#and it takes the wrong people at the wrong time leaving an absence in place

[fexicoded]

just saw your recent post. the grief is hard and i feel the same way. i could just be carrying on with my day but i get reminded that he’s gone and all the anger, sadness, and guilt rushes in.

while i never knew him personally and i am a fan of his, i would like to think that he would want everyone to remember him in his happiest moments. that brings me comfort. it’s easier said than done but i believe we can eventually get to a point where we can celebrate his life and art. we can keep his legacy alive by talking about him in every context. i just hope he and his family find peace in all of this.

(this was also me venting too lol sorry)

I really appreciate you responding to my post, I was not expecting anyone to cause I was venting in the tags but I've always loved having anons in my inbox in general but also helping us all during this awful time.

But yea, I agree with you. I'll be going about my normal fucking day and doing what I need to do to move forward in my life and then have it hit me that this guy that impacted me, even tho I didn't know him, died and I'll never get to see him make an impact or grow from the pains he was dealing with at the moment.

And I do agree, he would be so fucking pissed we were being sappy and sad all the time and a bit embarrassed and yet geeked at the outpouring of love for him. I do feel like I can say I'm happy to have gotten to the point in my grieving that I've accepted what's happened and yet I can't say I do accept it... grief over a celebrity is tough and the parasocial relationship doesn't help either.

TLDR: I'm still here, I still grieve Angus and will for a long time, and idk where I'm gonna go with this account, my writing, etc.

#will i find something to write fanfic about in the future? maybe (and this sounds so fucking self absorbed and making it all about me) #at this moment will I write fexi? idk man (damn do i sound narcissistic) #i wish i could i loved writing them but after my last fic i have had no inspo and was waiting for s3 to get new inspo #but god... life is a bitch #and it takes the wrong people at the wrong time leaving an absence in place #it fucking sucks #and the worst part is i didnt fucking know him #but i do know he really would appreciate everyone (the fans public etc) talking about how much they loved him and a bit embarrassed lol #so yea #that's what im feeling #but yea as ive said before if you ever wanna hit up my inbox to shoot the shit vent whatever do it

[bettsfic]

writing cheats

i know i’ve probably written about these all individually but i’m putting them together in one post. these are writing tricks that are extremely cheap and dirty; when you use them it feels like cheating and honestly by posting them i’m probably exposing all the easy moves in my own work, but more than a writer i am a teacher, so here you go, some writing cheats that have never steered me wrong.

quick character creation

what’s really annoying is when you have two characters sitting at a restaurant or something and the server has to come by. to what degree do you describe the server so that it’s clear they’re just a background character but that they’re not just a faceless form, so that the world has texture without taking up too much space on the page? rule of three, babeyyy: two normal things and a weird one.

she had pale skin and blue eyes but her hair was dyed black like a 2010 emo kid.

he was tall and broad, and he wore a sweatshirt with an embroidered teddy bear on it.

the woman stood there comparing the prices of toilet paper. she had a short angled bob and carried a keychain the length of a trout.

why does it work? it gives the reader something to hang onto, a brief observation that shows the world exists around your narrator. it also works when introducing main characters, but there’s so much action going on that you can’t take time to write a rich long paragraph about them. all you need is a little hook.

quick setting creation

i used to TOIL over descriptive paragraphs. for years i was like, description is my weakness, i must become better at developing imagery. i believed this because a famous writer once projected a paragraph i had written onto a screen and asked my cohort, “count how many images are crafted in this paragraph.” there were none. none! my friends were sitting there like, “we are TRYING” but they couldn’t find any.

i would say that after years of studying imagery development at the sentence level, i am, perhaps, competent at it, but what was more helpful was for me to shrug and tell myself, “i’m just not a writer who does that.”

anyway. my cheat is thus: 

there’s not much you can assume about your audience. the audience is not a homogenous whole. but your ideal audience is something you can guess at, and that means you can play around with their existing knowledge and expectations. 

if you say your characters are in a tacky shit-on-the-walls restaurant, if your ideal reader is an american who went to restaurants during the maximalist era of franchise design, they will conjure their nearest memory of one of those places. and for those readers who aren’t familiar with it, they’ll use other context clues to conjure that space. the point is, you don’t have to list every single stupid license plate nailed to the wall. you can leave it as one detail of one sentence and let your reader extrapolate from there.

if i say the dentist’s office looked like a gutted 90s taco bell, maybe no ideal audience would have ever seen a place like that, but a lot of people can mentally conjure a dentist’s office and a 90s taco bell and overlay them together to create a weird and fun image.

you can go even simpler than that: a bathroom the size of an airplane lavatory. a tiny studio apartment with a hotplate instead of a stove. a mansion with a winding stairwell. the point is that you want to define the size of the space and its general vibes.

in some ways detailed description can be overrated, because your reader conjures images even in absence of them on the page. and for those readers who can’t mentally conjure images, it doesn’t matter anyway; they take you at your word. the trick is to figure out what details are unexpected, relevant to understanding the story and its characters, and those are the things that you add in.

one other note: after working with hundreds of writers on drafting, for *most* of us it’s difficult to develop images and establish setting in a first draft. it’s nearly always something to be saved for a second or later draft. i think it’s because while we’re writing we tend to put character and action first.

nail the landing

there’s a joke i heard once from a writer i really admire: “you know it’s literary fiction if the story ends with a character looking at a body of water.”

and god it’s so painfully sad and true how easy it is to nail the landing of a given story by ending on a totally irrelevant piece of imagery. the final beat of a story followed by your character looking up at the sky and seeing a flock of birds in the shape of a V flying past. or maybe they’re sitting in their car and they count the rings of a nearby church bell. or maybe they watch an elderly couple walk down the sidewalk hand-in-hand. i don’t know!! when in doubt shove an observation, an image, whatever, something neutral at the end and it’ll sound profound. 

(this cheat is the only one that can really bite you in the ass because if the image is too irrelevant you risk tonal incongruity. for use only in the most desperate of times.)

sentence fragments

when writers ask me how to punch up their writing or start developing their own style, my go-to advice is to give up the idea of a complete sentence. fuck noun-verb-object. if you have a series of character actions, knock off the sentence subjects like in script action. if the clause at the end of your sentence is particularly meaningful, don’t separate it with a comma but a period and make it its own thing. if your character is going through something particularly stressful or heinous, that bitch is not thinking in complete thoughts so you don’t have to convey them that way. make punctuation bend to your will!!

rhetorical moves

this one opened a lot of doors for me stylistically. remember that famous writer who called me out on my lack of imagery? i always thought his prose was beautiful, that he’s one of the best living prose writers, etc. once i learned more about rhetoric though, i realized he just employed it a lot. 

usually when we talk about beautiful sentences it means a sentence that uses rhetorical devices. the greeks were like, you know what, when we give speeches there are certain ways to phrase things that make the audience go nuts. let’s identify what those things are and give them names so we can use them intentionally and convince people of our opinions.

i love shakespeare, i really do, but one of the big reasons he’s still a household name today and his plays are still performed is because every sentence of every goddamn play utilizes a rhetorical device. the audience is hard-wired to vibrate at the sound and cadence of his writing, like finding the spot on a dog that makes their foot thump. for five hundred years, william shakespeare has been scritching that spot for us.

i have no idea why, cognitively, rhetorical devices are so effective. i’m no rhetorician. all i know is that well-deployed anaphora makes a reader want to throw their panties on stage. my intro to rhetorical devices was the wonderful book the elements of eloquence by mark forsyth, a surprisingly fun read! hopefully that will open some doors for you the way it did for me. 

the downside to this is that once you know rhetorical devices, it’s like learning how the sausage is made. on one hand, as a writer, you’ll have a lot stronger grasp of style, but as a reader good prose loses some of its magic.  

pacing it out

many writers, myself included, rely on the tried and true “he bit the inside of his cheek” or other some such random action to help pace out dialogue. one time my thesis advisor sat me down and said “you’ve got to take all of those out.”

“all of them?” i said.

“all of them,” she said.

i thought, but that will weaken the text! it didn’t. once i cut what i came to call cheek-biter sentences i never went back. and now when i edit for other people i’m like, look i know where you’re coming from but just cut all these out and see how the scene stands. if it doesn’t feel right you can put some back in. a lot of times when you’re drafting you put those in the way some people say “um.” they’re just sentences you jot while you’re thinking of what the other character says, so from a writing perspective it seems like you’re pacing, but readers don’t read it that way. they just want to get to the next line of dialogue.

but sometimes you really do need to pace out a scene and i think there are other ways to do that that don’t rely on banal physical movements, such as:

interiority: a sentence or paragraph of relevant cognition, bonus points if you weave in background context. good interiority defines the voice of your writing.

observations: i know i just said description is overrated but idk sometimes you just need a character to note the back and forth clacking of one of those desk ball toy things.

character texture: maybe your character notes something about the person they’re talking to. a wilted pocket square. a mole that looks like it needs looked at by a dermatologist. a scar on their forehead. some detail that deepens or complicates our understanding of a character.

narratorial consciousness and access

this one is less a cheat and more a problematic opinion i have that doesn’t win me any popularity in writing circles.

i believe that if you’re writing in first person or close third or any narration which is dedicated to the mind of one character, you are only ever obligated to convey the experience of that character’s consciousness. and nothing else.

by that i mean, if your point of view character is unobservant? then they’re not going to even notice the flight attendant is missing one of their canine teeth. if your pov character is focused and obsessive, they’re going to think lavish, detailed paragraphs about that which they’re obsessed with and have no acknowledgement of the rest of the world. if your pov character has no understanding of time, does your story even need to be linear?

defining the scope of a narrator’s cognition early on can give you parameters in which to work. even if you don’t consciously do this, you still do it. if you write in third person limited present tense without really thinking about it, that’s your scope. i’m just pointing out you can choose to do it differently. you get to define your narrator. 

whenever we talk about narration we also talk about information access and the order of information being revealed/conveyed. writing must always be in order; even if you’re writing multiple concurring things, it still has to be rendered on the page in order one after the next, because the human mind can’t read two sentences over top of one another. 

if we’re restricted to the mind of a character, that means we’re also restricted by their knowledge and experiences, and this can be used to your benefit. i don’t want to take too much space for this but i do talk more about the relationship between narration and reality here.

in short, you the writer get to choose 

what the reader knows,

in what order they know it, and

its relationship to the presumed real events of the story, which develops the (un)reliability of your narrator

okay going to cut this off now before i go on more rants about narrative scope. i hope you found this helpful and go on to put some of these nasty lifehacks in your own writing!!

#writing advice

[slttygeto]

CURSING MY NAME, WISHING I STAYED.

જ⁀➴ synopsis: you never got the chance to say goodbye to each other in 2007, you never thought you needed to. ten years later, you are still unable to find the right words as you stand in front of his lifeless body. if suguru geto was truly dead, who was the man standing in front you almost a year later?

જ⁀➴ content warning: angst, hurt/no comfort, manga spoilers, slapping and choking.

જ⁀➴ word count: 1,4k

જ⁀➴ note: this was requested about a year ago and I only got the chance to work on it today. enjoy :)!

You never associate Suguru with spring, despite it being such a lovely season, you remember it being the one season where he decided he needed to pull away. It was subtle, but you could feel it. He ate less, spoke less, he didn’t want to hang out as usual. You didn’t go on missions anymore, but you tried to be present. Even when summer came around and all hell broke loose.

You associate Suguru with autumn. Satoru doesn’t say a single word when you say it loud, when you tell him that that the orange leaves falling down and painting the road remind you of your past lover, how your love for him felt that way when he left—fragile, easily crushed. But Satoru would beg to differ. He could see it in your eyes, how they refuse to meet his when Yaga brings up the man’s name. It hurts to lose a best friend, but it hurts even more when you have a best friend and a lover in the same person.

Ten years later on Christmas Eve, Satoru has to put his best friend to rest. He doesn’t need to call you or tell you where he is, you just know. You show up as Suguru is taking his last breath and you stand there, unmoving. Your love for Suguru didn’t feel like autumn anymore. The tears running down your face were warm, and your chin was quivering as you let out a pathetic sob.

“I’m sorry.” What was Suguru apologizing for? For killing people or for betraying the people he loved the most? You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, didn’t even bother to wipe the tears blurring your vision. You just stared at him, how a smile was dancing on his lips as he saw the two people he loved the most standing in front of him.

“Perhaps in another life,” Suguru’s voice is quiet, and you seem to take notice of how pale he looks. “I am who you’ve always wanted me to be.”

You wanted him to be many things, but it seemed unfair for him. If Suguru was truly unhappy while in Jujutsu high, then maybe you were never meant to be together. If he couldn’t wear a heartfelt smile in this world, then perhaps destiny played its cards wrong. If you were never able to keep Suguru around, then Suguru was never yours to keep in the first place.

You watch as the life slowly fades out of his body, and Satoru turns away from the corpse of his best as you kneel down in front of it and hold his lifeless body in your arms, the heart wrenching sobs that you let out force the strongest sorcerer to stand behind you and place a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s time to go.”

--

 “You’re late, (name).” You never associated Suguru with autumn after his death. In fact, no season could do your past lover justice. Yet the person standing in front of you reminded you of winter—cold, mean and lifeless.

Why was Suguru standing in front of you?

You and Satoru are unmoving as the familiar body of your best friend and lover approaches the two of you. You don’t speak, your lips are frozen as you stare in shock at the same person whom you’ve been mourning his death for the past twelve months.

Geto Suguru passed away on December 24th. You’ve been mourning his absence for almost a year—so who was this person standing in front of you?

“I don’t remember you being this quiet, my love.” The pet name sent shivers down your spine, and you watched as the hand of your past lover reached towards your face to hold it. You craved this, to be held by him again after so long, to feel the warmth of the one person who promised you a lifetime of happiness—only to break that promise so soon. You pull away harshly when the tip of his fingers touches your cheek, and Geto Suguru seems to find your hesitance extremely funny.

“Who are you?” You step back towards Gojo, and you don’t need to look his way to know that he was just as taken aback as you were. Wide blue eyes staring in shock at his best friend—his one and only. It was sad that Geto Suguru (while he was still alive) was your enemy for longer than he was a loved one or a best friend.

“Geto Suguru of course.” Liar.

“My six eyes…” Satoru starts, and your heart breaks at how panicked he sounds. “My six eyes are telling me that you are Geto Suguru.”

But he wasn’t Suguru. This wasn’t the man you fell for, nor the man you fought last year. You refused to believe that he somehow came back to life. Not when you kneeled in front of his corpse and held him in your arms.

“But my soul knows otherwise! So hurry up and tell us, who the hell are you?!”

It’s a gut wrenching feeling as you watch the man in front of you open up Geto’s head and toy with it as he wished. He lets out an ugly laugh, one that doesn’t match Suguru’s beauty.

“It’s a cursed technique that allows me to hop between bodies by switching brains. Of course, it lets me use the innate techniques within the body, I coveted his cursed manipulation and these exact circumstances.” His eyes then land on you and a sinister smile is dancing on his lips.

“You,” he starts, taking one step forward towards you. “As pathetic as you seem in this man’s memories, begged Gojo Satoru and Shoko Ieiri to not get rid of Geto Suguru’s body, am I right?”

As pathetic as you seem in this man’s memories.

You didn’t know what to react to first. His words felt like a thousand burning knives, each one stabbing you from a different side. You fight back the urge to jump on him, you know you’re at disadvantage because Satoru was bound to this prison realm.

“I did.” Your response is short and quick, and the man in front of you chuckles at how dry you sound.

“He loves you a lot, you know?” Kenjaku pauses for a second, and the time he takes before continuing makes you feel as though he was mocking you. “Always wished he could trade places with the strongest sorcerer. You two were close, it always nagged him.”

This wasn’t true. This could never be true because Satoru and Suguru were closer than ever. You don’t remember a single instance where you felt as though Suguru was jealous of his best friend. This man was trying to shatter you in hopes of trapping you the same way he trapped Gojo Satoru.

“How are you gonna let yourself get used like this, huh?” Satoru sounds enraged. “Tell me, Suguru!”  

You are just as shocked as Kenjaku when his neck twists, a sign of resistance when hearing Satoru’s loud yell. It was almost as if he heard him and wanted to wake up, to free himself of the man who was using his body to toy with the feelings of his loved ones. He then laughs, and again it sounds evil as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Ha! No way! This is a first for me,” his eyes then fall on your frozen figure and by the look on his face, he was up to no good.

His hand makes its way towards you and wraps around your neck, you get that his intention was to choke you. But when his hand refuses to squeeze around your neck, the look on his face turns into an annoyed one. Kenjaku couldn’t hurt you, Suguru didn’t let him.

Unfortunately, he still had more control than the original soul occupying the body and his hand manages to grab your neck and push you up against the wall, knocking the wind out of your chest.

“You’re getting in the way.” No matter how hard Gojo tried to shift the attention back on him, Kenjaku seemed to want to get rid of you and as fast as possible. You find yourself thrown next to Satoru, tied up in similar bounds.

“Goodnight, my love.” His hand caresses your cheek, and you’re forced to feel his cold touch against your skin. You hear a smack and your cheek stings, teary eyes forced to stare into his cold ones when he roughly grabs your jaw.

“Let us meet in the new world.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

#moon's works #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x you #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk geto #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk season 2 #jjk spoilers

[cammys-imagines24]

°•Mizu Being Jealous•°

Mizu isn't naturally a possessive person by any means. She knows the shit women have to go through, being controlled by others and the world.

