and the lip piercing did nothing to make him less endearing. You thought he was really just a charming person. But now he was just sad, as though he lost something he could never get back.

“-how we almost had it all.”

And then cue the endless tears.

Seokjin sighed, his eyes trained on the younger man he claimed to have raised on his own since he was thirteen. It was rare to see him cry. He always toughed it out, always had this innate need to prove himself to his older brothers despite the repeated assurance they gave him that they were tough so he wouldn’t need to. But he was stubborn. And in turn, he became a hardened man, a no-nonsense CEO and a violent leader of the underworld.

Well, until he married her. Suddenly, the sun seemed to have finally shone on his world. Seokjin could remember how happy and giddy Jungkook looked when he put the ring on her finger. He could remember how excited he was to come home to her everyday, even going as far as telling them how wonderful she was, or that cute thing she did for him, or how her cooking was the best he ever had.

Spoiler alert, though, she was the worst cook. She didn’t know that there was a distinct difference between a sugar and a salt, and no, just because they looked the same didn’t mean that they tasted the same.

See what love did to Jeon Jungkook, the pickiest person when it came to food?

Well, until she left.

“It’s not his birthday today,” Seokjin finally answered. “And eat. You’re far too thin.”

“Excuse me! I’m not!”

“Uhuh,” he said as he rolled his eyes. “Are you even eating three times a day?”

“Wh- well. N-no! Who has the time?” you sputtered, cheeks warming up from the attention you were getting from him.

He raised his brows at that before pointedly looking at your plate, making a mental note to ensure that your schedule from now on wouldn’t be so tight that you forgot to eat. Or better yet, he would personally visit the head of your department to berate him for not ensuring your well-being!

“And what do you mean that it’s not his birthday?”

 “It’s his wedding anniversary today.”

Huh? Your eyes automatically went to his ring finger, only to find a tattoo that you didn’t notice before. It was a name. You thought that he must have been so in love to have permanently etched his wife’s name on his skin. However, another question popped in your mind.

“Then why is he here instead of with her?”

“She left her more than a year ago. He doesn’t know where she is right now.”

Your heart went out to the young man. He seemed to be so heartbroken evident from his tears and the sadness in his doe eyes. He was too young to be this sad, you thought. Seokjin’s eyes were on you as you looked at Jungkook. You were so soft, he thought. You wore your emotions on your sleeves, genuine concern etched on your face and he couldn’t help but marvel at your capacity for compassion despite only meeting him today.

“That’s so sad. No wonder he’s crying his heart out,” you mumbled, reaching out to pat the younger man’s broad back in display of silent support. “I don’t know how anyone can carry it.”

He nodded, “I don’t think I’ll ever have to know.”

You blinked owlishly at his statement. And when you turned to him, his eyes were dark. He was now looking at the glass of soju, twirling the liquid contents slowly.

“Why?” you asked what you shouldn’t have.

He smirked before drinking. His movements were languid before turning his dark and cold eyes to you. “Because, sunshine, I don’t think I have it in me to allow my wife to leave me.”

That should have been your first warning.

And to Kim Seokjin, that was his first warning to himself.

---

He didn’t avoid you. No.

But for the following week, he was distant. He smiled at you when he saw you, but other than that, he did not engage. He greeted you when you greeted him, but other than that, he claimed to have an urgent appointment every time.

See, one step forward was two steps backward when it came to him, you thought. And perhaps, it was for the better. Had this progressed beyond a harmless crush, you would have been hurt. You would only bring him down with you. So for the next days, you threw yourself at work, saying yes to whatever assistance your colleagues needed, even going as far as offering your help to their research.

What? It was an overtime which equated to overtime pay!

That was what you reasoned to yourself, and nope, it was not because you were avoiding excess time to think about that handsome doctor.

Perhaps, what deviated in your work was the amount of free meals the department was getting. It even came to the point was when you didn’t go out of the office for lunch, the department head himself went in and demanded you to eat. You were confused as you followed him out and wondered why he looked a bit terrified. Other than that, you week was calm.

This was good, you convinced yourself as you waited in line for your turn to order, less time with him meant that whatever crush you had for him would die a natural death. You certainly weren’t hurt that your last interaction meant nothing to him when he claimed to have wanted you there with him. You nodded to yourself as you thought that Seokjin looked like a walking heartbreak just waiting to happen.

“Come on, just admit you like her! Why else would you reallocate the budget to cater the food for their department?!”

Seokjin rolled his eyes at his Doctor Seong-min and his obnoxious voice. The two doctors decided to step out for the afternoon to grab a decent coffee. He shifted impatiently in line, silently willing the people ahead him to order faster so he could physically separate himself from his colleague and escape the conversation. He had yet to forgive him for almost getting the coffee his sunshine got for him.

Wait, what?!

His?

See, this was why he needed coffee!

“I heard our branch in the far province desperately needs a resident surgeon. Maybe you want to transfer there?” he asked quietly, the tone of threat not even hidden as he smiled at the man. The mention of transferring to a far-flung province was a thinly veiled threat, one that Seong-min knew Seokjin was all too capable of carrying out if pushed far enough.

“Damn, dude. Chill. If you don’t like her, just say so. I’m just 307% sure that you do-“

“We can’t have doctors that are bad at math! What do you mean 307%?!-“

“Oh, is it 400% now?” he blinked innocently at the man who was berating him, his voice increasing and his ears reddening from his emotions. It was fun to see him like this, Seong-min noted. He was always calm and collected even in the face of emergencies. Seokjin seemed to always know what to do in every situation, and now, one mention of your name and he became like this.

With a forced smile, Seokjin turned to face Seong-min, his voice low and tinged with frustration. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, though the denial rang hollow even to his own ears.

Seong-min merely chuckled, unfazed by Seokjin's attempt at deflection. "Come on, Jin. It's written all over your face," he teased, leaning in closer as if sharing a secret. "You can't fool me.”

He glared at him and Seong-min felt a shiver down his spine as though he was facing a dangerous person and not the peace-loving and hardworking doctor he knew since they were in university. “Fine! I just asked because my friend saw Doctor Y/N and asked me to set her up with him! I was just being a good friend to you-“

What?

See, the mention of another man was what finally pushed him to the very edge and he could feel the fragile sanity of his breaking. However, what he didn’t expect from his genius brain was stupidity.

“Seong-min, are you even using your brain? Why would I, the perfect and genius Doctor Kim Seokjin, ever like someone as bland as her? I have taste. And she could never reach my taste in women. She’s not the same stature as me. She’s so far below me that it’s embarrassing to even insinuate that I feel something for her. Besides, I only entertain her because she’s funny-“

Seong-min’s eyes went in front as the line moved, and it was because of you.

With the steaming cup of hot coffee in your hand, you turned to them. You didn’t say anything. You just watched as Seokjin continued his tirade, completely unaware of your presence, adding lashes to your heart and ego.

God, you were so embarrassed. How could you have thought that he was anything but a rich man who looked down at people beneath him? How could he hurt you where it hurts?

“Honestly, the least she could do is to move faraway from me. She’s nothing-“

It was only when Seong-min pushed his shoulder that he finally noticed you and your tear-filled eyes. He blinked repeatedly as though he was just starting to understand of your presence here, that you were not just a figment of his worst nightmare came to life.

He called for you.

He knew he did.

But instead, you stalked away from him as you tried to salvage whatever was left of your dignity.

“Seriously, Seokjin, you’re an idiot,” Seong-min said, shaking his head in disdain. Seokjin had no choice but to agree.

He was the biggest idiot.

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #mafia kim seokjin #kim seokjin fic #kim seokjin x you #kim seokjin x reader #yandere kim seokjin x you #kim seokjin x y/n #yandere kim seokjin

[crazyinluvfix]

DON’T NEED SAVING - a klaus mikaelson oneshot

summary: when klaus brings his girlfriend to meet his family for the first time they don’t exactly welcome her with open arms. namely, rebekah. but as soon as she takes a dagger to her pride she gets ANGRY, and it makes klaus love her even more.

WARNINGS: swearing, depictions of anger / fighting, physical violence ( not domestic )

request: @ranisingsnew

3.7k words

┌──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────┐

Klaus swore he would never let his power be dampened by something as frivolous as love - that he’d never be with a woman for more than a fling. He was too good for it. Too strong. Especially to fall for a human.

That was until he met Y/n.

One of his worldly escapades had led him to a place with architecture so beautiful, life so pure, and a certain spark so bold it could capture even him in its wonder.

All of this held his attention so tightly that he didn't even notice what was right in front of him until he hit it. Literally.

His typically sly, dark blue eyes seemed to flash a shade lighter for just a second when he looked up, growing wide at the sight before him. Something even more exquisite and awestriking than the scenery - something he never thought possible. Her.

She looked at him expectantly with an arched eyebrow as his brain practically short-circuited at the smell of the sweet blood beneath her veins.

“I-” he paused. “Sorry, love. Forgive me, I was in my own world,” his stare piercing, gaining back his usual strength after that brief moment of weakness, his signature smirk at home on his lips.

But his face practically dropped in surprise as her’s stayed just as it was; unmoving, unyielding, unimpressed, with arms crossed over her chest as she eyed him up and down.

Klaus felt unusually insufficient under her cold gaze, one that could rival his. He took a step forward, shaking out his shoulders to regain the intimidating presence he was so known for, folding his arms back at her.

“You’re not in a rush, are you?”

The look she gave was incredulous. “That depends, why are you asking?”

This one was feisty, he liked that, he liked a challenge.

His tongue swiped over his teeth with a slight chuckle before speaking again, the lilt in his voice that he used to woo any woman when he wanted to watch them crumble. “I’m new in town, I was hoping you could show me around,” he moved closer, “I’d love to get to know… the place.” A ring-clad hand reached forward to brush a strand of hair from her face.

But she got there before he could.

Her silence was deafening as she mulled the offer over. It wasn’t often that a woman could resist his charms for so long.

“If you’re so desperate to be in my company then fine. You can tag along but I’m not gonna be your little tour guide.”

The stark contrast between her sweet appearance and her fierce attitude was beyond alluring.

Klaus was willing to take anything he could get, feeling more like a lost puppy than he had in over 1000 years, and he was on her leash.

For days he managed to seek her out, every chance he got.

It was a means to an end, the usual end. At least, that’s what he told himself

But the less she fell victim to his charms, the more he was weirdly captured by hers.

Compulsion didn’t seem to work either - did she really make him so weak that he couldn’t perform such a basic function?

Instead, when she got defensive to his advances, it was like she put a spell on him of her own. She wasn’t a witch, but her mind games felt more powerful than any that he had met.

“What do you say we go and get a little drink, huh?” he leaned forward and looked into her eyes, waiting for her pupils to dilate so he could have her right where he wanted her.

“What are you doing?”

Klaus was abruptly taken aback, blinking rapidly as he let out a confused, breathy chuckle. “What do you mean? I’m not doing anything, love,” his eyes never left hers.

“No, that thing with your eyes,” she nodded, dead set on what she saw.

His only instinct was to try again, “You didn’t see anything.”

“There!” she caught it once more, causing him to take a step back; it was safe to say he was completely and utterly perplexed.

“You just did it again! What was that?”

Her eyes seemed to control him instead and he almost stuttered - he never stuttered.

This woman had him - the most powerful man on the planet - wrapped around her tiny little mortal finger.

~

She and Klaus had been dating for a few months now. After weeks of his constant flowers, letters, paintings, and smooth talk she finally gave in. He couldn’t help but think she only accepted his efforts because she had wanted a break from trying to resist them, and this is what she thought at first too; that she’d let him win for a little while, maybe a couple of weeks, and then break it off.

But as the months passed, she too fell head over heels for him. Over this short time he had already revealed everything to her about his supernatural world, he trusted her with his life and knew that she wouldn’t say a word. Klaus hadn’t thought his attraction to her could get any stronger, but he was now the most whipped he had ever been. She was more than his usual affair or snack. She was his soulmate, he was sure of it.

But Klaus was a family man through and through, and he felt as if it was finally time for them to meet the love of his immortal life.

~

“I will never let anything happen to you, you know that, right?” Klaus turned to look at his beautiful girlfriend who sat calmly in the passenger seat of his car - he seemed more nervous than she did.

I simply rolled my eyes and laughed, he was so protective it almost hurt. “I know, Nik. You’ve told me about a thousand times already.”

He just smiled. “I have. But I just wanted to warn you that they’re not always the most friendly bunch - obviously that skipped me.” He tried to end on a quip to ease my mind, something he wouldn’t have thought to do for anyone else.

His family had a very complicated history, and a lot of it revolved around him, so their feelings toward him fluctuated on the daily. It was a fact that he was the strongest; and even though he wasn’t the oldest he was by far the boss of the Mikaelson group. So if any one of them put even one bad word on my name he was more than ready to tear them apart.

I had heard all about the family drama - Klaus was undoubtedly one to gossip - but I knew I could handle anything they threw at me on my own, even if it was from an original vampire.

~

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Klaus turned the key to the ornate wooden doors, swinging them open with his usual dramatics as he took my hand and led me inside.

My jaw immediately dropped. ‘Humble,’ definitely didn’t do it justice.

I had expected it to be nice, but this house was beyond lavish, stunning, massive - not the dark cave many would expect from a bunch of ancient vampires.

Klaus had obviously noticed the look of awe sweep my face because he laughed, that low chuckle he always did that set my heart on fire.

Subtleties in his eyes told me that he was glad I liked it so much. I had heard from many that they found my boyfriend incredibly hard to read, which was actually quite a shock to me because I had pried open the windows to his soul the very moment I met him.

He never freed my hand from his he led us into the main room. “Where are they?” he scanned the area and listened for footsteps upstairs since they did know we were coming.

“Kol! Elijah! Rebekah! Come down!” he shouted throughout the grand house and made me giggle. He really was the leader of the family.

A variety of shouts called back before three figures sped down to the bottom floor.

Two men and one woman. One of the men wore more casual clothes, a jacket over a button-up shirt and some jeans - much like how Klaus typically dressed - while the other wore a full suit at 4 pm on a Tuesday. They both practically scowled at the sight of me, but the blonde girl was the worst. I couldn’t tell if that was how her face fell or if she was purposefully staring daggers through me as if to telepathically wound me with her attitude - she looked like a blast…

Klaus then stepped forward, bringing me with him, a happy grin on his face, “Brothers, Rebekah, this is my wonderful Y/n.” His hand gestured towards me with a softness none of them had seen before, not that they cared.

