#and it comes back to haunt him that despite all the rush in growing up that most of the time his 10 yr old self is more right than him now

[wu-does-art]

remember?

#i feel like mike would kinda be reminded at the worst times abt things he said as a kid but still believes now #and it comes back to haunt him that despite all the rush in growing up that most of the time his 10 yr old self is more right than him now #byler #stranger things #mike wheeler #st mike wheeler #mike wheeler stranger things #st mike #will byers #st will #stranger things fanart #byler fanart #miwi

[omgeto]

☆ GHOSTING — GETO SUGURU X READER

summary: after being made aware of your long term ex boyfriends plans to 'fix' the world, you knew that you had to try and stop him. but seeing him for the first time in a decade; all the love, the hate, the heartbreak comes right back to you both and you realise you care about him a lot more than you thought.

wc: 4.7k (of pure goodness....)

cw: afab!reader, mdni, angst to fluff (kinda) cult leader ex boyfriend!geto, kinda sorta canon (its the day that geto yk...) he eats you out like its his last meal, half hate fucking, full making love, and a whole lot of geto being culty and cunty. this one has a plot people!!

authors note: guys yk I love a good exes to lovers fic so the argument in this one hits different and the whole idea of you and suguru breaking up just before he runs off to run his cult really gets to me, so I hope you enjoy this one.

geto suguru hasn’t seen you in years, in almost a decade, and is still reeling harshly from how you left him when he needed you. but somehow he finds himself rushing to meet you when he gets the four word text from your number—which is still saved in his phone under ‘my girl’— saying, ‘we need to talk.’

he knows exactly what you want to speak about, he could easily put together why today of all days you’d want to see —after vanishing him for just over a decade. he figured gojo probably gave word to you, as from when you’ve been young and growing up together, you’ve all known that if gojo couldn’t get through to him, you could.

he opens the door to your apartment, knowing that you wouldn’t have locked it—you always had a habit of leaving it open for him. and there you are, standing in the dimly lit room, waiting for his arrival. the years have etched subtle changes onto your face and in your demeanour, but the essence of who you are remains unchanged. time may have separated you, but in this moment, it feels as though it has never passed.

“you can't do this,” is the first thing you say, your voice steady despite the unexpected surge of emotions upon seeing him again. you didn't think seeing him after all this time would affect you, but it did. his hair is longer, his frame more imposing, but that unmistakable smirk remains, a haunting reminder of the man you once knew.

“wow right to the chase,” he chuckles bitterly, his presence taking up the room as he enters the room further, “i forgot you never really had a thing for beating around the bush.”

you meet his bitter chuckle with a steady gaze, your resolve unwavering. the years of separation have done nothing to diminish the intensity of your connection, the push and pull between you two.

"it's not the time for games, suguru," you reply, your tone serious. "you know why i called you here."

he sighs, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. the weight of his plans, the burden he carries, is evident in the lines etched on his face. "i figured you'd call sooner or later."

the room seems to shrink as the gravity of the situation hangs between you. the man you once knew, the one who could make your heart race with a smile, now stands before you, shrouded in darkness.

"i won't let you go through with this," you say firmly, your eyes never leaving his. "there's another way, suguru. there has to be."

for a moment, his façade cracks, and you catch a glimpse of the person he used to be, the one who believed in a better world. but then the hardness returns to his eyes, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming.

"you always were too idealistic," he mutters, almost to himself. "but i can't turn back now. the world needs this change."

"what happened to you?" you snap out, your words laced with a bitter edge that hangs heavily in the air. it's a question that carries the weight of your years of frustration, anger, and confusion. but you knew what happened to him; everyone knew.

his reaction is immediate, and the room seems to tremble with his anger. his gaze narrows, and the atmosphere becomes charged with tension. "you don't get to ask that," he spits out, his voice dripping with bitterness. "you left, remember? you abandoned me when i needed you the most."

“it wasn’t like that,” you argue, leaning forward, your body tense. “by the time i left you were already gone, being physically present in a relationship doesn’t mean anything if your mind is fucking checked out all the time. at that point i was just dating a shell of you.” 

“is that how you justify it?" he retorts, his anger unabated. "you think leaving was the solution?”

you clench your fists, your own anger rising to meet his. "i did what i had to do to protect myself, suguru. you were spiralling, consumed by your own darkness. I couldn't save you"

his eyes blaze with a mixture of fury and hurt. "you think i needed saving?

“you still need saving,” you scoff gesturing to him standing right in front of you, “just because you couldn’t save—”

“don’t even go there,” he interrupts, his hand raising to stop you. he knew you were talking about riko, “i’ve made peace with that.”

“oh have you?” you accuse, “since it seems to me, you’ve been on a killing spree, ever since.”

“other people died y’know,” he hisses out, “remember haibara? he was your fucking friend, but you weren’t even there.”

“this isn’t about me,” you say disregarding his comment, regret seeping through you, “you think i haven’t kept tabs on you since i’ve been away. who have you become?”

he glares at you, his anger evident. "i've become what the world needs," he snaps, his voice heavy. "someone willing to do what it takes to change things."

"and is killing a village full of people the way to do that?" you challenge, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. "killing your..." You pause, overwhelmed by the thoughts and images of what he's done. "was killing your parents worth it?"

his expression hardens, and for a moment, you see a glimmer of regret in his eyes, but it's quickly masked by his resolve. "i had to make sacrifices," he says coldly. "it's a small price to pay for a greater cause."

“you can’t truly think that,” you say, taking a step closer to him, your fists still clenched at your sides. “how did it feel killing them then? to take away the lives of your own parents who were innocent?” you probe, you knew that there was some part of him that must feel bad.”

“you’re about… ten years too late to be trying to have this conversation with me,” he shrugs, the turmoil that geto felt when he first set out on his mission has ceased. the guilt he felt for killing his parents, even the grief he had for something that he caused, wasn’t a factor for him anymore.

your frustration boils over as you press him further. "so, you've become heartless, then?" you challenge. the room seems to tighten around you as you await his response. "a cold-blooded killer who's convinced himself that the ends justify the means?"

geto's gaze narrows, his patience dwindling. "it's not about being heartless. it's about doing what's necessary to achieve our goals."

"your goals," you emphasise, "not mine. and not the goals of the innocent people you've hurt along the way."

he sighs, exasperation creeping into his voice. "you always had a way of making everything so complicated, questioning every choice. you left because you couldn't handle the real world."

you shake your head, unwilling to accept his justifications. "no, i left because i couldn't stand by and watch you become a monster."

“so i’m just a monster, yeah?” he retorts, stepping towards you, his anger evident across his face, you could see your words triggered him, and as he gets closer you could feel your facade faltering. 

your heart races as he approaches, and you raise a hand instinctively, palm out, to signal him to stop. "don't come any closer," you warn, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. there was no rational reason to be scared of him, you’ve known him for years, and despite everything that he’s done —what he’s become— there was still a part of you that believed that he wouldn’t hurt you.

but geto ignores your plea, his determination unwavering. he grabs your hand firmly, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the intensity of the moment. his dark eyes bore into yours, and he speaks in a low, taunting tone, "why? are you scared that with me being this close, you're going to realise that you loved a monster? that you're still in love with him?"

you grit your teeth, refusing to let him get under your skin. "suguru, you don't get to manipulate me with your twisted version of love," you retort, your voice laced with defiance. "i won't let you use my feelings against me.

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you're torn between the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. the memories of the love you once shared, the pain of his transformation into something unrecognisable, and the lingering attraction between you all crash together in this charged moment.

you try to pull your hand away, to regain control of the situation, but geto's grip tightens, preventing your escape. his face inches closer to yours, and despite your better judgement, your breath hitches. “manipulation, huh?” geto muses, his mouth so close to yours that you feel his breath faintly brush across your lips. you look up at him through your lowered eyelashes, and in that fleeting pause, so small that it’s almost imperceptible, you find yourself considering the gravity of your actions, if only for a moment.

the feeling of doubt is short lived, as you press your lips against geto’s, his mouth immediately moulding into yours. the kiss is searing, as you push your bodies against each other, he releases your hand from his grip, his hands move to cradle your head, holding it in place as he deepens the kiss, bruising your lips with his.

everything about geto is familiar, the taste of him, the warmth of his mouth, the way he consumes you. his tongue explores yours, wrestling for control as your arms scratch at him trying to tug off his robe. you wanted him to feel you, all of you—your touch, your lips, your hurt, your anger, the love that you still have that you thought was small. but after seeing him, kissing him, you realise is still an overwhelmingly large part of you.

you pull apart to catch your breath, staring hard at each other, but there’s barely a moment wasted before your back on eachother. kissing each other feverishly, as you rip off each other's clothes, he pushes you hard, your back slamming against the nearest piece of furniture as his mouth latches onto your neck. his kisses cascade down your body, stopping at your breasts as he unhooks your bra, tossing it aside.

“i missed these,” he murmurs, as his lips descend onto your tits, his face nuzzling at your chest as he sucks and pulls at your nipples with his teeth. “and i missed this,” he continues to mumble, his hands cupping your clothed pussy, his finger lightly caressing your slit. 

you arch forward into his touch, wanting to feel him more and chuckles saying, “even after all these years, you still respond to my touch just the same.” his fingers plunge into your panties, brushing against your clit and he smirks as your lips part a stifled moan escaping your lips—proving his point.

“s-shut up,” you hiss out, as you slowly start to gyrate against his fingers. although it was obvious from the way you were already soaking your underwear, you didn’t want to admit how good he is actually making you feel—you just couldn’t give him the satisfaction. geto raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, as he watches you bite your lip trying to contain your moans, as his fingers inch into your inviting pussy.

geto’s body moves down yours as he removes his lips from your tits, continues to press kisses down your stomach, as he drops down to his knees —his eyes level with your cunt. he presses a kiss to your covered pussy, before sliding off your panties. his mouth is just about to latch onto you but he pauses looking up at you, his gaze unwavering, “you want this right?” you nod slowly, your anticipation brewing as your eyes lock onto his, “use your words.”

you release an exasperated huff, but he remains steadfast, his raised eyebrow a silent declaration that he won't act until you tell him what he wants to hear. the room seems to pulse with tension, the growing desire between you mounting with each heartbeat.

your hands slide it’s way into his hair, pushing your fingers through his scalp, as you grin, you voice is low and sultry as you say, “i want it.” his mouth envelopes your pussy and you push his head into you deeper, forcing your nose into your arousal. he inhales you, taking in your scent as he presses his face in your cunt. 

“such a pretty pussy,” he mutters lowly, you could feel the vibrations spread through your pussy. his tongue strokes down your slit, before pushing into you, he twists and slurps at you trying to suck out all of your juices. 

geto nibbles at your clit, tugging at it with his teeth before bringing his fingers back to cunt. shoving two fingers in roughly. you pull his hair harshly, the feeling of his mouth sucking on your clit leaving your mind blank. “ah f-fuck,” you cry out, as geto’s strokes grow more intense.

“c’mon let me hear you more,” geto prompts, pulling away slightly from your pussy, his lips plump and coated from your wetness. he grabs one of your legs and hikes it over his shoulder, the angle allowing him to force his fingers into you further, curling them up in your pussy as he goes back to shoving his face in your sobbing cunt.

you grind your pussy in his face, working with him in getting you off. both of your movements were frantic, geto is eating your pussy with such eagerness, hungrily trying to drink all of your cum. “i’m close s-sugu i’m—” you choke out, feeling yourself slipping down the wall you pressed against, but geto holds you upright, his large hand keeping your thigh hooked over his shoulder and roughly pushing you up against the wall.

geto grins against your cunt, your moans and cries is a sound he didn’t realise how much he missed until he heard them now. you laboured breathing, stammered sentences told him that you were reading cum, but he just had to push you further. so he adds one more finger, sending it straight to your spot, twisting and pushing it in your pussy so hard that tears brim your eyes. he was so relentless, you always loved that about him, how he knows your body in and out, he knew exactly where to touch, and just how far he should push to have you becoming a mess for him.

you couldn’t take him anymore, so you cum, hard. your pussy releasing ropes and ropes of cum, all over geto’s fingers and his face, and he laps at it, munching all your cum with excitement. “i know you can give me more than that,” he muses, pressing his thumb down on your clit, rubbing at it aggressively as you cum. your eyes roll back, as he repeatedly flicks at your cum, and before you know it, you're squirting all over his face.

geto’s eyes widen, and he doesn’t stop playing with your pussy, until you bow your head in submission, worn out from all the cum you’ve released over him. your hands slide out of his hair, as you try and catch your breath and geto peppers your cunt and your thighs with kisses finally letting your thigh come off his shoulders. “damn your pussy’s still as sweet as ever.”

“stop with the talking,” you mumble, as you pull him up to his feet, your lips forcing their way back onto him. your hands frantically explore each other's bodies as you drag him to your bedroom, pushing him on your bed. “i can’t fucking stand you,” you mutter to yourself, your denial evident, as you straddle him, pulling his dick out of his boxers.

you pause briefly at the sight, his thick, long dick staring at you. you hear geto chuckle at your reaction, your eyes meet his with a challenging look exchanged between you, he raises his eyebrow at you, a silent dare on whether you’ll actually be able to get the control that you’re aiming to have. 

you hover over his dick, your pussy still dripping, geto bites his lip in anticipation as you tease him, slowly edging yourself down onto him. your pussy greedily, takes in his dick as you force yourself down on him as immediately fills you, stretching out your cunt with one push. you start to ride him, hard and fast, rocking your body forward as you bounce up and down on him, your hand pressing down on his stomach to keep you steady.

geto sits up, stifling a moan as he feels your cunt clench around his dick with everyone of your movements. he tries to thrust up into you, but he just can’t match the relentless rhythm you had, “f-fuck,” he exhales, a moan escaping his mouth, and you smirk —you have him just where you wanted him.

“you alright there suguru?” you mock, the grin spread across your face unmissable as you grind yourself down against him, tightening your pussy around his pole as you slid up and down. the bite on his lip hardens as he pulls it further between his teeth to suppress another moan.

but geto doesn’t submit for long, his hand slaps you across your tits and his fingers pinch your nipples, twisting and tugging them, causing you to arch your back as you wail. “d’you r-really think you run shit here?” he groans, flicking at your nipples with every word, “you’ll never be in control, not with me,” he taunts.

“oh really?” you retort, as you still continue to move your ass, meeting his hips. you can feel him start to pick up his pace, trying to match yours, his hips slightly thrusting upwards, his dick pushing into you deeper.

“yeah,” he says confidently through gritted teeth, one of his hands pulling away from your nipples and onto your ass, harshly grabbing one of your cheeks to steady himself as he drills into you further, “because you’re still my girl.” 

you still at his words, you knew he didn’t mean it but you couldn’t help but react to the name that he always used to refer to you as. geto could see your eyes become vacant, as you think back to the memories when you were truly his girl. you used to revel in that —the feeling of being his. he takes advantage of your pause, your rhythm halted as he takes over, now setting the pace as he charges his dick into you, stuffing you further. 

“suguru f-fuck you’re so—” you sob out, as he breaks down your wall, his strokes hitting your spot perfectly. your body buckles, crumbling at the force that geto was using as he repeatedly thrusts into you, his hand pushing you in further so his dick can get an even better angle in you.

“i’m so what?” he retorts, knowing you wouldn’t be able to string an answer together from the way he is fucking you dumb. geto couldn’t deny that he is getting some joy out seeing you all drunk on his dick, reduced to nothing but moans and incoherent sentences, he liked being the one to break you down. “am i still a monster, someone you can’t stand being around?”

you sloppily nod your head, trying to keep some resolve, but your efforts are pointless since all the insults and accusations you were spouting earlier are now futile, you lost your care in getting him to do the right thing, all you want now is for him to stay like this — inside of you. 

“s-shit i can’t take it a-anymore im gonna cu—” you force out, clenching yourself around little his dick hard as you feel your orgasm building up. but geto’s movements stop for a second as he pulls his dick out of you, flipping you over, your back landing hard on your bed. he leans over you, his focus fixed on you, but at this point, his eyes don’t hold the same heartache, and hurt that they did when he first stepped into your house. the geto that is looking at you now, is the one who’d always look at you everyday, ten years ago —with love and longing.

he strokes his dick down your aching pussy, teasing you with it, but just before he puts it in, his hand caresses your face cupping your chin as he says, “when i said you were still my girl, i meant it y’know?” and your lips part in surprise at his admission. “although it hurt me, when you left me, you just never stopped being my girl.”

“suguru i-i don’t know what to say,” you stammer, and you didn’t realise until he swipes under your eye, that you were crying. there was so much more to your relationship with geto than just some highschool romance, you loved another, and no one could tell you otherwise. 

“tell me that you are,” he prompts, now pressing kisses to your tear stained face, his lips moving down to yours, “tell me that you are still my girl,” he finishes in between kisses. his hopeful eyes still remain on yours, and you could feel him slowly inching his dick into you.

you wrap your legs around his back, your arms hooking around his neck as you pull his head next to yours, your mouth near his ear as you whisper, “i am still yours.” he pushes his dick back into you, his strokes deep and slow. it was different from before, there was no competition or hate between you as you fucked, you didn’t have a point to prove other than the fact that you still loved each other. 

geto’s moans are loud, he has nothing to hold back as he growls lowly in your ear. the way he holds you, and takes his time kisses you and fucking you as if he was accounting for this potentially being his last ever time doing so. “i’ll never get enough of this.”

“then don’t go,” you whine, and your words hold a deeper meaning that you both knew but won’t acknowledge knowing it is pointless to discuss any further. you pull him into you deeper, your thighs clenching around him as your hold tightens. 

the feeling of you pulling him in, has him clenching his eyes as your pussy takes him in, his mouth takes yours in a powerful kiss, before he mumbles “you gonna let me cum in you, leave you with every last bit of me.” you don’t even respond, just deepening the kiss, your head shaking in agreement.

you both cum together, geto spraying your walls as he sinks his face into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into your exposed flesh as he continues to shoot ropes of cum inside of you. you claw at his back as you feel all of him enter you, your cum mixing with his as you cry out in full pleasure.

his forehead rests against yours, as the last bits of his cum enter you and neither of you say anything, all that can be heard is just heavy breaths coming from the both of you. you didn’t know what was to happen now, there was still so much left unsaid, unresolved and things have changed now that geto is literally stuffed inside of you.

geto is about to pull out of you finally, but you stop him muttering a faint, “stay,” and he does. he knows he had somewhere to be, things to do that are bigger than the both of you, but he just couldn’t leave when you ask him to stay. he manoeuvres your body so that you now lay atop him, comfortably cockwarming him as he thumb brushes gentle strokes down your arm.

“y’know i’ve got these two girls, who i think would love you,” he muses.

“what? did you manage to become a father whilst i was away?” you tease.

“something like that, yeah,” he mumbles, a small smile forming on his face as thoughts of nanako and mimiko flash through his mind — they’re a bittersweet reminder of the new life he’s built without you, one that you wouldn’t be able to fit in. it wasn’t that long ago that you’d have thoughts about geto fathering your own kids, dreams of somewhat of a domestic life that you’d now never get to have with him.

“well maybe i can meet them,” you say non-committedly.

“yeah maybe…” his voice falters, as you both know that it would never happen.