So, she'd never be dominating towards you or think she has any say in what you do.

That being said, while she trusts you wholeheartedly... she doesn't trust other people. Particularly other men.

Men who view you as just a pretty face. A prize they'd want nothing more than to steal away from her.

Now that just won't do.

See, if it's an easy matter such as someone touching you or groping you without your consent, say no more.

Their fingers? Gone. Their arms? Sliced clean from their body.

If some sleazy flesh trader sets their eyes on you and begins chatting you up, their hand sneaking to places on your body only meant for her touch alone, well...

They're dead. Plain as that. She'll waste no time in tearing them to shreds with her sword, their viscera painting the walls.

And, with blood stained hands she'll cradle your face, her cold demon exterior vanished.

She'll look at you like you're her whole world, which you are. She will protect you to the ends of the earth.

When it's a lascivious man vying for your attention, Mizu doesn't get jealous. She gets protective.

But, when it's not? Well that's another story.

Sometimes it's a girl at a brothel and she takes a liking to you.

The girl will be sweet where most men aren't. She'll smile at you and gingerly slip her kimono off her shoulder.

The sex worker will talk with you, with the hope of something more. Her eyes shining and all the while you seem to be enjoying yourself.

That sets Mizu on edge. Leaves her feeling twisted inside.

Because you should be with someone else.

Someone not hellbent on revenge. An impure demon with a vengeful, angry soul.

The girl would be a better match maybe or someone like her.

Perhaps not a sex worker but someone who can take care of you better than the blue eyed Samurai. Give you a normal life in ways she cannot, at least not until her revenge is complete.

Mizu won't rescue you from the girl because you're smiling and content. Instead she will let you be, never mind the hollow ache in her chest when she sees you start to laugh.

You were just chatting with the sex worker, conversing on friendly terms, regardless of the girls intentions. But, how could your beloved Samurai know that from a distance?

Like an internal echo in your body, you'll feel Mizu's absence immediately and you'll go out into the snow capped village to find her.

She'll be alone beside a natural hot springs, sapphire eyes sad behind her orange lenses.

You'll curl up at her side as if she were your shelter, your blanket.

You'll know right away how she feels. Having learned how to read her slight expressions like the back of your hand.

Mizu is jealous but more than that. She's feeling like she's not good enough for you.

A ridiculous thought really. She couldn't be more wrong.

You'll reach out to take off her glasses and thread your fingers through her hair, undoing her up-do.

"I love you, Mizu. Only you. It will only ever be you who holds my heart."

Her gaze softens from your tender touch. She'll take your hands in hers and kiss every knuckle.

Her mouth, warm against your skin, travelling up your arm until her tongue reaches the moonlit column of your throat and she plants a wet kiss along your necks pulse.

Mizu doesn't deserve you, she thinks. Still, with you in her arms, open to her, your pupils blown wide with sudden lust... who is she to disagree with your choice?

Perhaps the gods gave you to her. A gift for her cursed existence.

"Say it again." She'll whisper against your flesh, hot to the touch despite the winter. Hot from her.

Her fingers deftly untying your kimono, her hands grabbing at your hips as she pulls into her lap.

Her calloused digits digging into your thighs to spread them for her, your chest pressed against hers...

Her fingers tracing your hipbones, making you shudder...

You gasp when they ghost over your navel and down... and further.

To in between your legs. The spot that craves her and is glistening like the hot springs rippling surface beneath the moon.

"I love you, Mizu." You'll moan.

She can't get enough of the sounds you make. Just for her.

"I belong to you." You'll whimper.

Ah, like music to her ears.

Despite Mizu's feeling of jealousy and her worry of being an undeserving partner, she believes you above all else.

You chose her, a miracle really, so she'll do anything to make you happy.

"You're only mine, huh?" She'll rasp, seeking reassurance, between kisses and gentle bites along your skin.

"Y-Yes. Only yours." You'll pant, her expert fingers bringing you to the edge.

Mizu smirks and holds you even closer. She could tease you longer, draw it out like usual but she wants to be good for you. Give you what you need.

In a moment of softness she brushes her lips against your collarbones...

"I love you. You are my life." She'll say to you before making you come.

#blue eye samurai #bes #blue eye samurai mizu #bes mizu x reader #mizu x reader #mizu imagine #mizu imagines #mizu headcanon #mizu headcanons #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai imagine #blue eye samurai headcanon #bes x reader #blue eye samurai fanfic

[pochipop]

＃ALICE IN BORDERLAND !! ♡ — THERE'S NO HELL IN WHAT I'VE FOUND (CHISHIYA X READER).

#. synopsis! — chishiya has fallen in way too goddamn deep .

#. characters! — chishiya .

#. warnings! — brief mentions of canon-typical gore, slight angst .

#. word count! — 1.2k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. a/n! — i have not finished season 2 yet, but i wrote this all in one sitting after seeing the first two episodes + falling for this silly man all over again lolol. i might branch out + write more for this fandom (but i will never write for niragi, so just a heads up on that!)

It really did just have to come to this, didn’t it?

Chishiya is a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. He knows that when it comes to surviving in a place like this, there are times when you have to sacrifice others and be willing to carry that burden for the rest of your life. There is no easy way out. Either you die and go on to whatever happens next, —if anything happens at all— or you push others to the wayside in lieu of saving yourself, preserving your own survival, and you live to see the monster you inevitably become. 

And call him crazy, but Chishiya was okay with becoming a monster if it meant he could save himself. Hell, he’d done so much of the work from the shadows that it would hardly be fair to let him of all people meet his tragic end here.

But you just couldn’t help yourself. You had to crawl under his skin, —make him care about you, make him fall so hard that he was left to question whose survival mattered more. When it came down to the wire. . .

He’d have chosen you.

That’s the scariest realization of all, he muses. These games, all the gunfire, all the explosions, all the fatal electric shocks. . . They paled in comparison to the realization that his biggest fear wasn’t his own demise anymore. It was yours.

As the game comes to a close and those of you left standing slowly reacclimate to the best state of normalcy one can muster up given the circumstances, he hates that his first instinct is to slip away, knowing you’ll find him soon enough. He may have been foolish enough to catch feelings, but he wasn’t so dumb that he’d show such a weakness around anyone else. Though he’s sure the likes of Kuina or Arisu have long since caught on, —he won’t be the one to confirm a damn thing, and he expects that you’ll keep your mouth shut about it as well. It’ll be a worse liability than it already is if word gets out to the wrong people.

Chishiya slips away before anyone has the chance to acknowledge his presence, leaving his absence unaccounted for by everyone but you. Of course, you noticed him sneaking away, parting from the group like a snake in the grass. . . You’ve always been a little too perceptive for your own good.

Fatigue claws at you like a famished predator, weighing your body down a great deal. You smell of sweat and the blood of the young girl next to you who hadn’t been quite so lucky. Still, you will your body forward and follow in Chishiya’s footsteps after lingering for just long enough to throw suspicion off your trail. While you certainly aren’t a master of manipulation, —you are clever in a way that even someone like Chishiya has to respect. You know how to take care of yourself, even in a twisted world like this.

He wishes knowing that gave him any kind of peace, but he’s afraid he’s reached the point of no return. It’s not that he doesn’t believe you can survive just about any of these games on your own. . . It’s that even if he does, the worry lingers just because it’s you. 

Fuck. 

He really can’t believe he’s done this to himself. It’s so untimely, so completely and utterly ridiculous, —so much so that he convinces himself his mind is just playing tricks on him sometimes until you fall into place at his side again and all such thoughts are forced out the window from his vice-like grip. 

“Ugh,” you grumble, arm tucked below your chest as you cradle your own torso, “there you are.”

Chishiya offers you little more than a sidelong glance before returning his stoic gaze to the skyline. The sun sets as you bring yourself closer to him, keeping a comfortable distance. It ends up just like this far too often, and Chishiya frowns at the thought of closing the barely-there gap, brushing his shoulder against yours. Maybe later in the night when the lethargy really starts to hit him and his inhibitions lower ever so slightly, he’ll let himself fall apart just enough to hold you for whatever time of fleeting hours remains. That way, he can blame it on the fatigue, on the cold, on the temptation of sleeping next to a warm body.

It’s not because it’s you, it’s just because you’re there.

And maybe if that were the case, Chishiya wouldn’t be quite this frustrated.

“Surprised it took you so long to find me,” he says finally, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “You’ve been getting slower about it.” 

“Oh, well excuse me for not rushing after you like a lion on a gazelle,” you answer sarcastically. “Not like my lungs almost gave out down there or anything.” 

He doesn’t say it, —but he’d trade his breath for yours if it meant you could reach him faster. 

“That one wasn’t so bad,” he shrugs. “We’ve both been through worse.”

His worst is just beginning, it seems. You close the gap yourself, resting part of your weight against him, and he feels his heart flip itself into a tailspin. For the first time in so long, Chishiya isn’t sure where to go from here. He’s trapped inside these feelings and they’re inching closer to swallowing him whole by the second. They run so deep he might as well be drowning in them.

“Easy for us to say, I guess,” you mumble. “We’re alive. Most people who end up here aren’t that lucky.”

“True enough,” he acknowledges softly, making no move to push you away.

He never does. 

You stand in silence with him for a while, watching as the sky turns dark and the bright colors of the setting sun are swallowed up by a deep, velvety navy. There’re no stars to be seen, nothing for you to wish on. . . It’s a little childish, but any sliver of normalcy you can manage here, you’ll take with open arms. That’s why you let your feelings for Chishiya blossom freely, refusing to stifle your heart’s desires for the sake of some stupid game of life and death.

If I die right now, I’d rather do it with you than be alone. 

Chishiya wishes you’d never said those words to him, —not because he doesn’t reciprocate, but because they resonated much too wholly for comfort. If he can help it, he won’t be going out in a place like this. But more than that, he can’t imagine letting your flame be snuffed out without a ravenous fight.

Silence reigns once again. It’s a characteristic feature of your gentler moments with Chishiya that are few and far between, but when they happen, you like to think you cherish them the best way you know how. Beyond that, you also like to think Chishiya finds even the slightest sliver of peace with you. 

He doesn’t confirm or deny anything of the sort, but you wager that’s a flimsy yes at the very least when the tension in his shoulders melds away and his head rests gently against your own.

You can’t make any promises about tomorrow, —but for now, things are okay. And if that’s the best you’ll get here, then so be it.

#alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #chishiya x you #chishiya x y/n #chishiya shuntaro x reader #chishiya reader insert #alice in borderland x reader #chishiya shuntaro x you #chishiya shuntaro x y/n #alice in borderland reader insert

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader)

tags: slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT, mentions of oral sex (fem and male receiving), mentions of fingering, piv sex, dom!obi?, i really don't know what to write here it is just filth and it is gonna get filthier

a/n: HII! so i became haunted by historical!obi au's and spent six months writing a short series... this is the first chapter out of three, so i hope you stay tuned for the upcoming one (it is FILTHIER than this and about 19k words)

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

enjoy!!!

word count: 5.4K

chapter one: see you tonight?

“…Fuck, just like that-“

That voice. Yes, that’s how you ended up here, you think, as you roll your hips, feeling the exquisite contours of Obi Wan’s cock stretching your walls and pulling pleasure out of every cell in your body, and possibly from your soul too.

Ehem. Lord Kenobi.

And truth be told, that’s not exactly how things led here. Of course, his rich voice and the manner in which he used it were notable factors. The way he camouflaged his remarks under sweet quips never failed to make you giggle into the next day, and regardless of the topic (ashamedly, it was mostly about the other people in the room, and their rather obscene behaviors), the comments he made always reflected the intelligence behind it. He played the serious bit perfectly too, even though his reverent sentences carried some poetry, never pompous, yet deep enough to convey its origin and the realness of his sincerity… That’s why you started spending hours with him at balls in the first place. Ten minutes alone with him, undoing all the prejudice you had against the man. All the rumors about him were proven wrong, or at least, half true. And you liked that remaining part of the truth.

Only after that, came the subject of his charms. Not quite surprising, considering that there was no lack of handsome faces around, but a lack of brains in them. Or a true heart. You hated the hypocrisy of it all, and it was a blessing to find someone who shared that sentiment. Not to mention the benefit of him deflecting any unwanted company.

Likewise, he must've thought the same about you, thus your current position. It was obvious that both of you two had similar standards, even in these lewd matters. People didn’t call him a heartbreaker because he pursued a lot of women, but when he did and it came to an inevitable end, they were the shell of whom they used to be, like a person could be mummified by the absence of the joy he charmed people with it. And you, you weren’t the type to have somebody just because you could. No, you looked for a special connection, a click, and when you got lucky and found one among the countless candidates, you treasured it. Now, even the word click sounded wanting, there were sparks present between the two of you, a considerable, good dynamic you two had built, and that made everything just better.

You were almost sad thinking this was a one-time event, already knowing this is a moment you'll remember your entire life. (You weren't gonna push your luck on getting caught.) If there were such deals, two of you keeping it to each other forever in this aspect of life, you’d have signed that contract in a blink.

“Thought you said you were tired.” He breathes out, clearly an effort, yet the smug grin on his face leaves no room for doubt or pity.

“I’ve been sitting all day.” That’s how travel works in carriages, after all. “I think stretching my legs, is what I need.” You emphasize by raising yourself higher and slowly sink back down a few times, a motion that pulls moans from both of your mouths.

Travel. It took you half a day to reach your aunt’s estate, and you were fairly certain you wouldn’t attend the ball that is currently taking place. Then, you realized there was no way your gracious hostesses would see you tonight, you were forced to enter the saloon. It would be a quick in and out, maybe greeting a few more people, no dance, with the very valid excuse of I’ve been on the road all day and I am quite exhausted ready on your lips at any interaction. This was why you didn’t even bother to put much effort into your looks, opting for a change of dress, and nothing more. No jewelry, no retouches to your hair. After all, it would just add to your part if you seemed slightly off.

Somehow, it turned out to be a regrettable decision, when numerous eyes turned to you as you took a step into the room, and even longer after that. Maybe not every head turned or the music came to an abrupt stop, the sprouting silence broken by collective whispers, but it happened, subtle yet enough to make itself known. You were given the same treatment for years at this point, but there was no getting used to it. Color that had been settling in your cheeks seemed to be permanent, at least for the night, not leaving your side as you took your place among your relatives. The expensive fan you were gifted by- God knows who, you were in no mood to remember it now, did nothing to relieve your suffering. 

And, countless other greetings don't help either. You fastened the movement of your hand, curling your lips into a forced smile. You could truly get tired from all these repeated words and gestures.

"I'm afraid I forgot to bring my dance card." You said again, to the third man who came with the same offer, Duke Caldo, all true except the part "forgot". You left it, willingly, just in front of your vanity mirror. The mirror which you desperately wanted to see yourself in right now, away from the ball. 

"A great pity." The exclamation didn't come from him, though. 

Your fan dropped from your hand and closed itself when it hit your wrist, dangling from the loop around your forearm as you heard that voice, no introduction ever needed. Perhaps, not even his voice was required, for there was always that unexplainable change in the quality of air in the rooms he occupied, like he was casting a spell on those around him, trickling magic dust with every step, a rare perfume. You wouldn’t use such metaphors if it wasn’t for the simple fact that your body always figured out his presence before your mind, catching a sense of that hypnotic essence. You often realized all the hairs on your arm standing up, or a tingling sensation in the back of your neck, breathing getting a bit harder, only to quickly locate him in your eyesight. 

"Lord Kenobi." It is said in a contemptful respect, a greeting and a goodbye. “Goodnight, my Lady.”

You didn’t even bother to mutter a proper response, and frankly, the Duke didn’t wait for one either. So, all your focus can be reserved on the man in front of you. 

You raised your arm as if intending to extend it so he could complete his small tradition of placing a kiss on the back of your hand, like he has done every time your paths crossed, even multiple times a day (that’s exactly how you noticed it was more than a simple salutation), (honestly, you liked it, his daring movement revealing a lot about his nature), only to flick it to reopen your fan. The gentlest gust of it licking your skin was more than enough now, making it all too pleasing to watch him save himself with a deep bow of his head, the annoyance quickly turning into a satisfied grin, like he didn’t expect anything less from you. 

“That looks even more beautiful in your hand.” He pointed at it, but his eyes wandered all over your body. You did the same, though there was little notice, his usual beige suit far too familiar. Your focus was always on the fact that he looked so good in it, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, or his defined arms exquisitely pronounced over the fabric.

Right. So it was his gift. Why did you ever entertain other possibilities?

You weren’t going to disappoint him by mentioning it is only here because your panicked maid accidentally packed the first item she saw, for you never took anonymous gifts. You didn’t need the attention they brought.

"And I couldn't thank you enough for it. I can practically name it my savior tonight." You answered, making a show of lavishing yourself in the stream it creates.

"My only source of pride is the fact that it perfectly blends with the rest of your attire. Now, I can proudly say I know your taste."

Classic Obi Wan. Even his compliments, far from usual, borderline scandalous. He's been peppering you with them ever since the start of your friendship and you were never immune to them. You outright enjoyed them. Especially now, they didn’t help the simmering tingles forming at the depths of your belly, amplified by weeks of solitude. “Only a part of it I’m afraid, but you’ll learn the rest in no time, don’t worry.”