I noticed how they all seemed to size me up. They were silent, but their mannerisms spoke louder than their words ever could’ve. The vibe that was given off immediately was that I was being judged.

Nevertheless, I chose to be polite, to be the bigger person - you’d think for people who had been alive so long they would’ve had the time to learn manners. “Nice to meet you all,” I offered a warm smile that none of them returned. Tough crowd.

Soon, the awkward introductions were over and we all went to sit in the living room. As we walked over Klaus leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “They’re always a bit cranky around this time,” smirking as he knew that they were vampires and would most definitely hear him. I could not help but let out a small laugh.

Klaus, of course, made sure I sat as close to him as physically possible when we got to the couch, his arm around my shoulder as everyone else sat on the other chairs around the room.

The conversation started light; ‘What do you do for work,’ ‘Where are you from,’ etc.

Meanwhile, the blonde who I now know to be Rebekah had not spoken a word, that was until she shouted out in the middle of my answer to one of Elijah’s questions.

“So, what do you want with him?” she referred to her brother and I could practically feel him roll his eyes behind me.

“Is it his money? Or is it that you want to become like us?” she assumed, the thought making her laugh out loud.

I felt Klaus’ hand tighten around mine and the way his chest rose when he took a deep breath in, “Rebekah.” His tone was strict, warning.

“Shh,” I ran my fingertips over his knuckles, quickly looking back to tell him it was okay before turning back to Rebekah.

“Neither, believe it or not,” my smile was sweet, but also slightly condescending. “I’m with him because we love each other, is that so hard to believe?” I made sure to keep my words friendly, even though I could not help the undertones of my annoyance at her insolence slip through.

“Hm,” she hummed shortly, practically looking down her nose at me from across the room. “It is, actually. Nik has never been one for love, right brothers?” she gestured to the two men for them to back her up, but it seemed like they knew to say nothing.

The scoff that left my lips was very much involuntary, but it seemed to add to her frustration which I admittedly took some pride in. “Hm,” I mimicked her sound, “that’s funny because he seems to love me an awful lot, at first I thought too much,” I giggled and the man in question did too, an effort to keep the tension light while subtly trying to keep her in her place. Which didn’t work.

“Interesting,” she didn’t sound like she cared in the slightest, giving up on making conversation with me and directing her next question to her brother. “It just shocks me, Nik, that you would go for her when you could have any woman in the world. I never thought you’d choose such an… average human.”

Klaus was practically seething, the more she spoke the tenser he got and the closer he approached to his tipping point.

“I mean,” she continued, clearly incredibly amused at both of our reactions, “why don’t you just dump her now and we could all just have a little snack? That’s what your plan is anyway, right? Dinner’s on you tonight.”

My hand stayed firmly on his leg to stop him from getting up, telling him softly that it was okay and that I had got this - I didn’t need saving, not from her.

“Where did you even find this chick?” Rebekah let out a shrill laugh but was quickly taken aback when she saw someone stand up in anger.

And it wasn’t Klaus.

It was an instinct to shoot up, and when Nik brought his hand to mine to get me to sit down I removed it and laughed back at her myself. “You know, you have some serious audacity, Rebekah,” I spat out her name as everyone watched on in suspense, waiting for the incoming catfight.

Her jaw dropped in disbelief, a choked sound coming leaving her throat before she returned, “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh,” I chuckled darkly, “I’m serious alright. You have no right to say anything about my relationship just because you obviously can’t get someone of your own. He’s your brother, you’re not his little lap dog. So hop off my dick little vamp girl and go find someone else’s to ride.”

The longer I sat there and listened to her kick-off, the more strength bubbled up inside of me ready to burst. Now that it was out I felt even better, especially when I saw her expression; eyes wide, mouth open, too stunned to get out more than a few intelligible stutters. Shocked that some ‘average human girl’ could fire back so strongly.

Meanwhile, as I spoke Klaus was watching over, but the smirk on his face was nothing but a proud one. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing at how amazing this was - she usually carried such a sweet disposition, but the fieriness he was seeing now was definitely something he could get used to. He had always been a sucker for confrontation and riling his family up, and the fact that she could add to that made him love her even more.

“You little-” Rebekah spat furiously, slowly going to stand up herself.

I cut her off. “What? What else could you possibly have to say?” I looked at her expectantly, putting my hands on my hips, but she said nothing. “That’s what I thought. Now I see why Nik put you in a box for a hundred years. It’s been what? Fifteen minutes and you’ve already questioned my love, my loyalty, and shouted out death threats. You may be immortal, Rebekah, but you need to learn that that doesn’t make you a God.”

Every word I came back at her with only strengthened the grin on Klaus’ face - he loved his siblings in his own way, but nothing made him happier than seeing his girl stand up for herself and put them in their place. A few times he had to stop himself from getting up and intervening, but he couldn’t. He would’ve stepped in if he could tell this was taking a toll, but deep down he had always known that I was just like him, we were both just having too much fun.

Rebekah looked utterly defeated, clearly not used to having someone push back at her snarky comments so this was seemingly long overdue. So much so that I even earned a smirk and a look of newfound respect from the brother in formal wear, Elijah.

But that’s when blondie had finally had enough.

Within less than a split second, she sped over and grabbed me by the throat, pinning me to the wall at the back of the room and squeezing so my air supply was restricted, my feet dangling just above the floor.

“You dare speak to me like that, you filthy little…” she hissed, bringing her face close to mine and watching maliciously as my eyes grew wider.

But if I thought she moved fast, Klaus travelled at twice her speed in the blink of an eye, rushing to my rescue. His hands made quick work of prying her off of me and shoving her to the wall instead, reaching down to the back of his shoe where his trousers were baggy enough to conceal - and he pulled out a shiny, silver dagger.

I could do nothing but stand there stock still while the scene played out in front of me, the other brothers shooting up too but doing the same as me.

“Don’t you ever speak to her like that again,” his voice was low, yet scarily loud, but that’s not what seemed to panic Rebekah. No, she was focused on the dagger he held against her sternum, the point brushing against her top.

‘You take a dagger to her pride, I take a dagger to your heart.’ Klaus’ mind whirred with anger.

Just as she opened her mouth to plea for her brother's forgiveness or offer some half-assed apology which she would prove false the moment he let her go, he plunged the dagger into her chest. She let out a high-pitched wince as his eyes still burned into hers with pure loathing.

“Now, say you’re sorry,” he snarled darkly - so this was the Klaus I had heard about. Cruel, righteous, formidable. And the worst part; I wasn’t even scared. I may have gasped at the suddenness of his actions, but I could not help the feeling that arose within me when I saw him choose me over his own flesh and blood without so much as a second thought.

She choked on her own words, “I- I’m sorry.” Her eyes never left his.

His hand moved to twist the knife, releasing another squeak from the victim of his wrath. He spoke firmly and finally, as if this was her last warning, “To her.”

That’s when she finally turned her head to face me, “I’m sorry… Y/n.” It looked like it killed her to force out those words, but it was better than being killed again with the dagger that was hairs away from causing her to be put in a coffin for another century.

As soon as Klaus felt she had been sincere enough he ripped the blade out, his face still serious as he wiped the blood off on the fabric of his jacket. “Go,” he said plainly, not even wasting his energy on looking up from his hands. All three of them listened - I assumed that upon his revelation of the dagger (which none of them knew he had so close), they now were thinking only of themselves, fleeing the scene before they met their fates again.

They all vanished in one quick woosh leaving only me and Klaus who had shifted back into my sickeningly sweet Nik once more upon their departure.

I hadn’t even noticed that I had been clutching my chest this whole time, only taking it off when he moved his gaze to me and that wicked look in his eyes softened instantaneously into one that made me feel right at home, hurrying to me to make sure I was okay.

Without having time to even register everything that just happened I was encased in the arms of my saviour, him resting his head on top of mine while a hand moved up to gently stroke my hair. To anyone else, thinking of him acting in such a caring manner after being so ruthless would’ve been unimaginable. But to me? It was all I’d ever known.

“Shh. You’re okay, love,” he cooed before pulling back slightly and cradling my head in both his hands, bringing his soft lips to plant a tender kiss on my forehead.

I looked up at him like he was the only thing in the world; the way he had looked at me every time since the day we met.

“I’m sorry that I exposed you to that part of me, it was something I had hoped you’d never see.” Apologies didn’t come naturally to Klaus… that was, to everyone but me.

Nothing was said, I let my actions speak for themselves as a genuine smile formed on my face and I hopped up onto my tiptoes to kiss him fervently. He seemed rather shocked at the sudden change in tone, but it’s not like he was complaining. Instead, he happily reciprocated my movements, a mischievous, goofy grin left on him in the wake of my lips as I pulled back.

“Don’t apologise,” I shook my head at him in reassurance, “I thought it was sexy,” biting my lip in a teasing manner as I put his racing mind at rest - he truly was such a sweetie behind closed doors. It was honestly a shame the world would never see him the way I did - but then again, that would mean I would have to share him, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

His bright blue eyes lit up as I spoke, in a way as if to ask ‘Really?’

In response to his silent appeal for confirmation, I nodded.

“At least you’ve met them now so you finally know what I mean when I complain about my family,” he used a tone much lighter than before now that he wasn’t shouting or apologising.

A laugh escaped me, causing me to quickly cover my mouth, “I guess you weren’t joking, huh?”

Sighing in reply he shook his head in embarrassment, thinking he should’ve never taken me here in the first place. “Come, let’s go somewhere else, somewhere nicer.” His head cocked to the side as he held out an arm for me to cling to, signalling for us both to leave.

My hand graciously slipped forward to meet his request as we walked toward the door, looking up at him one last time. “You’re my hero, Klaus Mikaelson.”

Upon hearing the giggle I let out after my words his smile only widened. “Always and forever, my love.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚

requests in bio x

└──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────┘

#klaus mikaelson #the vampire diaries #the originals #fluff #angst #tvd #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus isn’t as scary as he seems #grumpy x sunshine #(klaus miklaelson is the sunshine)

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part five)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : In present day, the reader and Bucky get closer - will one of them finally slip up? We also see what happened in 2018, during the battle in Wakanda.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, Bucky dealing with ptsd, brief mention of violence, language

word count : <2k

masterlist ▪︎ previous chapter

📝 a little bit of an explanation on the timeline : 2016 - Civil War ▪︎ 2017 - post Civil War / Steve and reader on the run ▪︎ early 2018 - Infinity War ▪︎ 2018 to 2023 - the lost years / post-snap ▪︎ late 2023 - Endgame / Steve's departure ▪︎ 2024 - present day / Falcon and the Winter Soldier period ▪︎ 1950s - where Steve went back

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

You win. Again.

By now, you're convinced Bucky is actually letting you win in Battleship. Each guess he made had been wrong, so it must be deliberate.

"James Buchanan Barnes," you sigh.

His lips form a sly smirk. He isn't even trying to deny it.

You reach across and lightly shove his non-vibranium arm. "It's no fun if there's no challenge."

He shrugs, "Maybe I like the way you react when you win. You get so... expressive." Another smirk. Damn him.

What could possibly be so amusing about the way you practically screeched and stuck your tongue at him the first time you won?

"Yeah, but you let me win four times in a row."

"Deal with it, doll."

"You suck."

He grimaces, "Suck?"

Right. You keep forgetting he is an very old, very ancient centenarian.

"It's an expression."

Something flashes across his face, and you can't really make out what it is. "Do you suck, too?"

"What?" you exclaim. "I just said it's an expression. It means you're annoying."

He holds your gaze for a moment, before laughing, eyes visibly crinkling at the corners. "I'm messing with you, doll. I know what that means. I'm old, not unaware."

Damn him again.

And damn the way the rare instances of his laughter is slowly growing to be a thing you yearn for. Bucky has a playful side, you've come to realize. You get this feeling of lightness, because you're proud of him. The more it comes out, the more it shows how much he has healed.

You blink at him, shaking your head, before bursting into laughter yourself.

Damn it all to hell.

It takes a beat for you to collect yourselves.

Then for a second, it's there. That fleeting shift in his expression. A pinch in his eyebrows giving way to a look of shame. Just for a moment, his mind drifts back to the long list of names in his notebook. To Yori's son. To the crimson in his ledger.

You notice, and you don't hesitate in taking his hand, squeezing gently. "Hey," you say, catching his attention. "I'm glad we get to do this."

I'm glad I have you.

Glancing down at your hand wrapped around his, he smiles, slowly, like a sun rising and casting its glow from the horizon.

"Let's play one more time," Bucky says as he begins rearranging the pieces on his side.

You were about to protest, but then he adds, "I won't let you win, I swear."

Fifteen minutes later, you do indeed win again. He laughs at the incredulous expression that must be plastered on your face.

You take it. Because maybe you did win, fair and square.

Or maybe because his laughter feels like winning.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The days have blurred into weeks and into months.

It feels like time is passing quickly, every second feels less and less like the lash of a whip, reminding Bucky of past pains. Of loss. Of all his sins.

Life almost feels normal. The kind of normal he is afforded in his life, at least.

Sessions with his court-mandated therapist. You. Dinners with Yori, desperately unable to tell him the truth. You. Sleepless nights, glimpses of his darkness haunting him. You. Sleepless nights, tempting images of you.

Behind all the laughter and the times you would spend playing Battleship on the floor of his barely furnished apartment, Bucky gets a sense of something gnawing at him. Something not unfamiliar, but unwelcome all the while.

It's fear. He has something to lose, once more. A friend or a kindred spirit. Whatever else you will find in each other. It's there and it's real, and it makes him feel like Bucky again.

He doesn't want to lose it, whatever it is. He's already lost Steve.

He's not going to lose you too.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

early 2018, Infinity War

After you and Steve left the cabin, it's like the universe was sent a go-ahead signal of some sort.

The world slowly descended into chaos, and the Avengers were needed back into the fold.

Your group had to rush to Scotland to rescue Wanda and Vision. Then it was back to the Avengers compound.

"You think all is forgiven?" Senator Ross asked, the threat evident in his tone. "You think you can just walk back in here like nothing happened? Romanoff has been leading my team on some wild goose chase - "

Natasha merely scoffs, unamused.

" - and Huntress has been actively aiding and abetting her fellow fugitives around the globe."

You were about to say something snarky, but Steve had already taken a step forward, partially shielding you from Ross' view.

"We're not looking for forgiveness, and we're way past asking permission," Steve declared.