“do you enjoy it then?” you ask, “this ‘new’ life of yours.” you could tell just by the brief mention of nanako and mimiko and the way he carries himself that he does enjoy his life, but you were hoping that he’d still answer no.

geto hesitates for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he contemplates your question, “i…” he begins, his gaze returning to yours, “i won’t lie. it’s different, and there’s moments i find true solace in it, this has been my life for a long time now, so it’s just something i’ve really gotten used to.”

“and you’re happy to go back to it, after this?” your question is loaded, and you feel dumb for even asking but when you did call him over to get him to not go through with his plans, of course your motivations have slightly changed, but your goal is still the same. 

 “i don’t think you should ask me to make a choice, knowing that im not going to choose you,” he grits out, he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but 

“you’re not gonna win you know, satoru wouldn’t let it happen,” you couldn’t help yourself, the rejection he just gave you stung, and you wanted him to feel what you felt.

but geto doesn’t bite, he knows you’re hurting—that he’s the cause of it, so he lets you hurt, his hold tightening comfortably as you sulk in his arms. geto places a kiss on your temple, ignoring your comment as he concludes, “let’s just not, okay?”

geto stays with you until your breathing settles into a steady rhythm, and you don’t notice him slipping out of you. he cleans you up and tucks you into your bedsheets, giving you one final stare as if he’s trying to keep a mental image of how you look when he’s last seen you. his lips meet yours in a final, chaste kiss and he mutters a promise that he didn’t think you’d hear, but you do, stirring awake as his lips leave yours, “i’ll see you again… eventually.”

you wake up to an empty room, the warmth of geto's presence replaced by a stark emptiness. the realisation hits you like a wave of cold water – he's gone, leaving nothing behind but soiled sheets and a hollow ache in your chest. there's no note, no message, no trace of his ever being there, except for the lingering scent of him that clings to the air. you know that someone will eventually inform you of the outcome of the night, but deep down, you already suspect that his last promise to you will end up being broken.

AN: first like proper proper real juicy fic that ive written in a long time imo and its just like this took me so long since im soooo sensitive about my geto fics and im just like overly critical about my angsty and fluff and plot fics and my smut and JUST EVERYTHING but I managed to get it all done and I think some parts of this really hit hard. the ending is ofc bittersweet since if we go by canon, he goes and yuta beats his fuckinggg ass and he dies wtf but... the true ending is really up to your imagination. (not really) like dont even think about the ending just focus on the fact that they NEVER TELL EACHOTHER THAT THEY LOVE EACH OTHER BECAUSE UR SO IN LOVE THAT YOU ADMITTING THAT UR STILL 'HIS GIRL' IS ALL THE CONFIRMATION HE NEEDS. my finished an are sooo long why because I FUCKING CAN SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY, PLEASE LMK UR THOUGHTS AND SLAY ALL DAY also thank you @kazushawty and @biscuitsngravie for reading and supporting me 🥹🥹

#stampedwithanE★ #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #jjk angst #geto angst #jjk fic #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru #jujustsu kaisen x reader #geto x you #geto suguru x you #jujutsu kaisen angst

[nouearth]

rated i for impatient.

steve harrington x male reader.

summary: in the middle of a slow afternoon at family video, steve has an idea on how to past time, and it involves you and your mouth.

wc: 3.4k. warnings: explicit smut, handjob (r!giving), blowjob (r!giving), mouth-fucking, deep-throating, lots of spit, gagging, bantering, workplace quickie, co-workers, established relationship, rough!steve, but also gentle!steve, bigdick!steve.

a/n: and it's been a hot minute since i've written smut, as well as a full one-shot!! i swear, i feel like my small hiatus made me forget everything, lol. but i hope it's as good as my other stories and i also hope you guys enjoy steve's first appearance on my blog!

“Dude, you seriously couldn’t wait?” 

Heavy footsteps followed Steve as he dragged your trudge into the storage closet. Even though his back faced you, he responded with a shimmy of his shoulders, the flight of muscles equally excited to cease the sluggish afternoon.

“Oh, come on!” He shut the door once you entered with a distressed groan. Though, he knew you didn’t mean it despite your pointed tone. 

“I know you want to.” Steve sang with a tease, cornering you against the door with a playful dance, and a smile that had charmed you since the first time you had met him. 

You’d been keeping track at how many times Steve had simply captivated you with his presence. It was embarrassing because you’d lost count since day one. The only statistic that you did know was that you were losing.

Losing bad.

Always a goody two-shoes and extra responsible, yet somehow, you were never a prude and knew how to have fun. If only you weren’t so hesitant in this moment. It was your first week, your fourth day at Family Video, and you wanted to make a great impression, even if it was only something to fill up your time during the summer.

He continued to dance, singing a tune that had been stuck in his head since three mornings ago, and your lips curled into smile while he performed within the narrow space. A few stumbles threw him off balance, but upon seeing your lips bitten to hold back a laugh, the following trip had been intentional. 

Steve collided into you, though barely as he caught his weight against the door. A whisper of gasp dried your throat when the sudden thump by your shoulders jolted you and his face rushed close to yours like a bullet. Your gaze widened in surprise, only for them to roll once it catalogued the mischief on his face. “You know Keith kind of hates you, right? You’re going to be fucked if he catches you slacking again.”

“Me?! I’m sorry, are you a ghost or something? A figment of my imagination? Worse… I’ve huffed paint too many times when I was little, and now it’s all catching up to me.” There was amusement on his face and it reflected off of your smile. 

You straightened your posture to match his eye level, and rebutted his theory with the light touch of your nose to his. He laughed, wrapping his arms around your torso. “You’d get in trouble too, you know. Last time I checked, most sexual acts involve at least two participants.”

“Yeah, well, he likes me unlike you! If anything, he’d probably blame you for being a bad influence or something.” The possible truth expelled a groan out of Steve, but it doesn’t stop him from pouring the remainder of his frustration into your mouth. 

You took him in stride, earlier hesitance burying into the back of your mind when the fresh mint of his breath began haunting your mouth. Then, completely into obscurity when his tongue slid over yours, sloppily in hopes of awakening a fruitful lust, akin to his, within you.

“Steve… come on,” You pulled away, but Steve immediately captured your lips again in a tongue-swelling kiss. “What if customers come in?” You panted in between breaths, squeezing at his firm back to distract yourself from the growing tent within your khakis.

“I’ve been here longer than you, studied the activity down to the seconds.” He pressed into you, hip to hip, until you could feel his own muscle growing against yours. “We have at least ten minutes.”

“Ten?! Dude, that’s not enough—“

“Please?” Steve suddenly pulled your hand from his back and into the firmness of his bulge, looking into you with a desperation that rivaled the yearning freedom of his erection. “Please…” The curl of your hand was imposed by his grip, folding them until you had a handful of his bulge, throbbing at the mere friction of your warm palm.

“Fuck,” The determination in Steve’s gaze, as well as the devilish guidance of your own cock stirring against you, had your hand leave the aching muscle for a brief moment to hastily unbuckle his belt. You pressed your lips back to his, and muttered with a grimace. “You’re owing me one after work.”

“God, I love you.” He sighed with relief upon knowing that the heavy pressure in his pants would soon be released, thanking you by taking your cheeks into the dip of his palms and kissing you warm and wet. Even if it was going to be a quick one, his main priority was to be liberated of the painful throbs that had led him to this desperate juncture.

As much as Steve hated confined spaces, the feeling of the storage space closing in on him had only been fleeting because his desire for you was gravity-defying strong. It expanded the proximity at his very will until you were the only subject framed in his field of vision. 

Lips plumped from the bites he took from your flesh earlier, balmy skin speckled with a flush that he’d been the sole creator of, he couldn’t get enough of your presence. He took in your woody scent with deep inhales as he moved his lips to your neck, and your hands began digging into the waistband of his pants, pulling Steve close with a hard yank to harbor every warm breath into one another again.

With one swift pull, the belt collided with the floor and your hands worked at the zipper like a tailor until the khakis dropped and pooled around his ankles. You accompanied the leather and fabric seconds after, kneeling onto the cold surface with the eager guidance of Steve’s caresses to the back of your head. 

Kneeling face-to-face with his bulge, you couldn’t stop yourself from drooling even if Steve was covered. You could outline the girth of his cock, plumping and thickening under your piquant gaze, and then throbbing when you followed the curve with your palm in eager cycles until the waistband screamed for your attention. 

Your fingers hooked into the elastic band and in one slow pull, you revealed Steve’s erection in all its glory. Thick and unkempt hairs billowed first, and you played with the anticipation as you dragged the waistband over his length, weighting it downwards until all that was left covered was the plump tip that you can still taste from a few nights ago. In a final yank, Steve’s cock sprang up proudly and his groans were heavenly in its accompaniment. The weight of his large cock made him bounce in several reps before it was kept still by the warmth of your hand, then another over the remaining curve to amuse yourself with his blessed size.

“Jesus, did you not jerk off this morning? Haven’t seen or felt you this hard before...” Your mouth fell open in awe, and also in preparation to loosen the muscles in your jaw while your hands slid over him in slow strokes. Every vein throbbed at the delicate touch, pulsated strong when you squeezed a few sticky drips of his pre-cum from his spout. They would’ve landed on the undeserving floor had you not stuck your tongue out in time, lapping him up from the underside of his cock to the smooth pink rim. 

His cock jumped when your other hand dropped to fondle his balls, hanging low as if they awaited to be grasped and swung. You did exactly that as you licked the slit of his tip, amusing yourself with Steve’s package that you had sucked and fucked before, yet still managed to be surprised despite your many affairs.

“Not since we last fucked, to be honest.” At first, he balled the end of his shirt and raised it high to prevent it from obstructing your view, exposing the happy trail that you always traced over with your tongue on lazy Sundays. “Guess it wasn’t the same.” But the defy work of your hands spread the boil in his stomach to the muscular arch of his back, hot and heavy on his body until the weight of his shirt was thrown off. Moans exhaled in breathy tremors as you squeezed his shaft and pulled him forward and back in wall-closing jerks. 

“Well, I’m sorry for the long wait.” Your strokes continued while you sealed a wet promise to the pink glans. “I’ll make it worth it.” You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out to welcome the following sticky slaps of his heavy length in disgusting delight, holding him like a marker as you patterned his thick pre-cum over your pair of lips before the salty flesh was vaulted into your mouth with an inhale.

His length pushed your mouth open in an accommodating stretch, almost pleasurable if he hadn’t been so difficult to take in. The first few inches gagged you, ached a muscle in your stomach when you flexed. It was traditional at this point, and your routine often consisted of stroking the shaft that had yet felt the heat of your mouth. The sliminess of your tongue as you bathed Steve’s cock in stomach-churning sin, lapping the musk of him from the loose scrotum to the plump head. 

And it was a routine to attempt to take him again. You spat in your hand before lubing his stiff in a glaze that caught the light of his eyes, then the hiccup of his moan. “Fuck, you know I love it when you do that…”

“Yeah?” You smiled, his compliments sent straight to your erection while the sticky sounds of bubbles and drool soiled his cock in pure lust in lazy strokes, then sealed when you wrapped your lips around him again, and pushed down when the pulse of his veins beckoned you.

The size of his cock drew a moan out of you, tremors rimming the shaft while you prepared the opening of your throat little by little. Drool leaked from either corners of your mouth, staining your flushed skin and then the floor, but you hadn’t been bothered to save them despite your reputation of being a clean-freak. 

When it came to Steve, you were in a state of delirium that had forgotten who you were because there was only one purpose on your mind: to pleasure. 

“Shit, (M/N)—“ His hands had left you to fold his arms behind his head, allowing his silhouette to become yours to own and to rapture over as you worked him like one your favorite treats at the candy store. He slipped in and out of you, closer to the barrier of your throat with the help of his thrusts, and the only time you’d take a break was when you suckled on his balls. As his cock hung over your face, head dripping in saliva and thick pre-cum, you found enjoyment in rolling his balls like dice: another one of Steve’s favorite moves.

Steve was heavy on your tongue and the only way you could thank him for blessing you with his fruitful cock, was to love-bomb him with all of his favorite desires. You lined the underside with your tongue until your lips met the pink glans again, speckling it with a playful pecks before weighing his shaft down with your spit once again. “Have you always liked it sloppy?”

“Mm—no…” He murmured, and you looked up into the heaviness of his lids, surprised by his confession. “Not until I met you. For others, it’s kind of gross, but… you do it differently. Tastefully, and I’m not trying to be funny.”

You laughed at the unintentional joke and Steve joined your amusement with a smile, petting the back of your head before it was guided back to swallow him whole this time. Your mouth stretched wide the more he pushed you, burying the remnants of your humored-self into the pit of your throat with the ample of his throbbing erection. Your hands held around his thighs to brace for the oncoming gags and Steve does the same around your head, threading his fingers into your hair with a strong grip as he pushed, and pushed, and pushed, until tears brimmed the highlights of your eyes.

“Holy shit—“ Steve was enamored by the feeling of stuffing you whole. The confines of your mouth and throat restricted the blood flow around him, yet he couldn’t have felt himself pulsate more, stiffen harder in between your godly gags and whimpers. The scratches at his thighs was a telling sign for him to pull you back, and so he does in what felt like slow motion. His cock unsheathed out of your throat like a sleeve, unraveling a spell of gasps and bubbling moans in midst. 

“You did so good, baby… fuck.” Cupping your cheek, he briefly bent down to meet you in the middle of his gratification, kissing you proud and golden on your breathless smile before he tore himself away to spit inside of your mouth and submerging his saliva down your mouth with his cock again. Despite the sting in your eyes and throat, you were compliant to his every move and welcomed the sheathing of his wet flesh in prideful determination.

Steve’s hands had moved to either sides of your head, where he had complete control of every bone and muscle of your neck, and the desire to fuck your tight mouth had become a victorious reality. Your lips pressed into his unkempt hairs when he forced you down again, tasting the sweat that had been harbored within the strands. 

From then on, your gags had only become motivation as he rode the rhythm of your delectable sounds with sharp and eager thrusts. Gasps and coughs stuck to the slick of your throat while Steve’s cock fucked them down in repetitive and selfish strides. Your head moved from the guidance of Steve’s hold, meeting the bow of your head with a forward thrust and ramming into the back of your throat while you spilled sheltered saliva—thick and bubbly in its journey to form a puddle on the floor. He repeated after barely giving you enough time to catch your breath, choking and fucking your mouth with his cock while you writhed on your knees in intimidation. 

Steve sheltered you close, curling his body over you as a satisfied moan added to the thick air when he shoved your head deep in between his legs, keeping you still in midst of your squirms. Whenever you tried to pull back, Steve only thrusted and pushed you further into your struggle for freedom. He drowned you in your own saliva, locked you of your only source of oxygen as your nose pressed deep into his pelvis, and gagged you to the point of leaving scars on his thighs as your fingers curled into his flesh, desperate for a whisper of air to breathe back into you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You finally get your wish when he yanked you back, and you inhaled with a slobbering gasp, coughing out the oxygen that he had buried from within you.

Throughout all of this, you gazed beautifully up to him, Steve thought. From the highlights of the whites to the color of your orbs, you glistened like nature past dew point, and his chest swelled in agreement. His heart pulsed faster than the rhythmic sucks and strokes of your mouth and hand as you’ve gone back to sucking him, fisting him into your mouth as your mouth began aching from deep-throating, breath recovering from being face-fucked. It was a curse that you put on him, where he closed his eyes to the merit of your tongue and couldn’t bear to look at you again because if he did, he knew he could come all over your face right then and there.

“Close—fuck.” His shoulders rolled back and one hand pushed the sweat off his forehead back into the fluff of his hair, while the other maintained on your head, keeping you in close proximity.

“Fuck, Steve…” You sniffled, desperately tasting the salt off the tip of his cock while you snapped your wrist back and forth in jerking him off. Your free hand ran over his stomach, then down his flexed thighs, and you squeezed to remind him that he was spellbound under your touch. His gaze casted downwards to meet yours once again, and he nodded as if he understood. 

The pressure on the back of your head hardened, but it was your own will that had you slobbering all over him again. You took him his cock back in with desperation, the memory of how salty he had tasted days prior fortifying your delirious state of mind. You sucked Steve off, swallowed him whole, fucked him into your fist, then into your mouth, and it would repeat until he nested his hand into your hair, tightly curling them into a fist as he came undone into your mouth.

“Fuck—“

Steve’s cock pulsed in heavy bounces and his balls bounced in its drain as he emptied himself inside of you. Warm and thick seed accompanied the fill of your mouth, and your hand reached down to massage his sack, aiding the scrotum to dump the remaining few shots into the pool of cum. Slowly, you pulled back with your lips pressed tight in caution of wasting the fresh fluid, and you swallowed slow and proud, savoring every gulp that ran down your violated throat as if it the cure to the sore. He watched you, panting heavily, and his cleansed cock twitched as you quenched upon his energy for the day. 

“You don't have to swallow it al—“ Before he could finish his question, you stuck your tongue out to reveal the abyss of your mouth, and the limp of his cock roused with one more throb before finally hanging low in between his legs. Steve was left astonished, and there was a flicker in his eyes before he helped you back on your feet. “Come here, I need to kiss you right now.”

A laugh was caught in between your lips when Steve kissed you with a familiar sweetness that always rattled the butterflies in your stomach. He pulled you close to pacify the flutter of their wings, and sighed into you before a hand gently caressed the middle of your throat. “Did I go too hard?”

“I would’ve said something if you did, Steve.” You’d come to realize that it always took more than a smile and comforting words to appease his guilt, and so you pressed fleeting pecks to the center of his lips, then began massaging the sensitive fill of his cock in slow turns. “I mean, if you want, we can go for round two right now and—“

“Okay, okay.” He pressed a laugh into your lips and leaned his forehead onto yours for the moment you two shared a gaze. Looking into you, it dismantled all of his worries, as it did for you, and it was only when the cold bit at his naked body that roused him from the daze.

“I should probably put my clothes back on.”

“Dude, are you saying that isn’t your uniform?” You gasped. 

“Dude,” He took you by the back of your head again and kissed you once, grinning. “Shut up.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like! feedback is also much appreciated!

#✰ : nou.fics #✰ : nou.strangerthings #✰ : nou.steveharrington #male reader #x male reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x male reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #steve harrington x m!reader #m!reader #male reader insert #x you #x reader #x m!reader

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 37

part 1 | part 36 | ao3

cw: depression, ptsd, references to canonical death and horror

Chapter 9

December

The smudged feeling comes back.

Which sucks, if he's being honest.

Despite the new thing with Eddie and the breathing room in his budget; despite everything going fine with Robin and work and the kids, his good moods never seem to hold. They keep getting muddied up, can't shine through the grubby handprints that threaten to blot them out.

And sure, it's not like he expected one great make out session to change his life (and it was a great one, to be clear; a great make out session and an even better handy later that night in Eddie’s van), but he just…

Shit.

He doesn’t know.

He thought it might feel easier. Life, adulthood; everything. Like the lightness and warmth he felt that night might carry over, might drift through to fill the cracks in him like a blanket of fresh snow.

But they don't, because they can't.

They can't touch the fact that he has no clue what he’s doing. That Steve Harrington's got no purpose, no direction and no point.

Most mornings he's got nothing but his creeping paranoia and a bone deep sense of dread.

The new year closes in like a wet tongue up the back of his neck; hot breath of a drooling grizzly getting ready to take a bite, and the long winter shadows around his house are growing fangs, rows upon rows of razor teeth in petal mouths.