“Can’t wait.” He grinned and scanned the room for prying eyes. Finding none, he made himself more comfortable by your side, hoping to spend the rest of his night with you. 

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” You admitted, somehow managing not to sound like you’re overly joyous of that not happening.

“I could say the same about you.” Was that excitement, or disappointment in his voice? Was he planning of politely ravishing other women, when you were not present to entertain him? Something told you those were not among his intentions, the smile on his face too honest, his twinkling gaze focused solely on you. 

You tilted your head and curled your lips. Touché. “It is nice to attend the ball your acquaintances are throwing, even if you arrive late. But for you, sir, I'm afraid people will actually think you're looking for a wife."

He rolled his eyes. There was a hint of offense in them just at the mentioning of the subject, but the playful type, not the exasperated type he uses for others. 

"Curious. The diamond of the season is also here. Isn't it strange that she still hasn't found someone, it's nearly the end of the season?" You inhaled sharply, dramatizing further. "Do you have something to do with it, Lord Kenobi?"

He scoffed, the impossibility of it reflected in his voice. "The diamond of the season?-"

"I thought you deserve nothing less." You explained, but he interjected.

"I'm only interested in one diamond." He said, initiating intense eye contact.

It was your turn to scoff, and run away from his gaze. "I was never the diamond."

"Only because you saw how better you were than the rest, and fled just before the start of the season." His eyebrows were raised, begging for a denial.

"I had planned that trip months ago." You simply stated. "And I came back halfway through summer, didn't I?"

"Just like now."

"Do I need to remind you who you have been spending time with since June?" 

"And where were you coming from tonight, ending your visit of- how long was it?"

"I am fond of traveling. Balls and banquets can entertain someone so far. " You shrugged, "Lord Kenobi, are you trying to say that you missed me?" 

"I could never claim otherwise." 

That was true from your perspective as well. All these years of constant traveling, and this year was the first time you missed what you left behind at home, even during the buzzing, pretense-filled months. None of it seemed that intolerable, and somewhat fun, if you dare to admit. You knew this impression was his doing, and now after your while spent apart, the feeling came back tenfold, almost making you squirm over such loose confessions.

That was it. That was the turning point of the night.

“Truth be told, the night is going much better than I dreamed of, and I almost regret forgetting my dance card.” You raised your chin, and sent him a look. “Would you be so kind to help me find it?” 

You could basically see the gears turning, a fire behind his eyes, fueling the desire growing in the depths of your belly. His gaze was piercing, even after he’d long decided, the truth known to both of you. Your heartbeats must’ve been visible, you imagined, and felt it skip a beat as he licked his lip. “Lead the way.”

Now that’s, how you ended up here.

However, as you look down at his face, the story gets blurry, perhaps outright loses its importance, abandoning your mind. His hair is tousled, a rebel strand in front of his eyes, and moves with every bounce. Your hands are too busy to hold onto his sweaty chest, slightly tugging on the auburn fuzz. You wanted to do that ever since he took his shirt off.

(Then again, you’re not sorry for the amount of time you couldn’t, drowning in him. The moment you felt his expert lips on yours, all your will to protest anything had died. Later, as his fingers joined the show, you quickly realized you were fine with what he gave, but he, ever the gentleman, let you prevail.)

It is a sight. And the moans that fall from his lips surpass the delicate melody the musicians are playing downstairs in every way, which can still faintly be heard. (You never thought an orchestra would accompany you during this, but here you were. It is a detail you’ll remember with a smile while looking back at it, but now, you couldn’t care any less.)

“You’re taking me so well.”  He starts to thrust his hips up slightly, meeting your rhythm, but never overtaking it.

“I know.” You giggle, but the reaction he’s taken notice of is your fingertips digging in further, and your walls fluttering around his cock.

When you start to falter a bit, perhaps due to the fatigue settling on your muscles embarrassingly not long after his words, or his mere presence clouding your brain, his fingers that have been resting on your thighs slowly ascend to your hips. The fingers drenched in your juices, another element that has the coil in your belly tighter. The next few strokes, with his guiding hand, touch something deep inside you, and your jaw hangs open.

“Fuck…” is the only word you can mutter, and he chuckles at it.

“Is that so?” He mocks, but brushes your loose ringlets with a single hand, and caresses your nipple on its way down. The latter shows his true disposition, and that drives you to be more vocal, if you weren’t already.

“You feel… so… good.” You can hardly say, as your puffy clit drag against his skin all so deliciously like this.

He twitches inside you at the compliment, and you throw your head back with a whine. Despite the fact that he would kill to see your face, he doesn’t push, enjoying the state he’s putting you in with his voice. Every praise that falls from his lips earns him a melodic moan, along with the feeling of you tensing and relaxing, always responding to his call in one way or another.

You’re one step away from being a doll at his bend, though you couldn’t care any less, not when you are this close.

He likes it, very very much. Yet, not enough to silence his wishes of how to ruin you, in the best way.

In a blink, you find yourself on your back, and him on top of you. That’s not the first thing you see, though. It is his hand, lifted from wherever it fell, catching your chin to turn your head to him. Sounds of panting are all there is, no movement, no words, not even your rapid heartbeats drumming in your ears seconds ago as if the world stopped for a second.  

His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you let it slip in. God, you can still taste yourself. The revelation has your objections at the change dead, your face twisting, yet he tsks thrice, capturing your attention.

“Let me see those eyes.” Obi Wan commands, and you have no choice but to oblige. “You look so good beneath me.” 

Somehow, his words have you flushing and squirming as if that was the most inappropriate thing happening in this room. Funny, how he breaks your will, and you let it. Against all the talk of your friendship, until an hour ago, you’d have lashed out at an equivalent demeanor, even said in affectionate terms. (Any other way is simply impossible, anyway.)  But, that hour proved itself to be much precious, and now with that glossy gaze, snatched right from the brink of climax, you focus on the doting aspect, how he cannot get enough of the image of you.

You start to writhe, the new emptiness inside you unbearable. “Touch me, Obi Wan…”

He's not proud of the way your begging has his cock leaking, though that hardly stops him. He lives for mutual pleasure, even just yours at the moment, yet you look so pretty like this, grasping the sheets. 

"Like this?" He slides his thumb further into your mouth, relishing the feeling of your tongue swirling around it immediately. Or course he wasn't expecting you to suck him off if you didn't want to, nor would he ever ask for it, he can't help but imagine the feeling, his hips rolling in seek of stimulation.

You shake your head, and his finger is freed with a pop. You frown as the sole contact you have with him is lost. It is a warning sign for him, the fragility of your dream-like state, a reminder of how he has to do better, if he wants to take control. As a gentleman, he wanted to give you everything you desired, but since it was your first time together, a terra incognita, he had to be sure of your limits, so he followed your wishes gladly. The wishes which were masterfully balanced versions of both of your needs. The same problem troubled you too of course, but you were a quick learner, a connoisseur of his taste in no time. The fact that it was very similar to yours was an exciting discovery, certainly a pleasant one, and was a great help, so great that it almost felt like cheating. While he took no issue with your tricks; the urge to take you on his terms, the compulsion to show you how he wants to cherish you couldn’t be suppressed any longer. He had to let you know.

He leans in closer, his arms bend as yours find his shoulders like a habit, “Like this?” He murmurs, right before brushing his lips against yours, effectively swallowing your whine. Though it was a sound of protest, all complementary sentiments die when he nips at your lower lip, and you open your mouth, lost in the sensation of his tongue licking yours, and his sweet essence. In contrast to his other needs taken good care of, he hadn’t taken enough of the feeling of our mouths joining. God, he spent hours imagining your mouth, curling into every shape as smart words spilled from it, enhancing his fascination with you. It fires the flames of haze further, even if he’s not actually properly touching you. Your hand roams his neck, then etches itself into his silky hair. You’ve done that a few times now (and found his response most addicting), but it is hardly satisfactory compared to the amounts you dreamed of doing during these last couple of months. You saw him prim and proper mostly, not a strand out of place, making you marvel at its excellence, and the itch to mess it up growing stronger each instance, a stark contrast to your surroundings. Also, there were times the infamous piece fell in front of his eyes, and sometimes even more disheveled than that, riding a horse, enjoying sports with his friends, and once after a bath, when your family visit started a little earlier than planned. You were always admiring the way it reflected light, creating almost a halo around his head, especially in sunlight. It is the first thing your eye is drawn to whenever you’re in the same place, a beacon of sorts. You never thought you’d be this amazed by hair, yet the moans he produces when you tug on it, add to your astonishment, and you’re not sure if you can look at it again, without being reminded of this moment.

He breaks the kiss as for you to catch your breath, for he has long kept you away from it. Still, he continues to pepper you with tons of them, scattered all across your jaw and neck, in search of that sweet spot that has you cursing. It is not a serious journey, in fact, he does more than press his lips against your skin properly, tease you with his open mouth, drag his tongue along the taut muscle, nip and outright bite, once.

“No marks-“ You protest. Futile. You should’ve warned before he started to nibble, way before he sank his teeth, but it has happened after all, and you can already feel blood settling on the sites of his attack. “What I am going to tell my maid now?”

“The truth.” He retorts. “Of how you led Lord Kenobi into our bed, and did dirty, unspeakable things with him.”

That earns him a harsh pull at his scalp, and a pat on his shoulder. He meets with your glaring gaze, and cheeks redder than a minute ago. So, he’s still on your good side. Barely.

“Apologies, my dear.” He takes the hand that smacked him, and places a peck onto your palm before placing it back. You can’t break the eye contact as he does so, something about his appearance, perhaps his position, or the charming contours of his face, or the way he deals with your anger keeps you from kicking him out. Caressing your open legs, he massages them ‘til they relax afresh, squeezing at the soft flesh. You hiss when his movement nears your inner thighs, thanks to his beard, and the climax it brought you. The gesture hints, still, there’s the matter of fire burning in your belly. “Couldn’t resist, you know me. Let me make it up to you.”

He wastes one more second to carve this image inside his head, then fulfills his promise. He likes the way you tremble while you wait, a whimper leaving your mouth at him taking his cock into his hand and stroking it a few times. God, how you wish that was your hand. Damn your stubbornness, and demand for compensation. You put extreme effort into staying still, releasing a shaky breath when he places the tip at your entrance.

Remember when he said “ruin”?

He doesn’t push it in, instead letting it slide up your slick folds, and tap against your clit. You nearly jolt at the touch, yet again tasting bliss, even if it is in mere drops. He repeats the action, and you sob, digging your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’re the one leaving marks now, but you don’t care. Eye for an eye you can say, in retrospect.

“You’re so wet.” He can’t stop looking into your glistening core. He also can hear it, the squelching sounds echoing at his every movement. He knows you can too, that it calms your nerves, though they act up for different reasons. “All this for me?”

Unfortunately, you are late to realize he doesn’t take your moans for an answer. You can’t help it, you are unable to form words. Even if you gather the strength, they die out at your throat, especially under his piercing look. Fuck, he loves how cockdumb you’ve become for him.

He takes pity on you then, dropping his cock to briefly rest on your opening, and forces his fat tip in.

Your back arches, a throaty sound filling the room. He shushes right next to your ear, in an effort to calm you down as he slips the rest in. It is as if you’re taking him the first time, like you weren’t riding him moments ago.

“Fuck-“ That’s the only reaction, the only answer he needs. You fall back into the sheets, the first time he rolls his hips, and sets a new rhythm, a slow one to kindle the flame once more. Your hair probably getting tangled from the way it’s rubbing against the sheets, and your legs are split wide open. You feel every vein and ridge moving against your walls, the slight resistance disappearing in no time. His chest brushes against yours, and combined with the warmth of his breath, so close to yours, it’s easy to let go of your worries.

This is why you ended up here.

“Faster!” While he already feels great, it’s not the exact pattern to provide that sweet release, not in the timeframe you hoped.

“I want this to last, dear.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. A part of it due to irritation. Being subjected to that response before, he snickers to see you’re still you, even when you’re literally fucked out of your mind. As he does so, his lips skim yours. You take it, greedily, one hand first on his neck to ensure he stays, then to his unruly tress, aspiring to compel him into the middle ground. That earns you a few groans, yes, but his will doesn’t seem to falter even a little bit.

Perseverance, is a mutual quality, as you already know.

You slowly release the grip you have on his head, emphasis on slowly. It goes unnoticed, thanks to your timely bite, the same assault he once carried out. You don’t waste the access to his tongue, sucking on it. You’re not sure if his moans are increased in number, or if it feels more because you swallow every single one of them, but the fact that his beard starts to prick your cheeks harder gives you an idea.

Your free hand falls into sheets and slithers across the length of your body. Just a little more- you’re almost about to touch your –

His fingers wrap around your wrist instantly, dragging it up, a little further away from your face. You twist your neck, a wail coming out as you reject his kiss.

Only to be met by the sight of that said fingers running up your palm, and interlock themselves among yours.

Your breath hitches, for reasons unknown to you.

“Ah- ah -ah.” He tuts, though there’s not a hint of disappointment in his voice. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you do all the work?”

You can’t believe one physical contact, and his words, are enough to carry you to that previous peak. Your pussy contracts around him, beyond your control, an indication of your closeness, nothing compared to before.

“Ngh- that’s it.” He encourages, “Just relax and take it.” That’s more sincerity than you’ve ever heard from him.

It goes on and on for a while, him doing exactly what he promised to do, and fulfilling his wishes in the process. He already knows this could go on ‘til morning, and he still wouldn’t be completely satisfied, longing for your presence the second he leaves the bed. Still, he continues, pushing himself to his limit, and that’s getting quite harder when you clamp on him that hard. He feels his cock leaking, begging for that sweet end.

When his arm that’s not supporting his weight travels down, caressing your hip before pressing his thumb to your clit, finally, you reward it with a whisper of his name, a sound he won’t dare to forget. Your back arches impossibly higher, and he has to lean back, abandoning his other hold.

Your limb stays in the spot he left it.

He curses at the realization, perhaps its effect mirroring yours when he first initiated the contact. Fuck, how are you so perfect? He snaps his hips harder, and circles his thumb, feeling it throb.

“Obi Wan-I’m c-“

He loves how your words are cut with the need to scream that you gulp down, only resigned to breathing as your face contorts with pleasure. “Cum for me, love.”

Your moans blend into each other, as he cannot stay still at the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight. He holds your trembling thigh, fondling the soft flesh, adoring the way it spills from his grip. He doesn’t stop ‘til they settle again once more, and even a little longer than that, pulling out in the last minute to cover your belly with his spend. 

That act keeps you from turning to your side, and feeds the desire to hug the sheets, a soft but firm ground for your senses to return. You're not complainant of it anyways, you have a far better view in front of you, defined muscles undulating with each heavy breath, glistening due to the light coat of sweat covering them, lips puffy and slightly flushed with blood, as well as his cheeks. You always thought he was devilishly handsome, but this, this is something else. The world should consider itself lucky, or it would bend to his will just from his looks. Or unlucky, for the honor is bestowed upon a handful of people. 

He believes he's blessed with the sight upon him, too. Still holding onto your thigh, he delights in spontaneous tremors that possess it. If he looks closely, he's sure he can see the faint mark he left. Your hair is sprawled around, much in contrast to the delicate up-dos you and every noblewoman fashioned, its most natural form, and the intimacy of it definitely causes a small breakdown. You belong in a painting, depicting goddesses and nymphs, a grace outside the limits of time and culture. Your droopy lids and tired pull at the corners of your mouth fill his chest with pride and more adoration, like after his every successful attempt to elicit a reaction from you. It happens often, thanks to the understanding that grows between the two of you, but every example is still treasured in in his mind.

“Well, I don’t know any better way to spend the night.”

You giggle. “I agree.”

“We should’ve done this before.”

Your lifted brows are the perfect answer. Like it’s that easy.

But he has a point, too.

In the comfortable silence, he gets up from bed, a sigh at the roar coming from downstairs, drowning the music. That’s still going, huh? You watch as he wets the nearest towel, and returns, cleaning the mess with unexpected gentleness that it almost tickles. There’s no aim to steal one more touch at his movements, no personal gain except an easy conscience, and even that is a stretch because it’s most natural to him, his understanding of tenderness.

“Well, thank you, sir.” You sit up, with a yawn, and scooch backward to your pillows as he retreats to give himself the same treatment. “And my nightgown, please.” You point to it, and amusingly follow his subtle headshake, and efforts to hand it over. He hesitates for a second at the last minute, considering rebellion, a last joke. You see it, and snatch the fabric from his grip before he can tighten it. He can feel it sliding over his skin, the light material flying. You slip it on, aware of his voyeur. with a victorious smile cut too short as exhaustion creeps into your bones. You’re no different, in any case, settling into the fluffy pillows, curiously examining each piece of clothing he puts on from afar, the unwritten rule of his habits, his hidden glances at your mirror in a feeble pursuit to tame his messy hair. You’re willing to be charged guilty for that.

He stalls, though, you can feel it after a while, around the time sleep clouds your vision. How could anyone blame him for not wanting to leave, carve your picture to his mind, and calm his yet again straining cock at it?

“You should be going. Servants are going to be wandering these corridors for orders, soon.” Your heart winces at the warning, because he's not the type to need it, or disregard you to put you at any risk. But your cognation runs thin, and he needs to know the dangers he might face. 

"True. Right. You're correct." Is that a stutter? "Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Lord Kenobi.