In that time, life became drastically different from your days in Alaska. You barely had a moment of repose, worried about the fate of the world.

But you found comfort in the blonde super soldier who was constantly hovering over you. His eyes would meet yours before a decision would be made. His hand sometimes pressed at the small of your back as you walked beside him. Time and again, you found him watching you, a silent question in his eyes. You'd nod back, I'm okay.

You didn't notice, but in one of those moments, Wanda had witnessed the exchange.

And she felt it. That something. Much like what she has with Vision.

But it just wasn't the right time.

It is a bit hard to face the truth that you might be in love when the whole world is burning.

"I guess this is our normal, after all," you wistfully remarked to him one evening, after everyone else had left. The plans were laid. You all were to go to Wakanda the next day.

Steve felt a sense of bitterness arising from him upon hearing your words. It really isn't fair. He has always done everything right, but he's losing count of how many joys he's had to sacrifice.

He lost everyone once. His mom, his sister, Bucky, his fellow soldiers, Dr. Erskine, Peggy. He'd buried himself in ice, only to wake up again in a world that wasn't his anymore.

What else does he have to lose, who else, before he is finally allowed to be happy?

His smile was pained when he replied, "I think I figured out the kind of normal I want."

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled back and curiously asked, "Oh yeah?"

Steve hopelessly tried to commit you to memory. The lilt in your voice, the shape of your lips. That undying spark in your eyes, which remained even when everything was cast in gloom.

Just in case he would wake up one day and find his whole world taken from him once more.

"Yeah," he finally said.

The world is ablaze, but he's grown used to it. He knew he would lay his life down on the line again if that means it would be saved.

But everything be damned, he allowed himself one selfish thought when he confessed, "We never should have left that cabin."

I'm in love with you, were the words caught in his throat. His heart screamed it, yearning to be heard.

And you did.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It was a cruel twist of fate. But Thanos deemed it destiny.

Was it always meant to happen? Were they always meant to lose?

Steve didn't know how long he stayed on the ground next to the pile of ashes that used to be his best friend.

Bucky was gone.

Steve barely heard the screams. Anguished voices calling out the names of their friends, still searching.

All that would have been unbearable. The sounds of distress enough to drive one mad. But Steve heard nothing. He had nothing.

It's not fair. Inside, he felt like that sickly kid who was always dealt the worst hand. It does feel like he's a kid again, petulant and angry. It's not fair, he thought over and over, I don't deserve this.

Bring Bucky back to me.

Maybe it was all his fault. Maybe if he never took that damned serum... maybe... maybe...

"Cap," he heard someone break him out of his haze. Rhodey stood to the side. "Steve," he repeated, pleading, but Steve still could not find the strength to get up.

Then from the distance, he heard Natasha calling out for you. He stumbled to his feet, his head spinning. Casting one last glance at the spot where Bucky vanished, he turned and started running.

He found Natasha immediately, but not you.

"Where is she?" Steve growled, and his voice sounded rougher than he's ever heard before. Natasha would have recoiled in surprise, if she didn't possess nerves of steel.

"I'm looking," Natasha snapped impatiently. You would have been her loss too.

Steve felt as if he had already scoured through the whole field twice, his body threatening to just give in and crumble to the ground once more, as the hope of finding you dimmed.

Then he heard your faint voice, weak and weary, standing out among all the others.

"Steve?" There you stood, your face half-covered in dried blood and soot. "Did we lose?"

He swiveled around and took you in, a deep breath of helpless relief exiting his lungs. He was angry and defeated.

He wanted to throw Captain America to the wind, and surrender everything.

He wanted to hear his mother's voice singing to him again. This world is cruel, and he wanted to go back home.

But there you were.

There you were, and Steve knew he had not lost everything.

"How did it happen?" you asked as he approached. "Steve, what do we do? There must be something - "

His mouth crashes into yours with such bruising intensity that it makes you stumble backward, but his arms were quick to catch you.

He was right.

You never should have left that cabin.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

The nightmare is different.

It's worse. Much worse.

Bucky bolts upright on the floor of his living room, having chosen to bypass the comfort of his bedroom. He thinks this is because he needs to keep his TV on in the background, something to muffle the noise in his mind late at night.

Another reason, one he hasn't confronted yet, is how comfort feels so foreign. It feels wrong, like he doesn't deserve it.

Perhaps that is why he can't find comfort even in his dreams.

It flashes before his eyes, like a broken montage.

It's almost the same every time. He's the Winter Soldier. He's on a mission. There are faces swarming around him, bodies either racing to attack or running away. But he doesn't see any of them. He doesn't feel anything as he makes every single one of them crumble.

But it's different this time. The Winter Soldier does not so much as falter or show any hesitation as he wraps his metal fingers around your windpipe.

The Winter Soldier coldly watches as you expire. Bucky helplessly watches, unable to stop as he loses everything.

Thankfully awake, in this world where he still has you, Bucky's chest feels like it's about to implode.

So much for being a superabled freak.

The clock reads 3:13. It's late, but he needs some air.

He walks for 10 minutes, aimlessly. Then for 20 more, his mind having made a decision on its own. He soon finds himself standing in front of a familiar brownstone building, where your apartment is situated on the top floor.

You don't seem confused when you answer the buzzer. It wouldn't be the first time he has shown up unannounced.

"Can't sleep either?" You're a welcome vision when you greet him at the door, cheeks flushed by the white wine you usually drink at these hours.

She's still here, Bucky reminds himself. The only comfort that he won't deny.

Instead of walking past you, straight into your apartment like he always does, he takes one step closer.

And then another.

He shuts the door behind him.

You watch him carefully, scanning his every movement. There's something here, something different. He takes another step and he has you pressed against the wall.

His eyes betray the storm of emotion brewing inside. He has to remind himself that you're here, and he has you.

"Bucky," you whisper, and it's all he needs.

He leans in and finally touches his lips to yours.

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @kyoquixote @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer @integers @torntaltos @imthebadguyyy @iidear @blackhawkfanatic @smhnxdiii

My emotions!!!!!! Hahahaha this chapter is a whole mess and so are our protagonists 🔪🫀

yes yes, expect that the next one is 18+ --- but I still won't say exactly with who --- maybe it's a trick? Maybe it's neither of them? Oh well, honestly some of you have got it bang on already 🤷🏻‍♀️

As always, I am keen to hear what you guys think!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #mcu #the avengers #chris evans #sebastian stan #the bolter

[goldengirliez]

oml, please help me, I can't stop thinking about giving head to Manila Mikey.

Idea from this drabble! ☆

02:53 pm

We all know how Mikey is, deep inside that apathetic shell of his, his empty heart and dull eyes, he's aching uncontrollably to feel anything aside from that void that consumes his senseless.

He gets so overwhelmed that he often forgets to eat, shower, and take care of himself with basic actions.

But he has you. His beloved, his light in the darkness, his anchor during the storm that keeps him grounded.

Even on days when intrusive thoughts caress his skin alluringly, you're there to keep them away from your man, you're there and keep him alive.

Just like today.

It's a hot, clammy day: no matter how many windows you may want to open, the air won't just come in to cool down your dripping skin, the oppressive weather creeps through your lungs and violates them, taking away the oxygen you need way too soon.

You're hot, you are bored and you're tired of waiting for your boyfriend to get out of the shower so you can get it all for yourself.

Your bare feet tap softly against the floor, quickly moving towards the bathroom where you left your beloved around thirty minutes ago, ready to scold him for taking so long.

You put your hand on the golden, rusty doorknob and turn it silently. Pushing the wooden panel open with a small "creak" sound, the humidity of the post-shower air invades your senses, inserting in between the fabric of your soft garments and dampening your skin even so slightly.

Your eyes immediately fall on the figure in front of you, seated on the glossy, black stool next to the sink.

Mikey's head is dropped low, his wet liquorice hair is covering his pale, porcelain skin: his onyx eyes are slightly visible to you and they are surely lost in nothingness. He's sitting still, not moving a muscle as if he didn't even notice you enter before.

You're not going to scold that poor angel for a fucking shower: you're going to scold yourself for not taking it with him. He often gets lost in thoughts and that's not a good sign at all.

"'jiro, what's wrong?"

You carefully step closer to him, crouching down to his level and cradling his fluffy cheeks in your hands: slowly blinking his eyes, as if was slowly waking up from a peaceful dream, he looks up at you desperately.

"Please, make them shut the fuck up".

Often the best way to silence your thoughts is to focus on something louder than the voices inside your head.

That's what Mikey needs right now.

Usually, he would let you suck him off to your heart's content but that's not what he needs right now: he needs to feel loved, cared about and seen. He needs to know he's there with you and not anywhere else lost in his mind.

You can feel the hardness of the cold tiles underneath your knees as you kneel in front of him, which is in contrast with the hotness of that cute, pinkish mushroom head of his shaft and the smoothness of his skin in your palm.

Manjiro's eyes are focused on you, just like you asked him to: they are completely blown out, his angelic face has a cherry red hue on his cheeks, and his lips are slightly puffy due to his constant biting in them.

When your tongue gently wraps around the tip and sucks on it harshly, squeezing with your hand the base of his dick (just how he likes it) his onyx irises roll in the back of his skull and his hand goes straight to his mouth, muffling with a hum one of his pretty moans.

Just when you take him deeper, your ears are blessed with his unfiltered voice, a desperate call of your name: you can feel his hardness make its way down your throat gradually, and the salty taste of his pre on your taste buds makes you salivate.

Just when his cock touches the back of your throat your eyes water and not because of the burning sensation or the ache of your jaw but because of his goddamn pretty face.

Manjiro's wet liquorice hair is sticking to his damp forehead due to the water of the shower he took; onyx orbs are staring deeply into your soul, flickering up and down your face not knowing where to focus; sweat is dripping down his defined jaw and sliding on his bobbing adam apple every time he gulps; his black undershirt is sticking to his string chest; his tattooed neck is stretched to the side as he can barely keep his head up due to how good you're making him feel.

He's a masterpiece and he's all yours.

"Baby... Y-You're taking it so fucking deep– oh fuck!"

It wouldn't take long for you to bob your head according to his liking when his calloused hand touches your cheek and smoothly runs up through your hair, gripping it slightly so it won't cover your eyes.

The burn in your throat might be becoming unbearable but having your man scream your name endlessly is what keeps you up: his whole attention is on you, you're the only one he's thinking about, you're the only one he's feeling.

You can feel him throb against the walls of your mouth, his veins pulsating underneath your skilled tongue: you take him out with a slurping sound and begin to fist his cock, squeezing the tip and gripping the base, fiddling with his balls, wanting to coo at him as a last push. Your sugar-coated sweet-nothings are the most sincere as you look into his eyes with heart-shaped ones almost: good boy, I love you, baby, this is all for you.

After a dark time that day, he's finally seeing stars.

Mikey's orbs shine with the tears that roll down his burning cheeks, his voice is desperate and whiny, unable to keep up with the pace you're setting just for him.

Wet, squelching sounds that echo through his ears along with your praises are like a melody and when his hand comes on top of yours as you keep on moving it fast, you know you've done the trick.

"Ah– oh, shit! B-baby, I- I'm- I- please".

As you kiss lovingly his inner thigh which is decorated with every shade of red because of the blooming love marks you gave him, he feels a shock of electricity run down his spine.

As a blissed cry of your name booms out of his chest, his eyes scrunch shut and his head gets thrown back, you're already there to put your mouth on his throbbing tip and keep his love seed into your mouth, safe and sound.

He takes a while to calm down, but when he does he doesn't hesitate to get you on his lap and hug you close, whispering with a heavy breath how much he loves you, how grateful he is for having you by his side and an endless string of thank you.

You're both dripping in sweat, fuming due to the heated act you had so the sudden thin, delicate breeze that comes in from the bathroom door makes you sigh contently.

Manjiro's the one to speak first "I guess we need to shower again", he chuckles... His genuine laugh makes your lips curl into a fond smile as you take his hand in yours and kiss his knuckles gently.

"I'll do it with you so I'll keep the bad thoughts away this time".

He loved the sound of that.

I'm experimenting with new kinds of writing so I don't know how I feel about this drabble: it was simply living in my head rent-free–

I hope you enjoyed reading this drabble!

English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes!

Sending y'all hugs. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

©GOLDENGIRLIEZ do not repost or modify on any platform.

#mikey x reader #sano manjiro smut #mikey smut #manjiro sano #tokyo rev smut #tokrev smut #manila mikey #tokyo revengers smut #tokrev fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #kazutora fluff #kazutora x reader #chifuyu fluff #chifuyu x reader #draken #baji x reader #baji keisuke #ran haitani #rindou haitani #rindou x reader #ran x reader #mikey fluff #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya smut #thirst post #I'm too much of a simp

[kybercrystals94]

Sounds Like Him

Read on Ao3 here!

Angstpril 2024 | Day 24 | Prompt 24: Ghost of You

Rated: G | Words: 435 | Summary: Wrecker and Crosshair talk about their lost brother. | Character Focus: Wrecker, Crosshair 

Wrecker groggily wakes to the sound of sure fingers typing. “Go to sleep, Tech,” he grumbles, turning over in the pull down bunk to face the wall. 

The typing stops abruptly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Crosshair’s voice. Not Tech’s. Never Tech’s. 

Tech is dead. 

Wrecker rolls to his back, stares at the bunk above him. “Sorry,” he says. 

Crosshair makes a scoffing noise. “What for? I woke you up.”

“I thought you were Tech for a second,” Wrecker says. “It just sounded…like he was here. The way you were typing. Haven’t heard typing like that since before.”

Crosshair is quiet for a few moments, and Wrecker isn’t sure he’s going to answer, and then, “Hunter types like a newborn blurrg’s first steps.” 

Wrecker barks out a surprised laugh, turning his head to look at his brother. Crosshair smirks back at him. 

“I missed you, Cross,” Wrecker says. “A whole lot.” He isn’t sure why he’s suddenly feeling sentimental, but the words need to be said. 

He misses Tech. Every day. 

But he also missed Crosshair. 

Every day.  

Crosshair blinks at him, smile dropping. He glances away. “I missed you too.” 

Wrecker sits up, ducking his head so he doesn’t hit it on the upper bunk. He leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Did Omega ever tell you about Tech winning a pod race?”

A half shrug and a nod. “A little. No details, but I got the gist of it.” 

“You should’ve seen him,” Wrecker says, becoming animated. “He was the craziest racer there.” 

Crosshair chuckles. “You sound surprised.” 