His nightmares tastes like rot and lilac. Something heavy in the air.

And in the mornings he feels stupid when he wakes up shivering in cold sweat, foolish and young and alone. He clutches at his nail bat and peers through the cracks in the blinds, and he feels like a lunatic because there’s nothing out there. Nothing abnormal. Nothing wrong-side up. Just the shadows and the strays; the scurrying of house mice and the skitter of dead leaves.

It’s over now, they told him. It’s over, kid. We won.

They said it all three times.

—

"Uh...”

Eddie's standing in Steve's doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms loosely folded over his chest, a weird smile on his face like he's deeply fucking confused by what he's seeing but is trying so hard to be cool about it.

Which, like. Fair.

It's mid-morning on a Sunday and Steve is crawling on hands and knees in his gutted disaster of a living room — ripping up the edges of his terrible burnt orange carpet without even pausing to say hello — and the kids will be here any minute to help put up the Christmas tree, and he hadn't meant to do this; knows he looks completely manic, sweat dripping into his eyes, knuckles bleeding from the tack strips, but he woke up trembling from another nightmare and decided that everything had to go.

The nightmare felt too real. Long claws and sharp teeth, squelching muck and snaking vines; a flash of Chief Hopper bloody and shorn in a frozen wasteland, but the chief is dead and everyone's dead and Steve is so tired of being haunted by their ghosts, and in his shaken, post-dream haze he convinces himself that it's this place.

This place is the fucking problem.

This godforsaken tin can with spirits crawling in the walls.

They're clinging on like static just before a thunderstorm. In the floorboards, in the rug. Steve can feel them with each step. How many footprints buried themselves in these worn fibers? How many exhausted treks to the fridge and frenzied rushes to the phone; how many angry late-night pacers and visitors overstaying a welcome?

"Stevie?" Eddie clears his throat.

Steve just wants them all gone. The whole haunted circus — wants to strip it to the bones, start fresh with something new.

So far all he’s done is make the place smell like his nightmares. Like dust and death and lilac as he pulls the carpet up. There’s an oily stain on the subfloor from where he smashed his mom’s perfume, and a green-black mystery splotch by the kitchen that could be water damage, or it could be the remnants of a liquified rat. Or a person; so many people, melted meat monster smashing through the city blood and gore in a demodog's jowls the walls pulsing with membranes like some fucked up rotten womb and—

"Hey." Eddie's boots come into view. Calm commandment in his tone, stepping right into Steve's space. "Look at me," he sighs.

Steve sits back and wipes his brow. The sweat stings his cut-up hands, and he wishes he weren't so busy being a nutcase, because Eddie looks good like this. Standing over him, petting a hand through his damp hair. Making him kneel down at his feet. It’s hot. They could do something with this. Steve could—

"You want to tell me what you're doing?"

Tears prick up in Steve's dumb eyes.

What's he supposed to say? There were ghosts in the fucking carpet?

He shakes his head and sniffs, and Eddie steps in a little closer; moves his hand to cup Steve's jaw. "No?" he lifts a brow.

Outside, tires crunch over the gravel, the kids making a racket as they pour out of the Wheelers’ car. Goddammit.

Steve huffs and gets to his feet; lets Eddie steady him. They share a look. The kids are shouting on the lawn. "Can you take us to Home Depot?"

—

part 38

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 tomorrow 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 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic

[giorno-plays-piano]

Favors and Debts

Part I

Pairing: fae!Yuji/Sukuna x reader

Warnings: noncon, yandere, murder, captivity, stalking, violence (not towards reader), Sukuna having a purity kink.

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Of all creatures fickle and cruel, the fair folk are the ones inspiring fear and awe alike. You were unlucky enough to save one of them from captivity, and now you must pay for it.

________________

"Please, leave me be," your whisper is so quiet you barely hear yourself speak, but it's enough for the monster to bare his teeth at you in a smile.

"No," he says simply and then charges at you like a wild animal, forcing a scream out of your throat as you run and run and run until you are facing a dead wall blocking your path.

His sharp smile grows wider the closer he steps to you.

Then you wake up with a gasp, face wet with tears and cold sweat as you clench the sheets in your fingers, choking from horror. It's him again. The fae boy you saved years ago, the one who pays you back with fear and pain and nightmares. He doesn't visit you every night, not when you keep taking your sleeping pills religiously, but they are a serious thing, and your stomach keeps hurting more and more over the years, forcing you to take lesser doses. That's when the fae boy strikes, slipping into your dreams like water seeps through a crack of an old, chipped cup.

It's the same dream over and over again: he chases you down the city as you run for your life like a prey followed by predator, blinded by fear while he taunts you, his six long, muscular arms nearly catching you every time. It feels like every night he allows you to escape, but you don't think it's entirely true. Your iron and your mirrors must be keeping you safe: after all this time, he hadn't come for you yet.

You were young back then, so naive, so pure. You finally received a long-awaited recommendation letter from the head pharmacist to be allowed to work in a tiny village down south, nearly at the Drowned Forest border. You were, by far, not a superstitious girl, and the rumors didn't scare you. You were, though, quite worried about being among the simple, rural folk who weren't keen on trusting a young city girl with making their medication: truth be told, women in those places had only ever had one purpose in life, and it had nothing to do with a medical career or any career at all.

And yet, you were welcomed to the place. The villagers were desperate since it took at least several days to drive to the closes town to procure the medication of any serious kind, and they were in great need of someone who'd serve as a doctor and a pharmacist, even if it was just a young girl who had only gotten her recommendation letter.

But it was an unfriendly, cold, half-abandonded sort of place. Likewise, you didn't like its people who were always too crude, too vulgar to your taste, their gazes always lingering too long on you when they thought you didn't see, and you could barely stand the almost-casual touches of men who seemed to think you couldn't see beneath their polite facade. "They're simple folk," the head pharmacist would say, shaking his head after you pleaded with him to give you a letter of recommendation. "You won't appreciate their way of life, and you don't have to. Why do you want to go there so badly if you can continue working as my junior pharmacist? You can make a name for yourself here."

You were stupid back then. You wanted to prove yourself so desperately you thought nothing of his gentle warning, rushing headlong in what you thought your first grown-up adventure that turned out to be a nightmare haunting you to this day.

At first, despite your unease towards the village folk, it all was new and exciting. You were the head pharmacist! The only one for miles and miles. People spoke about you with respect, or so you thought. You were crafting medication day and night, and nearly everyone was coming to your door religiously every couple of days. You enjoyed the welcomed weight of responsibility on your shoulders.

It wasn't until a month passed that the villagers finally let you meet a scrawny pink-haired kid by the name of Yuji, who was some sort of an apprentice. Whose apprentice was he? The men all laughed when you asked them, looking smug as they claimed he was apprenticing for every master in the village.

What an odd thing to say, you thought, furrowing your brows. How could one boy be an apprentice to all of them?

Of course, he wasn't. He was a fae boy they have somehow captured and kept prisoner, making him do all sorts of manual labor because they knew his true name.

At first, you thought it was nothing but a shameful lie to keep a fatherless young man chained to his captors to make their bidding. Yuji was just a boy. He was young and smiley and helpful despite the abuse he had to endure every day, the villagers giving him the thoughest jobs under the pretense of his immense fairy powers. Where was he from? Why had no one tried to stop people from treating him so unfairly? He wasn't a caged animal. Yuji was a human being.

But then the blacksmith once handed him an iron girdle, a wicked smirk on his lips, and you saw the horror and pain reflected on Yuji's face when his fingers touched the metal, his palm immediately growing red as if the iron was still hot. He wailed, dropping the girdle on the ground while the blacksmith laughed at him like it was a joke of some kind, and you, caught off guard by such casual display of cruelty, ran to the boy to have a look at his injured hand.

He was, indeed, a fae. The iron to him was alike acid to humans, burning his flesh at the slightest touch.

The discovery shook you to the core, at one point making you question your sanity, but in that moment you were so preoccupied with the boy's injury you were more focused on helping him alleviate the pain and bandage his poor hand than worry about his fairy nature. Regardless of what villagers said, Yuji was gentle and proper. He didn't deserve such horrible treatment.

With every day, you grew more and more anxious, watching him casually bullied and hurt by the village folk for their own amusement. They made him touch iron, look into the mirrors that somehow brought him immense pain, forced him to work till sunset and even at night, and refused him food from to time. It was unbearable to watch a young boy being treated that way. It was no wonder you developed so much compassion and pity for him, soon sneaking in the hovel where he was allowed to sleep to feed him or bring him medication for his injuries. He was such a lovely boy, so bright and kind and sensitive, that it took you just a couple more weeks to agree to his plea to help him get out of this wicked place.

How could you have known of his true nature? You were but a naive, pure young girl. It was a given you were easy to manipulate, to be taken advantage of. A disaster waiting to happen.

You didn't even believe in the fair folk when you had first arrived in that god-forsaked village, but in a couple of months you took up on a quest to find another fae in the Drowned Forest and bring him to Yuji to set him free. When you think of it now, it's such a miracle you stayed alive. Walking straight into the Drowned Forest... what were you thinking back then? How could you be so stupid? That journey could have cost you your life, but you grew too desperate to protect Yuji against villagers' abuse.

Back then, you weren't sure how you stumbled upon another fae so fast, barely minutes into the charmed forest, but now you know he had been waiting for you. Yuji was biding his time because he knew one day a girl like you would appear and do what she could to free him. He was well-prepared, and you were eager to be deceived.

You didn't know what to expect from that exciting but inherently dangerous affair, and yet you didn't think the fae to just slaughter them all, all the human folk of the village. You heard them scream. Luckily, Yuji locked you in the barn where he used to sleep, and you avoided looking at the bloodshed, but their desperate, horryfying cries have been your constant companions for many years to come. You still hear them sometimes when you sleep.

When the menacing black-haired fae from the Drowned Forest grew in size, the marks on his forehead shining in the dark, claws elongating meyond measure, Yuji forced you into his barn, his usually gentle expression morphing into something sinister. He looked at you with mad glee, his fangs elongating, two arms splitting into six like he was mutating right in front of your very eyes, and as you crawled back, suddenly realizing the villagers were right about him, he cornered you, caging you with his large, muscular body, strange symbols engraved into his skin.

"A woman like you captured me," he whispered softly as you shook violently beneath him. "She was a clever little fox, and I lusted after her like a fool, letting her trick me into submission. All those years I spent like a dog on a chain... But I knew a woman like her would set me free."

________

His hand brushed a lock of your hair away from your face, and with the other one he took you by the chin, forcing you to look up at him, "Seven years I've waited in my cage, little bird. Seven years I'll give you to live your mundane life before I come for you."

Part II

Tags: @minshookie29

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x reader #yuji x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yandere #sukuna x you #yuji itadori x you

[moronkombat]

Hi :) I hope you're doing well. I was hoping if you could write pregnancy and dad headcanons for my hubby, Kenshi. He is ideal father material. I doubt Kenshi could truly settle down with his past coming back to haunt him. My man would stress 24/7.

tw: pregnancy

The pregnancy was unplanned and unexpected

Kenshi was not planning on have children anytime soon with all that is going on in his life

He always practiced safe sex or at least he thought he has but clearly it is not always foolproof

Your symptoms started quickly and you took a test immediately. The test, all the five after that didn't lie. You were pregnant

Telling Kenshi was difficult. Not only because of you nerves but because he is gone frequently. He isn't home when you find out nor is he home for the next couple following weeks

When he returns, Kenshi picks up on your nervousness rather quickly and he begins to pester you to tell him what's bothering you

He thinks you are so nervous because someone has threatened you or found out where you live but then you tell him you are pregnant and Kenshi loses all words

Standing there silently, he cannot move. He cannot speak. He cannot breath. Kenshi can only stand there and feel an emotion he cannot put the name to

It's only when he hears you crying does he act. He takes you into an embrace, cradling the crook of your neck as you cry

He is silent for awhile before he tells you that everything will be alright and that he will take of you and the baby

Kenshi wants to be there every moment of your pregnancy but you both know that is impossible but he still tries

While he may not be able to physically be there, he calls you frequently to check in on you. He will go through a great many burner phones in order to do so

He often worries about if you are on your feet too much, if you're getting enough to eat or if you are feeling sick. Kenshi wants nothing more than to be with you in those moments

To hold your hair back, as you suffer from the dreaded morning sickness or to rub your feet as they grow sore but it is not often he gets those opportunities

When he is home, you are not to lift a finger or be on your feet. He makes sure you are taken care of

He cooks all your meals and takes care of all the housework while he is home with you

Most of the time he cannot be there when you go to the doctor appointments but you often have him listen in over the phone

He is able to make it to one visit to the doctor and its when you find out the sex of the baby

Kenshi is happy with either sex and is mostly just wanting a healthy child and a heathy spouse

Things seem to be well but you enter labor early, about 2 weeks earlier than expected and you're rushed to the hospital

Kenshi is given word of your condition and, despite knowing he shouldn't, rushes to be with you

He doesn't care if someone sees him or if the Yakuza find out. All he cares about is being by your side when your child is born

It's a close call but he makes it and when he holds your baby in his arms, he actually sobs and drops to his knees. He's so happy and so full of love for this small and vulnerable infant

As a Father, he is largely off working and cannot be there often and he hates that

His office is full of pictures of you and your baby

He wants to know how the baby is doing and all the milestones they will go through so he calls and video chats as much as he can

You will put him on the phone with your baby and Kenshi talks to them so sweetly and loving

When Kenshi is home, he is constantly holding your baby. He just can't put them down and so he won't

He reads to them, plays with them and kisses them goodnight. At times he will fall asleep righting up against the crib where your baby is sleeping

Kenshi is a very affectionate father when he can be available but he is often not available for long periods of time

You make a scrapbook about Kenshi that you show and show to your child every day so that they may know him even if they cannot see him

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #kenshi takahashi #kenshi x reader

[shadowynn]

| in love and lore | ten |

pairing: ot8 ateez x fem reader

genre: fantasy/daemon/soulmate au

warnings: some cursing, some violence, mentions of blood

wordcount: 8.5k

a/n: so, i know it's been a minute, and i'm sorry. i'm just a little bad about writing multiple stories at the same time as i get super absorbed in one or the other. but, it's finally here and i hope you all enjoy. i know at some point i said we'd have a yunho moment, but sadly that has been moved to the next chapter, but don't worry, it's coming! once again, thank you for all the support and love!