"Glad to be of help in stretching your legs." 

The cushion falls short to exactly hit him, but the sentiment is clear. 

In the morning, you uncover the reasons behind his diversion. 

Bastard signed every slot in your dance card.

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[eiightysixbaby]

i’ll be home for christmas

PART THREE: No Place Like Home For The Holidays

previous part || series masterlist || next part

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 7.3k

summary: eddie arrives back home, battling with the things that have changed in his absence. you have a heartfelt conversation with jonathan, and try your best to get out of your funk. the annual christmas eve party rolls around again, and it’s going to change everything.

cw: switches between past and present, reader’s nickname is ‘sunny’, angst, jonathan being the best bff in the world.

December 25th, 1988.

The airport was shockingly empty, most folks at home with their loved ones in celebration of the holiday. Eddie’s eyes scanned the building as he walked, rolling his small suitcase full of his belongings behind him. His free hand clutching his guitar case as he walks along. He’d packed everything he could over the last few days, though he truthfully didn’t have all that much. Honestly, he was grateful for the light load. The mental burden he was carrying felt excruciating enough on its own.

It had been a teary goodbye with Wayne, Eddie promising to call and Wayne promising to come visit whenever he could afford to spend the money. Eddie assured him he’d be paying for his plane ticket whenever he wanted to come out, and not to worry.

The conversation he’d had with you the previous night wouldn’t leave his head, your tears as your voice screamed at him was a scene that played on a loop in his mind. Sleeping was no use; the second he’d gotten home he’d laid in bed and cried, every moment of the night spent tossing and turning and thinking about you. As hard as it was, though, he wanted you to be able to move forward and be fine without him. He hadn’t meant to hurt you so badly and he hoped that in time you’d see that, too.

He blinks a few times, forcing the sleep from his eyes as he sits on a cold plastic seat, waiting for his gate to board. His foot taps aimlessly on the shiny linoleum floor, his hands wrung together between his knees as he sits hunched over in thought. The clicking of heels takes him out of his daze, his head glancing upwards to catch the person that walks by. From behind, it looks just like you — the girl even has the same coat as you. His heart thumps in his chest as he cranes his neck to get a better look, his legs ready to stand and chase you down and hold you tight. But then, the figure turns around, and he catches sight of a face that isn’t yours. He slumps back onto the seat, exhaling a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding in. Maybe this was all wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t do this. And then:

“Flight 157 to Chicago now boarding, please report to Gate 2A,” a voice comes over the loud speaker, sounding crisp and nearly robotic.

Eddie sighs, wiping his clammy palms on his jeans before he stands, turning and walking to his gate. He steps onto his flight, sinking in his seat and glancing out the window at the snow that covers the Indianapolis airport. The last glimpse he’ll get of Indiana for who knows how long.

He pulls out his Walkman, slipping the headphones over his ears and sinking into the music as the plane takes off. This is goodbye.

Present Day: December 21st, 1989.

The airport is bustling with people; strangers from god knows where coming to visit god knows who for the approaching holiday. Eddie weaves his way through the crowds, pushing his bags on a cart that serves as an easy way to part the seas of travelers. Doors are held open for him by a passer-by as he exits the building, pulling his hat down further over his ears as he braces for the cold chill of the Indiana air.

Stepping onto the concrete outside of the building, his eyes squint slightly as he scans the pickup lane for a familiar vehicle. He doesn’t spot one at first, standing on his tip-toes and peering around the heads of other people, trying to find who he’s looking for.

And then, he sees Wayne leaning out the driver side door of his truck. A hand is held high in the air, waving with a stoic smile on his face. Eddie runs. He doesn’t care if he looks silly, doesn’t care if he bumps someone on his way, he runs to Wayne. His bags sit a few feet away on their cart, but he’ll grab them in a moment. Right now, his arms pull his uncle into a tight hug, his body easing up when he feels Wayne patting him on the back.

“Missed you, son,” Wayne says, pulling back to look at Eddie with the vaguest hint of tears in his eyes.

“Missed you too. Don’t go crying on me now, old man,” he says, laughing when Wayne tugs his hat off to ruffle his already-fluffy hair.

“Go get your bags, let’s go on home.”

Home. Eddie loves the sound of that.

•

“I feel like I’m broken, Jonathan,” you stress, setting your coffee down on the table. “Everywhere I go, everything I do, my mind is just like… laser-focused on Eddie. It’s pathetic,” you shake your head, curling your lips inward.

“Hey, stop. It’s not pathetic,” he reassures, reaching out a hand to cover one of yours. “You just… miss him. It’s normal.”

“Nothing about this is normal,” you retort, sorry for snapping at him but unable to control the bubbling frustration. “I should be able to move on, it’s been a fucking year just about!” you say, raising your voice and grabbing attention of other patrons in the cafe. Your eyes avert Jonathan’s gaze, looking down at a stray thread from your sweater in embarrassment. “I saw a van that looked like his. A van! A vehicle — a common, average vehicle and it sent me into a spiral the other day. Something that stupid shouldn’t make me feel like I’m losing it.”

“Sunny, come on, you’re so hard on yourself,” he says, his honey eyes sympathetic as they try to break through to you.

“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m always such a downer, it has to get annoying to deal with. You’re always left to pick up my pieces.”

“Don’t say that, you’re not annoying,” he cuts in, brows furrowed.

“Oh come on, Jonathan. You can be honest with me,” you insist, turning away from him.

“I am being honest. Do you remember what I told you last Christmas? When you told us all that he’d left?”

Do you remember, he asks. As if you could ever forget.

December 25th, 1988.

To be honest, you were surprised you’d even managed to get yourself to Steve’s house. You drove here on autopilot, a robot operating your vehicle instead of a person — navigating the snowy streets with ease only because you know this town like the back of your hand. You sit in your car in the driveway for what feels like a century, trying to steady your breathing. You had wanted to prepare yourself — to have a plan when you walked in and to break the news calmly to everybody. Though now you’re realizing that may not be possible, with the way you feel like you can’t even speak at all. Your chest is tight, your breathing erratic as you finally walk up to the large front doors, pushing one open without so much as knocking.

The conversation inside lulls, everyone excitedly looking to see who’s arrived. You’ve never seen a group of faces change expressions so quickly, Nancy hopping up off of the sofa to run to you. In a split second, you’ve drained all of the holiday cheer from the room. Tears run down your face like they had been all night, your body slumping into Nancy’s when she collects you in her arms.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on? What happened!?” she asks, trying to stay calm for your sake but concern creeps into her voice anyways. You can’t blame her, you know you look a wreck.

No one else dared move further than simply standing from their seats, not wanting to crowd you. It’s like everyone knew a bomb was about to drop.

“I-it’s, it’s E-Eddie,” you sob, having at least enough mental clarity to realize you need to finish that sentence before they think he died on the way here. “Eddie left… h-he left Hawkins, he f-ucking left,” you choke, your voice raw as you get the words out. You’re bawling into Nancy’s sweater, tears and snot surely soaking the wool as she holds you impossibly tighter.

“What?” Steve asks, “What… what do you mean?”

“He’s going to Chicago, he’s… not c-coming back,” you cry, heaving between words as you try to fill your lungs with air.

The whole room freezes, everyone looking at each other with no idea what to do. As sad as they all may be, each and every person realizes how much worse this is for you. And you know it. They all know what you had with Eddie was special. Was.

You look up at them, watery eyes scanning the room and taking in their mutual devastation. Dustin sits back down on the couch, his head in his hands as he absorbs the information. His role model, the big brother he never had, gone.

And then you look at Steve, watching the way he starts to pace the floor. His closest male friend since Tommy, left for another state. Another person leaving his life.

Your eyes scan over the rest of the kids, over Robin, Jonathan, then circling back to Nancy. Their upset makes it worse for you, and your stomach twists in knots over the fact that you had to be the one to tell them this news. You, in the midst of your anguish, had to break it to all of them. Too caught up in your own feelings to break the news gracefully, it makes you want to vomit.

That’s when you’d pulled yourself away from Nancy, out of her gentle grasp, and hurried down the hallway to one of Steve’s bathrooms. You heard the concerned calls of your name as you shut the door behind you but it didn’t matter, you couldn’t take watching everyone process the information. You brace your hands on the vanity counter, fingers gripping the marble as you look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes and lips look puffy, snot drips from your nose — it makes you feel pathetic. You watch as your whole body shudders when you inhale, trying so hard to calm yourself down, at least so you can go back out there and actually talk to your friends without heaving on the floor.

A knock on the door makes you wince.

“I’m fine,” you croak. “Just give me a minute.”

“It’s Jonathan,” his soft voice says from the other side. “Can I please come in?”

You weren’t expecting him to come chasing after you, out of all of them. It’s not unwelcome, just unexpected. Your fingers wrap around the doorknob, twisting it and pulling the door open a crack. Jonathan slips inside, his slender body fitting right through the narrow opening you’d provided.

“I’m sorry,” you start. “I know I need to explain everything more and—”

“Don’t. That’s not what I’m here for. No one’s rushing you out, it’s okay,” he soothes you, his voice as gentle as always.

For some reason, his comfort only makes you cry harder, and he immediately accepts your form with open arms. You don’t typically get this close to Jonathan, he’s shy and introverted and you can confidently say you’ve never shared a moment this raw with him. His chin rests atop your head, holding you against his chest as you tremble.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, Sunny.”

“How do you know that?” you sniffle, mouth gummy as you talk.

“Because we’re all here for each other. We’re all here for you. I know you and Eddie were… close,” he says, debating on his last word before speaking it softly.

“He kissed me,” you say — blurting it, really.

“What?”

“Like a week ago. He kissed me. And now he’s gone.”

Jonathan doesn’t say anything, but it’s okay with you. You don’t know what he could say that would make any of it better. ‘I’m sorry’? You don’t want to hear that. The kiss with Eddie was the best kiss you’ve ever had. I’m sorry would just make the grief of him being gone feel more real. He just holds you a little bit tighter, sighing into your hair.

“If you could… keep that between us, for now…” you say, realizing you don’t think you can handle questions from the group about that just yet.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

It’s silent for a few moments after that, neither of you saying a thing. But then he speaks up again.

“Listen,” he says, pulling away from you slightly, his hands gripping your shoulders as he looks at you. “I’m here for you, if you need anything. You can vent, scream, cry… it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t as close with Eddie as you were, or as Dustin was, or Robin… the point is, I’ll be okay through this. I’ll miss him, of course, but I’ll be okay. It’s you I’m worried about,” he pours all of this out at once, his eyes flicking back and forth between each of yours, studying your face. “I just want you to know you can tell me anything, always. I promise.”

Your lip wobbles, your eyes glassy as they stare back at him. You realize, then, just how much Jonathan observes. He might be quieter, more reserved, but he notices everything. His tone of voice tells you he knows more than he might share out loud.

“Thank you,” you say, impossibly quiet. “Thank you doesn’t even begin to cover it, but…”

“No, you don’t even need to thank me. I just want you to promise me that you won’t hide away and bottle this all up.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Present Day: December 21st, 1989.

You kept that promise, confiding in him when the weight of it all felt too heavy to hold. He kept his word, listening every single time you needed him to. You’re suddenly upset with yourself for even doubting his honesty, his willingness to support you.

“Of course I remember. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude,” you sigh. You pitch your voice deeper, then, mocking him. “Don’t apologize, Sunny, you never need to apologize,” you tease, knowing exactly what he’ll say before it can come out of his mouth.

“Wow, am I that predictable?” he laughs, raising an eyebrow at you.

You just nod, laughing a little bit with him.

“You know, you’re still the only person I’ve ever told about the kiss.”

“I know. I definitely would’ve heard about it from one of the girls if word had gotten around,” he says, smirking.

There’s a pause. The humor of the moment is gone.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, sensing the shift.

“I just… it’s getting closer and closer to the day he left. And I don’t know how I can handle knowing it’s been one full year. I just want things to be easy again,” you sigh, chewing on your bottom lip. You don’t want to meet Jonathan’s eyes, feeling like you’ll cry if you see the sincerity you know will be there.

“I know it’s hard. And I know Christmas isn’t going to be easy for you this year. But just… take it a day at a time. A minute at a time, even,” he says, calm and steady as always. “Even though this year has been hard for you, you’ve gotten through it. You’ve made it through every single hard day. You can get through the holiday, I promise,” he gives you a gentle smile, the creases at the corner of his eyes showing how genuine it is.

His words bring the tears you had tried to warn off to your eyes, sending a couple droplets running down your cheeks.

“Are you sure I can do this?” you ask. “Will it get better?”

“I know you can do this. And I think it will.”

You stand, your chair squeaking against the floor as it pushes out. He stands with you, knowing what you’re going for without words. He pulls you into a tight hug when you round the table to his side, his hands rubbing your back in a way that soothes you.

“Thank you for everything, Jon,” you sniffle, your face smushed against the thick knit fabric of his sweater.

“Of course. ‘S what I’m here for,” he says, resting his chin on your head before placing the softest, most chaste kiss to the top of it.

It’s nothing but platonic. Simply a comforting gesture, you’d never question otherwise. You pull away after a moment of letting him hold you, the strange feeling that someone had been watching you creeping up your spine.

•

Pulling in to Forest Hills Trailer Park had simultaneously made Eddie’s heart sing, and made him feel like he was going to vomit. He was excited, so excited to be out of Chicago, but he’d be lying if simply leaving that city eliminated all of his worries. There’s a lot of… baggage in Hawkins. He left for a reason. It’s scary and inviting and anxiety-inducing and wonderful all wrapped into one package.

Wayne helps him unload his stuff, and Eddie nearly cries when he steps into the trailer again. The bedroom is all made up for him, his old posters and flags still hung on the walls. Like Wayne always knew he wasn’t truly gone for good, or maybe he just didn’t want to fully let him go. A knock comes on the open door, making Eddie turn from his spot on the floor where he unpacks his suitcase.

Wayne stands in the doorway, holding Eddie’s Garfield mug — his favorite — in his hands.

“Made you some coffee, figured you might need it,” he says, and Eddie accepts the warm mug gladly.

He looks at the paint on it, Garfield’s nose chipping away a bit, and there’s a crack on one side, but it’s Eddie’s. It’s home.

Unpacking doesn’t last long, he gets through one suitcase of clothes before deciding everything else can wait. His dresser drawers are packed full once more, having been largely empty save for some of Wayne’s things. Sitting cross-legged on his floor, he takes a moment to just absorb every detail of his room. His Slayer flag, that he’d left here in favor of taking his Corroded Coffin one with him. His spare amps, his old sketchbooks and a box of D&D dice. The stupid handcuffs he’d stolen as a teen, and then had a few good nights with. Chuckling to himself, he stands. His heart longs to see more of Hawkins, to see what’s changed since he left, if anything at all. He puts on his coat and a hat, grabbing the keys to his van that he surprisingly missed way more than he had thought he would.

“I’m going in to town, just want to walk around a little bit. Take everything in. You wanna come?” he asks his uncle, slipping his shoes on in the doorway.

“Nah. Go on by yourself. I’m sure you could use the time to get readjusted.”

Eddie nods, giving Wayne a soft smile and receiving a softer one in return. He tosses his keys in the air once, catching them with a metallic clank before he’s out the door. Wayne had taken great care of the van, as good of care as you can take to a shitbox vehicle, and as Eddie slips into the tattered driver’s seat he lets out a sigh. His hands run over the steering wheel, putting the key in the ignition and letting the engine roar to life.

He missed this. He truly missed this.

It’s funny how you can be away from a place for so long, yet still remember every detail like it’s engraved in your brain. Sure, a year isn’t that long in retrospect, but still. The way Eddie drives the streets of the small town with complete ease, never second guessing a turn and knowing where each stop sign is makes him smile a little bit. He drives past your apartment complex, taking in a deep and shaky breath as he glances in its direction. The realization hits him that he has to face you, face everyone, for the first time in a year. He doesn’t know how he’s gonna do it, but he’ll figure it out.

For now, he pulls his van into a parking spot beside the curb in the center of town, stepping out and waiting for that signature creak of the van’s door as it opens, which doesn’t come. Dammit, Wayne. Keeping her in good condition.

To be honest, Eddie knows he’s taking a bit of a risk walking through town. He could run into you, he could run into one of the kids, or Steve or Robin or anyone. He could be spotted by Mrs. Wheeler or Hopper. All of whom would spread word that he’s back in town. He’s flying by the seat of his pants here, so to speak. If he runs into someone he knows, he’ll figure it out. If he runs into you, well… he’ll probably shit himself. But he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there.

The streets and shops of downtown Hawkins are perfectly decorated for the holiday, a sight he knows you always loved to see. He hopes it still makes you happy, to see the town wrapped in red and green and silver and gold. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walks the snowy sidewalks, a cleanly shoveled path guiding his way. It’s snowing lightly, a few flakes clinging to his hair and melting on his coat. It’s so unlike the hustle and bustle of Chicago, and while those busy streets were exciting for maybe a week, he grew weary of them after that. There’s less of a sense of security in a city that large, whereas Hawkins’ small population and quaint streets feel stable and safe. Maybe he took that for granted, maybe he thought he was more unstable here than he really was.

He passes Melvald’s, peeking inside and sure enough catches Joyce Byers passing off a large paper bag of goods to a customer. He keeps on walking, smiling to himself nonetheless over seeing a familiar face. He passes RadioShack, The Hideaway, the record shop. All places he has memories tied to, and they come rushing to him in a flood of varying emotions. Nervous butterflies flutter in the pit of his stomach, his whole body adjusting to being back home as he walks.