“Nah,” Wrecker says. “Just proud of him.” 

His little brother hums. “I would’ve liked to see that,” Crosshair mumbles, looking down at the data pad gone idle in his lap. He pecks one finger at the screen, igniting it to life, but he doesn’t do anything else with it. “There’s a lot of things I should’ve been here for.”

Wrecker swallows, but only lets his silence agree. 

“Maybe,” Crosshair continues once the quiet between them has settled, “you can tell me what happened…with the pod race.”

Wrecker grins so big it hurts. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted to share this story with Crosshair. All the details, even the ones he and Tech and Omega had carefully left out when reporting to Hunter and Echo. 

“Well,” Wrecker says, swinging his legs over the side of the bunk. “I’ll have to start at the beginning.” 

Crosshair rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Well, that’s obvious,” he snarks. 

And kriff, if he doesn’t sound just like Tech when he says it. 

@the-little-moment @just-here-with-my-thoughts, less than a week left of Angstpril! But that also means less than a week until the end of the Bad Batch 😭 I'm not ready!!

And I'm posting this story before the second to last episode airs just in case it ruins me emotionally....eeeeeep!

✨Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!✨

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @merkitty49

#angstpril2024 #Day 24 #Prompt 24 #Ghost of You #the bad batch #star wars #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #angst #grief #brotherly love #bonding #memories #littlekyberthoughts #fics by kyber

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Jim Hopper x reader • Part two of a series; read part one here • Includes unprotected sex, angst, age gap, piss is briefly mentioned as reader has a big ol squirt yee haw 💦 dubcon due to Hopper being under the influence of magick✨

The ethics of love spells have always been debated amongst witches, with the majority agreeing that any spell which alters another’s free will is morally wrong. But when you returned home to Hawkins from college on break, you made the decision to cast such a spell on your old crush, Chief Jim Hopper. Since briefly meeting you again after your return home, Hopper has fallen more deeply in love and lust with you every day. As the results of your spell reveal themselves, will you be able to accept their consequences…?

꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱

( Tuesday morning )

The rain pelting Hopper’s windshield forced him out of his trance. How long had he been sitting behind the wheel of his Blazer, parked in his usual space in front of the station, completely lost in thoughts of you?

This new pattern of behavior was completely unlike him, Hopper conceded. He’d been unable to shake a rapidly growing obsession with you. And the worst thing about it wasn’t the fact that for the first time in years, Hopper was actually losing control over a woman. The part of the situation that truly set Hopper’s conscience on fire was that the object of his lust happened to be half his age…and his best friend’s daughter…

Hopper hoped that by focusing on business-as-usual at the station, he’d be able to free his mind of you for awhile. He put out his cigarette that was burning down, and reached into his pocket to exchange it for a new one. Hopper’s eyes caught the form of someone standing on the far side of the station. He squinted through the raindrops peppering his windshield, focusing…on you.

The moment Hopper realized who he was looking at, he practically tore the door open to exit his vehicle. He didn’t remember to close it behind him, unaware that he’d also left his keys in the ignition. Hopper’s gait quickened till he was so close he could see the way your lips began to turn in a coy smile. And then, as quickly as you’d appeared…the image of you was gone.

Hopper stopped dead in his tracks, as if coming out from under a spell. His sudden burst of exertion caught up with him, breath huffing from his parted lips, his eyes wide and darting back and forth around the space you’d just been standing.

He blinked several times, rain dancing off his eyelashes, dripping from the brim of his hat. A grim realization swept over Hopper, words materializing in his mind in a voice that sounded like yours: “It’s too late, Jim. I’m inside you now. You have to have me…”

Hopper’s steps faltered as he made his way back to his vehicle. He removed his keys before distractedly closing the door and heading for the station’s entrance. Was he losing his mind? The image of you had been so…real.

As he entered the station, Hopper tried to focus on the strong scent of fresh coffee that greeted him. He removed his rain-soaked jacket and hat, nodding a polite but insincere greeting to officers Powell and Callahan as he passed them on the way to his office. Hopper turned the corner and closed the office door behind him, locking it immediately. He felt a small sense of comfort at being separated from the others. Hopper wanted to be alone right now, more than anything. He needed privacy, a chance to contemplate his options and formulate a plan of action. Because for all his failed attempts at resistance, Hopper was a beaten man. And he was ready to admit it.

Nothing in the world mattered anymore, he realized, besides having you. Hopper sat behind his desk and poured himself a shot of whiskey from the bottle he kept locked in the bottom drawer. With a cigarette alternating between his lips and fingers, Hopper allowed his mind to wander. And inevitably, it wandered to images of you, pornographic images that normally, Hopper would have made at least some attempt to resist.

But now, he realized such efforts were pointless. Whatever sense of willpower Hopper had was useless against the spell your body had over him. And as usual, Hopper’s own body responded quickly to the stimulation of the filthy scenes his mind was weaving. He slouched back in his chair, undoing his belt so automatically that he wasn’t even aware he had till his cock was inside his fist. Hopper’s eyes fluttered closed as he allowed himself to succumb fully, without reservation, to the fantasy of you. Because unlike all the times he’d done this before, it wasn’t going to be a fantasy much longer. Hopper was determined to make having you a reality…and soon.

His thoughts drifted to that evening a little over a week ago. The first time he’d seen you, this new version of you, a woman now, who bore no resemblance to the clumsy teenager you’d been in Hopper’s memory. He’d immediately felt an attraction to you, and how could he not? Everything about you was perfect in Hopper’s eyes, the way your body moved around the room, your soft laughter which stirred something deep inside Hopper, waking a yearning he hadn’t experienced in a long time…and your smile…fuck, that smile…the one that had Hopper’s cynical heart beating with wonder again, rattling the dust off the joy inside him that had been buried for decades…

He’d known it then, the moment he’d seen you: Hopper was in love with you. Throughout the following week, his feelings for you had only grown stronger. Fantasies of your sweetness, and the corruption of it, permeated Hopper’s every waking thought. You even followed him into his dreams, fulfilling Hopper’s desires even as he slept. He’d wake up in the night drenched in sweat, his hard cock throbbing against his stomach. Hopper would come seconds later, watching himself ejaculate almost in a state of trance, still half asleep. Hopper would lay panting for awhile, his stomach wet and sticky with his own release, before wiping himself clean and having a cigarette. After about fifteen minutes of remorse and post-nut clarity, Hopper would have himself (nearly) convinced that his dreams were just that, and not a reflection of how he truly felt. But when he woke up hours later with his usual morning wood, Hopper needed to take care of it. And with his mind fully rested, his thoughts inevitably turned back to you…

The sounds of people talking outside Hopper’s office faded, while his thoughts grew louder…and filthier. As he languidly pumped his cock back and forth in his fist, Hopper allowed himself to indulge perhaps his most taboo fantasy of all…

In his mind, you were there in Hopper’s office with him, bound and gagged beneath his desk. Your wrists were restrained by Hopper’s handcuffs, your mouth full of him. He was throat training you, his cock nestled on the wet bed of your tongue. Your eyes were trained on Hopper’s as he gazed down at you knelt between his knees. He cupped your face in his hand, stroking the pad of his thumb along your cheek.

You’d been at this for awhile now; Hopper knew you must be tired. But like any new pet, you needed to be trained; and by training your throat to fit him, you’d be able to take Hopper as deeply as he wanted, whenever he wanted-

A knock on Hopper’s office door startled him. His eyes flew open, and with a strained, husky voice, he snapped “-WHAT?”

“Chief?” Flo responded. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Hopper rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. Just what he needed right now, with his pants down and his dick in his hand. A goddamn visitor.

“Well tell them I’m busy,” Hopper growled. “Whatever it is-whoever it is-they can wait…”

There was a pause from behind the door. “…She’s really adamant, Hop,” Flo added, her voice a bit more assertive. “Pretty little thing; Sounds like she might be in some kind of trouble.”

Hopper sighed heavily, irritated further by the realization that Flo was not going to send this girl away. He rose from his desk, frustratedly shoving his chair out from behind him. Hopper tucked his dick away in his pants as best as he could, but his erection was still very obvious. He swiped a folder from his desk and held it in front of his groin as he made his way to the door, pulling it open more aggressively than he needed to.

The woman standing beside Flo took Hopper’s breath away…just as she had a little over a week ago, and every day since.

“Hello, Jim,” you said, smiling up at Hopper warmly. He felt his knees tremble, a blush washing over his cheeks. Embarrassed by his uncharacteristic display of vulnerability, Hopper cleared his throat and attempted to compose himself. “Uh…hey, (y/n),” he said, his voice wavering, and then to Flo, “thanks, I’ve got her.” Flo nodded, and turned back down the hall.

Hopper wet his lips, as they’d suddenly gone dry. You cocked an eyebrow at him, playfully pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “…Aren’t you gonna invite me in?” you asked, breaking the awkward silence Hopper’s staring at you had created.

“Oh, sorry-yeah,” Hopper stammered, stepping aside to let you pass through the doorway. “Please, come inside.”

He noticed as you lingered in the doorway, and when he closed it, how your hand slipped behind his to press the lock in. Hopper didn’t question why you’d locked the door, because somehow…he already knew.

“Flo said you-.” Hopper swallowed as you sat down in the chair in front of his desk, casually spreading your legs and draping one over an arm of the chair like it was nothing, your eyes never leaving Hopper’s. “-You-uh…” His eyes drank in every inch of you. “…You have a problem of some kind?” he finished, averting his gaze to his desk.

“Look at me,” you ordered, and Hopper did. You were leaning forward in the chair now, an intensity in your expression that had been absent before. “That’s better,” you grinned, and leaned back slightly. “And yes, Jim, I do have a problem.”

Hopper nodded, his lips parted in anticipation, beads of sweat forming along his hairline. “…I can help,” he breathed, his voice faltering again. “Just, tell me how, and I will…anything…”

Hopper realized the folder was still in his hand, but he no longer needed it, seated behind his desk. He was still rock hard inside his pants, even more so now due to your presence. You watched as he placed the folder on his desk, knowing exactly what he’d been using it to conceal…

“Jim,” you began. “It’s a personal problem I’ve come to see you about…do you understand?”

Hopper nodded, although in truth, he had no clue why you’d shown up at the station today.

“I need you to help me with my…” You glanced away for a brief moment, almost bashfully. “Impatience,” you finished. Hopper frowned slightly, confused. “Because,” you continued. “I was going to wait for you to come back to my house and fuck me-.”

Hopper’s chest dropped as all the air in his lungs left him at once.

“-But I got impatient,” you concluded. “And I realize, impatience is a flaw in my character. I’d like your advice on how to improve it…” Hopper’s jaw tensed; he wasn’t sure what he was hearing, or where the line between reality and his own fantasies ended. Had you really just said those words to him?

“Since you’re…you know-,” you shrugged. “Older, I figured you must be wiser, too. And I also figured, you could teach me some things.”

Hopper’s confused expression deepened slightly. “You…need someone older?” he asked tentatively, choosing his words carefully, as he wasn’t sure if any of this was happening at all. “To teach you…” Hopper cleared his throat again. “…Things?”

“Mm-hmm,” you replied. “And one of them is patience.” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. Hopper’s eyes slid between your now partially-exposed breasts.

“One of them?” he asked. “What are the other things?”

You hooked a finger beneath the front of your shirt and pulled it down, allowing your breasts to spill out over the fabric. Hopper’s eyebrows lifted, his lips pressed together in a hard line, his nostrils flared slightly. His entire body was tensed, hands clenched into fists, his heels digging into the floor.

Your eyes were glossy, wide, innocent, even as your nakedness was fully on display. “Can you help me, Jim?” you asked sweetly, rising to your feet. You placed your palms against Hopper’s desk, leaning over it, allowing your breasts to linger mere inches from his face. “…Please?”

Hopper was moving purely on instinct at this point. Whether this was a dream, reality, or some combination of the two, he was no longer in control of his actions. Hopper stood up, bumping the prominent erection in his pants on the underside of his desk. He grunted at the discomfort and his own awkwardness, but quickly forgot about both as soon as his lips met yours.

Hopper pulled your body into him, lifting you slightly and wrapping your legs around his thigh. You curved your hips upward, grinding gently against him, savoring the way he grunted in pleasure as you humped his thigh. “God you’re so fucking beautiful,” Hopper murmured against your lips, in between kisses. “I’ve been-mmm-I’ve wanted this ever since you came home-.”

You bit down slightly on Hopper’s lip, shushing him. “I know,” you said, sucking at the mark your teeth had made in his skin. “So show me everything you’ve dreamed of doing to me, Jim.” You slipped your tongue between his lips, then pulled away for a moment. “Show me all the ways you’ve wanted to fuck me…”

Hopper took you by your shoulders, and guided you onto your knees. “Think I want that pretty mouth first,” he said. “Since it’s being so cocky today, maybe it should have a cock in it…”

You smiled widely, going to your knees obediently before Hopper. He removed his cock from his pants and smacked his tip against your lips, slicking them with precum. “You look even better on your knees than I imagined you would,” Hopper murmured. He rubbed his tip along your lips, spreading them apart, smearing his precum between them. It tasted sweet and mildly salty on your tongue as you curved it against the underside of Hopper’s cock.

He gently held your head in place while guiding himself between your lips. Hopper groaned as you enveloped him, the moist warmth of your cheeks cushioning his shaft as he used your mouth to stroke himself. “Fuck, you fit me like a glove, kid,” Hopper groaned. His fingernails dug lightly into your scalp as he pressed his cock deeper, stretching your throat. “That’s my girl, takin’ it just like a bitch, like you were made for it…” Hopper’s degrading words tugged at your core, had your clit beginning to throb. You gurgled and choked on Hopper’s cock with every thrust, your gag reflex activating every time his fat tip prodded the back of your throat.

Hopper moaned, his hips faltering. “Shit,” he cursed. “You’re getting me too close, baby, ‘an I’m not done with you yet-.” He lifted you by the shoulders and tossed you onto his desk, spreading your legs and burying his face between them. The shock of Hopper’s lips immediately honing in on your clit had you reeling, your thighs shaking as Hopper suckled your plump, sensitive bud and made out with your pussy in wet, sloppy kisses. He slipped his tongue between your labia, swirling your slick between your lips before penetrating you with his tongue. Hopper lapped at your pussy, the texture of his tongue soft, but its muscle rigid as he stiffened it to fuck into you.