| nine | ten | eleven |

~~~

My blood is on my own hands.

The words replayed inside Hongjoong’s mind, repeating themselves over and over again and the way you had curled back into yourself when you had looked at the dead body beside you one last time haunted him. It was the same state you were in now, nearly half an hour later. You had managed to secure your thoughts well enough from them, but your emotions leaked through the walls you had built inside your mind, filling him and the others with the guilt that racked your body. 

It took everything in him to not go to you in that moment, desperate to ease your mind and convince you that none of this was your fault. If anyone were to be blamed for what happened, it was him. It was his fault the borders of the camp hadn’t been secure enough and his fault for allowing you to be in harm’s way. He should have never dropped his guard around you. He should have never left you alone. He should have made sure one of them was around you at all times, but he hadn’t. He had let himself grow lax with your safety and had nearly lost you because of it. What would have happened if one of his men hadn’t heard you and came to investigate? What if he hadn’t gotten the message relayed in time? Would he have still gotten to you in time? Or would it have been too late?

He struggled with this last thought, uncertain what he would have done if he had lost you tonight. He had just found you, had just finally gotten you; and the thought of losing you just after finally having you in his hands sent a wave of fear running through him that he hadn’t felt in years.

He remembered exactly what had happened to Seoyun all those years ago, remembered exactly how much the death had hurt her. And even now, nearly a decade and a half later, she wasn’t the same. A part of her had died that night alongside her mate. 

The thought of going through that very same thing terrified him. It left him fighting every fiber of his being that yearned to never let you out of his sight again, to keep you right by his side for as long as he could. It left him fighting the urge to lock you away, somewhere no one could ever get to you. Somewhere no one could ever hurt you. And despite knowing you were completely safe and secure in Jongho’s hands, he still couldn’t get rid of the urge to be with you himself. 

“Hongjoong.” He hadn’t noticed he was moving until Mingi stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. “Rushing her isn't going to help right now.” 

Hongjoong nodded, collapsing back down in his seat. He knew that, but the urge to make things up with you was still there. The apology he had given you earlier replayed itself in his mind, reminding him of how flat it had seemed to fall. If he could just go to you for a minute and convince you that it was his fault, that he was to blame, perhaps…

“Jongho's got her, see?” Mingi replied, taking note of the way your emotions had temporarily lifted, the guilt that had racked your body disappearing for just a moment. 

But despite Mingi’s assurances, it was clear he and the others were of a similar mindset. Though a relative silence had settled amongst those who remained in the camp, he could feel the tension that had settled between them. Each one of them fighting the same inward battle as himself because they had failed just as he had. They had sworn to keep you safe, that nothing would happen to you, but they had very nearly lost you tonight. The notion made all the worse knowing it had happened right under their care. 

“The camp should be secure now.” San interrupted their conversation as he made his way inside their tent, wrapping a cloth around the palm of his left hand to stop the bleeding. “I put another barrier up around your tent as well, Hongjoong, ensuring we’re the only ones who can get to her at the moment. I know she doesn’t think it was one of our men who did it, but I didn’t want to take any more chances.”

Hongjoong nodded, fully realizing that was something he should have thought of himself when he had doubled the guard for the rest of the night. And he would have, if he had been thinking clearly, but he hadn’t. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to try and access his memories?” Wooyoung brought back the topic from earlier as San collapsed down onto the cot next to him, not quite content with his earlier answer. “I don’t think there’s any harm in trying; not as long as we have the antidote in hand.”

“No, I don’t want to risk it.” Hongjoong shook his head. Wooyoung had made it clear he had no qualms risking his life by ingesting the dead daemon’s blood in an attempt to piece together what exactly had happened tonight, but the idea hadn’t sat well with him or the others. Not with the bloodsbane that still contaminated it and not after what had happened to you. He couldn’t go through two scares like that in one night. “Not when we don’t even know if it would work. You’ve never ingested a dead man’s blood before.”

“Well, what about hers, then?” Wooyoung was quick to ask instead. “Perhaps we could get a better idea of what exactly happened if I saw-“

“No.” Mingi cut his second idea off before he could finish it. “She already hates that she can’t keep her thoughts to herself because of the bond. Imagine how she would feel if you were to go through everything she had thought and experienced over the past day.”

“But if I asked her first, maybe-“

“You really think she would agree to that?” Seonghwa leaned forward in his seat, settling his chin into his hand. “That she would just let you shift through her thoughts and feelings of your ride with her from earlier?”

“But if it’ll help us find out who-“

“Wooyoung.” Hongjoong’s voice served as a warning, but he wasn’t upset, not when he knew all the younger daemon wanted to do was help. “y/n already went through everything she remembered with us, so I doubt you would be able to gain any information that would prove beneficial. The best course of action at the moment is to wait to hear back from Yunho and Yeosang.”

“And have they found anything yet?” Seonghwa asked.

Hongjoong closed his eyes, reaching out towards the bond that tied himself to Yunho. The tent he was currently sitting inside faded from view, turning into the forest they had been traveling through the past few days. The woods were dark this time of night, the trees surrounding them blocking the majority of the moonlight, but he could just make out the shadowy figure of the wolf Yunho was using to track just a few feet ahead. Once Yunho had caught sight of the tracks near the original attack site, his shadow beast had been able to catch the scent of the person who had been there. Unsure of what exactly waited on the other end of the trail, he had sent Yeosang with him to hide their presence and given orders for them to stay out of sight and await further instructions once they reached the end of the trail. 

Have you found anything? Hongjoong repeated the question to Yunho, hoping he had more information than what he was seeing at first glance. 

“No,” Yunho’s voice was low, breathless from the time he had been running, “but I think we’re nearing the end of the trail.”

Sure enough, Yunho’s observation was correct. Just a few moments later his beast came to a stop at the edge of a small clearing. Even knowing they were fully covered from sight with Yeosang’s ability, they still came to a stop beside it, peering out into it from the cover of the trees in search of a sign of those they had been tracking. 

“No one’s here.” Yeosang was the first to make the observation, quickly taking note that though there were clear signs of a makeshift camp at one point, the clearing was now abandoned. There were no visible signs of anyone still being within the surrounding area, quickly scattering before any form of retaliation hit them. 

Hold your cover for just a moment longer. Hongjoong pulled back from Yunho, bringing himself back to his current position at their camp. He turned to Seonghwa beside him, ready to meet up Yunho and Yeosang. “They’ve made it to the camp.” 

He didn’t have to convey anything else for Seonghwa to nod his understanding and take the wrist Hongjoong extended in his direction. Despite being long used to the mechanics of Seonghwa’s ability, he still tensed as his fangs sunk into his skin, taking in the blood he needed to transport Hongjoong alongside him. 

In a matter of seconds, he had joined the other two miles away, taking in the site with his own two eyes. Yeosang had been right in his assessment, besides the three other daemons currently with him, he didn’t sense any other auras in the surrounding area. Whoever had been here before was now long gone, taking off into the night. 

And why would they have stayed? While the true intent of their attack was uncertain, it was clear they had attempted some form of secrecy with it. Whether it had been just a means to scout them out, sneak inside and find a way to him, or something else, he wasn’t sure, but their plan had failed the moment you had shown up. You had unknowingly ruined their plan, causing them to turn heel and run for the time being. 

“Should I have Haru track them further?” Yunho asked, scratching his shadow beast behind its ear when it nudged its head against his hands. Despite not truly being alive, Yunho’s beasts acted strangely lifelike, uncanny only because of how different they were from his predecessor. Yunho’s care towards the beasts clearly showed in the way they manifested themselves with his blood. 

Hongjoong was silent at first as he approached the clearing, taking in the dying embers of a fire. Whoever had been here, had left in quite the hurry, not bothering to hide their previous presence there. By the amount of tracks littering the grounds, the group had been small, no more than a handful. Whether they had been human or daemon, however, it was impossible to tell, but he leaned towards the latter. Something strange had gone on tonight in the attack, something that only became possible with the daemon’s maetha. 

Though they had quite the head start, there was no doubt they would be able to catch up with the group. As long as they had a hint of one of their scents, Yunho’s beast would be able to track it for miles. Whether or not that was the best way to spend their time and resources at the moment, however, he was unsure. 

A part of him was well aware it might have been in their best interest to just let them go. Tracking them down could very well take days to complete, spreading his guard thin, especially Yunho and Seonghwa, who would carry the majority of the work on their own shoulders. And if Seonghwa was right, if it was part of the militia groups that had caused mayhem for his father, there was a very good chance they would never find them at all, wasting all of their time. It might very well have been better to just stay on the defensive, continue on towards Taeyang with extra caution. The attackers had lost the element of surprise, making it much harder for them to attempt anything else the remainder of the trip. 

But he couldn’t let go of the fact they had hurt you, and he couldn’t, wouldn’t, let them just get away with it. Accident or not, it didn’t matter; he would make sure they paid for their crimes. He would make sure that everyone knew you were not something to be messed with; that there were consequences to those actions. 

“Are you up for a long chase?” Hongjoong straightened up, turning back to the taller daemon. A part of him was aware you would likely be against this decision, aware you would likely want him to just leave it be and move on, but he couldn’t. Not when the situation had affected you the way it had. Not when he knew his inaction could very well risk your life again. 

Yunho nodded, and the beast at his side sprung into action, beginning to sniff out the trail the previous occupants had taken. 

“I’ll stay with Yunho for now. Yeosang, you can head back with Seonghwa and let the others know what’s going on.” Hongjoong began, fingers itching to be on the hunt. Your words continued replaying in his mind even now, and the sight of you clinging to Seonghwa hit him once more. The only thing he wanted more than to be by your side at this moment was to bathe himself in the blood of the man who had done that to you. “We’ll stay camped where we are now for the time being. San set up multiple barriers, so y/n should be safe, but-“

“Don’t worry,” Yeosang put his hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder, “we won’t let anything else happen to-“

“Something’s wrong.” Yunho interrupted them from across the clearing, bent down next to his beast, “Haru can’t catch a scent.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I thought maybe he just needed more blood for the second chase, but even with it, he keeps acting as though their trail ends here.” Yunho looked up to the rest of the group, wiping his bloodied hand against his pants. “He caught something, I’m sure of it, but once he reaches the end of the clearing, it’s gone.”

“And what does that mean?” Yeosang’s head tilted, eyes glancing between each of them. “That they just, what… disappeared?”

“I don’t think so,” Yunho’s brow furrowed, attempting to get Haru to track the scent once more. “I can see their tracks running off in this direction, but Haru doesn’t seem able to track it.” 

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa’s voice was low, etched with worry. 

“I know,” Hongjoong replied, coming to the same solution Seonghwa had. It was one he had known was a possibility all along, but one he had very much hoped wasn’t true. Because if it was, they had much more trouble on their hands than they had originally believed. 

“But why now? Why after all these years do they act now?” Yeosang asked, eyes sweeping the grounds around him in a new light. “What was their goal? What did they possibly hope to achieve tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Hongjoong went over your words once again in his mind, hoping to glean just a bit more information. Your hesitation had been clear, almost certain it hadn’t been their guard who had attacked you in that moment, but he had brushed your worries aside in the hope that you were wrong. Because if you were right, and it hadn’t been one of their own that had attacked you…

“Forget the trail. There’s no way we’ll be able to track them now.” He ran a hand through his hair, unable to keep a string of curses from rolling out. “At least not from the ground. We’ll head back for now, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to get a set of eyes in the skies before we go.” 

Yunho nodded, and his wolf dissolved into the shadows around it, replaced a few seconds later by an owl. It quickly took off into the night, sent out searching for any sign of their attackers from above. Even if they couldn’t track them down physically, any sort of information they could glean would be beneficial, even if it was just the size of the group.

With Yunho’s scout sent out, they prepared for Seonghwa to take them back to camp and tell the others what they had discovered. No one would be happy with the news they brought, and as much as Hongjoong didn’t want to resort to it, he now questioned whether or not Wooyoung had been right. Perhaps attempting to shift through the memories of the dead daemon or your own was the best move to make. Perhaps it would give them information they wouldn’t be able to get elsewhere.

God, he thought this night couldn’t get any worse, but he had been quickly proven wrong. He had thought things would get better now that the war was over, but if they were right - and all signs were beginning to point that way - human retaliation was now the least of his problems. Because if it was them who had appeared tonight, he had a whole new series of problems to attend to, especially if they had found out about you and just who exactly you were. 

~~~

Angel, are you alright?

You looked up to find Jongho still standing before you, faintly aware that he had still been speaking to you. Whatever he had been telling you though, you had missed, too wrapped up with your own thoughts to take his words in.  If Jongho minded, he didn’t show it, simply proffering the items in his hands over to you now that he knew he held your attention once again. 

“Once you’re done, you can sleep here tonight.” Jongho didn’t press you for an answer to the question he had asked you in your head, most likely repeating whatever he had been saying when you had lost focus. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

You nodded, accepting the bundle he handed over to you and setting it down on the table beside you to avoid getting any of the blood that coated you onto them too. A small part of you was aware the clothes Jongho had given you were not your own, most likely an extra set of Hongjoong’s, just as that same part of you was aware Jongho was requesting you sleep here tonight. If circumstances had been normal, you would have argued your way out of each, not seeing the need for either when your own were just a few tents down, but you were too exhausted to argue. And after everything that had just happened, you didn’t completely mind, not really. 

You weren’t sure exactly how you felt. Once the adrenaline had worn off, you were left with a wide variety of emotions flooding your system. Your first concern had been the daemon who had died, consumed with a guilt for not saving his life, for not acting quickly enough. But as guilty as you felt, your anxiety was quick to take over. The thought of what might have happened to you if the other daemon hadn’t come to investigate floored you. What would have happened if he hadn’t gotten Hongjoong like you asked? Would you even still be alive right now? Or would you have gotten yourself killed?

While you had often tread closely to the heat of the battles during the war, the only significant injury you had ever received was the stray arrow in the fight at Maehwa. It had been painful, there was no doubt about that, but you had soldiers nearby who were well trained and able to get you to safety and ensure you were never in any immediate danger as they helped to ensure you could heal yourself. But tonight, tonight you had placed yourself in a situation where you had been completely helpless. If it wasn’t for the nearby daemon whose curiosity had gotten the better of him or the surprise the daemon felt at your presence once he had stabbed you, you didn’t doubt you would be in a very different situation than you were now. If you were even still alive. 

It was the same thought that was in everyone’s mind tonight, but unlike yourself, they each had pinned the blame on themselves; racked with the guilt of seeing you injured under their care. You could feel hints of their remorse flowing through to yourself, making it difficult to differentiate between your own and serving to make you feel worse overall. The only person who was at fault tonight was yourself. You had been the one who had gone out on your own, yearning for some peace and quiet away from them. And you were the one who had gone after the daemon instead of running and getting help for the both of you. Why they would blame themselves for your injury, you didn’t understand, and you wished they would see the only one at fault was yourself. 

“Jongho.” 

You reached out for his wrist, pulling him to a stop before he could leave you. You weren’t sure exactly what it was that you wanted to say, or why exactly you had stopped him, consumed with a yearning to stop the guilt that played in his own mind. But anything that you might have thought of fell away when you caught his gaze, taken back by the raw emotion displayed there; the tenderness in his features making your heart leap. The sudden yearning to cross the distance between the two of you and envelop yourself in his arms struck you quickly, and before you could process the thought completely or how the action might have been met by him, you were giving in and doing just that. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You weren’t sure exactly what you were apologizing for as your arms wrapped themselves around his chest, quickly burying your face into his neck and relishing the warmth his body brought. You could feel him initially tense as you tugged yourself into him, but just as you were about to pull back out of embarrassment, he responded and swiftly wrapped you up in his own embrace.  

“For what?” There was a slight edge to his voice as he spoke, clearly taken back by the sudden show of vulnerability you had given. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But you’re standing there blaming yourself over something I did.” Your fingers grasped at his shirt, attempting to somehow pull yourself in closer. Your chest thrummed at the close contact; his touch helping to fill the hollowness that had plagued you since the bond had been put into place. “I should have acted faster. I should have gotten a hold of one of you first. I’m not a fighter, I know that, and yet, I can’t seem to stop myself when someone’s in danger no matter how many times I get myself hurt.”

You didn’t regret your actions, not truly, but as the panic faded and your mind cleared, you quickly began to see everything you had done wrong. You had lost precious time in your indecision, time that could have been much better spent getting someone who knew what to do in the given situation. While you knew you would never forgive yourself if you just left the guard to die, you had long come to see how foolish your actions had been. You could have very well gotten yourself killed alongside him and then how many more would have died without your warning?

Soomin often got onto you for your tendency to head into dangerous situations, completely forgoing your own personal safety for the sake of others. A part of you was aware her worries were warranted; she was looking out for you and only wanted to make sure you always got back home in one piece. But it was difficult for you to put your life above those around you. You understood where she and Hyunwoo came from, knowing you would do anything and everything to keep them safe if your roles were reversed,  but it was hard to put the same priority on yourself. You had never done well when someone died under your care, unable to live with the knowledge you might have been able to do something for them. 

And tonight you had once again put your life on the line and very nearly gotten yourself killed. When Soomin heard about what happened, you’d never hear the end of it, and quite possibly neither would any of the eight men who had promised to protect you. Though they might not blame you for what happened, you knew Soomin would waste no time telling you how unbelievably stupid you had been. 

But it wasn’t only your actions and regrets that had taken your mind captive for the night, and the more you went over everything in your head, the less it all made sense. Why had the attackers only shot the one arrow? Why had you not been shot at when you had finally found the strength to act? And what had happened to the guard under your care? He had died, you were certain of it, and yet, he had moved and spoke with an ease that should have been impossible. And even if it hadn’t been, even if he had somehow miraculously healed himself, what had he been going on about? You hadn’t made out much in your injured status, much more preoccupied with the dagger sticking in you, and yet, what little you had heard had only served to confuse you further. He had seemed completely surprised by your appearance, and though you had likely never spoken to him before, he should have been familiar enough with who you were and what you could do. He should have known you were there to help him and he should have known you were perfectly safe inside the camp. 

“And we should have never dropped our guard around you. We should have been more diligent with your protection.” Jongho’s grip loosened, pulling you back just far enough so he could look you in your face. “We promised that nothing would happen to you under our care and we failed.” His hands left your waist, moving upwards to cup your face and ensure your gaze was directly on him. 

“And I told you that you can’t always fight my battles for me, nor do I expect that of you.” You shook your head. “I understand you want to protect me, but as much as you may wish it to be otherwise, you won’t always be able to be there, and blaming yourself each time it happens will only serve to make me feel worse.” You lifted your hand to meet his, covering it with your own. “Despite what you may think, I don’t blame any of you for what happened tonight and I won’t hold you accountable for the consequences of my own actions. My life, my blood, is in my own hands and no one else’s.”

To your surprise, the hint of a smile appeared on his face. “Has anyone ever told you how annoyingly stubborn you are before, angel?”

“It may have been mentioned a few times before, but,” you huffed, unable to keep your own smile from peaking through, remembering how Yeosang had told you something similar a few weeks ago, “that’s besides the point. I want you to stop blaming yourself for what happened tonight.”

“Only if you agree to do the same.” He retorted back, causing you to narrow your gaze. 

Now who was being stubborn?

You didn’t try to hide your thoughts. If anything, you wanted him to hear it, and seeing the way his shoulders lightened at your teasing remark and the smile it tugged on his lips lifted a small weight off your own chest. 

Now that the tension in the room was beginning to dissipate, you were becoming aware of just how close the two of you were and found it not quite as easy to hold his gaze any longer. Your eyes shifted to the side, hoping the hands Jongho held to your face covered the blush working its way up the back of your neck. But one quick glance back in Jongho’s direction showed you weren’t the only one growing flustered by the events. 

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t keep a frown from peeking through as you did your best to gently step away from him, taking in the blood that now stained his own clothes. He let you go with little resistance, scratching at the back of his head. “I wasn’t thinking.”

He followed the direction of your gaze to his shirt, understanding just what you were apologizing for once he saw the stains for himself. “Oh, don’t worry about it.” He waved your concern away. “This happens quite often.”

“Right.” You nodded, shuffling awkwardly. You recalled Wooyoung’s words from the first night in their camp, how he had mentioned Jongho’s tenacity on the battlefield. He had been right though, you never would have expected that out of the daemon standing before you, seemingly just as flustered by your previous exchange as you were. “Um, well, I should probably wash off.”

“Right.” Jongho repeated your earlier sentiment. “I’ll be outside then if you need anything.” He motioned to the exit behind him, giving you one last look before turning to follow through with his words, bumping into the table behind him in the process. 

You had to cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the giggle that threatened to come through, thankful it had been Jongho with you tonight than any of the others. He was easy to be around; his personality most like your own and the least out of all of them to tease you about it later on. 

Your conversation with him had helped to alleviate your nerves, allowing you to temporarily forget your worries for just a minute, but it didn’t take them long to return once he was gone and you were left alone scrubbing the blood off your body. With the difference in color between the two it was easy to differentiate the two from each other, the flecks of white signifying the lower daemon’s rank and a stark contrast from your own. 

You quickly sank into the water drawn for you, wanting to be rid of the sight as soon as possible, but no matter how much you scrubbed, you didn’t feel clean. How was any of this fair? That you got to live through the night and not him? And for what? Why had he been killed? What had been their motive?

Hongjoong had said it was most likely nothing more than the scattered remains of some human battalion, but you had a hard time believing him. If they weren’t happy with losing the war, then why hadn’t you seen or heard anyone while you were out? Why hadn’t the snuck into the camp and continued their killing spree? Why hadn’t they attacked you when you had attempted to get him to safety? And how had they gotten their hands on bloodsbane, a poison humans were incapable of brewing themselves, and one complicated enough that only a few people knew how to brew other than yourself.

Nothing about the attack gave any sort of evidence towards them being human, but them being other daemons didn’t make much sense either. If it had been daemons upset with the way the war had ended, and upset with your presence here with them, then why hadn’t he tried to finish you off quickly in the end? Why had he seemed to show you mercy and not just kill you when he had the chance?

Your fingers brushed against the skin where the dagger had sunk into. There was no physical sign that you had been stabbed recently, the area unblemished and smooth beneath your fingertips. What would have happened to you if your blood hadn’t had its healing properties? Not just tonight, but yourself in general? What would have become of you if you hadn’t been able to heal yourself and others from the brink of death with just a few drops?

You had never seen your ability as a curse. How could you when it had saved you and so many others? But you would have been lying if you had said you had never wished to exchange it for something else. At the time, you would have traded it and your ability to brew potions away if it meant you could be human. If it meant you could have an easier life and fit in, you would have eagerly given it all away, but now, now you weren’t so sure. You didn’t think you yearned to be human anymore, but you didn’t want to be fully daemon either, nor did you want to continue being stuck in the middle. You just wanted to fit in, to not be judged and controlled by those around you. You just wanted to be yourself, but exactly what or who that was, you didn’t know anymore.

You didn’t stray in the water for long, climbing out and tugging on the clothes Jongho had grabbed for you earlier. If you weren’t certain they were Hongjoong’s before, you were now. They smelled distinctly of him and you couldn’t resist the urge to pull the collar up to your face and breathe his scent in. Your senses weren’t as strong as a daemon, but you were familiar enough with his to detect the subtle hints of it in them and the tent around you. It left a wave of warmth flooding through you, easing the stress the night had brought and making you wonder why you resisted the bond you had with each of them so much. 

Perhaps if things had been different. Perhaps if you hadn’t been their mate and you hadn’t been forced into all of this with very little choice. Perhaps if they hadn’t been daemons, if they hadn’t been the king and his generals and you not a half-daemon. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been so afraid of what the future held and afraid of getting hurt. It was safer for you to keep your distance and safer if you continued to refuse their advances, because the moment you let your guard down, the moment you finally gave in, you would only have opened yourself to get hurt. It had happened before and it would happen again. You had long learned those above you only treated you kindly because they wanted something from you, and the moment that use was gone, so were they. 

Which is why you hated the bond that tied you to each of them, hated the way it filled you with emotions and yearnings so against your natural inclination. You wanted to keep your distance, wanted to keep yourself safe, but fighting it was so damn hard. It warped your emotions, making it difficult to differentiate between what was real and what was fake, because those emotions and thoughts were fake, right? Created by whatever magic they had used to effectively tie you to them. Despite how real they might have felt, they were manufactured. They had to be. And yet, you couldn’t stop the deep yearning in the pit of your stomach to walk back outside the tent and bury yourself back into Jongho’s arms. 