The coffee shop is up ahead, he can see the sign dangling above the door. He turns to glance in through the windows as he approaches, but he does a double take at what he sees. Stopping dead in his tracks, his shoes scrape against the pavement. It feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him, every ounce of oxygen punched from his lungs. He swears his head is spinning, or maybe the world is spinning. Every single moment of heartache and yearning over the last year has led him here, back to Hawkins. And now, for the first time in months, he’s finally looking at you.

His mouth hangs open slightly, tunnel vision directing him right to you, where you stand approaching Jonathan. He’s undetected, neither you nor the other man have noticed him. The first thing he notices is that you’re crying, he can see the puffiness of your face and the way its features contort. It reminds him all too much of the way you looked the night he left you. A twinge of pain prods deep in his gut; seeing you cry has always been one of his least favorite things. He watches as Jonathan pulls you into a tight hug, rubbing your back and squeezing you so close to him.

That’s weird, he doesn’t remember you ever being so close with Jonathan. He usually just kept to himself, for the most part.

And then, something happens that makes his heart plummet to the pit of his stomach. Words he can’t hear are exchanged between the two of you, and then Jonathan’s face tilts down, and a kiss is pressed to the top of your head.

He just kissed you. What the fuck. This can’t be happening.

Eddie knows he’s been gone a while, but he certainly hasn’t been gone long enough to forget the different dynamics in the friend group. He’d certainly remember if Jonathan kissed you frequently a year ago.

Are you…. with Jonathan?

Nausea creeps up his throat as he stands there, alone in the cold. He watches his own breath leave his mouth in icy puffs as he stands there gawking. You and Jonathan begin to pull out of the hug, and he kickstarts himself to move the fuck away before you both catch him staring like an absolute buffoon.

It all makes sense, he thinks to himself as he staggers away. It all makes fucking sense.

Of course you’d distanced yourself. Of course you wouldn’t want to talk to him on the phone if you were dating Jonathan. Of course the general topic of you was awkward for your other friends to talk about, because they didn’t want to tell him what was going on! Heading quickly back in the direction of his van, he feels blindsided, his mouth gone dry. He really thinks the contents of his stomach might see the light of day once more as his mind races with thoughts. You don’t want him anymore, you don’t need him anymore, you have Jonathan. And he can’t even be mad, because he wanted you to do better than him. He wanted you to find someone else.

If he could kick his own ass, one year ago, he would.

The urge to cry overwhelms him, but the tears won’t come. It’s like he can’t think straight, too many thoughts yet no thoughts all at once. How can he face you — admit his feelings to you and tell you that he doesn’t think he’s stopped yearning for you for even a single moment of the last year — when you’re with Jonathan? He can’t. That’s not right, and it’s not fair. It makes him sick to think about.

He doesn’t take the time to admire the Christmas decorations anymore, doesn’t take note of the shops he passes that he hasn’t seen in a year. He just hurries to his vehicle, and starts driving towards the only place he can think to go right now.

•

Knuckles rap impatiently on Steve’s door, bone against the wood over and over. Eddie’s not in any mood to wait, needing to know when and why and how this all happened. Why no one bothered to tell him you started dating a mutual friend. This isn’t exactly the way he wanted to announce his arrival back in Hawkins, but oh well. He didn’t make a great departure, who cares if his return sucks too?

He can hear shuffling from inside the house, Robin’s voice coming closer to the door.

“I’m getting it, Steve, holy shit!” she calls, the door knob twisting and the whole thing pulling open.

Eddie stands there, watching her face as she processes the fact that it’s him in front of her right now. He really missed her face.

“Oh my god,” she says, standing there blinking at him like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “Eddie!? EDDIE!” she yells, her eyes going impossibly wide. “Guys, Eddie’s here!” she screams into the house, eager, before attacking him in a bear hug.

The voices of Steve and Nancy shout “What?” in perfect unison, before their figures appear in the doorway.

“Eddie?” Nancy says, laughing in disbelief as she does, followed by Steve’s half-confused half-amused “Dude!?”

He doesn’t even get the chance to say anything before Nancy’s surprisingly strong grip is yanking him from Robin, her tiny frame squeezing him as tight as she can. Eddie’s heart swells, tears finally threatening to spill from his eyes. The pure happiness of seeing his friends again overwhelms him, but it rivals the sick feeling that resides in his stomach after seeing you with Jonathan. It’s a strange juxtaposition of feelings, and he feels like he might crack.

Steve yanks him away soon after, giving him a firm, welcoming hug and a pat on the back. “I fucking missed you, man.”

Eddie gives him a soft smile as he’s ushered into the large house, Robin’s mouth moving a mile a minute.

“Okay, so what the fuck is happening right now? Are you back for good? When did you get here? Does anyone else even know you’re here?” she bombards him with questions, her arms flailing as she talks.

“Rob, Jesus, slow down,” Eddie says, and he can’t help but laugh lightly. “Yeah, I uh, I think I’m back for good,” he says, letting the information sink in. “Wayne knows I’m here, but that’s it other than you guys.”

Everyone stares at him, sensing the feeling that something’s not quite right. It must be radiating off of him.

“Okay, so… what’s wrong? You haven’t cracked one of your usual jokes and you’re like, mysteriously quiet,” Steve speaks up, and Nancy shifts awkwardly where she sits beside Robin.

Eddie takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know if he truly wants the information he’s about to receive. But not knowing doesn’t help him, either.

“Why didn’t you guys tell me Sunny started dating Jonathan?”

The room goes silent, varying expressions on his friends’ faces. Nancy’s eyebrows raise as she lets his words roll through her head, Robin turning to give her a confused look. Steve’s mouth opens and closes and opens once more.

“I’m sorry… what?” he asks, amusement tugging on the corner of his mouth. Nancy giggles a little, and Robin nudges her with her elbow.

“Sunny… and Jonathan. I literally just saw them at a coffee shop and he kissed her on the head so please don’t try to make me feel crazy—”

“Woah, Eddie, slow your roll there,” Robin butts in, holding up her hands. “Sunny and Jonathan aren’t dating. Or, if they are, it’s news to us, too.”

He blinks. The skin between his brows crinkles as he stands there, dumb and silent.

“But… then why did he, when did… why did he kiss her?”

“They’ve gotten really close, but just… platonically. It’s not anything else,” Nancy says, trying to reassure him with a soft smile.

When he doesn’t seem convinced, she keeps going. “Eddie. We wouldn’t lie to you. I mean, you’re back in Hawkins. What good would lying do? If they were together you’d be bound to find out eventually.”

He thinks about this, and then decides to pull his head out of his ass. He’s seeing his best friends for the first time in a year and instead of being thrilled he’s being difficult.

“No, you’re right, Wheeler. As always,” he smirks a little. “I really fucking missed you guys,” he adds, a lump forming in his throat as he smiles at them.

“We missed you so much, Eddie,” Nancy says, the other two echoing the sentiment.

“Not to ruin the moment…” Robin cuts in after a pause. “But, uh… how are you going to tell Sunny that you’re back?” she asks, hesitance clear in her tone.

“I, uh, I’m gonna be honest. I don’t really have a plan. I don’t know how much she even wants to see me.”

Three heads nod at the same time, sharing glances as they consider the subject at hand. “She really misses you, Eddie,” Nancy says, her eyes getting softer, sympathetic. “We aren’t the only ones who did.”

“She does?”

“Yeah… did you not know?”

“Okay, to be completely fucking fair right now, I love you guys but I haven’t been able to speak to her once since I’ve been gone,” he says, trying to defend himself even a little bit. “I haven’t heard one thing from her… I— I really didn’t know what to think.”

“It’s been hard,” Steve says, and the look in his eyes shows Eddie how true that statement is. “She’s been… kind of a wreck without you.”

This statement loads in his brain, his heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach.

“It’s been worse lately, I think with the holiday coming up it’s just reminding her of last year. She’s been like, a completely different person. We never wanted to tell you over the phone and worry you…” Robin adds, her bright eyes flitting nervously around the room.

Eddie nods, lips pressing in a flat line. “So, what do we do? How do we do this? I want to make this Christmas so, so much better for her than the last one.”

There’s a pause, before Nancy speaks. “I have an idea,” she says, nodding decisively. “We have to keep it a surprise.”

This year, Eddie isn’t going to fuck things up. This year, he’s going to get his girl.

Present Day: December 22nd, 1989.

The Wheeler home is immaculately decorated for Christmas. Faux-candles flicker in each of the windows, delicate white lights lining the roof. You watch as the perfect wreath on the front door slides out of view, replaced by the face of Mrs. Wheeler as she greets you.

“Please, come on in,” she welcomes you, offering to take your coat and your scarf. “The girls are in the kitchen already.”

You thank her, letting her leave to hang up your garments, slipping off your boots before you head straight back to your friends.

“Sunny!” Robin says cheerfully. Her hair is pulled back into a tiny ponytail, her hands already busy gathering ingredients for the cookie dough.

“Hi, guys,” you smile. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

“It’s no problem at all. Rob and I were just starting to get everything ready,” Nancy assures you, coming over to give you a quick hug.

You welcome it gladly, inhaling her sweet perfume as you lean in close. You were happy to be here, hoping that maybe it would help you feel a little bit lighter; give you some of that holiday cheer you’d been searching for. You were less optimistic on the front of it helping you not think about Eddie, but you could still hope. After your conversation with Jonathan the day before, you were trying to be a little more hopeful about everything. Key word trying.

“So, what kind of cookies are we making?” you ask, moving to wash your hands in the sink.

“We’re thinking classic sugar — obviously — peanut butter, and maybe those ones with the raspberry jam?” Robin says absentmindedly, eyeing a recipe as she pours cups of flour into a bowl.

“Raspberry? The only people who ever eat those are Steve and… Eddie,” you say, slowly turning off the tap.

“Oh, uh, yeah well. You know how much Steve likes them, we should be nice to him this year,” Robin rushes out, a nervous lilt hinting in her voice.

“Okay…” you say, catching the piercing look Nancy gives her girlfriend.

Unbeknownst to you, the girls, Steve, and Eddie had come up with a plan for Eddie’s grand entrance at the party on Christmas Eve. They weren’t going to tell you — or anyone else — that he was back home, wanting it to be a surprise. Mostly, they just didn’t trust anyone else not to spill the beans to you.

Robin and Nancy had previously talked about making the third kind of cookie for Steve and Eddie, but, well… Robin wasn’t supposed to tell you that. They were going to make them without you, so as not to make you suspicious. But, sometimes Robin’s brain works on autopilot. She looks as though she wants to grab the words out of thin air and stuff them back down her throat.

Thankfully for them, you don’t overthink it. You don’t really have a reason to. Choosing to move right along, you ask them what they need your help with so you’re not standing there aimlessly all afternoon. Nancy hands you a rolling pin to roll the dough out once Robin’s finished mixing it, and you get right down to it.

The three of you make quick work of the whole process, you rolling out the dough and Nancy cutting shapes into it as Robin mixes up the icing. The longer you’re there, though, the more the energy starts to feel… off.

They keep looking at you weirdly, for starters. Staring at you a little too long, looking like they want to tell you something but they never do. It’s nothing you can’t brush off, but it just feels different in a way you can’t explain.

You’re all singing along to Christmas music, laughing and dancing around the kitchen when the phone rings.

Nancy pulls the phone off of the wall, cradling it between her shoulder and her ear as she attempts to continue icing a few cookies. “Hello?” she asks into the receiver.

Her eyes go wide, then, her casual demeanor slipping away as she fumbles to hold the phone fully with one hand, backing closer to the wall.

“Uh, hi. I’m with Robin and Sunny right now. This isn’t really a good time,” she says, stressing the last part a little too hard and making you look over in her direction.

“Who is it?” you ask.

“It’s, um, it’s just Steve.”

“Oh! Can I talk to him for a second? I have something I’ve been meaning to ask him,” you say, walking over to her.

She hesitates for a moment before slamming the phone back on the hook without a word, pressing her lips into a thin line. “He had to… go. Sorry,” she says, furrowing her brows. Robin looks up at her with an arched brow, and you’re simply stood there with your mouth slightly open, utterly confused.

Nancy forces a tight-lipped smile on her face, feigning coolness, as she walks back to the counter to continue decorating the cookies.

“Okay. What is going on?” you break the silence. They’re acting strange. Like, really fucking strange.

“What?” they both ask in unison, only heightening your suspicions.

“You guys are acting so weird. And why did you just hang up on Steve like that?”

“I…. it… it wasn’t Steve. It was Eddie that called,” Nancy admits, and you don’t miss the way Robin shoots her daggers. “I’m sorry, Sunny. I just didn’t want you to start thinking about him. I want this day to be fun for you!” she covers, skirting around the fact that Eddie is very much in Hawkins and was calling about something regarding the party.

“Oh…” you say, thinking this over. “It’s okay, Nance. I can handle the truth,” you continue, not angrily.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied, it was silly of me,” she admits, shaking her head a little. You can sense Robin’s posture relaxing beside you. She’s still being a little weird….

You don’t want to press the issue, simply telling Nancy it’s fine and continuing on with your work. It does make you think about Eddie, but then again, when aren’t you thinking about him? Nothing has truly relieved you of the weight of his loss, and it’s certainly not Nancy’s fault that he called at a bad time.

The cookies are completed within the next few hours, the girls behaving much more calmly than they were before and during the phone call. You’re tired by the time all of the sugary treats have been put aside in tins, and you’re more than ready to go home and sink into your warm bed. Tugging your coat back on, you prepare yourself to face the cold.

“Thank you guys so much for inviting me over, I had a lot of fun today,” you smile, making them return the expression. “Honestly, it’s the first day in a while where I’ve felt kind of… normal.”

Nancy squeezes you in a hug, rubbing your back with gentle hands. “I’m so glad to hear it. We’ll see you at the Christmas party, then?” she asks as she pulls away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys then. Steve better eat all of those damn raspberry cookies, since we made a huge batch just for him,” you joke, and Robin laughs a little too hard before Nancy elbows her in the side.

You pause in the middle of tugging on your second boot, glancing at them with piqued interest. You guess they’re both just weird today.

Present Day: Christmas Eve, 1989.

Fluffy white flakes fall down around you, landing on the fuzzy surface of your black coat as you step out of your car. Popping open your trunk, you start gathering the presents you’d brought for everyone. Steve’s front door opens, light from the inside of his home illuminating the darkening driveway as he steps out, jogging down to you.

“Hey, let me give you a hand,” he offers, squeezing your shoulder.

“Okay, thanks,” you smile, your cheeks and nose already chilled from the cold weather.

“You excited? You always love my Christmas Eve parties,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh a little. Easing the ache in your chest.

“Of course I am,” you assure him, even if you don’t know if you really mean it.

Between the two of you, you’re able to carry all of the presents inside — a blur of red and green and gold, pretty bows and shiny wrapping paper, stumbling through the front door. Everyone has already arrived, except for Robin and Nancy. You’re sure they’re scrambling to get all of the cookies in the car along with their gifts.

Max helps you lay the presents around Steve’s tree, a tall and sparkly thing that makes the living room feel more warm. You can feel yourself defrosting, the ice caging in your heart melting slowly as you try to soak in the Christmas spirit. After another minute the girls burst through the door, Nancy carrying two tins of cookies with gift bags hanging from her arms. Robin follows closely behind, carrying the third tin of baked goods and as many presents as she could stack on top of each other.

Steve’s hurrying over to them in an instant, scolding Robin for not asking for his help. He eases their load, bringing the cookies into the kitchen where you offer to plate some of them. Jonathan’s mixing up a spiked eggnog, passing you a shot glass half-full to give it a taste test. The hustle and bustle feels good today, or at least as good as it can.

Everyone’s starting to settle in, chatting amongst one another with a type of giddiness that only comes this time of year. You see the snow still falling outside from the large windows, thankful to be warm by the fire.

You’re about to pour yourself a drink when there’s a knock on the door, stopping everyone in the middle of their conversations.

“Sunny, can you get that?” Steve asks you nonchalantly, laying out a spread of mini-sandwiches on the kitchen island.

“Who else are we expecting?” you ask, looking around you at your friends.

“Can you just grab it, please?” Steve tries again, making himself look as distracted as possible.

“Okay, okay, I’m going! Jesus,” you mutter the last part to yourself, crossing your cardigan over your chest as you hurry towards the door.

Who it could possibly be, you have no idea. The usual group was here. Maybe a parent, dropping by to say hello? You pull the door open, a rush of frigid air whooshing past you. You aren’t sure who you were expecting to see, but you know who you weren’t. The person on the other side of it stops you dead in your tracks, your heart honest to god stopping for a moment. You stand there, staring at each other in heavy silence for what feels like a century before you finally speak.

“Eddie?”

taglist: @hellfirenacht @writethrough @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @likedovesinthewnd @tlclick73 @mrsjellymunson @idkitsem @svbrbnlegends @eddiesxangel @munsonzgf @hereforshmut @eggo-segual @joannamuns9n @lavendermunson @leenameh @micheledawn1975 (closed)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #i’ll be home for christmas

[honeycomx]

Late Night Tip (3:15)

Stiles Stilinski x Black!reader

This story will contain… Cursing, Drugs, Drug Usage, and Smut. PROCEED WITH CAUTION 18+

a/n: Stiles is a bit of an asshole in this but kinda not, if you understand his reasoning. Idk, it’s up for you to decide. Plus this take place after season 3b and before season 4. And Listen to 3:15 by Russ.