You came on Hopper’s tongue, your thighs draped over his shoulders, his face covered in your slippery release as a mix of cum and piss expelled from within you and saturated Hopper’s beard and neck. He rose from between your thighs, his face dripping with you, hair messy and sprinkled with stray drops of your cum. Hopper mounted you, splayed and helpless on his desk, and entered you in one abrupt, brutal thrust. He grit his teeth and groaned from behind them, your soft whimpers making it all the more difficult for him not to immediately empty himself inside you. The squeeze of your cunt was like a warm, welcoming vice, the sweetest kind of death a man could ever ask for, to be crushed between the sopping grip of your tight, firm walls.

The next five minutes were a white-hot blur for both you and Hopper, a mix of teeth and tongues on skin and his cock punching places inside you that didn’t seem anatomically possible. Hopper’s breath grew shorter and his pace more frenetic the closer he came to climax. He started to pull out as he felt the beginning of what would likely be the most intense orgasm he’d ever had. But you squeezed your thighs around his waist, forcing him deeper, and with a firm, aggressive voice, ordered “NO.”

Hopper was so close, and you were so certain, so insistent, that he could hardly resist the temptation to fill you up. And next words that left your lips in a pretty, breathless request, were so sweet, so soft, Hopper felt his already weak defenses fall completely… “Come inside me, Jim…please…”

There it was, Hopper’s favorite part of every fantasy he’d had about you. The part where you begged for his cum. At that point, no amount of common sense or rational judgment would have convinced Hopper not to paint your guts in his cum. Growling against your shoulder, Hopper pumped three final thrusts inside you, emptying his load between your plush, puffy walls.

His thighs were shaking, his whole body trembling over yours. The sound of voices murmuring from beyond Hopper’s office began to fade into his awareness, and he realized that everyone in the station must have heard what the two of you were doing. A dull panic began to settle in Hopper’s stomach. Hawkins was a small town; rumors spread quickly here. And gossip about the famously-promiscuous Chief of Police were especially salacious in the townsfolk’s minds. As the weight of Hopper’s actions began to settle over him, he suddenly felt…ashamed.

Hopper abruptly pulled out of you, and reached for a box of tissues nearby. You watched him remove a few and hurriedly clean the cum off his dick, as best he could anyway. He wadded the tissues into a ball and dropped them into a waste bin, a grim expression his face.

“What’s wrong, Jim?” you asked, noting how he kept glancing at the door. The voices murmuring outside his office had turned to whispers…sharp, judging whispers, and Hopper began to fear the worst. He looked back at you, and realized with a bitter remorse that he’d very possibly just ruined his entire career. “Get out,” Hopper said flatly, and you balked at his callous tone.

“Are you fucking serious?” you asked, closing your legs and sliding off his desk. Hopper shook his head at you, the effects of your charms beginning to fade. Angry, defiant, you stood directly in front of him, forcing him to look at you. Hopper stepped back, fixing his clothes and still shaking his head as if wishing to rid himself of a poison. “That’s not gonna work,” he insisted, his voice hollow. “Whatever that is-this fucking hold you’ve have over me-it’s done…I can’t do this…”

You rushed for him, tears burning your eyes but Hopper grabbed you by the wrists before you could strike him. “Get…out,” he glared down at you. “And think about what we’ve done…about what this means for both of us…”

You spat at Hopper’s face, but he didn’t react. When he released your wrists, you made a quick exit for the door, a dangerous rage boiling inside your gut.

As soon as you opened the door, several pairs of eyes met yours. Practically everyone at the station was crowded into the hallway outside Hopper’s office, quickly scattering when they saw you. Your cheeks burned pink with embarrassment… You’d gotten what you wanted, but at a price. If even one of those people spread word about what had happened, the results could be catastrophic for your reputation, for Hopper’s career, and maybe most of all, you feared that a friendship your dad valued so much, would be ruined…

Bowing your head in shame, you quickly walked through the station, grateful for the cold rain that hit your face when you made it outside. The spell was completed; the fun was over. And now, you were left picking up the pieces your selfish game had left in its wake, the potential heartache you’d unleashed. Maybe you had learned a lesson in patience, after all…that rather than use magick to bend someone’s desire toward you, it was better to wait for love to find you, organically. Regardless, the damage was now done.

You climbed inside your car and turned on the radio, trying to lose yourself in the words and melody playing. Part of you wanted to pull onto the highway and leave Hawkins behind forever, to rid yourself of the burden of seeing your father’s face when he heard what his daughter and a man he thought he could trust had done.

You backed out of the station’s parking lot and pulled onto the main road through downtown. On the way to your house, you decided that you’d have to see Hopper again, to admit that you’d used him, that he’d been tricked. But what you didn’t know, was that for all your efforts, the spell hadn’t worked…at least, not in a literal sense. Jim Hopper had been captivated by you, enchanted, obsessed…and in spite of his hateful behavior back in his office, he still was. You were good at deception, it seems, but not so good at spell craft. Hopper was in love with you. And it would take more than a scandal big enough to turn all of Hawkins on its head to change that…

────────────────

@mrshopper84 🩷

#stranger things #stranger things smut #jim hopper #hopper smut #david harbour #jim hopper x reader smut #jim hopper smut #hopper fanfic #jim hopper stranger things #jim hopper x reader #hopper x reader #jim hopper fanfic #hopper stranger things #hopper x fem reader #jim hopper x fem!reader #jim hopper x you smut #hopper x y/n #jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper x you #hopper x you #hopper angst #jim hopper angst #stranger things angst

[bean-bean2000]

The Maid - Part 9

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, depression, mentions of suicide, despair, feeling trapped. Mentions of abuse and rape.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Series masterlist Main Masterlist

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

Loki walks to the balcony and beckons you to follow.

You see a table with a spread ready for you. It's the most food you have ever seen and the most delicious-looking.

Trying to hide your shock and anticipation at the feast, you force yourself to sit down and intertwine your fingers.

Loki begins piling food on his plate when he realizes you have yet to reach for anything.

"Do you not like anything here?" he says to you.

"Oh, um, no no I just... I don't know what I like..." you stutter.

Loki looks at you confused "What do you mean? This is standard Asgardian food."

"I've never had... they serve the servants the scraps so..." you falter.

Loki looks to you with an accusatory stare.

"You're hiding something."

You breathe in sharply and fidget in your seat.

"How do you mean?" you question him, pushing your luck.

He's the god of lies you fool. Of course he knows you're hiding something.

"They may serve the servants scraps as you say, but you've undoubtedly tried at least the basics... even if they were in the form of scraps..." he says slowly while analyzing you.

You shift under his gaze.

"I guess you're right. I must have not realized when I ate them." you lie again.

He knows you're lying. He can taste lies.

Somehow, he doesn't push further and resumes eating his lunch.

He beckons you to try and eat. You take a few bites and your eyes widen with how delicious it is.

"Mmmm oh Norns, this is fantastic!" you say with your mouth full.

Loki laughs, and you blush embarrassingly covering your mouth with your hand.

As you're eating you start to question why he is being so nice to you. This isn't the rumours you've heard... he's said to be ruthless... selfish, and careless... but here he is eating lunch with you on the balcony of chambers fit for a princess?

You're so lost in thought you don't notice Loki watching you. He's staring at you, analyzing everything you do.

"Thank you for everything... this is a lot... nobody has ever been this kind and generous to me before. It means a lot to me." you say to him, eyes locked on to his.

You notice his entire demeanour change as soon as you expressed your gratitude.

"That is all for lunch. We're done here. I've entertained the strays enough for the day. Clean this up then start your duties as my personal maid." you're shocked by the sudden change in attitude.

"Well? Are you just going to stare at me? Go on. Do your job." Loki chastises you.

Confused, you get up and start cleaning up the table.

"Oh, and I've forgotten to specify....these chambers are not yours. You will be provided a more suitable living quarters for someone of your status. These chambers are for a queen. Don't forget your place. You're a maid." Loki says to you as he walks out of the room and slams the door shut.

You stare at the table, confused and shocked at the drastic change in mood. The room falls silent.

Did he just call me a stray?

He's right. I am just a maid. How could I ever think I could be anything else?

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and you blink them away as your mind connects the pieces.

I was foolish. This was all some cruel trick; showing me everything I will never have. The god of trickery... he fooled me into believing I could have any of this. I trusted him... blindly. The rumours are true, he is twisted; he gets off on psychologically torturing people. I had promised myself to never trust anyone but myself again and yet he manipulated me into trusting him... the king... the god of lies and mischief...

As you're mind is spiralling you feel the anger and hurt bubbling inside you when suddenly the plates on the table fly across the room and shatter on the floor.

What the? I didn't throw those plates.. did I?...

Puzzled by the strange occurrence you keep replaying the last words he spoke to you.

You're a maid. Don't forget your place.

You repeat that to yourself multiple times as you finish cleaning the lunch table. Sighing, you gather the cleaning supplies and go into autopilot as you begin your routine.

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

You finish your rounds for the day and put the supplies back. Sighing, you realize you don't know where you're supposed to stay... he said to not go back to the maid's quarters but you have nowhere else to go.

You hear the flapping wings of a crow followed by its caw. It lands on the windowsill in front of you with a note attached to its claw.

Of course he would send his pet to relay his demands.

You slowly approach it and open the note. Flickers of green scatter across the page as the message appears:

'Your new sleeping quarters: The room behind the office.'

Obviously he would place me far away from everyone else to see but close enough for me to continue my work for him.

You make your way to the office and notice a door hidden at the far back behind a corner.

You turn the knob and push it open. A small room with a cot, a wardrobe and a small bathroom, with basic amenities lays before you. It was a fraction of the size of the other chambers.

Better than the hay-filled mattress and common bathrooms I used to share.

You sit down on the chair near the desk placed in the corner of the room. Scanning your surroundings you note that the walls are simply made of stone, no heating provided for the colder months ahead. Nothing you haven't survived before. A small square window in the middle of a wall sheds some bit of sunlight into the space.

On the bedside table you see a cloth with stale bread and nuts, with a glass of water.

Back to the usual menu I see...

You sit on the cot.

At least I get my own space.

You lay down and stare at the ceiling, contemplating your current situation.

I never have a choice. They are always made for me. This is my new life for now, until he decides he no longer needs me and I'm thrown into the wild to my own devices. It wouldn't be the first time.

You shiver as the nightmares from past flow through your head. Shaking your head to rid of the thoughts, you turn to lay on your side, your back still sore, amongst other injuries that have yet to fully heal.

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

Over the next few days, your routine remains the same. Today you're assigned a new section, the library.

You push open the doors and gasp at the immensity of the room. The walls are lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves, a staircase in the middle leads up to a second floor with a couch and another room filled with books.

You're overcome with excitement and immediately start walking throw every aisle, scanning what books he has.

When's the last time I stepped foot in a library? Let alone held a book in my hands...

One of them catches your eye and you pluck it from the shelf and delicately open it. You sigh with content at the familiarity and protection you feel from holding a book.

A way out... mentally, momentarily... to keep my sanity and forget who I am. An imaginary shield around my heart, keeping reality at bay, daydreaming to be someone, somewhere, I could only dream of... a fairytale of course.

You breathe in deeply the smell of the book, sighing again, feeling your shoulders relax for the first time in ages. The book is filled with the same stories you vaguely recall your parents reciting to you as a child. You're filled with nostalgia as you flip through the pages, smiling at the memories.

"I didn't know you liked to read." Loki says from across the room. You gasp, eyes wide, shutting the book closed quickly and placing it back in its spot on the shelf.

You decide not to reply and start gathering your supplies again to resume your cleaning.

Loki watches you as he approaches. You're dusting the shelves when he comes behind you, merely inches from you and takes the same book out.

Your heart is racing.

How dare I touch anything that is his without permission? Another reason for punishment. Damn it, I couldn't help it... old habits die hard.

You're plucked from your thoughts as his voice carries through the room.

"A storybook? These are for children." he states as he flips through the pages.

Again, you remain quiet and continue your work.

"Most servants are illiterate. How do you know how to read?" he questions as he leans against the bookshelf behind you.

Without turning around to face him you reply "My father taught me."

"Hmmm... and who was your father?" he pushes further.

"He was once a professor."

"So, you can read higher than this level I presume. Why choose this book then, out of everything else in this library?" he questions.

You're furiously dusting, trying to distract your racing heart. Keeping your back to him "My father read them to me at night. I read them to my parents when they fell ill." you reply stiffly.

Your once nostalgic joyful moment now soured by the painful memories of the beginning of your suffering.

"Why aren't you facing me when you speak?" he questions.

You pause and let out a quick breath "I'm trying to finish my work on time, your highness. I know you highly appreciate punctuality."

"You still haven't learned that I know when you're lying?"

You huff in annoyance and turn around facing him "I'm not lying. I would like to finish the work on time to avoid punishment for tardiness, my king" you bite our rather harshly. Your eyes widen again at your outburst.

You swallow thickly.

He approaches you slightly and raises his arm. Your gasp and flinch away. Shutting your eyes tightly, arms tucked to your chest in protection.

You don't see the way Loki's body shifts uncomfortably at your instinctual reaction. He continues his movement of his arm and places the book back on the shelf. He watches as you're shaking, shrinking into yourself.

What happened to you? he asks himself.

You wait for the pain but when nothing happens you open your eyes slowly and see him staring at you with his eyebrows raised.

"Not the entire truth but close enough." he says smugly.

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

Tag list:

@gruftiela

@elegantcheesecakecrown

@chxco-hyujin

@cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

@i-am-amora-the-enchantress

@cakesandtom

@dorck26

@buckitostan

@princessdragon23

@classicsandfantasy

@wolfsmom1

@stardream14

@em0220

@goblingirlsarah

@meow-meowmotherfucker-blog

@huntress-artemiss

@lunazeichnet

@luxky-aish

#fanfic #marvel #angst #loki #loki x reader #loki of asgard #loki series #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #enemies t

[libbys-braincell-loss]

Im bored as hell so heres a short SMG4 x SMG3 oneshot (idk what to name it)

(Kinda angst? Not exactly, it also mostly includes some wholesome fluff too; takes place after the events of the Puzzlevision movie and references IGBP, so spoilers for that ig lol)

(Also its really short)

---

SMG4 was out for a walk, late in the evening outside of the castle. He was lost in thought - a lot of things were eating him up inside his mind since the day Mr. Puzzles took him and his friends and forced them to perform in his dumbass shows.

Just one thing was going through his mind.

When Mr. Puzzles showed him his corrupted behavior when he was going through the phase where he absolutely had to make the perfect video ever.