You forced the thoughts away before you got yourself obsessing over how exactly each of them felt about you once again, the very thing you had gone out into the night to avoid earlier. The realization would have made you laugh if it didn’t depress you so much, fully realizing now that staying in bed would have been the wiser thing to do. But, you hadn’t, and one look at the bed in the corner was all it took to let you know sleep wouldn’t be coming for you anytime soon. Your brain was still much too active to sleep.

You didn’t want to be alone either, though, and despite the awkwardness you felt over your last interaction with Jongho, you couldn’t fight the part of you that craved to be near him once again. And though you didn’t want to give in so easily, you wasted little time thinking it over and heading outside. The daemon had kept his word, and you found him settled on the ground next to the entrance when you stepped outside. He fiddled with a dagger, flipping it in between his fingers, but his movements stilled when he heard your soft approach. 

 “Is something wrong?” Jongho asked as you settled on the ground next to him, just far enough to avoid brushing up against him.

“No,” you shook your head, “I just don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep anytime soon.” You brought your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and shivering slightly from the night air. The daemon’s clothes were made of a lighter fabric of your own, coming from the warmer climates of the south, but winter was fast approaching. “And laying in bed with only thoughts to occupy myself will only serve to drive me crazy.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, I don’t think so.” You did your best to avoid his gaze, still slightly embarrassed by your interaction with him earlier. What did he think of it? “I just don’t really want to be alone right now.” 

It was strange enough having someone who cared that wasn’t family, but even stranger knowing just who was sitting beside you. After all the rumors you had heard about him and the others, you never expected the man sitting beside you, let alone that he would be your supposed mate; someone bound to you by the ancient magic of the daemons. It left you wondering just who the real Jongho was: the bloodthirsty daemon on the battlefield or the shy, blushing boy next to you now.

It left you wondering just who exactly the others were as well. There was no denying the darkness inside each of them, but was that their true nature or one built by the cruelty they had been shown themselves? You remembered the first night you had with Hongjoong. The man had oozed the aura and feel of the daemon king he was. His very nature and actions fitting the man you had heard of. He had gleefully killed Hayoon without a second thought, and yet, there was the Hongjoong you had seen in private. The Hongjoong who had very nearly broken down when he had explained how your parents had died, and the Hongjoong who had clung to you as though his very life had depended upon it.

“Jongho, what was your childhood like?” The question was out before you could stop it, curious for a peek of the boy he had been then. “Before you discovered you were a part of the Black Guard, that is.”

“Oh, well, it wasn’t much different from what it is now.” If Jongho took offense to your prying question, he didn’t show it. Instead, he crushed the dagger he had been fiddling with - reminding you of the other question prodding at the back of your mind - to free up his arms and lean his weight back against them. “My father has been training the king’s soldiers for almost two centuries now, so I grew up in the royal court and was familiar with the royal family before I became a member of Hongjoong’s guard. In fact, I was quite close to both him and Seonghwa before my horns turned black.”

“The two of you grew up in court?” You asked, just now realizing how little you knew about all of them. Besides the little bit of backstory Yeosang had revealed to you before, and the bits you had put together by comments here and there, you didn’t really know anything about any of them. 

Jongho nodded. “It was far less glamorous than you might imagine, especially for Seonghwa. His mother was a handmaid for Hongjoong’s mother, the current queen at the time, but their are never many children in the city, so we often spent time together despite the queen’s distaste for it.” 

“She didn’t approve?”

“No, despite being far from noble blood herself, she never approved of Hongjoong associating himself with anyone she thought was too far beneath him,” Jongho replied, causing your stomach to twist. You hadn’t given Hongjoong’s mother much thought before now. In fact, you hadn’t even been aware if she was alive or not, but you couldn’t help but selfishly begin to wish she was dead. If she didn’t approve of Seonghwa before he was chosen for the Black Guard, what would she think of you? Someone who wasn’t even fully daemon? “She didn’t mind me quite as much; my father had earned my family’s name respect, but she did often try to keep Hongjoong away from the both of us, saying he needn’t concern himself with those outside his guard, so you can imagine her shock when our horns both turned black, especially Seonghwa’s.” 

“She sounds lovely.” You couldn’t keep the sarcasm from coming through, tightening your grip on your legs. You had known all along the issues your presence would bring when you arrived in Taeyang, but Hongjoong’s mother had not been a source of anxiety for you until now.

Jongho chuckled, oblivious to how much his words had affected you. “That would be one way to describe her. She was never nearly as bad as his father was, but she was his mate…” His smile faded away and you knew exactly where his thoughts had traveled based on the way his entire demeanor fell. You had learned exactly what sort of man Hongjoong’s father was.

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through when you were younger.” Your head fell to his shoulder, hoping to be able to comfort him in some way and feeling guilty for bringing the past memories back up. Physical touch made the bond thrum for yourself, so you hoped it would do the same for him now, conveying the empathy you felt for him. Based upon the way his body relaxed and leaned further into your touch, you figured you were right. “I wish I could have been there for you sooner.” 

“How have you done it, angel?”

“Hmm?” You tilted your head towards his face, not quite understanding what he had meant.

“This world has not treated you kindly, and yet, you haven’t let it destroy you. You haven’t let it corrupt you. Despite everything you’ve gone through, you treat everyone with a kindness they do not deserve.” 

“I guess when you’re born into a world that hates you, you learn very quickly you can either let it get the best of you or simply make the best of it.” You shrugged, settling further into his side. A part of you was conscious of the vulnerability you were showing him, warning you to pull back before you got yourself into a situation where you ended up hurt, but after everything that had just happened, you were too exhausted to care. It felt nice. He felt nice. “And with my ability to heal, it just feels natural to want to help those around me. No matter who they are or what they’ve done.”

“That doesn’t mean you should live with the weight of the world upon your shoulders. That doesn’t mean you should blame yourself every time someone dies around you.” His reply made you stop. “You didn’t kill the guard tonight nor have you ever killed anyone else that may have died under your watch. Your hands are clean.” 

“You’re wrong.” Your grip tightened itself on your legs, unable to stop the pit growing in your stomach. “Am I not at least partially to blame if I had the ability to save them and chose not to? Would you not hold some resentment towards me if I had decided to not save Seonghwa? Would you not have held some of the blame on me?”

He was silent for a moment and you didn’t dare look him in the face, terrified of the guilt you would find there. You already knew the answer to your question, fully realizing he had every right to think that way. That it was perfectly reasonable for him to put the blame on you, but that didn’t mean you wanted him to. That didn’t mean it made you feel any better. You didn’t want to be right.

“Do you blame Hongjoong for your parents’ deaths?”

Your lips twisted, unsure how exactly his reply made you feel. No, you didn’t blame him for what had happened. Perhaps a part of you had for a minute, seeking some sort of vengeance for what had happened, but you knew it wasn’t his fault and you couldn’t, wouldn’t put the blame on him when you knew it was his father’s fault and not his own. 

“Perhaps a part of me would have been upset if you hadn’t chosen to save him, but it would be wrong to pin the blame on you. You shouldn’t live your life on the expectations of others. The choice should ultimately be yours.” 

You knew his statement was meant to be supporting, but it fell flat, causing you to pull away from him. “Well, no one has ever seemed to care what I want in life before. That has always seemed to already be decided for me.” 

“Angel, I didn’t mean… shit.” Jongho pulled back as well, running a hand through his hair as a string of curses rolled out. “I’m sorry.”

“I know and I’m trying, it’s just…” You were trying not to be resentful, trying to understand things from their point of view. They were trying to make up for the past, right? You could see it in their actions, but that didn’t mean the past didn’t still hurt. It didn’t take the sting away from his words. It didn’t make him feel any less of a hypocrite.

Your chin settled in between your knees, the current conversation reminding you of the one the two of you had had the night everything had changed. But as frustrated as you were with everything that had been said and done, you couldn’t shake your own guilt from that night. While Jongho’s own words had stung and his actions hurtful, you now realized the weight your own words had on him that night when you had mentioned he had no idea what it was like to not have a choice. At the time, you had thought it to be true, frustrated by how he and the others had been dictating your every move, but that wasn’t true. Not exactly. Not after what you had learned about his past.

“I’m sorry as well.” Your grip tightened against your legs once more, but your head fell back to its former place on his shoulder. “That night Hongjoong killed Hayoon, I said some things that I shouldn’t have. You know exactly what it’s like to not be given a choice and I apologize for implying you didn’t.”

“Angel, you have nothing to apologize for.” Jongho leaned into your touch, head falling on top of your own. “You had every reason to be upset that night and it should be me apologizing for it.” 

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still wish to…”

A yawn escaped your lips, mumbling your words. The exhaustion that had built up inside you the past few days was finally taking a hold of you as the adrenaline of the events left your body. Jongho’s gentle presence next to you only further helping you to relax and while you knew it was probably for the best if you took the time to try and sleep, you didn’t want to leave his side.

“If you’re tired, you should go sleep.” But the way his arm had snuck around your back to help support your body told you he was of a similar mindset as you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded your head, but it was easier said than done unfolding yourself from his side. Jongho didn’t attempt to push you any further, letting you stay next to him as long as you wanted, but the moment you did pick yourself up and disappeared back inside the tent, you felt your anxiety crawling back once you were alone again. You couldn’t keep a frown from appearing as you stood in the middle of the tent, hating how being separated from them made you feel. You had spent your whole life by yourself, fully able to deal with your anxieties and problems on your own, but now that they had entered it, you struggled. Even with Jongho just a few feet away, and the rest not too much farther, your chest ached, wanting nothing more than to curl back up with Jongho, craving the relief his presence brought.

There was some relief in knowing it was Hongjoong’s tent you were in, and though you had some hesitation sleeping here for the night, curling up in his bed helped to ease your mind a little. You buried yourself beneath the covers, once again breathing in his scent that surrounded you, and for a very brief moment, you wondered what it would be like if he was here with you. A thought that sent you quickly hiding your face under the covers despite fully knowing no one could see you at the moment. But as embarrassed as the thought made you, you couldn’t help but wonder for the briefest of moments what would happen if you did call out to him. Would he come?

It reminded you of your earlier interaction with Wooyoung, a moment that had happened less than a day ago and yet felt so far away after everything that had happened. Despite the uncomfortable spot on top of the horse, you hadn’t slept that well in ages, at ease in his arms. And after everything that had happened, you found yourself craving a moment similar to that once more than you ever cared to admit. 