⇣

Stiles had a secret no one knew about, not even Scott. And that was you. Boy, did Stiles love him some you. Contrary to what many people believed, Stiles wasn’t virgin. Before he had first slept with Malia, he had his fun with you. You had that boy wrapped around your finger, and if it weren’t for you wanting to stay friends with benefits, he probably would’ve put a ring on your finger.

But now, Stiles was at point where he wanted to be in a relationship. He wanted someone he could claim as his other half and be by his side. It would’ve been you, but you made it clear you didn’t want that right now. But Malia did. In fact, things between the two were getting quite serious. Especially since a night ago while the two were having, protected sex, she blurted out that he was her boyfriend. Stiles wasn’t sure how to react, he told her he thought they needed to give it some time before they rushed into things considering they have only started hanging with each other two months ago. Despite what he said, He did want a relationship plus him and Malia had built a great rapport with each other.

That has led him to his current dilemma, Malia had decided to be home with her dad tonight, since he complained about her staying out too much and his father was currently sleeping after a hard day of work. It was 1:00 in the morning and Stiles was awake. He was seated in his gaming chair, headset halfway on, as his fingers constantly tapped against the keyboard. In the middle of his battle, his phone starting vibrating violently against his desktop. Pausing his game, he reached for his phone. His heart immediately started racing as he saw your name coming across the screen. He hadn’t heard from you in two weeks since your last encounter, that thought alone gave him shivers. He knew it was wrong, since he was considering him and Malia being together but his rationale was that he didn’t verbally agree to it yet. The angel on his shoulder told him to ignore it, it was better to leave it where it stayed. But the devil was tempting him like Eve and you were the apple. He sighed, shaking his head at his next move, he cleared his throat before pressing the green button.

“Hello?” He asked in the phone.

“Hi Mitchie! I missed you.” You answered gleefully, making his stomach flutter. In those two weeks of your absence, he definitely missed hearing your nickname for him.

“I missed you too baby girl.” He replied, making your stomach flutter now.

“Sorry, I kinda ditched you for a while. My cousins were staying with me and taking up all of my time.” You explained remorsefully, hoping he’d accept your reasoning.

“It’s fine. I was kinda caught up in some things too.” He responded coolly, making you sigh in relief.

“Are you busy right now?” You asked.

“For you, never.” He replied smoothly, making you giggle and kick your feet like a schoolgirl.

“Come over then. I’m home alone and could use some company.” You knew he would, every time you called he would answer and be there.

“I’ll be over in 15.”

“I’ll be waiting, Mitchie.” You stated seductively, before the line clicked.

Stiles sighed, feeling his groin twitch, he knew it was shameful for someone to get this kind of reaction out of him from just a few words, but with his clouded mind, he could care less. He was thinking with his other head. Stiles quietly ran to his bathroom to brush his teeth, he was grateful he took a shower not to long ago. He grabbed his cologne, spraying a few pumps before tucking his phone and keys into his pocket. He slowly creaked open his bedroom door, not wanting to disturb his father or alert him of his departure, before tip toeing down the hall then the stairs and out the front door, making sure to lock and close it softly behind him. He made his way to his prized baby blue Jeep, parked just across the street. He unlocked his door before getting in, cranking his loud car, hoping his father didn’t hear before peeling off in the direction of your home.

The trip to your house was quick, seeing as he could speed due to the empty road and it only being a 10 minute drive from his. He pulled into your empty driveway, signifying that no one was home. There were times where your father’s car would be parked there, but Stiles deduced that he might’ve been at work. Stiles cut his car off before shooting you a text letting you know he was outside. Stiles sat back in his seat, staring out in thought while waiting for your response.

His mind wondered between you and Malia. He didn’t like the thought of leaving you alone at all. He loved being around you, even if majority of the time it was during the night. It was the way he saw your eyes lit up every time you saw him, they way y’all naturally clicked, how y’all shared similar interests. It was like y’all were a perfect match, or that was what he felt like. But with Malia it was different, he knew they had different personalities and interests, it wasn’t bad though he was all for learning and teaching new things. He liked how possessive Malia was over him, something about that turned him on. He thought her nonchalant and some clueless words and actions were just adorable. He genuinely liked Malia as well. Plus, the Pack was familiar with Malia and knew they were messing around. He nervously thought about how they’d react if he randomly brought you around, especially Malia, despite you knowing him longer.

Suddenly a rapid knock came from the passenger window, making Stiles violently jump. He sighed in relief seeing your bubbly expression through the glass. He reached over to unlock the door.

“You scared the hello outta me.” He said, looking at you incredulously as you climbed inside his car. To which, you lightly laughed at, picturing his scared reaction once again. In the midst of you laughing, you failed to witness Stiles bite lip as his eyes roamed your thick curves and it’s attire. The baby blue satin pajama shorts you sported, were being consumed by full bottom. Your button up was opened at the top, giving Stiles a beautiful view of your inviting chest being secured by a black lace bra. You were going to be the death of him.

“Sorry Mitchie,” You state apologetically, oblivious to his intense staring. Your words snapped him out of his raunchy thoughts.

“I wanna try something with you.” You announced before digging in the pockets of your pajamas, fishing out a small baggy, fill with a green substance.

“What is that?” Stiles inquired, face scrunching as it’s pungent smell hit his nose.

“Weed, my cousin gave it to me.” You answered, holding up the baggy higher for him to see. He took the baggy from your hands, inspecting the crushed up substance closely,

“What do you wanna do with this?” He asked curiously. You gave Stiles a ‘really’ look.

“Obviously smoke it. I want you to do it with me.”

“I didn’t know you smoked.” He stated, shocked by the news.

“I don’t but I caught my cuz smoking and she let me hit it. She said it supposed to make you feel horny and it does. Afterwards, all I could think about was you,” You explained casually. Stiles couldn’t lie, his stomach did backflips when you said that, though he kept his composure.

“But I couldn’t do anything about it until they left but she gave me some to try with you and some papers to roll it in. She said it should be enough for one blunt.” You continued, now showing him the neatly folded, white rolling papers.

As much as Stiles’s curiosity was peaked, he was hesitant. The most he ever did was drink, he never did drugs before. Of course, as a high schooler, he had multiple chances to but ultimately never did, it just wasn’t his thing.

“You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to, I just thought I would ask.” You reassured, sensing his hesitation. You didn’t mind if he didn’t want to, the last thing you wanted him to feel was pressured. You, however, were still were going to though.

Stiles thought about his decision, weighting his options. He settled on dismissing his uncertainty, before declaring, “Fuck it, let’s roll up.”

You gave him a mischievous smile.

“Come on we’re going to my room.”

You both were sitting out on the small couch of your furnished bedroom patio with a throw blanket tossed over you both, while smoking the blunt. Your back laid comfortably on the pillow against the rail, with your feet resting on Stiles lap underneath the covers. Stiles scrolled the twitter, while absentmindedly rubbing your feet. It was your turn to hit, you slowly inhaled, holding it in before releasing with blow. Stiles had stopped halfway way through the blunt, which didn’t surprise you due it being his first time smoking. Surprisingly he didn’t cough on his first time, which was shocking. You were new to it too but he seemed to handle it better than you, though both of you were equally stoned. You placed the roach blunt in the empty cup, you and Stiles used to dump the ashes. You were out of your body, feeling everything yet nothing at the same time. Stiles felt similarly, the weed lived up to your standards, he was high and horny.

“I’m definitely buzzed. What bout you?” He asked putting his phone away, turning to face you, only to find you already staring at him intensely, your eyes low and red.

“Me too.” You retorted, pulling your perfectly pedicured feet from him.

“I feel it but I’m feeling other things as well.” You uttered, sitting up on your knees, pushing Stiles back into the couch before you straddled his lap. His sizable hands rested on your hips. You avoided kissing him, wanting to work him up first. You traced kisses lasciviously to his collarbone. Stiles lightly moaned and shivered, feeling your luscious lips against his neck. His hands made their way into your blue satin pajama bottoms, he groaned, feeling the absence of your underwear.

“You ready to go back inside?” He asked, clearly captivated by your actions, he was becoming hard as a rock. You pulled away from his neck, pecking him on his lips before nodding. You climbed from Stiles lap, standing, holding out your hand, which he graciously accepted. You pulled Stiles with you inside, toward your bed. You sat down on the plush comforter, with an insatiable looking Stiles standing over you, awaiting your next move. You tugged Stiles closer by the pull strings of his pajama pants, as the other unbuttoned your top the rest of the way. Your amorous gaze never left Stiles the entire time. You shrugged your top from your shoulders, letting in pool behind you, showcasing your see through bra. Stiles’s heart thudded heavily in his chest as he watched you, feeling all his blood rush below. You were satisfying his carnal desires, in the most teasing way and he couldn’t take it anymore. You let Stiles push you against the bed for you to lay back. You giggled at his eagerness before you were silenced by his lips meeting yours. You opened your legs, allowing him to nestle himself between your thighs as he hovered you. You gasped feeling his hard girth rest against your pussy. Stiles took that opportunity to sneakily slip his tongue in, effectively deepening your kiss. Your hands slipped up his arms to wrap yours around his neck, carting your fingers through the back of his hair. Stiles groaned, pulling away from your kiss, giving you both a chance to breathe. You both stared at each other with this wanting look. Both of you seemed to silently communicate, it wasn’t long before your soft plump lips met his soft bowed ones. This time, Stiles lifted up, you felt his fingers ghost your sides, causing you to quiver at his light touch. His hands found the front of your shorts, he began tugging your snuggle short down. You pulled away from the kiss, lifting your bottom to helping him remove them. You mouth gaped as you watched him descend to your leaking mound, which was still covered by your lace undies. He eyes found yours, making your heart thud faster. You whined as his tongue glided gently over you clothed clit, as he tossed the pajama bottoms from around your ankles. You wanted Stiles badly, He had your heart feeling like it was imploding. But the way you felt was more than just sexually you loved Stiles, and you wanted to tell him. You weren’t sure if it was your intoxicated mind but you felt the need to tell him before y’all went any further. Just as he was to part your legs open,

“Wait.” You exclaimed, gently pushing Stiles away from you. You set up from the bed, anxiously watching as Stiles’s half naked stand over, he casted you a concerned look.

“What wrong?” He questioned, clearly confused by your shut off, he tell you were anxious, your leg started jumping. You eyed him, little did he know you fighting a battle in your mind. Your previous thoughts of Stiles being just a fling had blossomed into something more. You were infatuated with him, you were internally praying that he felt the same.

Going against everything screaming fiber and nerve in your body, you spouted out, “Stiles I like you.” Your eyes meeting his. He saw as your eyes glimmered with hope.

Those four words, made Stiles’s mental crack. As much as he wanted to hear those words before, they also made him panic now. He struggled deeply to collect these three words, but ultimately he felt like it was for your own good.

“Y/N I can’t.” He stated, his head hanging in defeat, his eyes avoiding yours. He was feeling were more conflicted than before, he hadn’t thought you actually like him back. It was like his wish came true but right now, considering his circumstances, he couldn’t accept it, not right now.

That spark you had, dwelled instantly and was replaced with sadness and embarrassment. A ache in heart begin to form, you, now, thought you read the situation wrong. You forced your tears back, masking the hurt like a pro.

“Stiles I understand if you don’t feel the same way but I just couldn’t take it anymore.” You confessed, swallowing the large lump in your throat.

“You told me you only wanted to be friends Y/N.”He reasoned, looking at you with a remorseful expression. Unknowingly to him, his reaction added fuel to fire, that is the ache in your heart.

“I know but I tried. I tried to convince myself and I tried to remind you that I wanted to stay friends but I couldn’t help it. The more we started to see each other, the less we started being ‘beneficial’ and more like friends, I started to feel things I shouldn’t have,” You expressed, ignoring the painful burn behind your eyes.

“The last time we were with each other and you spent the night with me was the last time I was supposed to see you Stiles because I fucked up. I fell for you, I went against my own words, I knew I wasn’t supposed to but I couldn’t help it. I tried to stay away from you Stiles but I like being with you. The way you are, the way you smile and laugh, they way you kiss me and hold me, it does something no one else can do.” You elaborated further, letting months of feelings off your chest. You words made the pit of Stiles stomach ache, he wanted to say so much but couldn’t. Stiles knew it was wrong to get with you in the first place, you pulled him so easily into your current, it swept him away. He would love to be with you but he couldn’t risk pulling you into something that’s hard to get out of.

“I can’t do this right now.” Stiles grumbled, going for his discarded shirt.

“Stiles wait,” You called out, standing to stopping him from gathering his belongings to leave. You knew it was stupid, but you wanted to feel Stiles one last time, even though it wasn’t the way you hoped.

“Now I know how you feel. I just want be with you one last time. Please?” You pleaded, looking to the floor, trying to suppress your shame.

Stiles’s mind was running a mile a minute. Part of him knew he shouldn’t have came here but ultimately he couldn’t have himself either. He knew he liked you way before you realized you liked him. He was in love from the start. But he liked Malia as well, plus Malia knew about the supernatural world, and could protect herself. Seeing what he caused with Allison messed him up, no matter what anyone told him, he felt guilty because sacrificing himself to the Nemeton was his choice and many innocent people had gotten killed for it even one of his friends. He wouldn’t be able to handle life well if he’d known he brought you into something that had gotten you hurt.

So he stood in these few moments staring at you with confused expression, debating whether he wanted to leave of not. This was his second chance before he made another mistake.

You stood there watching Stiles watch you with this unreadable expression, you could tell he was thinking. Part of you knew you were fucked up for asking him to be with you one last time, after spilling your heart out, but you couldn’t hold out any longer. Given the reaction for Stiles, you were certain he didn’t feel the same way. He loved you for your body, not you. Tears started to fall from your eyes as your head dropped further in shame, that seem to snap Stiles out of his train of thought.

“Y/N” He tried, walking towards you but you moved back. You watery eyes met his, and through your quivering lips, you stated,

“Just leave then Stiles. It’s better if we leave it off like this anyways.”

Before your mind could register anything, Stiles’s shirt was at your feet and his lips met yours. Your defensiveness instantly faded away, you melted like butter against Stiles, immediately accepting his passionate kiss. Your lips moved to together sensually, as Stiles backed you up against the door of your closet. Your hands latched to the lining of his jaw, as his hands clasped firmly onto your hips, pulling your bodies closer. You both wanted the same thing in this moment, and it was to feel each other, even if it was for the last time. You just wanted to pretend everything didn’t happen before this, you wanted to live in the moment, you wanted savor what you could from this situation.

You felt his tongue ease its way into your mouth, causing you moan. You willingly accept his actions, following his lead. Your hands trailed to his brunette strands, gently combing through them, as you both made out. Then Stiles pulled away, a single line saliva connecting your lips. You greedily followed his lips with a whine. You didn’t want it to end. Then you felt his palms on the sides on your face.

“Do you want this?” Stiles asked gruffly, his large hands cradled your cheeks as he wiped the stray tears from your face.

Not trusting your words, you nodded.

“I need words baby girl.” Stiles affirmed. Your teary eyes finally meeting his watery ones.

“Yes Mitchie.” You whimpered out, staring longingly at his bowed lips.

You and Stiles clothes were scattered across the bedroom floor. You laid on your back on the bed, with kneeling between your legs. You cried out in pleasure, as Stiles’s reddened lips, slurped hungrily against your clit. You couldn’t believe Stiles had you folded like this, your feet were at your ears, his hands was tucked firmly on the creases behind your thighs. You bottom poked out in the air, as Stiles devoured you like it was his last meal.

“Stiles.” You moaned, scratching at the messed up bedding beneath you.

Stiles groaned, sending shockwave through your body, he soaked up everything that leaked from you. Your juices covered in and around his mouth, he wasn’t sure if it was the weed making him this thirsty or you were but his flittering tongue never left your pulsating clit and his mouth didn’t stop drinking from your delicious fountain. The euphoric burn that settle in your lower stomach spread and intensified. You reach out, pushing against Stiles shoulders,

“Fuck Stiles, I c-can’t.” You whined, tears coming from your eyes. “‘S too much!” You slurred drunkenly.

Your cries fell on deaf ears as Stiles had released one of your thighs, letting your leg drop. You sharply gasped, eyes rolling, back arching high as Stiles ease his two digits into your sopping entrance. As he alternated between dragging his thick fingers against your walls to french kissing your clit.

“I-I’m cu-” You tried to warn him but it was too late. You started shaking, your vision whiting out, your moans and whimpers were caught in your throat. The intense feeling took over your body, causing you to lock up, your thighs squishing his head as your quenching essence flowed into his awaiting mouth. You were seeing stars as Stiles released you, watching as your bottom half flopped back to the bed. You were completely spent, your box braids had fell from it’s perfect bun, now flowing aimlessly from your scalp, your bronze skin had a glazed look from the layer of sweat that coated it. In your mind, Stiles had you looking an absolute mess but to him you looked stunning. It made him impossibly harder looking at how out of it you were.

Stiles hissed as he slowly jerked his painfully hard dick. Thick droplets of precum oozed from his angry red tip. He knew he couldn’t wait any longer, your fucked out expression, the way you moaned his name, the way you tasted had him stuck, like he had you.