"Who knew that you could make such a great villain?" Mr. Puzzles had said.

He really did become a villain, didn't he..?

That was an entire year ago, and he still regretted his choices and still beats himself up over moments like that.

SMG4 stands in places and observes the pebbles on the ground.

"SMG4?"

The familiar voice surprised him. He turned around, and not too far away from where he stood was SMG3, holding his beloved Eggdog.

"What are you doing out and about at this hour?" SMG3 asked.

"I could ask the same to you?" SMG4 said in return.

"I always let Eggdog roam around at this hour," SMG3 said, putting Eggdog on the ground, as he hops off. "It's quiet out. No one, specifically Mario, is up at this hour to disturb our peace. It's real nice. ...Why are you out here? You're rarely out and about this late."

SMG4 sighs. "I've had things on my mind, and I thought touching grass would clear my head, y'know?" He chuckles.

SMG3 begins expressing concern, but is very quick to hide it. "What's up?"

SMG4 observes the ground. "Do you realize that I went through that... 'absolute perfection' phase over a year ago? Can you believe it's been that long?"

"Oh, shit," SMG3's eyes widen. "Time really flew by, huh?"

"...Yeah."

SMG4 stares sadly at his castle, not too far away.

"To think that something so impressive and monumental... wouldn't be here if I didn't do something so dumb."

SMG3 worriedly steps closer to him, realizing what's up.

"Is Mr. Puzzles' comment bothering you?"

SMG4 looks at 3. He nods.

"I just... hate the fact I was so selfish that I ended up hurting the people I cared for most," SMG4 says, blinking back tears creeping through his tearducts. "I didn't want to be a villain, I never wanted to..."

SMG4 buries his face in his hands. SMG3 inches closer, holding out his arms, but ultimately deciding against putting hands on the person considered his rival, so he lowered his arms.

"I never considered you a villain, SMG4."

4 looks up at 3.

"You were blindsighted, but the stupid keyboard corrupting you up was out of your control," says SMG3. "You are a dumbass, not a villain. You never had malicious intent. Mr. Puzzles is wrong and we are all thankful he's dead. He was such a sicko-"

SMG3 gets cut off, as SMG4 hugs him. SMG3 feels 4 silently sobbing into his shoulder. He is in a stun lock for a second, before coming to terms that 4 was hugging him. He wraps his own arms around his crying "nemesis". He gently rubs his back reassuringly.

"4, I promise you, you are no villain. You could never be a villain like me." SMG3 says, chuckling.

He feels SMG4 chuckle a teensy bit while buried in his shoulder, reassuring 3 that he would be okay, thus bringing him back at ease.

"Says the person who saved my life and called me a friend," SMG4 says, face still up against SMG3.

"Not like you said anything different when you saved my life," SMG3 chuckled.

SMG4 slowly lifts his face away from SMG3's shoulder.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you cared about me," SMG4 said half jokingly.

SMG3 smiles sadly.

"I'll be honest, I'm tired of pretending I don't."

SMG4 and SMG3 look into each others eyes. 4 smiles slyly.

"I knew it. I knew you were a tsundere."

SMG3 gently pushes SMG4 away from him, smiling and pretending to be mad. "Don't make me actually hate you."

4 chuckles.

SMG3 looks at him again. "Are you sure you're okay now?"

SMG4 smiles.

"Much better, thanks to you."

SMG3 smiles, looking to the ground.

"Don't mention it. ..Seriously, don't mention it. If Meggy hears about this, I will not hear the end of it."

SMG4 grins, and begins walking back toward his castle, as Eggdog walks up to his owner, ready to head inside.

"I heart you too, SMG3," SMG4 says before walking to the castle entrance.

SMG3 rolls his eyes, smiling, as he picks up Eggdog and the two head back into the cafe.

#smg4 #smg4 fanfic #smg43 #smg34 #smg4 smg3 #smg4 x smg3 #smg4 eggdog #smg4 puzzlevision #puzzlevision arc #puzzlevision movie #smg4 its gotta be perfect #smg4 igbp #its gotta be perfect

[toasttt11]

home

September 2, 2021

Luke ran a hand through his hair and tiredly stumbling to the outside of the lake house seeing Sebastian sitting at the dock looking out at the water.

Luke grabbed the blanket hanging on the back deck and walked down the stairs and down the hill onto the dock and plopped down next to his best friend and threw the blanket over the both of them.

Luke has noticed something off with his best friend the last few days and knows something had been bothering him.

Sebastian didn’t even notice that Luke sat next to him to lost in old memories.

October 28, 2008

Five year old Sebastian giggled as he was knelt down on the grass in the backyard of his childhood home, he gently picked three tiny yellow flowers and held them in his tiny hand.

“Sebby!” Jennifer called out from the back patio knowing her youngest son is still outside and it was time for dinner.

“Coming Mama!” Sebastian gently yelled back and quickly jogged to the patio straight to his mother with a beaming smile.

Sebastian ran right into her legs hugging them tightly, Jennifer fondly smiled and rubbed the back of her darling boys head.

“I got you a present!” Sebastian looked up at her grinning and gently put out his hands with the flowers he picked.

“Oh Sebby darling they are perfect!” Jennifer smiled widely and gently took them from her sweet son’s hand, She leaned down picking him and pressing multiple kisses to his cheek, “Ready for dinner?” She asked him as she carried him inside.

“Mhm.” Sebastian mumbled resting his head on her shoulder and staring to fall asleep in her arms.

Sebastian blinked out the memories feeling Luke nudge him gently.

“Are you alright Sebby?” Luke looked at him in concern and Sebastian kinda nodded.

“You know my mother left right.” Sebastian stated to Luke, Luke’s eyes widen as Sebastian doesn’t ever talk about his mother but nodded.

“Her relationship with Dad was bad for a good while before we moved to Michigan and they were always arguing over something, most the time it was because she wanted more money to go shopping.” Sebastian let out a breath shaking his head, he’s never talked about this to anyone but it’s Luke. Luke scooted closer so their elbows and shoulders were touching.

“It was like she changed one night from the mother we knew to someone else. And then one day we woke up and she was gone.” Sebastian swallows harshly, “We found out she was having an affair for a long time as long as she was acting different.”

Luke frowned hating this lady for hurting Sebastian so much.

“It was hard when she left. Dad was emotional gone, he was heartbroken from her leaving and it was worse when he found she was cheating for months. He didn’t get any better until he started talking to Emily.” Sebastian explained, Emily his stepmother, also the reason his dad and older brother moved back to Massachusetts and why Sebastian lived with the Hughes.

“Micheal was obviously hurting but he did that by pushing everyone away and it caused strain on our relationship that’s never been fixed and Matt was trying to act happy and nothing has happened. She broke our family when she left and know she’s got a new family with the man she cheated with and has got step kids now.” Sebastian scoffed out an angry breath blinking to keep the tears in.

“Why can’t anyone just want to stay.” Sebastian whispered, His mother left for a rich man and a new family and his dad left him Michigan for a new wife, two step kids and a newborn son.

Sebastian shoulder trembled and Luke frowned quickly wrapped his arm around Sebastian’s shoulder and pulled him closer, “Let it all out, it’s just me.” Luke soflty whispered and it seemed to break the dam holding Sebastian’s waterworks.

Sebastian’s sobs were quiet but his whole body shook with the weight of them, he’s only cried once since everything has happened and it was the day his mother has left, he’s been holding everything but the anger in for years.

“I’ve got you.” Luke softly cooed and gently brushed Sebastian’s back and just held him letting him cry it all out.

Sebastian stayed in Luke’s arms for a long time just crying out all of the sadness and heartbreak before he finally started to calm down and his sobs slowing down.

Luke waited until Sebastian calmed down before gently grabbing his face and pulling it up so they held eye contact, “She’s a bitch for leaving Sebastian. And your dad is a jerk too for leaving.” Luke firmly spoke, he remembers how much he hated how devastated Sebastian looked after he found his dad and brother were moving back and with a new family.

“It doesn’t matter about them anyways, you never did anything wrong and they were stupid to leave you.” Luke reassured him, “But you always have a family with us. Dad doesn’t let anyone touch his grill but loves it when you help him. Mom loves everyone but absolutely adores you and literally always asking about you when you’re gone. Quinn rarely likes anyone but i’ve seen him treat you just the same as he treats Jacky and i, he thinks of you as a brother. And Jacky loves everyone but he is so protective over you and will never let anyone say anything that isn’t nice about you, he doesn’t do that for many.” Luke fondly told Sebastian everything.

Sebastian let out a watery chuckle, truthfully he feels more at home and with a family with the Hughes then he does with his own family and he is glad the feeling is reciprocated.

“Okay.” Luke checked and Sebastian nodded, “If you never want to go back to them you don’t have, you always have a home here.”

Sebastian smiled softly and nodded and pulled his best friend into a hug, “Thank you.” He mumbled.

“Always.” Luke promised and hugged him back.

Sebastian did find a home, just in Luke, and he found a family in the Hughes.

#sebastianboldyau #sb12 #luke hughes x oc #luke hughes #jack hughes #jack hughes x oc #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x oc #matt boldy #dylan duke #ethan edwards #mark estapa #mackie samoskevich #matty beniers #luca fantilli x oc #adam fantilli #rutger mcgroarty x oc #seamus casey #gavin brindley #new jersey devils #umich hockey #nico hischier x oc #nico daws #dawson mercer #alex holtz x oc #simon nemec #jesper bratt #curtis lazar #nhl x oc #nhl au

[valkyrieeeee]

Broken Promises

ᑉ³pairing; Fiancé! Bangchan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst

ᑉ³warnings; Arguments, Alcohol, cursing

ᑉ³Authors Note; Surprise.. another angst (said no one ever)!

Sitting alone at the small table in the quaint bakery, surrounded by an array of beautifully decorated cakes, you can't shake the growing sense of unease gnawing at your stomach. Chan was supposed to meet you here for the cake tasting for your wedding, but as the minutes tick by, there's still no sign of him.

Glancing down at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, you force a smile as you reply to the concerned messages from the bakery staff, assuring them that Chan will be arriving shortly. But with each passing moment, your assurances feel emptier and emptier.

The bakery owner, a middle-aged woman with warm, motherly eyes and flour-dusted apron, approaches you with gentle steps, her expression a mixture of concern and empathy. As she reaches your table, she offers a sympathetic smile, lines of experience etched into the corners of her eyes, revealing a lifetime of witnessing both joy and sorrow.

"Is everything okay, dear?" she asks in a soft, soothing voice, her tone carrying the weight of genuine care. "Your fiancé seems to be running a bit late."

You nod, plastering on a smile that feels more like a grimace. "Oh, he's just caught up with something. He'll be here soon, I'm sure of it."

But even as the words leave your lips, doubt gnaws at the edges of your mind. Where is Chan? Why hasn't he shown up for something as important as choosing your wedding cake?

As the minutes turn into hours, the atmosphere in the bakery grows increasingly awkward. The staff exchange concerned glances, and you can feel the weight of their pitying stares bearing down on you.

Finally, unable to bear the charade any longer, you excuse yourself from the table and step outside for some fresh air. Leaning against the cool brick wall of the bakery, you let out a frustrated sigh, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over.

You had envisioned this day as a happy occasion, a chance to celebrate your love and plan for your future together. But now, it feels like just another reminder of Chan's inability to prioritize your relationship.

Feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment, you pull out your phone and start typing a message to Chan.

Still, there's no response from Chan. You try calling him, but it goes straight to voicemail. Panic starts to set in as you realize that he's not picking up.

Tears blur your vision as you hit send, the weight of Chan's absence bearing down on you like a ton of bricks. You're left feeling hurt and confused, wondering how and why he could have missed something so important to you both.

As you walk briskly away from the bakery, you can't shake the feeling of betrayal that weighs heavy on your heart.

Each step feels like a painful reminder of Chan's absence. Tears threaten to spill over, but you blink them back, refusing to let yourself break down in public.

As you reach your home, you unlock the door with trembling hands and step inside, the familiar surroundings offering a small sense of peace amidst all of your emotions.

Alone in the quiet of your apartment, you finally allow yourself to release the floodgates of pent-up frustration and sorrow. Tears stream down your cheeks as you collapse onto the couch, the weight of the day's events crashing down on you all at once.

You pull out your phone, hoping against hope for a message or a call from Chan, but the screen remains stubbornly blank. With a heavy sigh, you set the device aside, resigning yourself to the painful reality of his absence.

As you sit on the couch, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, the sound of the door unlocking startles you. Your heart leaps with a flicker of hope, but as Chan staggers through the doorway, his movements unsteady and his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol, your hope quickly dissipates into a sinking feeling of disappointment.

"What the hell?" you ask, your voice a mixture of concern and frustration.

Chan's eyes struggle to focus as he blinks blearily at you. He gasps "Babbbyyyyyy" he slurs, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. "Hi beautifuuull."

Anger bubbles up in your chest, hot and fierce, as you struggle to contain the storm raging inside you. "Don't you 'baby' me," you snap, your voice sharp . "Where have you been, Chan? You were supposed to be with me."

But Chan's smile only widens, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart. "I was out celebrating, love," he says, his words slurred and carefree, as if the weight of his absence bears no significance. "With the boys, you know? It was a great night!"

The audacity of his nonchalant demeanor ignites a fire within you, the flames of your anger burning brighter with each passing moment. "Celebrating? While I sat here waiting for you?" you seethe, your voice trembling with rage. "You were supposed to be at the cake tasting with me. Do you have any idea how important that was? Do you even care about me at all?"

Chan's expression falters, a flicker of confusion dancing in his glazed eyes as he struggles to comprehend the depth of your hurt. "Of course I care, babe," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I just... lost track of time, that's all."

Your voice cuts through the air like a knife, sharp and unforgiving, as you confront Chan's feeble attempt to brush off his actions. "No, Chan, you forgot," you repeat, your tone laced with the bitter sting of disappointment. "You forgot about me, about us, about everything we've been planning together."

Chan's gaze flickers with a mix of guilt and frustration, his defenses crumbling under the weight of your accusation. "I didn't mean to," he protests weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You cut him off with a wave of your hand, unable to bear his excuses any longer. "Save it, Chan. We have an important meeting tomorrow morning with the photographer and videographer. We need to finalize the details for the wedding, and I need you to be sober and present for that."

Chan nods, his expression contrite as he sinks onto the couch beside you. "I'll be there, I promise. I'll make it up to you."