The realization left you groaning, rolling over and burying your head once more as you did your best to kick it and any other similar thought from your mind. But as aggravated as you were with the thoughts, it was a blessed distraction from the rest of your other worries, and though it took a minute, your exhaustion slowly began to get the better of you and you finally drifted off to sleep.

~~~

taglists are now in reblogs :)

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #mingi x reader #san x reader #yunho x reader #jongho x reader #yeosang x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez fantasy au

[nrdmssgs]

Liar

Masterlist Smut Pairing: Captain John Price X reader TWs: no

"Should we even..." Your voice is barely audible from the water hitting the sink.

You catch a glimpse of your own reflection right before you: eyes half shut, hands bringing him closer despite your own doubts, lips deliciously parted. John stays outside the sheaf of light, provided by the only lamp in the bathroom. His lips crush against the back of your neck repetitively, but that doesn't fulfill his hunger. So he bites down - not hard enough to break your skin, but more than enough to make the world around you grow hazy, as you melt.

"Should you have teased f`so long?" Prices voice reverberates deep in his chest, and you don't even hear his answer - you feel it with your back pressed against him.

He is not incorrect - there were months of playing around, friendly teasing bordering with flirting. So now it looks like a time for payback. John couldn't care less, it was at your mutual friends house, in the middle of the party. He needs to feed you your own medicine.

Until your brain can't form a single thought.

Until you realize no one else can put you in so deep.

So his hand leaves your neck and reaches down to press you against his bulge so that you feel how hard you made him. And if your knees didn't fail you before - you are now so weak, that only big hands are keeping you from collapsing.

"Not here," you mewl, turning your face back to him. Only to be met with a messy, hungry kiss.

"Here." And his tongue slides past your lips, getting a good taste, taking your breath away. He has to force himself to stop kissing you for the next word to be said.

"Now."

The water is still running down the sink, but all you hear is his heavy breath. You're so needy for his touch, that you have to bite down your lip, to not make a sound, when he finally slides your underwear to the side.

***

You wake up, breathing shakily. That goddamn dream - it's been a few months already, since it happened, and that dream still haunts you. It feels nice to wake up to such a dream at your cozy bed back at home. But to wake up next to him? In a safe house, where you and his Task Force had to wait, until the new intel on enemy disposition gets a confirmation from your scouts? This was a torture.

You two barely talked about what happened at your friend's place, but decided, that you both were rushing things too much. You were trying to keep personal business as far from work as possible. And for now, John Price wasn't your old friend - he was a colleague. So you clutched your teeth and did everything to keep the memories of him being so intoxicating and overwhelming away. But you just couldn't control your dreams.

You hold your breath and listen intensely to surrounding sounds: distant voices - coming from other rooms, howl of the wind outside the window and Johns calm breath. He seems to be sleeping, which is a good thing - you wouldn't want to embarrass yourself with your neediness here and now.

You just need to cool your head down, splash your face with cold water - anything to forget the feeling of his hands on your body. So you carefully release your hand from under the blanket, grab the edge of the bed and try to pull yourself towards it in order to slip out unnoticed.

"Going somewhere, darling?" His bear paw lands right on your stomach and drags you back under the blanket.

"I've slept enough, I'll go switch for a watch with one of your men, Price."

"M-m-m-m-m, liar." His warm breath rolling against your skin makes you shiver.

"Ok-ok, you got me, Captain. Bad dream. I don't think, I'll be able to fall back to sleep, so I really gotta go."

"Bad dream you say?" Price clicks his tongue. His hand leaves your tummy and snakes down your hip.

"So it was a bad dream, that made you roll over in bed?" John grips your upper thigh gently yet authoritatively.

"`twas a bad dream, that made you pant and whisper my name?" It feels more like being trapped in captivity to predator's grip: he is not yet trying to feed on you, but he is not letting you anywhere away.

"Just a bad dream... that made you grind against me so deliciously?" He guides your thigh up his hip, spreading you, pressing you closer, and 'demonstrating' to you the fruits of your labor.

And as you try to calm down the rushing heart and hide the fact, that the blood is surging to your cheeks, you mumble some excuses incoherently. Only for John to quietly chuckle, enjoying, how worked up you get from just a dream about him.

#cod #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #cod x reader #captain price #price cod #captain john price #john price #price mw2 #captain price smut #john price smut #price smut #price x reader #cod mw3 #cod mwii #captain price cod #price call of duty #captain price x reader #cod captain price #john price x reader #cod john price #john price mw2 #captain john price x reader #john price x you #john price cod #cod price #cod price x reader #captain price imagine

[lumi-nescentt]

Rumor Has It

Part 4 - A Single Thread Of Gold Tied Me To You

Pairing: Jenson Button x Reader / Mark Webber x Reader

Warnings: Mark, yes that's a warning in itself in this

Words: 4.8k

Summary: Now that you and Mark are done, you're free to explore whatever's between you and Jenson. It's not as easy as you thought between expectation and ghosts of your past actions still lingering around.

A/N: Shoutout to my ex who actually said to me some of the stuff Mark said in this chapter. At least they gave me writing material on top of self-worth issues so it's not all bad :) Also thank you to the person who asked for a part 4 and sorry it took so long, hope you like it <3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Leaving Mark had been hard. You had grown into the woman you were now alongside the Australian and despite how bad things had turned out, the two of you still had history. It had never crossed your mind that what you had with Mark could one day become a bother because you had once thought you’d stay together for a very long time. 

Since your break up, and especially since it had been made public, everyone seemed to think they were entitled to have their opinion on your past relationship and to make it known to you. You couldn’t lie and say it was easy for you because despite not knowing much about what happened, almost everyone was siding with Mark and that hurt. 

The world of motorsports was already harsh enough on women but after this whole breakup, you felt it more than ever. Thankfully, you loved your job enough to push through all the comments about how you ruined the only good thing in your life. Jenson had been a huge support mentally and even physically when he could get away from his responsibilities as a driver.

Not wanting to make the same mistake you made with Mark, you had decided to try and explore what you felt for the Brit in private and Jenson didn’t mind in the slightest. You kept to yourself in the paddock but as soon as it was just the two of you in the comfort of the hotel, he was by your side for as long as you wanted him to. 

Jenson knew you were still hurting a little and the last thing he wanted was to make you rush into a relationship you were not ready for yet so for months, all he did was be there as a friend when you needed him. He never tried anything again and the kiss you shared the night you broke up with Mark was the only action either of you had for a long while.

As much as you appreciated the thought, having him this close and yet this far was starting to be a torture and you were growing restless. The kiss was haunting you, that was the only way to put it. Since every hotel room you stayed in looked pretty much the same, you couldn’t escape the memory even if you tried. 

A part of you was almost starting to believe you imagined it and that same part of you sounded strangely similar to Mark. It was there in the back of your mind, telling you Jenson didn’t like you despite every sign and every action saying otherwise. Maybe if the breakup had been more recent, you’d have listened to it more but lately you could hear yourself think clearly again. 

It was a relief, feeling at peace with who you were, after years of not feeling enough for your boyfriend and for yourself. You were growing more comfortable and people seemed to notice how their comments started to roll off your back because they were getting fewer and fewer as time passed. You were walking in the paddock with your chin up high, smiling at the people you once knew and the one you still talked to, life was getting better. 

You felt ready to put your time with Mark behind you for good and look towards the future, most importantly towards Jenson. Now you just had to show the Brit it was okay to make a move, that you wanted him back, entirely. Luckily for you, the Monaco GP was coming up and that gave you the perfect excuse to spend some alone time with the Brit.

After arranging it with the man himself, you were calling work to tell them you wouldn’t be needing a hotel room in Monte-Carlo anymore. Jenson seemed to want to spend time with you too because he asked you to come at the beginning of the week instead of on Thursday morning like you usually did. 

As soon as the plane landed, you were rushing out of the plane and then out of the airport, into the taxi until you were finally in front of Jenson’s door with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. The Brit opened the door and before he had time to process what was happening, you had thrown your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

-“ Well, hello love ! Missed me much ?” Jenson said before his laugh echoed through the hallway, making his whole chest shake

-“ I actually did but sorry for jumping on you like that.” you stepped away from the hug, straightening your clothes

-“ No need to apologise, you know ?”

-“ Oh, sorry.” 

-“ y/n…” Jenson sighed with a smile

-“Sor–” 

-“ Don’t even finish that sentence, I’m not kidding.” Jenson threatened, covering your mouth with his hand

-“ I won’t, or maybe I will, who knows ?” you teased before slipping past him and getting inside as Jenson followed you with a grin

The first few hours were spent in this cheerful mood, the both of you teasing each other and laughing until you couldn’t breathe anymore. Despite the pretty chill ambiance, you felt like Jenson was almost walking on eggshells around you. Whenever you were physically close, you could feel his whole body grow tense and the grown man next to you suddenly seemed to forget what to do with his own hands.  

It was a little cute at first, it wasn’t very often that you could see the Brit all flustered. Jenson was usually so confident, the whole thing was endearing. However, that didn’t change the fact that you wanted something to happen but with how stressed he looked, you weren’t sure if it was the right time and you were growing a little frustrated. The whole idea behind this trip had been to make a move or to get him to make one and it didn’t seem to be happening on its own so you thought taking the matter into your own hands was the right thing to do. 

After dinner, you asked Jenson if you could drive to the top of Monaco to see the sunset. The Brit immediately agreed and the two of you jumped into the car quickly, hoping you wouldn’t miss it. The drive was pretty quiet, Jenson was doing his best to get there on time and you were just looking at the scenery, taking in the view. 

You were still doing that when Jenson parked the car. Not wanting to disrupt you, he stayed silent and decided to look at you instead, taking advantage of the fact your attention was elsewhere. You soon realised that it was dead silent and turned around to look at the Brit, only to be met by his eyes already on you. 

-“ You know the sunset is that way, right ?” you joked, pointing at the sun disappearing behind the horizon

-“ I know.” 

-“ Why are you looking that way, then ?” 

-“ I don’t know, the view’s pretty this way too.” he just shrugged, suddenly looking very interested by the sunset

-“ The view or me ?” 

-“ Both. You.” he paused “Mostly you.” Jenson confessed, still looking away

-“ Look at me, Jenson.”

-“ Why ?”

-“ Just do, please.” you asked again, turning around on your seat to face him completely

-“ I’m looking at you now.” 

-“ I’m gonna ask you a question and I need you to answer honestly, okay ?” 

-“ Sounds serious. I’m not in trouble, am I ?”

-“ You’re not, I promise.” 

-“ Okay, go on then. Ask away.” Jenson smiled timidly

-“ Do you still like me ?” 

-“ What ?” 

-“ Do you still fancy me ? Like me as more than a friend ?” 

-“ Yeah of course, why are you asking that ?” 

-“ Just making sure we’re on the same page.” Jenson looked at you with a confused expression, “ I like you, Jense.” 

-“ Are you sure ?” 

-“ What do you mean, am I sure ? Of course I am, I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t.” 

-“ So this is not because you feel pressured because you know about my feelings ?” Jenson asked, making sure he was understanding what you were saying correctly

-“ No it’s not. I like you because you’re caring, funny, you’re a great friend who’s always here for me when no one else is and not to mention how devilishly handsome and charming you are. That’s why I like you, among other things of course.”

-“ You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say this, y/n.” 

-“ Maybe you could show me how happy you are then ?” you suggested with a raise of your eyebrows

-“ I mean I could tell you how much I like you but I thought you already kne–”

-“ Jenson ?” you interrupted him, cupping his face with your hands “ Just kiss me please.” 

The Brit finally stopped rambling and pressed his lips against yours. If you had found the first kiss already perfect, this one somehow topped it. Maybe it was the fact that you were finally free to love him or maybe the memory of how good it actually had been had faded but this was definitely the best kiss you had ever shared. 

The sunset was long forgotten as you kept kissing, smiling against his lips when Jenson’s hand came to rest on your neck, pressing you even more against him. It seemed like he had been a little too enthusiastic as your elbow that had been on the centre console slipped and you almost fell on him. Forced to separate from each other, you only looked at him with a happy smile before snickering at the situation. 

The ride back to his place felt lighter and from the corner of your eyes, you could see that Jenson was smiling giddily, tapping his finger happily on the wheel to the beat of the soft music playing. You looked pretty much the same, a dazed smile plastered on your face as you kept remembering every second of the kiss. 

Stuck in your own pleasant thoughts, you didn’t realise Jenson had parked the car until he was opening your door, offering you his hand to help you stand up. It was a sweet gesture and as much as you didn’t want to compare the two, you couldn’t help but note that Mark had never done that in the years you’d been dating. 

As quick as the Australian had came into your mind, he left and you focused back on the man in front of you. Since he had helped you out of the car, Jenson hadn’t let go of your hand, intertwining your fingers and rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand for the whole elevator ride. If he got to decide, Jenson wouldn’t have let go of it again but when he saw you yawn softly, trying to hide it, he ushered you to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

When you came out, Jenson was standing against the opposite wall, smiling when he saw you. Without a word, you followed the Brit to what you assumed was going to be the bedroom. You knew you were right when he opened the door and a huge bed came into your view. The room was beautiful and comfy, that was undeniable but you couldn’t help but think it lacked some life. It didn’t look as if someone slept there most of their nights at all. Blaming it on the fact that Jenson was away a lot, you shrugged it off before turning to face the Brit who had just cleared his throat. 

-“ Well… What do you think ?” 

-“ It’s very nice in here, it seems cosy.” you said, sitting on the bed

-“ I’m glad you like it. Do you need anything else ?” 

-“ Nope. Just you.” you smiled coyly as the Brit’s cheeks went red

-“ Alright, I think that’s my cue then.” Jenson laughed before taking a few steps towards the door

-“ Wait ! You’re not staying ?”

-“ I thought you were joking about that.” 

-“ And I thought that was your room.” you explained, just as confused

-“ Oh no, that’s the guest bedroom. Mine is the door right across.” Jenson pointed at the door behind him that was slightly ajar

-“ Do you mind if I–?” 

-“ Not at all, go on.” he scoffed, getting out of the doorway as you stood up and made your way to his bedroom “Please do honestly. I wouldn’t have dared to ask.” 

Surely enough, when you entered this bedroom it looked way more like what you expected Jenson’s bedroom to look like. The room was pretty neat apart from a pair of jeans and a polo on the back of an armchair and a blanket hastily thrown over the duvet. 

You took the time to walk around the room, letting your fingers run across the furniture as you did. You stopped in front of the small desk next to the balcony door, smiling when you saw that most of the space was taken by picture frames. Crouching so you could see better, you noticed a few pictures of his parents, his sisters and what you could only assume were his nieces and nephews, smiling when you saw Jenson holding a tiny baby in the crook of his arm with the biggest grin. 

-“ That’s my sister’s daughter. Her name’s Lea.” Jenson’s voice interrupted your contemplation, his fingers tracing over the baby’s frame

-“ She’s adorable.”

-“ I know right ? She’s the only kid that didn’t start crying the moment her mom put her in my arms, she’s a sweetheart.” he laughed, remembering the fear that had filled him when the first baby cried in his arms

-“ Well, I think Lea has great taste.” you smiled, turning around so you could face him and placing a soft kiss on his lips before going back to looking at the frames, picking the last one

-“ What’s this picture ?” 

-“ You don’t remember ?” you shook your head, still trying to figure out where it came from “ It was the night the 2009 season ended, you know when we went out and I kissed you ?” 

-“ Yeah, I remember that but I have no memory of that picture being taken.” you admitted again 

-“ You were dancing with Hanna when Fernando and I bumped into you. I was apparently very happy to see you again since I lifted you in my arms the moment I saw you. And you seemed to like that because I had never seen you smile as big as in the picture with you in my arms.” 

-“ It’s a really beautiful picture, do you have another copy that I could take home ?” 

-“ I don’t but I’ll just find the original picture Hanna sent me and we can go print it.” 

-“ Hanna sent it to you ?” 

-“ Yes, she’s the one that took it.” 

-“ She never told me or said anything about it.”

-“ Maybe she just assumed there was no need to since you chose Mark.”

-“ Oh, you’re probably right.” you sighed, looking at your feet

-“ Darling, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I mentioned him, it was stupid of me. Please forget what I just said.” Jenson immediately apologised when he saw your shoulders drop slightly 

-“ It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” 

-“ y/n, look at me please.” 

Slowly, you turned around to face him, still looking at your shoes. Jenson was having none of it and after carefully placing his fingers under your chin, he raised your head until your eyes met his. 

-“ I’m not blaming you for choosing Mark. I don’t care about him. All I care about is that you’re here with me and you’re no longer miserable because of that sod.” 

-“ You promise ?” 

-“ I promise you.” Jenson nodded, before kissing your forehead and pulling you into a hug

When he felt you yawn against his chest, Jenson said that it was definitely time to go to bed and let you settle in his bed before joining you. The two of you lasted 5 seconds on opposite sides of the bed before you turned around to face him and snuggled your face against his chest as his arm rested over your waist, keeping you close. It was a nice feeling. Unlike kissing him which made your heart race at insane speeds, sleeping next to him was soothing and you found yourself quickly drifting off to sleep with a relaxed smile. 

As much as you had enjoyed the parenthesis of living in your own bubble in Jenson’s apartment, you couldn’t stay there forever and you had to eventually go back to work. Working in Formula 1 never felt like a chore, even when you were knackered, you still loved the ambiance of the buzzing paddock and it was even more true when it came to Monaco. 

In your years travelling across the globe, you could attest that there was truly no place on earth to match the vibes of the principality, especially during the Grand Prix. These streets were made for racing, a beating heart of the sport that made everyone, fan or not, hold their breath in anticipation when the cars came bursting out of the tunnel and into the chicane. 

Even when the cars weren’t racing, the whole city was vibrating with energy as luxurious cars and even more luxurious guests paraded around. It should have been easy to get lost in all the frivolity and superficial things around but trapped between the mountains and the sea, Monaco stayed beautiful to those who knew where to go when the glitz and the glam became too much. 

You and Jenson had always been one of those people who knew how to balance the high end life of Monaco and the simpler things to enjoy which made it a very dear place in your heart. This weekend when you entered the paddock, it all felt lighter and your colleagues could tell from your relaxed face and the content smile you were proudly showing. 

You hadn’t been able to come at the same time as Jenson but he had promised to meet up for lunch so instead of looking at your watch every five minutes, hoping to make time pass faster, you decided to really focus on your work which you knew would make lunch come sooner. It was actually the first time in a while where you felt like yourself again at work and the drivers could tell too apparently. Some of them politely said you seemed in a good mood when others you knew better like Daniel were even happier to see you beaming and hugged you. 

Chatting with the smiley Australian had taken up the rest of your time before your break so you started heading towards the meeting point you and Jenson had previously agreed on. You got your phone out of your bag to text him and tell him you were on your way when you bumped into someone, immediately apologising for not looking at where you were going. 

-“ It’s okay, I should have paid attention to the people around me too.” the person you had hit said, the distinctive voice making your head snap up to look at him

-“ Mark. What are you doing here ?” 

-“ I’m here with Channel 4, they had an open spot as a commentator so I thought I’d give it a go.” 

-“ Oh, okay. That’s nice.” you said with a tight smile, looking around for an excuse to leave without seeming rude 

-“ I know I’m probably the last person you want to see these days but I was wondering if we could talk ?” 

-“ I’m in a bit of a rush, actually.” you tried, taking a step to the side already

-“ Please y/n. It’ll take a minute and then I’ll get out of your hair if you want me to.” he pleaded, using the voice he knew you couldn’t resist to when you had been together

-“ Fine but make it quick.” you sighed, crossing your arms 

-“ I know I wasn’t really nice to you the last time we talked–” you rolled your eyes at the understatement making him blush in embarrassment “I was a real arse and you didn’t deserve it.”

-“ I know that, Mark. If all you wanted to tell me is stuff I’m already aware of, I think I’m going to go.” 

-“ I’m not done, hold on.” he answered quickly, trying to grab your waist in an attempt to make you stay before you jerked your arm away from him

-“ Don’t touch me.” you almost snarled, feeling anger rise slowly 

-“ This isn’t how I saw this conversation going.” he muttered, scratching his beard

-“ Well what did you expect, Mark ? I’m not going to welcome you with open arms and pretend like it’s totally fine between us because that’s simply not the case.”

-“ I don’t know, I just thought you’d be nicer honestly.” 

-“ Excuse me ?” 

-“ That sounded wrong, forget what I just said.” 

-“ No ! You don’t get to say messed up stuff and then tell me to forget it. I don’t owe you anything so if you think I’m going to be all nice to you because we’re in public, think again.” 

-“ I just came here to talk about us, I didn’t want to argue. I promise.” the Australian tried to justify himself

-“ Mark. There’s no us. It’s been months since we broke up and if I’m completely honest, there was no us from the moment you shoved your tongue down someone else’s throat while we were together.” you spat, not realising how loud the two of you were now talking, attracting the attention of everyone around.

Jenson, who had been walking to meet you, had just come into earshot of your conversation and upon hearing the way your voice was getting more high-pitched and irritated by the second, he pushed through the crowd and came to stand by your side in an instant. Not even looking at who you were talking to, Jenson put himself in the middle, looking at you carefully.

-“ Is everything okay, love ?” 

-“ It’s okay Jense, I’m handling this. I’ll be with you in a second.” you smiled before looking at the Australian standing behind

Getting out of the way, Jenson finally got to look at the person you had been talking to and he felt his body grow rigid when he was met with the face of his old friend who looked just as spooked by the sighting. 

-“ Why is he always here ?” Mark asked, visibly annoyed

-“ Because I actually want him to be there and he doesn’t act like my presence irritates him.” 

-“ I’m sure that time will come.” he mumbled under his breath, hoping you hadn’t heard

-“ You know what ? This is just a waste of my time. I don’t need to hear the words of a pathetic cheater. I don’t care what you wanted to say to ease your conscience, Mark, so you can take your apology and shove it up your arse.” you roared, wrapping Jenson’s hand in yours before storming away, leaving the Australian dumbfounded in the middle of a crowd who was now giving him dirty looks