He watched your dazed eyes meet his dark and lustful ones. Stiles placed a single kiss to your overly sensitive clit, making you twitch and whimper, before placing a gentle one to your full lips.

“You okay?” He asked, trailing sensual kisses along your rounded cheeks to your neck, all while layering his slender form overtop of your thick one, his arms cradling your head.

“Yes Mitchie.” You mewled breathlessly, arms wrapping around his neck. You were wondering how every little touch this man gives you nearly sent you over the edge.

“Good.” He placed one last kiss to your neck before sitting up. He placed your legs on his shoulder before pulling you to edge of the bed. You groaned, feeling his harden dick onto of your throbbing mound. You braced yourself, Stiles had this dark glint in his eyes, you had strong feeling he was going fuck up your feeling more than they already were. You held on tightly to the edge of the bed, knuckles turning white from the grip.

You shuddered, feeling Stiles drag his thickness between your slippery folds. It was seconds later that you felt his thick mushroom tip push into your hole, making you practically boneless as a shaky gasp left your lips. A strangled groan left Stiles lips as he tossed his head back in pure bliss, savoring the feeling of your gummy walls sucking him in.

“Fuck you feel so good.” He moaned. He pushed yours legs back further, hooking his arms underneath, pinning you down with his weight, sinking his thick harden inches fully into your saturated cunt.

“Stiles!” You wailed, clinging to his biceps, slightly clawing at them. The slow yet sudden intrusion, left you with a full feeling you couldn’t shake. He groaned loudly as your body graciously welcomed him.

His lips found yours in a fiery passion as his he set his pace, his restraint vanished. You felt his teeth gently tug at your lower lip, he way of telling you to open up to him, which you obliged. The sounds coming from the searing tongue filled kissed, as well as the small grunts and moans that escaped you both, were masked by the creaminess of your purring kitty. Stiles was feeding off of every sound you produced, the way you clung to him as he were going to disappear, all while he stuffed you full of every inch he had to offer.

Stiles broke the kiss, his redden half lidded eyes watched as you tried hang on as his hips speed up. You squeaked, eye squeezing shut from the overwhelming stimulation.

“Oh shit.” You weakly cried, parting your kiss swollen lips. You couldn’t breathe, the way Stiles’s heavy phallus consistently pummeled into you quivering soaked snatch left you unable to breathe. You whined, feeling Stiles at your neck, softly suckling and nibbling on your sensitive skin. You hands moved to grasp the back of his head, pushing him further into your neck. Stiles took the initiative to move his kisses down further to your bouncing breast, Stiles looked memorized by movement. Stiles arms moved from behind your legs, he guided them around his waist, his nimble pace never stalled. His hands gripped your bobbing tits harshly causing you to yelp. Your darkened areolas resembled the richest of chocolates to Stiles in that moment. He couldn’t resist greedily sucking them both in his mouth. Your back arched high from the bed, moaning, as you continued to cradle his head while he practically ‘fed’ himself from your ample breasts. His skillful tongue alternated between sensually fondling each of your hardened peaks, adding on to the immense pleasure he was already providing by deliciously pounding into you. He released the one in his mouth with a soft pop.

“You look so beautiful,” he rasped, trailing his kisses back to your exposed neck. You moaned weakly at his praise, it made the fervent feeling in your stomach spread.

“Taking me so well like a good girl.” He growled, grinding his narrowing into you. You mewled loudly, eyes shutting, at the feeling of his pelvis stimulating your clit, while he dug deeper into your velvety canal. The feeling that emerged strongly in your stomach had grew more fierce, the more he plunged himself deeply inside you.

“You’re a good girl. Right?” He voiced huskily, watching the aesthetic beginning of your debauched undoing. You were too out of it to give a full response, you could only muster a frail nod despite the grip of your arms and legs around his waist and shoulders tightening.

Stiles tsked, placing teasing kiss to your lips, wanting your attention back on him. You whined slightly, falling for his trap, your teary low eyes found his deep brown ones. “You know I don’t like that. I need words babygirl.” His pace slowed slightly, you knew it was his way telling you to speak or he’d stop.

“Y-yes.” You stuttered out quickly, not wanting him to let up. Stiles groaned feeling you squeeze him tightly.

“You’re my good girl. Aren’t you?” Stiles pressed further, watching you start to squirm. Stiles felt you clutch around him once again like a vice. You head shook from side to side, at the almost unbearable feeling of Stiles’s fucking into like his life depended on it. His words didn’t help either, you ignored the ‘my’ for own sake, not wanting to ruin this earth shattering moment. Instead you focused on reaching your impending high.

“Stiles please! I-I” You croaked before words had gotten caught in your throat. Tightening in your stomach finally snapped. You let a broken moan, tucking your head in the side of Stiles neck, as you drug your acrylic nails down the side of his bicep, clinging tightly as you trembled violent over the edge, body locking up.

“Shit!” You heard Stiles cursed through your muddled hearing. You felt an ungodly amount of slick gush from you, coating Stiles completely. He groaned continuing to fuck you through your release. You whined weakly, pushing against Stiles moving hips, causing him to stop. He watched you lay motionless beneath him, eyes shut and breathing heavily, completely spent from cumming.

You felt Stiles lips on forehead before he eased his hard on from you. You hissed at the feeling of him dragging himself against your overly sensitive walls. As weak and out of it as you were, you complied when Stiles asked you to turn over, he helped you do so.

“Ass up, baby girl.” Stiles commanded, tapping your behind. You feebly moaned, despite your exhaustion from your second mind blowing orgasm, you listened to his command. You grasped the sheets underneath, wearily resting your head on your arms, arching the middle of your back, poking your butt out.

Stiles groaned upon seeing how exposed and drenched you were. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he positioned himself at your heated entrance, and without a warning he pushed himself in.

You shuddered and groaned feeling Stiles ease himself into once again, stretching you to the brim. Stiles sighed seeing you greedily swallow him whole. Gripping your hips in place, Stiles started moving his slowly, giving you time to adjust.

You whined feeling Stiles, once gentle and slowed pace, start to gradually increase, his hips started battering against your pillowed bottom. Stiles grunted, his grip on your hips tightening, surely going to some bruising, as he fucked harder into you. The sounds of thunderous wet clapping, a mixture of pleasured sound coming from both you and Stiles, and the concerning rattling of your bed frame, echoed through your room.

Stiles peels one hand from your hip, to wipe his sweaty strands from his forehead. He moaned feeling you constrict tightly around his length. The tightness in his stomach grew with thrust of his hips, and from the way you start clenching around him and the heightened frequency of your melodic moans and loud pants, told him you were feeling the same.

He pressed his free hand in the middle of your back, deepening your arch. Stiles’s thrust became deep and erratic. He put his weight behind his thrusts as he leaned over you, groaning and breathing heavily in your ear. You squealed loudly, trying to push yourself from the intense feeling.

Stiles huskily chuckled in your ear, he leaned back up while gripping your hips, “Where you going?” Stiles asked, holding you tightly in place. You babbled aimlessly in response. He chuckled at your state. Your mind was clouded, you heard what he said but couldn’t respond.

Stiles hips didn’t falter as he gathered your braids into one hand, holding it in a ponytail. “Stiles!” You pleaded as he tugged you to your hands and knees by you long braids, pulling you back towards his thrusts.

“Come on sweetheart, you know what to do.” He stated, halting his movements. Immediately you started thrusting yourself back onto his length. “Fuckkk.” Stiles dragged out in ecstasy, as you fucked yourself onto him. The way your ass rippled like waves against his pelvic as you moved, building up a creamy froth around the base of his dick, as you cried out, head tilted back, in complete euphoria. To him, it was picture worth painting.

“Mitchie, I’m ‘bout to cum!” You keened, feeling the familiar burn twist in your lower stomach. Little did you know, he was too.

“Me too.” He rasped, gripping your cheeks tightly. He started meet your thrusts again, only this time his thumb started massaging your other hole. You gasped feeling his thumb caress your asshole, it sent a exhilarating tingle up your spine.

You both worked with each other, chasing your awaiting release. Stiles rutted faster into you, feeling his high coming on strong. He moaned loudly, as the knot in his stomach started to peak. You chased your orgasm like a bitch in heat, the volume of your moans grew, like the pending explosion in your stomach.

Stiles was close, too close. He wanted you cum first. His fingers found their way to your pulsing clit, gently stroking the sensitive nub, pushing you closer to the edge. You hummed in delight, feeling him stroke you closer to your peak in every way. Then, unexpectedly, the thumb he used to massage your virgin hole, eased inside of you, effectively opening your flood gate.

You wailed, feeling the burn in your stomach burst, your climax hit you like a freight train as your vision blurred out. Stiles cursed feeling you grip him tightly. Your gushing slick coated Stiles’s shaft, as you trembled from the magnitude of your orgasm. Your top half collapsed, not being able to hold yourself up any longer. Stiles panted loudly, erratically pounded into you, pursuing his brewing end, fucking you through your intense orgasm. You whine in overstimulation, the feeling of him dragging against your walls was starting to become too much, you needed him to cum, or you would surely pass out. You mustered up enough strength to move.

“Cum for me, baby,” You muttered softly, moving you hips against his to help him finish.

Stiles whimpered loudly, the flame in the pit of his stomach intensified. He was teetering over the edge.

“I want you to fill me up.” You whined, feeling him throb heavily inside your aching walls. That statement was enough to send him over the edge.

“Fuck Y/N I-I” Stiles stuttered, unable to finish his sentence, before groaning loudly, his cum shooting in your canal in thick loads. You moaned tiredly, stop the movement of your hip, the feeling of Stiles seed permeating your walls made you quiver. Stiles shuddered before collapsing on your back, completely spent. Your body fell flat to the bed underneath his weight.

You both stayed like that for a while, trying to level your breathing. Stiles had softened inside you by the time, y’all breathing regulated. He lifted his sticky body from yours, his body feeling extremely weak and heavy, from either the weed or the mind-blowing sex you just had. Stiles could you body rise and fall in a steady rhythm.

“Y/N?” He called out, look at your face to see if you were awake. You weren’t, your eyes were glued shut as your mouth hung open slightly. Stiles smiled softly at your peaceful expression. He smile soon faded as he realized he fucked up with you, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Everything that conspired this past year, has left Stiles’s damaged. He had trouble eating and sleeping, his mental health was deteriorating. Had he known going out in the woods that night would’ve lead him to these deadly consequences, he wouldn’t have went. All this started because of him, and he couldn’t regret it more. But you, you were his escape from it all, you were his peace. Whenever he needed to be away from all things supernatural, you were there to put him at ease. And as he stared at you, he felt guilty, tears started brewing in his eyes as he now realized, once again, that his actions have consequences. He felt like a fuck up. And those revelations made him realize he had to go. He couldn’t bare watching you be heartbroken over him.

You whimpered in sleep, feeling him ease his flaccid appendage from you. You didn’t feel the mixture of his spend and your slick, leak out of you. Stiles pushed away his egregious thoughts, he went to your attached bathroom, grabbing a fresh linen cloth and towel from the closet, making sure to wet cloth with warm water. He knew from the light snores that sounded from you, that you were out for the night. The least he could do was get you cleaned up. You didn’t even budge as he opened you legs and wiped you clean and patted you dry. Stiles was depleted on all levels, he just wanted to go to bed and try to forget all the bad. He fished his clothes from the ground, tossing on his Star Wars graphic tee, boxers, and pajama pants.

As he went to gather the rest of his belongings, the sound of his phone vibrating from pants made him reach for it. He finally looked at the time, it had been a little after 2 since he last looked at the time, It was 3:15 in the morning. She then looked at the message, it was Malia asking if he was up. He looked back at your sleeping form, guilt was starting to eat at him bad.

He sighed stuffing his phone back into his pocket, choosing to ignore her text. He started straightening up, making sure to lock your patio door, and clean up any evidence of y’all smoking. He slid your silk bonnet over your freshly braided scalp, he knew you’d be upset if you woke up to you hair being messed up. He also turn on the fan, knowing you get hot at night. He glanced at your sleeping form, longingly before placing one last kiss to your forehead while covering your nude body with your blanket.

He gathered his keys and slipped on his shoes before making his way out of your home, securing it, then getting in his car, driving away like a thief in the night…

⇣

Please be nice, this is my first time writing smut so I hope I did well and excuse any mistakes I didn’t see👍🏾. Anyways, this post will a receive an update, which I already started writing. So part 2 coming soon…

#stiles stilinksi smut #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski x black!reader #x black!fem!reader #x black!reader angst #x black!reader smut #teen wolf smut #x black plus size reader #x black reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #teen wolf imagine

[the-dixon-effect]

Lover, you should've come over

A/N: i had this idea a while ago just never got around to writing it. it's v fluffy, a little angsty and just the right amount of trauma, and the title from jeff buckley ofc. hope you enjoy lovelies :')

era: season 6, pre-Negan Alexandria

prompt: "Ya don't ever have to say sorry. Not to me."

summary: Y/N is feeling particularly affected by her past trauma sometime during the group's transition to the suburban atmosphere of Alexandria.

words: 1.5k

pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

warnings: self-harm, anxiety, suggestive

9pm The garage; dark, gloomy, the perfect hiding spot.

The rest of the group was having dinner, courteously cooked by Carol, in the dining area of your shared house. Rick was right, it was going to take some considerable time before everyone properly adjusted to the strange atmosphere of the unaffected suburban paradise that was Alexandria. It seemed, however, that despite the incredible amount of time your people, your family, had spent surviving outside these walls, everybody was fitting in just fine.

The houses were strange, untouched, and the people even stranger. It was like this tiny pocket of the new world was a time capsule, a preserved artefact of an ancient time, all but forgotten to most. It felt like if you were to get too close, immerse yourself too much, the time would come when this place would come crashing down, and bring you down with it. Not only did this place feel like a fever dream about the old world, it also brought back certain memories from the past that you'd tried so desperately to leave behind.

So here you were, an empty seat at the dining room table. You pressed your back against the wall and hugged your legs to your chest. You wondered if they would even notice you weren't there.

Almost-silent sniffles were the only sounds that filled the dim room. The last of the daylight filtered through the tiny gap between the garage door and the ground. You rolled up the sleeves of your flannel shirt to reveal a checkerboard of familiar scratches and cuts, only half visible due to the distinct lack of light in the room. Your head rolled backwards, almost on its own, and hit the wall with a thud. Your eyes swelled with tears just as quick as the memories had come flooding back.

Maybe it wasn't this place. Or the people. Maybe it was just you. No point running now, you thought. You can escape from everything and everyone you love, but you'll never escape yourself, a part of you tried to tell yourself. No matter how far you run, your past, your scars, they will always remain.

9:30pm Despite Y/N's assumption that her absence at dinner would go unnoticed, she was wrong. A certain archer's eyes searched for yours but failed to meet them across the table. "Where's Y/N?" he asked, filling the silence. When all he received was a fleeting glance around the room from members of the group, he swiftly returned to his former position of silence.

"She's probably over at Aaron and Eric's. I heard they were having a couple people over for dinner tonight," said Michonne, a little dismissively.

Daryl shared your feelings about this strange community, and he too understood your lack of trust. Even before adjusting to the end of the world, he certainly would have felt uneasy in a place like this. People like him, like you, they're not supposed to be living in a place like this, pretending to forget about the world outside the walls. Paradise is no place for us, he thought.

Once dinner was finished and the chatter had died down, Daryl slipped off in an effort to find you, and he couldn't help but worry.

9:45pm After searching the whole damn neighbourhood and finding no one who knew where you were, he started to assume the worst. What if she left, ran away somehow? What if she went on a run and got hurt? No, no, he couldn't lose you, not when the both of you had just got here.

Suddenly he remembered the conversation he had with you last night, out on the porch. The stars were out, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, you could look up and admire them in somewhat safety. And they were beautiful. And the two of you sat and talked and talked and just watched those stars. He loved to just listen to you, in truth, he wanted to hear all your stories. Even the bad ones, the regretful ones, perhaps he just needed to hear your voice. He thought back to something you'd said, and his mind suddenly went overdrive with worry. A particular memory you'd recalled, and said that you'd never told anybody this before, alluding to an especially bad habit you'd broken. Could that be... self-harm? He was pretty sure he'd seen those marks on your arm, or he saw something, at least, that wasn't caused by walkers.

He started to go over every single place in his mind where you might be hiding, doing more harm to yourself than good by not speaking up. Your bedroom, the attic, the basement, the yard, the garage. The one place the rest of the group wouldn't think to look for you, if they even came looking at all, you thought. Except for Daryl, who had been working in there on his bike all day.

You could even sense it now, the oil, the tools, and the summer heat, even in the nighttime. As you thought of him, the whole place started to feel like him. You weren't even sure if you liked it or not, the familiar fondness you'd developed for him, but despite your loveable manner, you were so determined to be alone. To not appear as some anxious little presence going about the place.

The door swung open and the first thing you noticed was the light that streamed in, illuminating your tear-stained face.

"Y/N! Y/N, are ya' in here?" You buried your face in your hands as you approached the archer, weakly.

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on?" he drawled. Daryl placed his torch down and stepped a little closer to you, not in a threatening, fearsome way, but in an intimate way, a way that felt like you could be safe with him.