You want to believe him, to trust that he'll follow through on his promise, but doubts linger in the back of your mind.

As Chan sinks onto the couch beside you, his expression contrite, you can feel the tension between you thickening. His drunken attempts at affection, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek, elicit a mixture of conflicting emotions within you.

"Chan, I'm not in the mood for this," you murmur, your voice tinged with frustration.

But Chan persists, his touch lingering as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. "I love you, Y/N," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm sorry for messing up, but let me make it up to you."

You want to believe him, to let yourself be swept away by his words and his touch, but the memory of his absence and his neglect hangs heavy in the air between you. You can't bring yourself to let him off the hook so easily, not when this isn't the first time he's let you down.

With a heavy heart, you push him away gently, your resolve firm despite the ache in your chest. "Not tonight, Chan," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need some space."

Chan's expression falls, disappointment flashing in his eyes before he nods, accepting your decision. "Okay," he murmurs, his voice tinged with regret.

You watch as he retreats to the bedroom, disappointed. Unable to face the thought of sharing a bed with him tonight, you grab a pillow and a blanket, retreating to the couch where you curl up and try to push aside the hurt and disappointment that threatens to consume you.

As you close your eyes and try to drift off to sleep, the ache in your heart remains, a painful reminder of the rift that has grown between you and Chan. You know that tomorrow will bring difficult conversations and tough decisions, but for now, all you can do is try to find solace in the solitude of the couch and hope for a better tomorrow.

The next morning, you awaken with a heavy heart, the events of the previous night weighing heavily on your mind. Despite the restless night, you rise early, determined to face the day head-on.

As you make your way to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast, you can't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at the pit of your stomach. Glancing around the empty room, you realize that Chan is nowhere to be found.

A sense of apprehension washes over you as you check your phone, half-hoping to find a message from Chan explaining his absence. But the screen remains stubbornly blank, devoid of any communication from him.

With a sinking feeling in your chest, you push aside your worries and focus on the task at hand. You have an important meeting with the vendor this morning, and you can't afford to be late.

Quickly finishing your breakfast, you gather your things and head out the door, praying that Chan is already on his way. Maybe he's already on the way, you tell yourself, trying to quell the rising tide of anxiety threatening to overwhelm you.

As you arrive at the meeting venue, you scan the area, searching for any sign of Chan. But he's nowhere to be seen, and your heart sinks as the realization dawns on you.

He's done it again.

As you step through the front door, the tension in the air is palpable, thick with unspoken frustrations and simmering resentment. You walk into your bedroom ready to sleep the pain fromt he day away. But your gaze falls upon Chan, seated at his desk, his headphones on as he works on his music, seemingly oblivious to your presence.

Without a word, you storm over to him, your anger bubbling over. "Chan, we need to talk," you say, your voice tight with emotion.

Chan looks up, startled by the intensity of your tone. "What's wrong?" he asks, removing his headphones and turning to face you.

"What's wrong? What's wrong is that you keep letting me down, over and over again," you reply, your voice rising with each word. "What's wrong is that you can't seem to prioritize anything other than your damn music! You forgot about the meeting this morning. Again. Do you even care about our wedding?"

Chan's brow furrows in frustration. "Of course I care, but I had a deadline to meet. I couldn't just drop everything."

"That's not good enough, Chan," you shoot back, your hands trembling with anger. "You promised you would be there. You promised you would start taking our wedding seriously."

"I do take it seriously," Chan insists, his own frustration beginning to show. "But I have other responsibilities too. I can't just neglect my work."

"You're neglecting our relationship, Chan," you retort, the words bitter on your tongue. "You keep putting everything else before us, and I'm sick of it."

Chan stands up, his jaw clenched with pent-up frustration. "I'm doing the best I can, okay? I'm trying to juggle everything, but it's not easy."

Well, it's not good enough," you say, your voice trembling with emotion. "I need someone who can be there for me when it matters, someone who won't let me down."

The air crackles with tension as the weight of your words hangs heavy between you. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence filled with the echo of unresolved anger and hurt.

Finally, Chan's voice rises in a roar of frustration. "I'm tired of always being the one to blame! Maybe if you weren't so demanding, I wouldn't have to constantly choose between you and my work!"

You reel back, stung by his words, but before you can respond, Chan continues, his anger pouring out in a torrent of emotion. "You have no idea what it takes to make it in this industry. This is my dream, Y/N. I can't just drop it because you want me to."

Your blood boils at his dismissive tone. "Dream? This isn't just about your dream, Chan. This is about us, about our future together. And you keep throwing it away for some stupid song."

His eyes flash with anger. "Don't you dare belittle my passion like that. You think planning a wedding is more important than my music?"

"Yes, I do!" you shout, your voice echoing off the walls. "Because this wedding is supposed to be about us, about our commitment to each other. But all you care about is yourself."

Chan's nostrils flare, his fists clenched at his sides. "I'm selfish? Look in the mirror, Y/N. All you do is demand, demand, demand. You never think about what I need." He says slaming his headset down. "I'm sick of feeling like I'm not good enough for you! Maybe you should find someone else who can live up to your impossible standards!"

The words hit you like a slap in the face, the sting of his accusation cutting deep. "I'm demanding? I'm demanding because I expect you to show up for the most important day of our lives? Because I expect you to be there for me when I need you?" You take a deep breath. "Maybe... maybe you're right," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we shouldn't be getting married."

Chan's eyes widen in shock, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he struggles to process your words. "Y/N, wait—"

But before he can say anything else, you reach for the engagement ring on your finger, the metal cold against your skin. With a swift motion, you rip it off and fling it at him, the ring soaring through the air before landing with a dull thud at his feet.

Chan's face pales, his eyes wide with disbelief as he watches you turn and storm out of the room, your footsteps echoing off the walls like a thunderous drumbeat.

As you step outside into the cool night air, tears stream down your cheeks, mingling with the bitter taste of regret and heartache. With each step you take away from the house, the weight of your decision presses down on you like a heavy burden, but you know deep down that it's the right choice.

With a heavy heart, you make your way to your parents' house, seeking comfort in the familiar embrace of family. And as you collapse into their arms, the tears come in quickly, a torrent of emotion unleashed in the wake of your shattered dreams.

·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. © Valkyrieeeee 2024

#stray kids smau #skz smau #skz texts #stray kids #straykids x you #stray kids ff #straykids angst #changbin #hyunjin #jeongin #minho #skz #stayville #bang chan #lee felix #lee know #seungmin #fiance #sad

[crazylittlejester]

I was wondering if your little fics were still open, if so I have a request

okay so I’m auditioning for an orchestra soon (scary) and I’m really nervous and I was thinking about Legend and his silly instruments sooo I was wondering if you could write something about Legend being able to play like any instrument? Like maybe the chain is in a dungeon that has to do with music and such and Legend is having so much fun pulling out the most random instruments and playing them and knowing what to do

Thank you for even reading this!!

I want a name like your other anons so I guess you can call me band nerd anon or something of the sort if you so please

WOAAAAAH GOOD LUCK!!!! That sounds super cool, I miss playing music, I hope you do well and have fun!!

Here you go, band anon!! (485 words):

“This is so stupid,” Warriors grumbled, still trying to wedge his sword between the doors and pry them open.

“You’re stupid!” Legend shot back, wishing the captain would just shut up and stop complaining for five seconds so he could think. This is what he got for exploring a dungeon with Warriors of all people, the man who, for all his problem solving ability, couldn’t see to help him find a way out of this damned room.

“I don’t see you doing anything to help,” the captain grunted when he lost his grip on his sword and went stumbling backwards. He was panting heavily when he braced his hands on his knees to take a moment to breathe.

“Oh because you’re being so helpful,” he rolled his eyes. He knew Warriors was just panicking because they were trapped in an inclosed space, but he really wished the man would just sit down for a minute so he could think.

“Just shut up,” Warriors glared at him, and in the brief moment of silence between when the man finally shut his mouth and before Legend spoke, he heard a faint melody. A faint melody that kept repeating the same few measures over and over again.

“Do you hear that?” He asked the captain, and Warriors stood up straight with a confused look.

“Hear what?”

Legend walked around the small room, trying to find a place where the music might be louder. Closer to the door, the faint melody was just loud enough for him to make out the notes.

“Can you seriously not hear this??” He stared at Warriors, who was looking at him with an odd expression.

“Are you… making fun of me right now…?”

“What??” Legend scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No, I’m trying to get out of here so I can get away from your ass.”

Warriors narrowed his eyes, but walked closer to Legend and tried to listen for the melody.

“I can’t hear it,” he sighed after a few moments stepping back with an irritated look.

“Be honest, do you think if I played it the door would open?” Legend asked, blinking at his brother.

Warriors just stared back. “I mean I just wasted fifteen minutes trying to pry it open with a sword, so you might as well give it a shot.”

Legend rustled through the pouches on his belt for his ocarina, testing a few notes before he figured out the first note in the melody. It took him a few tries before he got all the right notes, but once he did, the door sprung open immediately.

“HAHA!!” Warriors jumped up and down, punching the air in excitement before sprinting out. “Oh sweet Hylia, you fucking did it!!”

Legend couldn’t help the smug look from forming on his face as he stooped down to pick up the captain’s forgotten sword, left on the floor in Warriors’s panic to get out of the room.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu legend #jes talks #jes ask #jes fic

[hell-drabbles]

Hello, I'm back again with more writing! Your newest drabbles with Lucifer have been giving me brainrot again. I love how you portrayed the relationship between Lucifer and the Companion and it was so satisfying seeing Ra-On jealous. Well, now he's gonna get more of that in the future. Don't take people for granted Raon! For now I'm focused on the Companion and their relationships with Lucifer and the rest of Paradise Lost.

I tried to make the Companion as genderneutral as I can, but they do get called sister. Sibling just doesn't sound the same and I wanted to discern them a bit so I didn't make them be called brother.

Some gore coming up again and a bit angst, but this time the main-part is comfort! The Companion deserves all the affection and rest after having to deal with everyones bs and their entire being remade because of angelification. The characters are probably ooc, but I needed the fluff of Companion being taken care of like they deserve😌

They are still getting used to their head being silent now, of that holy light that had previously blinded them from what is right before them being gone. Well, not truly silent but the ringing choir of the adoring angels that had been blasting in their mind has lowered until it's a barely there murmur, as long as they don't focus on it they can't hear those beckoning words. And they can actually see what is in front of them again, not that painful light that had burned into their pupils even when they closed their eyes, though everything is still fuzzy with the light.

Their body also still feels strange, wrong. At first it was those damn wings that sprouted from their back that they had ripped out themselves and the halo floating over their head and now it's the pair of horns sprouting from their forehead and a tail growing from their backside. It hurts, having grown new bones and new limbs that weren't supposed to be there in the first place, damn it. But it's preferable being one of the demons than still being a lapdog to those damned Seraphim. While their memories are still scrambled and trying to remember anything specific is like wading through mud hurtpainagonythusiswrongmakeitstop, they do remember enough to know they'll take off those angel-fuckers heads when they get the chance. Noone gets to manipulate them like that, use them to hurt their friends.

They clench their hands, digging their clawed fingers that have been previously stroking the tuft of fur at the tip of their tail into their palms and easily piercing the soft skin with those razor-sharp claw-tips. Their tail whips around and the stumps of what remained of their wings twitch, responding to their anger and indignation. That too is new. Their emotions seem almost amplified now, much easier rising and ebbing like the sea. They almost feel like they're back in their teenage-years where their puberty made them a wreck, though they had much better control of themselves than their human friends. They remember what is was like watching Raon and Mhinyeok, it was like seeing a trainwreck happening right in front of you.

"Sister, is everything alright?" A kind voice interrupts their train of thought.

Ah. They got lost in their head again. They shake their head and blink rapidly, trying to ground themselves in the present again.

Their eyes focus on Morax as their tail settles besides their legs on top of the blanket and the wing-stumps stop moving.

"Sorry." They rasp out, their voice quiet and hoarse.

"It's alright. You are still recovering, after all. We're only sorry that our healing can't do more for you, sister." Buer cuts in, gently uncurling their fingers from their palms and observing the damage they did to themselves. Again.

Off to the side, Marbas clicks his tongue.

"Your recovery progress is much slower than expected, sister. Even Gamigin couldn't do much. Some of the wounds will probably always remain and never truly heal, like his majesties Lucifer's."

He almost sounds apologetic.

Their eyes flick to Luicfer at the reminder, who has been silently observing as the other three did the check-up on them, unwrapping the bloody bandages across their body, evaluating their wounds and re-wrapping them with new bandages that won't stay clean for long.

As if almost on cue, Gamigin comes bustling through the door, carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming soup and a glass of tea and a tonic that's supposed to help speed up recovery.

"Your meal, sister!" The dragon grins, the bells of the staff on his back ringing which each step as he puts the tray across their lap.

"Too loud, Gamigin" Morax scolds.

"Too noisy, Gamigin" Marbas grumbles right after.

"Too much noise, Gamigin" Buer also says.

They can't help but smile at the exchange and feel guilty at the same time. They are investing so much time and care and resources in them and it's been weeks and they still can barely stand, let alone walk without help. At least the burns healed, but the stumps of their wings and the large wound on their chest will most likely never stop bleeding, judging from the example they have. They will always be in pain for the eternity their unnatural life will span now that they are a devil.

"Eat." Lucifer reminds them quietly, stopping them from getting lost in their mind again.

"Right." They blink again, shaking their head. Ah, it's frustrating! Why can't their focus just stay on the thing they want it to, instead of jumping and trailing all over the place? Morax, Marbas and Buer already said it's natural, that it will get better as both their body and mind heal and settle into their new form as a fallen angel- as a demon. They do their best to believe them and ignore the feeling of wrongwrongwrong- this isn't how their body is supposed to be-

to ignore that they sometimes can barely supress the urge to scratch at their skin and break off the horns and rip out their tail- get frustrated with their slow progress.

They lift their shaking hands and grab the spoon in a weak grip, barely able to dip it into the bowl and lift it even an inch again before it slips from their fingers and drop back into the bowl, a few drops splattering out on the blanket and on their skin.

"Fuck!" They curse, frustrated by their own weakness.

The others spring into action, Buer lifting the tray from their lap while Morax pulls away the stained blanket and Gamigin quickly daps up the hot soup that spilled on them with a hankerchief he got from who-knows-where.