You didn’t stop walking until you saw an empty lunch table and dragged Jenson to sit next to you on the bench, letting your head fall on his shoulder with a long sigh. Your hand was still holding Jenson’s and you felt his thumb trace soothing shapes on the back of it not daring to break the silence just yet. After a few moments without moving or saying a thing, you felt the Brit moving, turning to look at you. 

-“ How are you feeling ?” 

-“ I don’t know. I feel angry at him but also relieved because I don’t think he’ll try to talk to me again.” 

-“ He’d be even stupider than I thought if he tried. You looked pretty convincing out there and he definitely deserved what he got.” 

-“ Are you sure ? I didn’t want to cause a scene but he made me so enraged I just snapped.” 

-“ He got what was coming for him so don’t feel bad. It was totally justified.” 

-“ I don’t know. I don’t like to be mean…” you sighed, putting your head in your hands for a second

-“ You’re not a mean person, love. If you had to get mad for him to understand, it’s his fault not yours.” 

-“ Thanks, handsome.” you smiled, trying to make the conversation lighter, jokingly bumping your shoulder with his

-“ Well that’s new…” he smirked, his cheeks a subtle shade of pink

-“ What, you don’t like it ?” you teased

-“ I love it actually but it’s making me want to do things that I don’t know you’re comfortable with.” 

-“ Ooh, cheeky.” you laughed freely

-“ Not that, you pervert ! I meant kissing you.” the Brit blushed even harder

-“ Oh well I mean I’d be okay with that. If you’re okay with it too, of course.”

-“ Really ? I don’t want to put you in trouble or to have people criticise you or anything.” 

-“ It’s pretty strange but if I really think about it, I don’t really care about that. Like I’d rather be able to kiss you and be happy than worry about what people will think and not do something I want.” 

-“ You’re amazing, you know that ?” 

-“ Had to get at your level, handsome. Now please, can I kiss you ?” 

-“ If I ever say no to that, please take me to the doctor.” Jenson grinned before brushing your cheek with his hand and pressing his lips against yours 

You smiled against his lips, biting his bottom lip teasingly before pulling away and acting normally, asking him about what he wanted to eat as he gazed at you mesmerised. You were both so lost in each other that you didn’t pay attention to anything around you. Not to the German driver who was coming your way with a smirk or to the tall Australian staring daggers at you from across the paddock.

If ignoring Mark was easy, ignoring Seb wasn’t. As soon as he had seen the two of you kissing, he had changed his path and planted himself in front of you with a knowing grin. 

-“ Well, well, well… What do we have here ?” he teased��

-“ You see Seb, when two people really like each other sometimes they want to press their lips together to show how much they appreciate the other one.” Jenson started

-“ Thank for that very helpful insight mate. I actually have a girlfriend so trust me I know.” he winked at you, making you roll your eyes with a smile

-“ Who says we’re not dating ?” you asked the German as Jenson looked at you, mouth agape

-“ Jenson’s face when you just asked me that.” 

-“ Fair enough.” you admitted, looking at the Brit before lacing your fingers together

-“ More seriously, it’s nice to see the two of you happy. You deserve it.” 

-“ Thank you, Seb.” Jenson smiled as you thanked his friend

Sebastian would have loved to stay chatting but just like you were on a lunch date with the Brit, he was actually on his way to meet up with Hanna so he quickly left you alone, not before promising to get together later to “know all about your blossoming relationship” according to him. 

The conversation with the German driver wasn’t the last one you had about your new relationship with Jenson over the course of the weekend. Everyone you knew in the paddock seemed to have seen or heard about your altercation with Mark or the kiss you had shared later on. Maybe the woman you were when you were dating Mark would have minded that people seemed so interested in your relationship but you find that it didn’t bother you at all. 

Even though you wanted to keep your personal life mostly private, you were more than happy to say that Jenson was a real gentleman who made you feel on top of the world and if the word “love” came into your mind when you were telling all these people about him, that was something you’d deal with later.

Maybe you’d tell Jenson later on that day when you got back to his place and settled in his bed, wrapped up in his arms. Or maybe you’d blurt it out the next morning over a shared breakfast overlooking the marina, the sun hitting his face perfectly as he laughed at something you said. Perhaps, you’d tell him on your next date after extending your stay in Monaco until you had to leave for the next race alongside Jenson. 

No matter the scenario, there was no doubt in your heart that Jenson’s reaction would be genuine and if the way he looked at you was any indication, you were pretty convinced the feeling was mutual. After all, would he have waited 6 years for you if he wasn’t smitten in love with the pretty journalist that had caught his heart in a single interaction all those years ago ? Probably not… The most important thing was that you were no longer scared of what the future held because you knew that one way or another, Jenson would be by your side and that was enough to reassure you.

#jenson button x reader #jenson button #f1 #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #f1 scenario #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #mark webber x reader #mark webber

[sunshinescribes]

Tomorrow

Pairing: Donquixote “Corazón” Rosinante x Fem!Reader (can be read as gender neutral!)

Rating: NONE

Summary: Rosinante is no fool, no matter what his brother or the family might think. He knows pain when he sees it, and he hates that he’s the cause of yours.

Warnings: ANGST, established relationship, fluff, comfort (I just wanted to write something bittersweet y’all), Pre-Rosinante and Law

You know you don’t have much time.

It slips by far too fast, precious hours reduced to what feels like mere minutes when Rosinante is with you.

You try to cherish them, to swallow the plea that wants to crawl up your throat in the silent hours when you’re wrapped in his arms. You try to find solace in the fact that he’s safe. For another hour, he’s safe from his brother—from the world that despises his celestial blood.

Here with you, he can let down his shield and smile as if tomorrow might not be his last. It’s a small comfort, but it’s enough to stop you from being selfish.

You want him to stay.

You always want him to stay.

It’s torture—months spent without him. Your world stands still, grows so quiet that all you hear is the beat of your heart ringing in your ears, ticking away like a timebomb. You wait for the explosion, for the day that Rosinante doesn’t come back, and you finally shatter.

But today isn’t that day, so you cling to him a little tighter. Speak to him a little softer.

You know that kindness is not something Rosinante finds in his brother nor the company that he keeps. He tends to his bleeding heart well and masks himself in silence so as not to draw their attention to his true motives. It’s a dangerous game, one you’re terrified he'll lose.

Rosinante had told you what Doflamingo did to their father—an ill-fated, tender-hearted man whom his oldest son could not forgive. The image of Rosinante at the end of his brother’s gun has haunted you ever since.

"You’re shaking."

Amber eyes stare down at you, concern clear in them as they take you in.

You hadn’t noticed your hands trembling against him or the subtle shake of your chest. You don’t even notice the tears turning your vision blurry until they fall.

"I’m fine," you lie, but it does nothing to assuage his worry. He cradles your jaw in his hand, tilting your head upward as he uses his other hand to wipe away your tears—he knows.

Rosinante is no fool, no matter what his brother or the family might think. He knows pain when he sees it, and he hates that he’s the cause of yours. Rosinante would stop coming back if he knew which was less cruel—letting you go or staying with you for as long as he’s able, even if he can’t promise you tomorrow, or the next day, or the next.

He can put on a good act, though, for your sake.

"Don’t worry about me sweetheart," Rosinante grins, sitting up in bed. His blonde curls are disheveled, making him look gentle and boyish and so different from the man he calls brother. "Those fools don’t suspect anything. It won’t be long now before we catch them."

You try to smile. You want to believe him. You know he’s doing everything right—everything he possibly can. It’s Doflamingo who worries you the most. He won’t spare his baby brother if he finds out, and you know Rosinante won’t fight him.

"My act has them completely foole—" Rosinante's voice trails off as he tips over the edge of the bed, falling to the ground with a soft thud.

You laugh lightly despite yourself, crawling over to the edge to glance down at him. Rosinante stares up at you with his lips caught in a soft grin.

"See? I fooled you too."

You snort and roll your eyes as he shifts to his knees. Even while on the floor, his height is imposing, forcing you to sit up just so he doesn’t dwarf you.

"There’s that smile," he sighs, leaning close enough that you feel his breath fan over your lips. "Still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen…"

Your heart flutters as his lips find yours. His kiss is tender, a soft declaration of love as he holds you close. Rosinante never rushes. Never takes more than he needs.

Your nature is different.

You thread your fingers through his golden tresses, pulling him closer. You tilt your head, kissing him with a kind of desperation that leaves you both breathless when you pull away.

"I…don’t want to lose you, Rosi."

You don’t look at Rosinante as the words pass your lips, barely above a whisper.

You hear the wind blowing outside your window and the crickets chirping to the pale moon. You are both so still, frozen in a moment that feels like eternity.

Rosinante stirs suddenly. He reaches for your trembling hands, bringing them close to his lips. Your eyes finally lift to his as he brushes his lips across your knuckles tenderly, trying to soothe the ache in your soul.

"Okay," he says. Then again, and again, and again.

Each kiss is an oath, a declaration that he has every intention of returning to you.

"Just a little while more," he promises.

You nod. You let the promise settle in your heart, allowing yourself to be hopeful.

Rosinante shuffles back into bed with little grace, drawing you close once more. You lean into his warmth and listen to the soft patter of his tender heart. You try to fight sleep—try to hold on to him for as long as you can. You know when you wake up in the morning, he will be gone, back to doing the bidding of his older brother.

Rosinante whispers something you can’t quite make out as fatigue finally finds you, and you sink further and further way.

At least you dream a pleasant, calm dream of a tomorrow where he stays.

#sunny.fic #donquixote rosinante x reader #corazon x reader #corazon x you #rosinante x reader #x reader

[istadris]

You know, this idea about Bowuigi in the context of Luigi's Mansion ?

It's the spooky season so let's make it more angsty !

Luigi and Bowser have been dating in secret for a while, hiding and both happy with each other and sad they couldn't be more open about their relationship. Bowser wants to take the risk and reveal it all for the world to see, Luigi is too anxious to take the leap.

Most of all, there's how Bowser is still officially an enemy of the Mushroom Kingdom and occasionally commiting trouble, because that's what's expected from him, that's all he knows.

At some point Luigi finally builds up the courage of deciding to tell Mario...but he doesn't dare to hell it himself. And Bowser claims there's no way Mario would ever listen to him, since they only meet in battle.

"I mean, how I am supposed to prove I'm turning over a new leaf when we're fighting??"

"...Don't."

"What?"

"Don't fight. Next time you fight, stand down. Don't strike back. Mario wouldn't fight someone who doesn't defend themselves, and that's the last thing he'd expect from you, this is sure to get his attention !"

Bowser laughs and ruffles Luigi's hair, claiming this is a crazy idea, but you know what, worth a try.

The last time they see each other, Bowser is somber. He warns Luigi of his plans to draw Mario out to his castle so they can... (Bowser swallows and chews as if the word isn't used to the word) talk.

He'll break down the news to Mario. At least the "changing his way" part. Maybe he'll confess the romance as well, if it goes well, he jokes while Luigi is hugging him, thanking him for doing it.

The plan takes places, Mario chases after Bowser and Luigi stays at home, wrecked with nerves, torn between sticking to the plan and rushing to his brother's side. He should be here, this concerns him too, but the idea of Mario taking the news badly twists his guts and freezes him in place. For hours he paces, watching every ten seconds the road Mario has taken when leaving.

Hours pass. Shadows lengthen. The sun starts setting. The air grows colder.

And finally, Mario appears on the horizon.

Luigi rushes to meet him...and slows down as he comes closer.

Something has gone wrong.

He can see it in Mario's slow, heavy gait. In his darkened, scorched clothes. In the way he desperately rubs his deeply scarred hand, as if trying to remove his own skin.

When Luigi finally reaches him, Mario looks at him. Never had Luigi seen such haunted eyes on his brother's face.

"I didn't...I didn't mean to...to..."

Despite the anguish crushing Luigi's heart, despite knowing deep down already what has happened, Luigi asks, and forces himself to hear as Mario recount the events.

How out of nowhere, Bowser had suddenly stood down instead of fighting.

How Mario had already been in the middle of this attack, caught off guard by the unexpected.

How his attack had hit its target : not Bowser, but a batch of explosives, setting off a huge blast.

How Bowser, thrown off balance, had fallen.

How Mario had tried -he has tried, Luigi, he swears he has tried!- to catch him, how the claws had sunk into his flesh for a moment, before the Koopa had fallen into the lava below.

How he had tried, hoping desperately for a twist, a revelation, Kamek showing up out of nowhere, anything...

How instead, the throne room's door had been opened by Junior, confused by his dad's absence and asking what Mario was doing here alone....

That's when Mario's voice breaks, and he buries his head in his hands, sobbing, held by Luigi, who clings to his brother to not collapse as his heart feels ripped out off his chest.

And yet he doesn't tell anything.

Not this day, nor the day after, nor ever.

A part of Luigi wants to hate his brother; to throw in his face the true weight of what he has done; he wants to scream his pain and rage, the sheer injustice of the situation choking him until he can't breathe anymore.

But he knows Mario never meant for this to happen. Even if he had known the truth. Mario feels horrible enough for actually causing Bowser's death and Luigi can't bring himself to pile more on his guilt.

Mario is still his brother. He can't hate him, he doesn't think he ever would (he now knows he never can, if he still can't hate Mario after causing so much pain).

But he's grieving, alone, miserable, and for a while he can't even look at Mario without feeling like he'll cry all the tears in his body. Mario worries, he has noticed the distance Luigi seems to put between the two of them, but since Luigi keeps his secret, Mario doesn't know how to fix things.

For several months, they remain distant, and it hurts every single day.

Mario goes on a couple of adventures alone. Whenever he tries to invite Luigi to come along, Luigi uses excuses and stays at home. A home that feels too small and oppressive nowadays, with all the memories and complex feelings and secrets swirling inside.

Luigi needs a new start. Or at least some time on his own.

So when he's told he has won a mansion, he doesn't question how he's never participated in the context. On the other hand, Mario is suspicious but doesn't want to give Luigi the impression that he doesn't trust him, or that he won't respect his need for space.

But he just wants to make sure nothing is afoul. A quick little check before Luigi arrives...

As the mansion exploration goes on, when Luigi is told about "Bowser" returning, he doesn't care about any warnings: Bowser might be alive ! Maybe Mario didn't understand the situation and jumped to conclusions too soon, maybe Kamek found a way to bring his king back! And if he's here, it's probably because he's looking for Luigi !

Hope buoys him as he looks for his brother with a newfound determination. He will find them both! He knows it !

*

It's a long, long night. Dark and full of terrors, fleeting hopes crushed by horrors, relief and anguish mixed all together at the end.

Luigi wins, and Luigi fails, and despite the sheer, unaltered joy he feels once Mario is finally free from the painting...

It feels like losing Bowser again.

#super mario bros #luigi's mansion #bowuigi #miscellaneous mario madness #a sad one for once

[krispykollection]

He hasn't been able to pull himself away from the morphed image of himself in his phone for the past 15 minutes. Endlessly tweaking here and there all the while growing it bigger and bigger and bigger.

He's sculpted a decent figure for himself, but he always fantasied of more. When this app started popping up on his usual haunts, he decided to give it a try after seeing some of the photos people have been posting with it.

So amazed by the realistic image his phone his able to create, he neglects to notice that it's more than just a technological trick, with every change having a very real effect on his body.

Not until he feels something brush his ear, what he would shortly come to realize being his swollen trap, is he snapped back into reality. In his shock and clumsiness due to his sudden mass, he drops his phone, but the sound of it shattering as it hit the ground was the least of his worries.

In the mirror ahead he comes to grips with his unwitting enhancements. He had imagined the feeling of such swollen muscles as he pumped them up in the app, but the real deal is something else. Bulging all over, it's all so hot, and fuck wouldn't more be even hotter? but no... it's... way, way too much, right? how is he supposed to do anything normal as a lumbering muscle beast like this.

With a grunt he bends over to pick up what's left of his phone, noting as he does of how much less he can bend due to his thick abs and quads. Through the shards of pixels still managing to display a picture he frantically taps around hoping in vain to land on a setting to dial back the changes.

He sees himself growing in the mirror again and in frustration brings up his other hand to reinforce his grip and refocus on the task, but when it's stopped short inches from the phone by his colliding pecs, biceps, and forearms, his phone once again goes tumbling down, this time across the locker room floor.

He rushes over to grab it once again, or at least he means to, but the growth has shifted into overdrive and his swelling quads are limiting him to the slowest waddle. Each step is more difficult than the last as he covers less and less ground between them. Despite his dwindling field of vision over his pecs and his arms getting pinned in the air further by the second, he's still holding out hope that he can do something to make it stop... until, *crunch*

The growth stops at the sound, the phone was toast. His frantic thoughts give way to a wave of acceptance, at least for the moment, as he calms down enough to take in just how much more he had grown in the last few seconds. He's shocked, bewildered, and aroused. In the mirror was a muscular starfish of a man, so bulging with muscle that he could do little more than wiggle his hands and feet. A size he had only fantasized about now oh so real after the series of bizarre events.

Having not planned to blow up into an immobile muscle blob today, all he could do now is wait for someone to find him and see what happens from there. As he passes the time by inspecting his heaving muscle frame he hopes that app had backed up to the cloud, cuz there's a few more areas that could use some more tweaking now that he's fully taken himself in.

#MG #mg caption #MG story #muscle morph #Immobile #extreme muscle growth #bobby louis

[http-sheep]

lonely part 2 ꕥ

father figure!Miguel O'Hara & reader summary: You're his dead fiancé's daughter. You just lost your mother and now Miguel's left you alone to live in another dimension.

Contains: Mentions of death, bad parenting, mental illness, ANGST, not proof read.

WC: 1411

part 1

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

They had banana pancakes for breakfast that morning, blissfully unaware of what was to come. Unaware that would be their last breakfast together.

Or that Miguel would receive a phone call hours later and be asked to identify his fiancé's body.

It didn't make sense. They were supposed to get married and begin the next chapter of their life. They were supposed to grow old and gray together. Instead, she was laying cold and pale in an equally cold morgue. Her chapter ended. The mortician gave him the ring in a tiny plastic bag that felt impossibly heavy in his palm.

The night Dana died, part of Miguel died with her.

Then there was you, her daughter. Her doppelgänger. Fuck, why did you have to look so much like her? It was unbearable, and he felt like he was being haunted every time he looked at you. It wasn’t fair to you, but he couldn’t help it.

So he would just leave, only coming back every few days. Only at night when he knew you were asleep so he wouldn’t have to risk seeing your face.

He distracted himself with work and spending more time researching the multiverse. He stumbled upon this one particular dimension's family a few months after Dana's funeral. He began watching them on his platform obsessively, living vicariously through his alternate self. They had a little girl and he could see little bits of himself and Dana in her. 

He fell in love, and as if the universe heard his prayers, an opportunity presented itself. He watched as his alternate self bled out in an alley. He buried him too, somewhere no one would find him. But wasn’t this better? He would take over so they would never have to mourn their father and husband like he did for Dana.

And he continually justified his actions for months, so deep in delusion he couldn’t see the damage he was causing. Though, he could never bring himself to make another batch of banana pancakes no matter how Gabriella begged.

Then he lost Dana. Again. The dimension crumbled into a myriad of colorful pixels before his very eyes.

----

In the midst of his grieving, your face appears crystal clear in his mind.

Fuck, when was the last time he went home? When was the last time he saw you? Has to be months now. But it's in that moment he realizes you're all he has left. The only one who hasn't died or abandoned him. Yet. Dread pools in his gut at the realization.

As rushes back home for the first time in months, all he can think about is seeing you. He needs to make sure you're still there. That you haven't abandoned him.

"Cariño, I'm home," Miguel shouts in the doorway, but he’s met with silence. "(y/n)?"

When you don't answer Miguel frantically begins tearing through the house, fear and panic bubbling up.

Miguel strains to hear sounds of movement, of life, but there's nothing. The oppressive silence weighs on him as he frantically searches each room.

"No, no, no," he mutters, panic rising. This can't be happening again. He can't have lost the last link to his happiness, his salvation.

Stopping in the middle of the empty apartment, Miguel clutches at his hair, breathing hard. His eyes flash red and his fangs slide out as he tries to reign in his swirling emotions. Anger, grief, guilt, panic - it broils inside him, threatening to erupt.

He needs to find you. Now. Miguel races outside, using his enhanced senses to track you. It doesn't take him long, your scent and energy signature are still strong despite the distance and time apart. As he swings and runs through the city, following the trail, Miguel berates himself.

How could he abandon you like that? Get so wrapped up in his own pain that he didn't see yours? What kind of man does that make him?

He won’t fail you again. Once he finds you, Miguel vows to never let you out of his sight. To protect you, to care for you, to make up for his failures.

—

He almost doesn’t notice you amongst the other travelers at the train station, curled in on yourself at a lone bench. You have a suitcase with you. You were planning to leave for good and Miguel’s heart twists at the realization.

Miguel approaches slowly, as if afraid you'll bolt like a frightened doe. His eyes glow dimly red in the darkness, focused intently on you.

He says your name that comes out like a plea on his lips. His voice is gravelly with emotion. "I've been looking for you."

He stops in front of the bench, towering over your huddled form. You look so small and fragile, so different from the vibrant personality he remembers. Guilt flashes through him. This is his fault.

Miguel kneels down cautiously, trying to meet your lowered gaze. "I'm sorry, cariño. I'm so sorry I left you alone." His voice cracks slightly.

One large hand reaches out slowly, gently grasping your chin and tilting your face up. His skin is warm against yours.

"But I'm here now. And I promise, I'm never going to abandon you again." Miguel's eyes blaze with intensity. "You're mine, understand? No one is ever going to take you from me."

His posture is almost predatory as he looms over you. Waiting for a response, for acceptance, for you to acknowledge the unbreakable bond between you. He needs this, needs you, like air in his lungs. You are his salvation, the one good thing left in his ruined life. 

You stare at him in shock, like you've seen a ghost. Miguel has to fight back the urge to sweep you into his arms and never let go. 

But after the initial shock wears off, anger flashes in your eyes.

"You left me! I needed you and you left without a fucking word!" You push on his brick wall of a chest that does nothing but hurt your balled fists. "For six months."

“I hate you, I hate you,” you cry before dissolving into sobs, heedless of the bystanders shooting concerned looks your way.  “I needed you.”

Miguel doesn't budge as you push against his chest. He takes your weak hits without complaint. When you struggle in his hold, he tightens his grasp just enough to keep you close.

"Shh, I know cariño, I know," he rumbles softly. Miguel brings up a hand to gently wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"Leaving you was the worst mistake of my life. I thought I could escape the pain, pretend it never happened." His jaw clenches. "I was a coward. And you suffered for it."

Miguel tilts your chin up again, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "But I swear to you, that will never happen again. I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere. No matter how hard you try to push me away."

The hand on your chin moves to grip the back of your neck firmly. "You want to be angry? Hurt me? I'll take it. I deserve it." His voice drops to a rough whisper. "But I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever. You're stuck with me."

Miguel feels you slump against him, the anger and fight draining out of your body as quick as it came. He keeps one arm wrapped securely around you, supporting your weight.

"I've got you, princesa. I've got you," he murmurs. Miguel scoops you up effortlessly, one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. He holds you gently against his broad chest.

Your exhaustion is evident - you feel impossibly light and frail in his arms. Worry creases Miguel's brow as he takes in your wan skin and limp hair. Guilt gnaws at him, knowing he's responsible for letting you waste away like this.

But he'll fix it. Starting now.

"Let's go home," he says quietly, already moving with swift, sure strides. Miguel glances down at you cradled safely in his embrace. "I'll take care of you. Get you fed, draw you a hot bath. And then you're going to get some rest."

His tone brooks no argument. This is non-negotiable. You need him, and Miguel relishes being needed, being able to provide and care for you. It gives him purpose.

"Everything's going to be okay now. I promise." He presses a gentle kiss to your hair. "I'm here."

#miguel o'hara #angst #astv #across the spiderverse #spiderman #fanfic #reader insert #miguel x reader #platonic

[kuragesil]

o potatus et molassus

grow, tiny seed. you are called to the trees.

WARNINGS: book 7 spoilers, inspired by over the garden wall (you don't need to see it to understand this fic, but i highly recommend! but be warned i did take inspiration so it might be slight spoilers for the show), a bit of body horror?

NOTES: hi! so, i had this fic in the works before i watched otgw, but i watched it all yesterday and it is amazing. please listen to potatus et molassus before/while reading (here!), as it's the main inspiration behind this fic. but anyways, i wanted this to be longer but my writing blog is still under construction & i wanted to get this out before halloween was over so it's a bit brief and the ending is pretty abrupt! it's highly possible that i'll come back to this to revamp it & my blog theme.

AND FINALLY: this fic was also inspired by @llondonfog & @serenescribe 's diasomnia fics! both of their works are lovely & they both have wonderful writing styles, and their works have inspired me to try to branch out into horror (despite being scared of Everything Ever). please go check out their fics!

my main blog: @valleyofliyue

BRIAR VALLEY IS ALIVE.

The swaying of the leaves, the dancing of the flowers and the rushing of the waters—all of it is Her body, just as any typical fae has blood running through their veins and organs pumping throughout their being.

The Valley remembers everything. Every footstep set upon Her soil, every house built upon Her land and every tree torn from Her roots—every blessing and transgression is etched and carved into Her skin and memory, only to dull with Time Himself.

She is greater than any book or scroll — for when it comes to history, She is history.

Every fae knows this. He knew this. Lilia knew this.

As he ran through that dark and dense wood, he cursed himself thoroughly, wondering why he pretended as if he didn’t possess such basic knowledge.

Clutching a beautiful, wondrous bracelet made of acorns, he ran and ran—ignoring the burning sensation in his legs yelling at him to stop; to give up this human.

He reckons it’s the General, still humiliated and scarred from events 400 years ago—it’s ironic, how the spirit haunting him the most was a pathetic soldier he loathed to remember.

The rain came down hard and cold, pricking his flesh, trying to draw blood from his skin. He ignored it, he didn’t care. He had no time to care—when Silver, his son—!

Lilia stopped in his tracks abruptly, hands shaking at the sight before him.

A boy—his boy—being hugged to death by the branches of the Yew trees; sticky black sap dripped from wounds where blood should be bled. Silver’s once soft and pale flesh was turning a dull, muted brown that was bumpy and rough. Gentle, kind aurora colored eyes—more gorgeous and glittering than the biggest gemstones—had lost their light, losing their innocent sparkle.

But the most eye-catching part of this horrifying display was his hair.

His moonlit white locks were transforming back to their original state—that golden sunshine spreading throughout the whole head. Lilia has his own bias, preferring the moonlight as Silver’s crown instead of the sunshine.

(For the moon crown is a clear sign that this boy is his own, his son.)

However, Lilia isn’t one to reject all other options when laid out before him, he admits that the golden locks were not a bad look for Silver, either. If Silver had a normal childhood as Prince of the Land of Swords, he would never have become a Blessed Child of the Night—something Lilia often wonders if that would have been better for the boy in the long run.

A wonder that has his heart tighten at the reality before him. For Lilia knows this has cemented his long and deep-seated fear.

She knew.

The Valley knew. She knew that Silver was of the same blood that had ravaged Her lands and ransacked Her flora and fauna—actions that left Her barren and violated, actions that were deemed unforgivable. Never mind the fact that Silver was innocent to all of that, never mind the fact that he was not his family.

No, Silver was a remnant of evil, and must be taken care of; his crown of moonlight reverting back to his crown of sunshine was just a reminder of his wretched lineage.

The ground below Silver lowered deeper, capturing his limbs and sinking him underneath the surface. Lilia panicked, using all of his strength and magic to tear away at the branches and pull his son out of this trap.

“Silver…! SILVER! SAY SOMETHING!” he roared with desperation.

The boy squinted at his father, trying to open his lips ever so slightly; tiredly trying to think of something to say to him.

“... t… F….” he rasped. He took a sharp intake of breath all of a sudden, and Lilia thought his heart would burst.

He could see a branch growing bigger and bigger inside of his son’s mouth, twisting and curling as it rose up the surface, as if to taunt Lilia. As if to punish him for taking in the son of the enemy.

Still ripping the branches off of the boy’s body and attempting to pull him out of the soil, he looks around in desperation, as if She would set Silver free from this undeserved judgment.

“Please… PLEASE! He… he’s been a babe for four centuries, but he’s only been a boy for so long! Don’t punish the innocent!” Lilia pleads, lungs being pushed to their limit; the retired general thought he would start coughing up blood.

Lilia hoped that The Valley would relent, releasing Silver from Her grasp and returning him to Lilia’s—the place where he belongs.

The Valley looks down upon the two traitors.

She makes her final decision.

#milie writings #twisted wonderland #silver twst #lilia vanrouge #twisted wonderland fanfiction

[msfcatlover]

Every Monster Can’t Be Your Kid, Bruce.

Inspired really heavily by You, Me, and the Humanity in Between by JUBE514, which I misunderstood the first time I read it and thought they were all going to be different types of monsters. So Dick & Jason are very close to that story in their origins here. You should absolutely read that fic, because it’s fantastic, but the major take away for my AU is that if you pour enough love into something, it can come to life, and the more life & love it carries the more “real” that life becomes.

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

Dick is an antique doll, handed down through generations of Graysons, becoming gradually more alive & aware as time went on. It was John Grayson and eventually his wife Mary who managed to tip Dick over into being animate even when people were watching him. Dick only became more & more real from there, as John & Mary shared their love of flying with him, and eventually shared the spotlight & love of their audience. The circus as a whole saw Dick as a blessing, being fully aware of his inhuman nature but accepting him as a source of good luck… until John & Mary fell, leaving their doll-son behind. Dick could actually see his place in the family he’d been part of turn towards superstitious whispers, as his movements stiffened and his joints became more visible. He wasn’t anyone’s good luck charm anymore.

Bruce also saw how everyone turned on that poor little boy, and rushed to give Dick a place to stay, haunted by the whispers of his own childhood that found ways to blame Bruce for what happened to Thomas & Martha Wayne. Bruce isn’t exactly great at expressing his love, but Dick never needs to doubt it when he can see & feel the evidence right there in his own body. And when Robin met the rest of the hero community, they loved him too, giving Dick the chance to actually grow up for the first time in almost 150yrs.

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

The first thing Jason ever experienced was love, as the city itself brought him to life. The second thing was freedom, as Jason slipped from the rooftop he’d been carved for and for the first time experienced flight. The third was agony, as Jason struck the ground and his wings snapped right off.

Jason’s not technically a gargoyle. Gargoyles are structurally important, directing water away from the building, and basically never come to life. Jason is a grotesque, carved for decoration & to ward off evil spirits. Without any family to go to, Jason stuck to that second job, protecting the people of his neighborhood as best he could. Batman investigated what he thought was a new vigilante, and found a boy carved from solid stone who could almost pass for human if he stayed out of the light. Bruce worried Jason would suffer the same rejection Dick had, and offered Jason a home; it took some convincing to tempt Jason away from his territory, as it is in Jason’s nature to stay in place in order to protect, but eventually Jason agreed in exchange for training.

(The new Robin doesn’t bend or jerk the way the last one did, but he hits the ground like a meteor strike, and rakes gouges in brick with his claws. He doesn’t shatter & grin through any injury, because most weapons glance off or shatter themselves against his stony skin.)

(Joker submerged a boy carved from centuries-old limestone in an acid bath, and by the time it was drained there wasn’t enough left to animate. Bruce still called every magician he knew, hoping to hear someone say Jason was still alive despite that.)

(Talia had a marble sculpture carved, and had what was retrieved from Jason’s coffin sealed at its core. It still took one hell of a ritual to bring him back, now with a tail that lashed & wings that swept the ground behind him to go with the fangs & claws he’d always had. The new body was perfect in the way only sculptures can be, and Jason just kept himself covered up rather than bother painting & repainting color onto his skin every time he went out in public, lacking the love to lock it in.)

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

Tim was the opposite of his brothers. If you love something, anything, you can bring it to life; if something goes unloved & ignored, on the other hand… Tim just slowly faded into the background of his own life. Nobody talked to him at galas. His parents overlooked him at dinner. Other kids avoided him, while staff wouldn’t look him in the eye. Until one day Tim’s teacher was calling attendance and called Tim’s name three times before Tim abruptly stood up, chair screeching across the floor, and snapped, “I said, I’m right here!” The whole class stared wide-eyed, as though Tim has appeared from nowhere.

Tim learned to take advantage of it. He learned what he could do, as something reality itself sometimes ignored (if Tim closes his eyes and has no one else observing him, he can even bypass laws of physics to move through walls or take a few steps out on open air.) Tim tried to convince himself it was just meta-powers manifesting, and it was pure coincidence how closely his condition mirrored mythical Echo (at least people always hear her voice.)

The only time it doesn’t work is if someone wants to notice Tim. A paradox, as first they need to know the true Tim well enough to want to notice him, rather than their own preconceived notion of Tim or one of the masks that Tim puts on. On the plus side, once Tim became Robin that meant he had people he could reach out to who would answer the phone & talk him through it when reality felt especially swimmy or Tim’s own sense of self might waver. Being overlooked is also just one hell of a superpower, and Tim puts it to good use.

(Tim is eternally annoyed once he starts getting close to people and can no longer slip past them. He demands to know why they can see him, and they’re like, “Because we want to? Because we care about you?” and Tim’s like, “Well that’s inconvenient!”)

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

Finding a decapitated teenage girl caught under one of the docks was just an especially depressing day for the Gotham PD. Finding a corpse that grabbed back when the coroner went to move it meant it was time to call in the Batman. Steph didn’t know Morse code and her eyes & ears were currently stuck somewhere in muffled darkness far away from the rest of her, so communication was rough but they eventually got her story out of her. Revenants come back for specific reasons, so it was expected she would be there when her father was apprehended; the words he screamed when he saw her corpse, and the beeline Steph made for the box under his workbench put any remaining doubts to rest. Steph picked the lock by touch, and retrieved her head with a huff of relief.

Then Robin said, “Did you find it?” and Steph jumped, throwing her head at him on instinct. It was very embarrassing for both of them, and when Robin handed Steph her head back and she balanced it back on her neck, she immediately started blushing.

(Bruce buys Steph a whole lot of beautiful “necklaces” to help keep her head balanced. Spoiler is the Headless Horseman of Gotham, and Steph finds it hilarious to play into the image. She no longer experiences true pain, just deep discomfort, and gets very good at lobbing her head like a grisly dodgeball at anyone she dislikes.)

(Steph’s a lot more lively than most people expect of the undead, eating & chattering, even getting sick sometimes. She loudly proclaims that the best part of losing her head is that she no longer has to taste it when she throws up, as long as she’s quick enough removing it—when Steph does puke, it’s mostly bilge-water, no matter what she put in her stomach ahead of time.)

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

Cass is a homunculus, but I have no details. Damian’s got his “mixed DNA clone” origin going on. That’s where I’m at with this one.

#batfam #monster bats #monster batfam #monster batfamily #batfamily #monster!bats #monster!batfam #monster!batfamily #batman #dick grayson #richard grayson #jason todd #tim drake #timothy drake #stephanie brown #steph brown #living doll dick grayson #gargoyle jason todd #grotesque jason todd #ghost tim drake #echo tim drake #undead stephanie brown #zombie stephanie brown #dullahan stephanie brown #my writing #mine

[snail-eggs]

KISSING DOWN THE GD BODY BOONESIX YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO 🔥🔥

pairing: Craig Boone/Courier 6 (F!OC)

warnings: smut. sex. they finally fuck. are you happy, Rags? you've created a monster. Seriously though, this is my first attempt at smut. That's a warning on its own.

divider by @/saradika

There’s something off about this. About the way Six looks as she’s counting their remaining bullets in the divot in her lap. She looks more alive than she has the past few days, despite the bags under her eyes growing worse and worse by the day. 

The house around them is falling apart. Foundation groaning with every strong gust of wind. He taps his boot against the steel bed frame. Rust flakes off. He has no idea how it’ll carry his weight, let alone both of theirs. Boone’ll let her take it tonight, he thinks. She needs the sleep more than him, even if her pseudo-prophetic dreams keep her from getting any real rest. 

What he doesn’t know, however, is that it isn’t just visions of tornadoes, swirling around the irradiated dirt and leaving nothing in their wake that’s haunting her. No, more recently, it's his hands. Six hasn’t been able to stop thinking about his hands. Looking at them. At the way they grip his rifle, pull the trigger just so. The way his hands clench, knuckles turning white when she’d asked one question too many. 

She wonders how they’d feel in her own. If his white-knuckled grasp would really hurt. She doesn’t think so, though. Not so long as he’s holding her. When it really comes down to it, Six thinks, all she wants is to feel him. If it hurts, then it hurts. So be it. 

Six looks up at him now from her spot on the floor. Bathed in the warm wasteland glow, he looks like something else entirely. Something not Boone—closer to the approximation of him that lives in her head and nowhere else. Lives deep in her chest too, she supposes. Close to her heart. And in her chest, her heart thumps hard against her ribs. Six can feel it in her throat. She swallows hard when he looks back; looks her right in the eyes in that precise, cutting way he always does. And maybe it's a trick of the light or the lack of sleep, but she sees something else there too. Something that softens the edge of his gaze. Her heart beats faster.

This adrenaline rush isn’t new. Odd, sure, but not new. Six can recall having felt it precisely once before. With Benny. At the Tops, on his bed after too many drinks, roughly fourteen months after he’d shot her in the head. But she wasn’t scared then, not at all. Guesses that means she isn’t scared now, either. Just nervous.

Boone has never made her nervous, though. Not back in Dinky’s mouth when he’d pointed his rifle right in between her eyes, not ever. 

Except for now, in this rotting house, sitting at the foot of some disgusting bed. Staring.

Six has forgotten all about the bullets now. They lay scattered on the floor, less than a handful still resting in her palm. There’s a flash of concern in Boone’s face then. He leans his rifle against the wall. Drops down to his knees right in front of her and begins to pick up the bullets in between Six’s legs like it's nothing. Like he isn’t so close. Her jaw clenches. 

“You need to sleep,” he’s tossing the bullets back into the box by the handful. His fingers brush against the ones in her palm. Hesitate for a moment before he grabs them up like all the others. “Look like you’re gonna keel over any second.” 

Her hands move of their own accord, cup Boone’s face on either side and tilt his head up to face her head-on. He’s deathly still—every muscle in his body tensed. Six runs her thumb back and forth on the rough skin of his cheek. Boone isn’t breathing, she thinks. He’s staring at her apprehensively. Like at any second, she’ll draw a knife and stab him right in the gut. Her eyes flit from his wary green eyes down to his lips. They linger there, long enough for Boone to notice. He inhales deep, exhales loudly. Their eyes meet again. 

Boone takes her by the back of the neck, faster than she can process. Pulls Six in and collides his mouth against hers .Its bruising—all wrong and still, neither of them break away. He can’t remember what it's like to kiss somebody—to really kiss somebody. Hasn’t so much as entertained the thought. Not after Carla. But now with Six’s lips pressed against his, it feels like second nature to have her so close. Feels like this is how it's supposed to be. He leans into her, the remaining bullets in his hand falling to the ground and he couldn’t care less about them. 

Six is halfway to having her back pressed against the dirty, splintering hardwood when his fingers find themselves tangled in her short brown locks and she pulls away. “Boone,” it's breathless, the way she says it. Nearly quieter than a whisper. She studies him as best she can from so close. Hasn’t ever seen him like this—so desperate. Hungry for more. Boone presses his forehead against hers. Leans into her, wordlessly begging to continue this—whatever this is. 

“Six.”

“Still want me to go to sleep now?”

And he chuckles earnestly before leaning in to kiss right under her jaw. Six’s breath hitches. She can feel Boone smile against her skin. He coaxes her back, tugs at her hair before he has her flush against the ground. It didn’t feel like this with Benny. Not even close. Six’s hands move down from his face to his chest; she clutches his shirt in a vice grip. Doesn’t think she ever wants to let go.

Her heart is beating out of her chest now, more so than before. She never imagined she’d have him this close, feeling the calluses on his hands run under her shirt; his fingertips digging into the skin of her waist like his life depends on it. Never thought she’d whimper at the pressure, only wanting more. 

This is dangerous territory they’ve crossed into. Despite the arousal muddling her thoughts as Boone grazes her collar bone with his teeth, Six wonders what comes after this. Nothing good, surely. She stares up at the ceiling, half hyperventilating now. He tugs at her shirt. She lets him take it off. Whatever the consequences are, they’re not worth losing Boone. Losing what she has with him. 

And yet. 

She’s got her hands on his shoulders now, beckoning him down further. His hands are starting to mess with the button of her pants. Six gasps—no, whines as he presses a chaste kiss to her abdomen. Then he stops. With her pants unbuttoned, zipper down as far as it’ll go, Boone leans back onto his knees. Takes in the sight of her before him. Looks a little spooked, even, and the sight makes Six smile. A laugh escapes her throat unwillingly. Boone watches her fondly through his heavy-lidded gaze. Runs his hand up and down her still-clothed thigh. The sun’s rays bleed through the windows as it sets. Light’s waning and he can still see those intense bags under her eyes better than anything else. His cock stirs in his pants watching the heaving of her bare chest. He doesn’t understand the scope of this—doesn’t want to consider the consequences—all he knows is that he has never wanted anyone more than he wants Six right now and it's killing him. It's been killing him since their last night at the Tops when he’d watched her disappear with Benny into his room for what he’s sure was a piss-poor fuck. Really he would have been fine with anyone else but Benny—never really thought he’d be in this position anyway. Something about it made his skin crawl. The thought of Benny running his hands all over Six’s body after what he did to her. After he shot her in the head and left her to die in Goodsprings like a dog.

Boone might not be deserving of Six, but Benny is even less so. 

If it has to be anyone, Boone sure as hell isn’t mad that it’s him. He’s fucking psyched about it actually—as psyched as Boone can realistically be about anything. He pulls his shirt over his head, unbuckles his belt with fervor and tosses it to the side. 

Six arches a brow, looks him up and down. She’s amused and he’s not entirely sure why. “What?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “You’re—you’re really pretty right now.”

“Pretty?”

“Handsome. Whatever. Cut me some slack, I don’t do this.”

“Six, we can stop if you—”

“Fuck off, I never said that.” Six reaches up, brings him in close and presses a gentle, languid kiss to his lips. Words catch in her throat when they pull apart. Words she can’t quite place. Only knows the tug she feels in her chest when they’re eye to eye. She’d stay like this forever if she could.

Tongues gliding against each other’s, Boone grinds his hips into Six’s. She’s half starved with the way she’s gripping at him in any way she can. These messy, open-mouthed kisses aren’t enough. Having his body pressed against hers isn’t enough. No, she’d need to be in his skin to be satisfied. Though she’ll settle for the next best thing. 

She reaches down, palms his cock through the fabric of his boxers. Boone groans into her mouth. He’s breathless now, desperate. 

When they fuck, its slow. He’s got one of her thighs held up against his hip as he drives himself into her at an agonizing pace. Being with Boone is nothing like how it was with Benny. There’s something fundamentally different about this, she thinks as she stifles her moan in the crook of his neck. Maybe Boone is just better at fucking—she doesn’t entirely doubt that—or maybe she’s just more present now that she’s not drunk off her ass. 

Benny was fun. Quick, but fun. They’d fumbled and laughed and drank but god, it was nothing like this. She’s almost glad it wasn’t. Glad she’s feeling this way with Boone instead. 

Her walls clench around him. The room’s completely dark now—Six has no clue how long they’ve been at this. She’s closer to the brink with every second that passes. Her breathing is becoming erratic—so are Boone’s thrusts. She comes loud and hard, nails digging crescent-shaped craters into his back. It doesn’t take long for him to follow. He pulls out, spills all over the inside of her thigh. 

She gets as good a look at him as she can in the darkness. Stares him in those tired eyes, knowing hers must look leagues worse. Six opens her mouth to speak but the words are held hostage by some unseen force yet again. She kisses him on the forehead instead. Smiles and nods over to the bed right beside them. 

“Sleep with me?”

Boone shakes his head at her. Cups her cheek with his hand. The way he’s looking at her scares her. She doesn’t know she’s looking at him the exact same way. 

“I’ll sleep with you.”

For the first time in weeks, Six is not haunted by visions of tornadoes or of Boone’s hands. Instead she finds herself in a deep, dreamless sleep with Boone right by her side. 

By her side where he belongs.

#snail mail #vide0-nasties #ship: boone x six #craig boone fanfic #boone x courier #fallout new vegas fanfic