"It's fine, sister. You're still recovering. You fell from Heaven, burned alive and broke a lot of your bones when you crashed in Hell. It's a wonder you're still alive." Marbas speaks to calm me down while the others bustle around. Morax leaves with the dirty blanket and returns with a new one, Buer putting the tray on the nightstand besides the bed safely as Gamigin makes sure they're cleaned up before tucking the now stained hankerchief away.

"You're right. But I still feel useless, like a burden." They admit.

"Not a burden." Lucifer speaks quietly but firm.

"Yes! We want to do this for you, sister! You can rely on us." Gamigin pipes up afterwards.

They're so kind to them. They were the ones who found them, took them with them to Paradise Lost and made them apart of their little family, taking care of them and still trying their best to nurse them back to health and help them settle in their new body. They can let themselves be vunerable with them without having to fear they will use their weakness against them. They are not used to it, to their care and how they adress them like family. They were always the one taking care of others, not the one being cared for.

"Thank you." They choke out feeling suddenly emotional, a lone tear trailing down their cheek.

"Don't cry." Lucifer says, stepping forward and gently wiping the tear away from their cheek.

He sits down on the side of the bed, taking the tray and settling it across his own lap, taking the spoon and dipping it in the soup before lifting the spoon to their lips. They blink, surprised by the action before opening their lips and leaning forward, taking the spoonful and swallowing.

"It's good." They murmur before Lucifer already is lifting the next spoonful to their mouth.

They eat their entire meal like that, Lucifer feeding them spoonful by spoonful until all the soup is gone, then helping them lift the small glassbottle of the healthtonic to their lips until they drank all of it and then helpimg them drink from the glass of water to wash away the bitter taste while the other four watch. After their meal is finished, Gamigin steps forward and takes the tray, bringing it away.

They wait until Gamigin returns before they ask the questiln that has been resting on their tongue for days now.

"Do you think I've healed enough to tell the others? Can I have visitors now?" They ask.

Paradise Lost kept it secret that they found them after they fell and turned into a demon, worried that they wouldn't be able to hold on because of the state they were in. They were more concerned that they would be able to rest and heal in peace, and they all knew they wouldn't be able to do that with Raon and their entourage of other demons bothering them. Apparently it wasn't too hard as the angels have become more aggressive in their attacks since they fell, especially those damned Seraphim so the other kings and nobles were kept busy. From what the Healers described, it sounded almost like they were searching for something with increasing desperation. Well, that's not their problem to worry about currently.

Marbas sighs. "While we would prefer to keep it a secret a bit longer, your body should be able to handle it. We are a bit more worried about your mind, your memory. They will have questions that could be triggering. Will you be able to handle that, sister?" He questions.

Oh. They hadn't thought about that. They were more concerned with seeing Raon again, making sure he didn't get hurt without them there to protect him.

"Yes, I'll be fine."They supress the flicker of doubt in their chest as they answer.

"Only a short visit under supervision." Lucifer says, eyes narrowing.

"Okay." They agree. They learnt early in their stay that going against what the five of them said often was only to their own detriment.

And it's comforting to know that they have somebody on their side in this Hell, that somebody will think of them and their health first instead of Raon. They felt a bit guilty at the thought, but also reveled in it.

Now they need to prepare themselves for the onslaught that will soon be upon them.

The others decided it would be best for the meeting/visit/questioning to happen in the Greenhouse instead of the room they occupy. They still need some sun and it wouldn't do for them to feel cornered in the space that's supposed to be their safe resting place, after all. Somewhere where they can leave and retreat if it gets too much.

Lucifer had carried them there, gently setting them down on the polstered chair, Morax bringing a blanket and laying it across their lap do they don't get cold. The others helped them get clothed properly, though "properly" also isn't quite right. They're in a very loose sleeveless shirt that has a very large backwindow for the stumps of their wings. They aren't wearing any pants, but they do have underwear on at least. They're thankful that the shirt is long enough that it falls mid-thigh and with the blanket the others won't see their bandaged but otherwise bare legs.

"It wouldn't do to worsen your wounds just for that. We are still in Hell." Buer had reasoned after they had winced even when only attempting to try pulling on a pair of very loose sleeppants.

And now the six of them are waiting for Raon and the other four kings to arrive. It had been decided that only those five would be welcomed as to not overwhelm them. They were also told that reason that was given to the Kings and Raon for them to come was kept vague but enough to make sure they know it's urgent and that they need to come.

Buer had poured tea for them and Lucifer, but had stepped back and blended back into the greenery, like Marbas is also doing. Only they and Lucifer are seated, while Gamigin stands almost protectively at their back. Morax will be the one to guide their guests in.

They hear the door open, several voices speaking at once. They subconsciously reach out and grip one of Lucifer's hands in their own.

Any moment now they'll see them. They can feel their heart loudly thumping in their chest as they remind themselves to breathe.

I stopped here because I ran out of steam, but I imagine it went something like Raon and the other Kings come in,switch pov to Raon, who is are shocked and surprised to see them alive and as a demon, Raon questions them/wants them to come back with them to one of the other kingdoms since they're "fine" and push the Companion too far to the point they get triggered into reliving painful memories they supressed and have a panic-attack, hurting themselves in the progress. This is the point where Lucifer steps in and makes Raon shut up while Marbas and Buer make themselves known to get the Companion to calm down and Morax and Gamigin step inbetween to act as like a wall so that Raon and the other kings can't get closer to the panicking Companion.

This is then the point that Raon gets jealous/hurt because A) Why don't the Healers care for them like that and B) The Companion is their friend, why are they so close to somebody else besides them. Lucifer had enough and forces the others to leave, picking up Companion bridal-style while they cling to him and hide from Raon and carrying them off.

I haven't really thought further tbh.

I hope you liked it, let me know what you thought!

(Hehehe this was certainly a fun one to read. I really love that my writings are making people write to me more and more. It's fun! Dragging people into my things! I wanted to keep this thing in my inbox for as long as I could, but also, I'm pretty slow when it comes to replying to anything because I like being careful and replying in such a way that doesn't imply that I'm apathetic to anyone. Though, next time, I do recommend using Sibling next time, even if it seems awkward to you. The more you use it, the less awkward it becomes. Kinda like using the word partner rather than using girlfriend or boyfriend. Anyways, I'm glad that you had a lot of fun with this.)

(Oh and honestly, I have no clue as to what the Companion's new appearance would be since I'm not very good at visual design. All I know is that they don't have a heartbeat and they're in a pretty delicate balance of sorts so they do risk reverting back to that weird angelic state given how parasitic that state of being was to them. It's like a stubborn tick, I suppose. Anyways, here be my own writing reply.)

He grabbed your hand. That was all it took. He rushed forward, grabbed your hand and cradled it between his palms. Many, many times he reached out to you back when your wings were these parasitic things flopping uselessly on your back. And, many, many times, he missed because he couldn't grip hard enough, couldn't hold you long enough.

Always. You were always taken away from him by those angels, towards that blinding light of heaven.

But, here you are, in front of him, dressed lightly and comfortably covered with a blanket that was of a quality higher than Ra-on has ever seen. Sure this means you're healing, right?

…grabbing your hand was all it took. He felt your skin, cold and stiff. He felt your veins on the back of your hand, hard and unmoving.

You had no heartbeat.

Knuckles knocked under his chin, Ra-on biting almost through the tip of his tongue as he was sent right into the waiting arms of all his lovers. Blood flowed into his mouth. Ra-on curled into himself when fire spread over the nerves of his tongue, covering his lips like that'll protect him from the pain. He couldn't help the tears, but, more than anything, the worst pain came from his heart as he looked to you and your blank, far away stare.

"Sorry," your limbs awkwardly moved, as though your joints were unyielding to you as you clenched your hand close to you, "Sorry, I'm fine I just… just give me a moment. A minute to," you gripped head, then dug your fingers right into your ear, "get them to shut up."

A light. Small, broken little fractals of lights dusted and flowed right behind your head, as though wanting to come into existence, but can't. Your ripped out stubs fluttered and twitched, you hissed in a breath and practically heaved it out.

"You…" Ra-on finally swallowed his blood, "You lied. You're not fine at all."

This, this isn't normal. Nothing about you was right. For months on end, Ra-on had to fight to keep this hope in his heart alive, that, when you simply vanished from battle, Ra-on had to convince himself that surely you didn't die. That you weren't…discarded.

But, here you are, lucid and away from that brutal dreaming self that wanted to destroy him and everything he's accomplished. Everything that belonged to him. You're here, being cared for, being healed…being vulnerable and weak to them…

…why here? Why did Lucifer hide your presence for this long if you were like this? You shouldn't be here, away from him. When Ra-on was sick as a dog in the hospital, he wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by those closest to them. And, after everything you've suffered, wouldn't you want to have him by your side while you recover?

"It seems the influence of the seed hasn't entirely left their body," there was a sadness in Mammon's eyes, as though feeling guilty for not being able to get rid of it somehow.

Satan held a tight grip on his waist. Leviathan's face held the slightest of frowns. And Beelzebub looked away, grasping his hand.

Ra-on struggled, but eventually separated himself from them. He walked towards you, now surrounded by devils that always paid more attention to you.

Gamigin's hand were wavering around your form, as though unable to decide if he should touch you or not, but the minute Buer shifted to stand in Ra-on's way, Gamigin followed suit.

"Please," Gamigin, usually light and carefree as all dragons should be, held a weight to his presence as he gazed upon Ra-on, "don't come any closer."

"But, they're my friend," Ra-on tried to go around them, but they refuse to let him, "I have to help them, they need-"

They're good people, these devils. They've been so good to you, Ra-on knows this, but why do they refuse to be good to him? Any attempts to befriend them, to get closer to them have always been met with excuses or disinterest.

"They need silence." Soft, a voice worthy of the heavens. Lucifer stood and all was silenced.

The lights that glittered over your head have ceased, your bloodied hand caught in Lucifer's own. Blood oozed over the side of your partially torn face, your eyes twitching. You weren't bleeding as you should. It wasn't flowing out as blood should. It just, oozed.

Lucifer was gentle when he helped you to your wheelchair. He made to touch your hand, perhaps to pat it after adjusting the blanket back on you, but you retracted from Lucifer.

Vulnerable. Ra-on knew how much you hated being in that state, hated being weak in front of anyone even if they have nothing but good and gentle intentions. Whenever you got sick or hurt, you always want to take care of it yourself. Like a wounded animal.

You didn't say a word as Lucifer pushed you out of the room. And all Ra-on could do was watch.

#whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad #drabble #reader insert #writer: that-one-daydreamer #embittered companion au

[kadeasi]

"Machiavellian" | a. ancunin

Perhaps she had misread the situation entirely. Perhaps her interpretation of things had turned so sour that now her judgment was clouded and dimmed by tainted glasses of animosity. Either way, she should have taken heed when she was afforded a glimpse into the blackened soul that had spawned from the union of these two beings.

Instead, she allowed her pride and trust in him to blind her vision and to twist her love and affection into something dirty, twisted, and base. It was why she was standing here now, crying and berating herself forgiving him any kind of emotional attachment.

'I thought that when we slayed Cazador that his will was all but dead--that he had only marked you in flesh and any other wounds inflicted would heal with time, so long as we were together.'

His features hardened with displeasure, grip tightening on her face so much that she felt his nails dig into her cheeks. 'Choose your next works very carefully or they may be the last ones I allow you to speak.'

'I should have never let you ascend--you only picked up where he left off in his work. You aren't even a shadow of the man I knew anymore.'

It pained her to say these things to him, and she prayed silently that he could forgive her—that she could take them back, no matter how hollow and empty they seemed without him. It took all her strength to force the words out—to fight the compulsion to keep the venomous thoughts within—but her spirit could not remain tethered to this man forever, despite how much she wished that it could.

Suddenly, it seemed as if all the air immediately left the room. It was a mere blink before Astarion had a hand wrapped around her throat, his eyes burning with murderous intent as she wriggled under his grasp. It only took a couple seconds for him to squeeze her throat so tightly that she began to feel faint. Her breathing was shallow and fast—too fast to be considered human.

A red haze fell over her vision as Astarion's glare burned holes into her body. ‘P-please…I can’t breathe.’

Blood trickled down her throat, dancing down his fingers.

‘Astarion, please!

He stared blankly ahead as he breathed heavily through his nostrils. Finally, after nearly a minute, he released her, allowing her to gasp for breath. Her lungs heaved violently against her rib-cage as she struggled to regain control of her weakened state. The first few steps of her recovery were marred by sharp gasps for air. When she finally found enough of herself to stand on her own, she slowly backed away from him, hands clutched to her throat and lips parted as though she was trying to force the air inside of her back up to her diaphragm.

When her breathing stabilized, her blue-green eyes met his and his anger vanished from them—now replaced by an intense desire to ease the pain. However, when he took a step towards her and Durge took a cautious step back, the same blank expression took hold of his face once more, only this time, something within it seemed to stir, like a calm lake turning tumultuous with the wind picking up—the realization dawning upon him and slowly creeping up on him.

He looked upon her for several moments, feeling lost in the sadness and confusion that flooded her beautiful blue eyes. Astarion realized that she had not backed away from him because she was still being stubborn, no, she had backed away because she feared him. Afraid of what he might do to her. What he might inflict upon her. What she was afraid he would do to her.

Her fear ripped at his already injured soul.

'I wish to see you removed from my sight. Leave me. Now.'

His words were soft, almost unheard.

Astarion watched her as she moved toward the door, and when she reached for the knob, he turned to look back at her. In that moment, she saw the hint of agony on his features—felt the remorse that churned inside of him, threatening to consume his entire being. She remembered all too well the voids and caverns that resided within him—voids that he filled with wine, women and men; holes that were once lined with gold and rainbows but have become buried under the darkness of his past deeds. Yet it was this darkness that kept him warm during the coldest nights and gave him warmth when the sun beat down upon his skin.

And when none of that worked, it was her that had kept him grounded and sane throughout the rest.

Astarion's clenched his fist tightly and with one last look, he turned his back to her, listening as the door closed behind her and the sounds of her foots steps were engulfed in the silence that remained in the room. With his thoughts consumed with pain and suffering, Astarion stood alone and listened to the steady rhythm of his cold, beating heart.

This was not how he pictured their future to be.

Link to full story on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55386466/chapters/140525068

#astarion x durge #astarion x reader #the dark urge #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate oc #ao3 fanfic #angst with a happy ending #series #excerpt #bg3 #bg3 astario #astarion ancunin