"Can- Do you think you could shut the door?" you said, sniffling a little as you spoke. He followed your request and returned to where he stood before, deep blue eyes locked on your pitiful face.

10pm It felt like there was nothing to be said, no way to express your feelings in a way that somebody could understand. It would be just perfect if, in this moment, he was able to read your mind somehow. Hesitantly, you rolled up your sleeves as you had done before and looked straight up at him with those wide eyes. It was a sight to behold, that was for sure, and if he could put aside every ounce of sorrow he felt just looking at the scars, he was grateful to be the one who you came to.

"This place, it's like- it's like a well," you were struggling to speak. The tears were flowing now, and you felt embarrassed to have this much emotion on display. "Couple days after we got here, I just started to remember, you know. The stuff you don't wanna remember. Just feel trapped, you know," your voice seemed to trail away as your closed your eyes. Nothing to be done now, you supposed.

When you looked up at Daryl again, you were suddenly overcome by a rush of guilt. "Oh no, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Daryl..."

He pulled you into a tight hug at once and whispered into your soft hair that he held so gently. "No, no darlin'..." he spoke. "Ya' don't ever have to say sorry. Not to me." Perhaps if you were thinking straight you would've tried a little harder to appreciate the moment. His distinct scent, the notes of sweet cigarettes, pinewood and thunderstorms. Instead, you cried into his shoulder as his other hand rubbed gentle lines up and down your back.

You pulled away from the embrace, keeping your arms draped around his neck. He was captured by those pretty eyes of yours, though glassed over completely, and held the silent eye contact. He lifted his right hand and softly held your arm, tracing your goosebumps with his calloused fingertips. And you just stared up at him, looking for the reassurance in his eyes that you knew you would always find.

Sensing your pain, Daryl brought your forearm to his lips and pressed sweet kisses on those same self-inflicted scars. You gazed up at him and mustered the best smile you could, as a sign to continue. You slipped off your flannel shirt revealing the little white t-shirt that you wore underneath. Moving further up the length of your arm, he planted soft kisses on your shoulder, and then your neck. The intimacy brought more overstimulated tears to your straining eyes. The only thing you knew how to do in this moment was simply grip him tighter. "Never let me go," you whispered.

Perhaps you didn't need to be alone after all.

#brandy writes #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon fluff #twd angst #the walking dead #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x you #daryl twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader

[euovennia]

hcs for reader getting carried away on a mission and getting tipsy and becoming the life of the party with the 141s reaction *smirk*

the fact you all can come up with such gorgeous ideas such as this one and then put your faith in me to write it out is something i'll never understand, but am eternally grateful for. thank you for requesting, and as always, i hope you enjoy <3

warnings: mission gone wrong, little tidbits of angst, reader being a comforting menace to the 141

summary: after the team arrives back to base from a mission gone wrong, you decide to step in with the best comfort known to man.

despite their aching bodies and exhausted faces, the 141 members begin to steadily file into the commons room after wrapping up their much needed showers. unified by their equally low and sour moods after a mission had gone horrifically wrong, they all come to a silent agreement to not discuss the mission. there'd be plenty of time for that when everyone had gotten the proper amount of rest. with price, gaz, soap, and ghost now all sitting in the room doing their own thing, no one really gives anything a second thought. that is, until price brings up the absence of you to the rest of the team. despite knowing you probably just made the decision to take a longer shower, they each can't help but feel a sliver of worry and doubt file into their minds.

had you locked yourself away in your room in a poor attempt to stop thinking about the horrors of the mission they'd failed?

had they somehow left you behind?

a dumb question, maybe, but they can't help but worry.

that is, of course, until you burst through the door of the commons room with a wide smile split onto your face and a full three bags of alcohol.

john price

personally, i don't think price is the type to drink very often simply because he has a more refined taste

this man has had his fair share of alcohol in his life so i feel like he's very picky when it comes to alcohol

like if you were to have a drink with him, he'd be the type to make you take small sips and hold whatever you're drinking in your mouth for a few seconds before swallowing

he'll say it's the best way to "experience the flavor"

meanwhile you're just trying to get wasted

anyway

that's not to say he'll turn down a drink simply because it doesn't meet his tastes; if he wants to drink, he's gonna drink

so when you barge into the common area with some cheap beer and liquor he's not complaining

what does make him want to complain however is when you stumble your way over to him and yank his beloved boonie hat right off his head and place it on yours

he's not quite sure what to think and he even opens his mouth to start questioning you, but then you do the unthinkable

you lean toward him, drop your voice, and start impersonating his fucking accent

it's nothing special really

just a simple, "Bravo six, going dark"

and as much as he wants to rip his hat off your head, drag you back to your room, and force you to go to sleep

he just can't

not when you've just hit him with the most atrocious british accent known to man

and the fact you're trying to impersonate him of all people?

he can't help but let a laugh slip past his mouth

you, obviously, love the fact you made your oh so stoic captain price break and so you continue your exceptionally bad impersonation of the poor man

and he just eats it up

maybe it's the alcohol flowing through his system, maybe it's fact this is the first distraction he's had since that dumpster fire of a mission ended

but he can't help but get into it and encourage you by telling you to say random, silly things in your terrible accent

it's comforting in a weird way

being able to laugh so freely even after the horrors of the last mission

it's hopeful in a weird way

so when you give him a small, drunken smile and say you're leaving to bother someone else

he just gives you a smile of his own and pulls you into a side hug before letting you depart to someone else

but just as he lets you walk away, it hits him

you still have his hat

john 'soap' mactavish

now soap, like price, also has his preferences when it comes to alcohol

they all do tbh

but he's younger and more easygoing about it so he doesn't really mind chugging down the cheap bottle of tequila you grabbed

that being said, i do think soap takes on a bit of a different persona after coming off a mission

i feel like he's more energetic and upbeat on the field simply because there's always so much going on and he thrives off the adrenaline rush

but i fully believe it's typical of him to be a bit more laid back and quiet off missions, at least at first

and that's when a mission goes good and is successful

in the event it doesn't go so well (much like now) he has a tendency to go back and think about the mission in terms of what could've been done better

in other words, what he could've done better

and while he may not notice it himself, he'll eventually fall into a small pit of self-deprecation

that's when you stumble over to him with your lips curled into a smile and price's hat lopsidedly settled on your head

he's not quite sure of your intentions at first so he'll just offer you a kind, but hesitant smile

then you'll say something like, "why are you giving me that fake smile?"

and he can't help but feel a little ashamed

he goes to say something, but you just put your drink on the table and wrap him in a hug

and, of course, he hugs you back (although he is a bit confused)

but he enjoys it

what can he say? you always give good hugs

you'll stay like that for a few minutes

but then you start to sway the two of you

he'll get confused and ask what you're doing

and then you pull back and tell him something like, "i wanna dance"

and soap being soap will say something like, "there's no music"

and for some unknown reason that just set you off

because in the blink of an eye, you're pretty much dragging soap up from his chair while holding one of his hands and chanting out, "spin me! spin me!'

and who is he to deny you?

that's how you and soap end up spinning each other around while the rest of the team watches on with silent laughter as you both try to fight off the dizziness so neither of you fall

unsurprisingly, it doesn't work for long

surprisingly however, it was soap that fell first and not you despite being tipsy

so now you're both sat on the floor with you rambling to soap that, "sometimes it's okay to fall! you just gotta get back up!"

and unbeknownst to you, he takes your words to heart

so now you're being smothered by soap as he wraps you up into a bear hug, his specialty

you'll stay like that on the floor for a bit longer before you catch gaz scrolling away on his phone not too far from you and soap

so you pull back and give him one of your signature grins as you motion over to the unsuspecting gaz

and when he turns back to you with a smile mirroring your own, you know exactly what you plan to do

kyle 'gaz' garrick

as mentioned above, gaz is simply scrolling on his phone when you and soap set your sights on him

as a soldier, one really important quality is being aware of your surroundings

gaz knows this and is really good about remaining vigilant both on and off missions

but he tends to be a little more lax when he's on base simply because he knows the place is jam packed with people who are quite literally licensed to kill

so it's because of this he sometimes get a little too wrapped up in his phone

price hates it, but really, what can you do?

he's young and likes being up to date on things, both in terms of pop culture and world news

side note, gaz would definitely be the best gossip buddy with soap coming in a close second and i will die on this hill

anyway

with gaz so wrapped up in his drinking and scrolling, he barely notices you and soap not so stealthily sneaking up to his table and planting yourselves across from him

eyes still planted on his phone, he reaches his hand out only to find that he can't seem to find purchase on the bottle of beer he'd opened not too long ago

cue him finally looking up from his phone just to see you and soap staring at him with huge smiles while you hold his half-finished bottle of beer hostage in your hands

much like the others on the team, he too is feeling the not so pleasant after effects of the mission so he's quick to put his phone down and stare back at you two with a glint of curiosity and mischief dotting his brown eyes

with all your sense of rationality dulled from the alcohol, soap's natural talent for getting into trouble, and gaz's carefree spirit, it doesn't take long for you three to start embarrassing yourselves

before any of you can really register what's happening, you each find yourselves leaned up against one another as you belt out the chorus to berlin's 'take my breath away' as the song plays from the speaker of gaz's phone

how you three ended up in this position? you're not quite sure

well

it may have had something to do with the extra shots of the fruity vodka you'd grabbed from the store shelf

maybe

but really, who even cares?

you're just happy to be here

and if the easy smiles plastered on the faces of the men beside you are anything to go by, they're happy to be here too

though right now they seem to be too busy fighting over a new song to sing along to

gaz wants '22' by taylor swift while soap is begging for the 'wellerman' sea shanty that went viral not too long ago

how he even knows about that, you're not sure

but as they continue to bicker over the next song they'll be singing along to, you look out the corner of your eye to see price stalking over, his gaze locked on the phone gaz and soap are fighting over

already knowing where this situation is heading from the few times it's happened before, you decide to get ahead of the situation

and by that, it just means you quickly detach yourself from the two men as you set your sights on someone else who just so happened to be brooding in the corner

simon 'ghost' riley

so by now i imagine that it's pretty common knowledge amongst the 141 that simon has a preference toward bourbon whiskey

so naturally you grab him a bottle of it while you were out filling up a cart with various types of beer and liquor

and if i'm being honest, i feel like ghost isn't too picky with what brand of whiskey you grab so long as it's bourbon

so when you stumble your way over to him, you're not at all surprised to see him shamelessly hogging the bottle of jim bean you specifically brought for him

what does surprise you is when he pushes out the seat beside him with his foot as he gives you a small nod of his head in a small gesture for you to take a seat

with the room starting to spin ever so slightly, you easily comply with his silent demand

you two sit in silence for a few moments before you sit up and reach for the bottle of whiskey sitting on the table

ghost doesn't seem to be on board with your line of thought however because this man does not hesitate in snatching the bottle from your eager hands before screwing the cap back on and setting it beside his chair on the floor

you just kinda stare at him with a mix of annoyance and betrayal as you say something along the lines of, "what the hell was that for?"

and this is where he just kinda narrows his eyes at you for a moment before motioning over to the middle of the room where gaz and soap are belting out the lyrics to 'hotel california' by the eagles while price seems to be taking a video of the two of them, a wide grin peeking through his well kept beard

once ghost is sure you've gotten a good look at the trio he'll turn back to you and say something like, "you're not roping me into any of that, no drinkin' when you're with me."

and as much as you wanna try to fight him on it to get just a few more sips, you eventually decide it against it and instead opt for slumping into your seat much to his amusement

the two of you sit and watch as price tries to reign in the mess that is gaz and soap before he eventually gives up in favor of capturing more videos on his phone he can use as future blackmail

the atmosphere gradually melts into a more peaceful one as gaz and soap begin to quiet their singing and move onto slow love songs that they seemed to have memorized by heart judging by the way they barely even look at the lyrics

who woulda thought

but it's at this moment ghost decides to make a comment

"you snuck a lot of alcohol over here"

and it's true, alcohol was strictly prohibited on base, it was something you and everyone else in that room knew

but having sobered up a bit since sitting with ghost you immediately thought he was gonna go into a lecture despite him hoarding a whole bottle of whiskey to himself

so naturally you open your mouth to offer your defense, but before you can even say anything he decides to cut you off

"not a bad move, kid"

wait what

you're confused

and he knows you're confused so he decides to elaborate, "place was dead 'fore you walked in with all that beer and liquor. you made 'em smile"

you frown, "what do you mean?"

he'll sigh and continue, "s not a secret that mission was fucked. thought you were all gonna have a hard time sleepin' tonight," he motions to the space where gaz and soap appear to be serenading price with god knows what song, "but that doesn't seem to be the case anymore, i think you'll all be alright now"

you tilt your head, "oh...i see"

the silence drifts over you two once more, but you decide to disrupt it

you turn to ghost with a questioning gaze, "what about you?"

he raises a brow as he glances at you, "what about me?"

you turn to face him fully, "are you gonna be alright?"

his movements come to a halt as he thinks your words over

would he be alright?

it's no secret that he's a bit more cold hearted than the rest of the team, but that doesn't mean he's no affected by any of it

he holds in a sigh as he glances over to gaz, soap, and price all smiling and joking around with one another before turning back to you

"long as you stick around, i think we're all gonna be okay, kid."

you grin at him

"i've grown on you, haven't i?"

he breathes out a small laugh, "i only keep you around for the whiskey"

you nudge his arm with your shoulder, "that's a yes, isn't it?"

he shrugs, "if you want it to be"

he holds back a small smile at the way you gleam before opening his mouth to speak, "you say anything to anyone and i'll–"

he doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence before you're bouncing off your seat and running over the group of three in the middle of the room chanting, "ghost said i'm his favorite!"

he leans back in his chair as he watches gaz and soap feign heartbreak at your declaration while price shakes his head in amusement

"no big deal," he thinks to himself, "i can always deny it"

even if it's completely true

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #mw2 2022 #cod mw2 imagine #cod mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 x reader #task force 141 #ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #platonic ghost x reader #john price #john price x reader #platonic john price x reader #captain price #captain price x reader #soap #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #platonic soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #platonic kyle gaz garrick x reader

[elysianholly]

This fucking guy

My villain origin story is people claiming that Riley's biggest crime in the series was being boring. He wasn't just boring. He was a passive-aggressive chauvinist who the show bent over backward to defend. A while back on Reddit, I made a list of reasons why Riley sucks. This is that list, and I'm adding to it.

The only reason he punches Parker is because Parker is mouthing off about a girl Riley likes. Everything about this interaction suggests that Riley has heard him say similar before, and hasn't cared until the woman in question was someone he had a vested interest in.

He calls Buffy stupid for not wanting to date him (if this guy slid into your DMs and called you stupid for turning him down, lbr, this would not lead into a healthy, lasting romance)

He immediately puts himself in competition with Buffy. Even at his most inoffensive, he says things like "I don't even know if I could take you."

He has an inherently chauvinistic view of the world (established in The Initiative)

He is upset that Buffy had a significant relationship before she knew him and assumes Buffy boinked Angel in The Yoko Factor

He uses abuser language to excuse his shitty behavior like, "I love you so much I can't think straight."

He decides that Buffy doesn't love him all by himself

When he decides that Buffy doesn't love him, he confides in Xander and doesn't communicate his relationship issues with Buffy

He wants to help Buffy but only in jobs that are "manly." In No Place Like Home, for instance, he nopes out when Buffy suggests he help with the spell to identify what might be wrong with Joyce. Even if there wasn't a lot for him to do, he could, idk, stick around to be moral support for his partner who is trying to figure out what might be attacking her mother. That seems like a pretty standard partner thing to do.

He gets upset that Buffy "doesn't get all worked up over him" the way she did with Angel when "getting all worked up" in CONTEXT means "isn't constantly miserable."

He is sad boi at Buffy in OoMM for also prioritizing her mother's health after she believes Riley is healed rather than sticking around to play nursemaid

He wants Buffy to show emotion over Joyce at a time when Buffy literally cannot (if you've never had a parent in the hospital with a life-threatening illness, maybe you don't know that there are times/places to break down and "in the hospital" where you're supposed to be strong isn't one of them)

He doesn't care that his girlfriend's mother is sick, possibly with something life-threatening; he cares that he got to be the hero of the piece, the shoulder for Buffy to cry on. His only reaction to any of that was to be hurt that Buffy didn't respond the way he thought she should; no concern for her well-being or Joyce's, just Riley getting his feelings hurt because he wasn't the center of Buffy's universe or the rock for her to lean on when all went to pieces

This is further confirmed by the way he just doesn't mention Joyce's absence at all in As You Were. When he leaves Sunnydale, it's after Joyce has had a successful operation. He returns and she's not there and no questions? No condolences? It's because he doesn't care.

He doesn't ask about Buffy's death when she lets him know she died.

He starts separating himself from the Scoobies and then gets mad for not being included

He literally cheats on Buffy with vampire sex workers (there are people who say they were not sex workers, but in a show where monsters are metaphors, you have to be especially dense or willfully obtuse to not realize this is what they are)

Riley intentionally puts himself in a position where he might be killed or turned specifically to SPITE BUFFY, which demonstrates his lack of consideration for what she might have to do later if things go bad

Riley blames Buffy for being roofied by Dracula (again, monsters as metaphor)

He never apologizes or owns that he was unfaithful

He blames his infidelity on Buffy, actually

The first time Buffy learns Riley isn't happy, she's told she should've seen it, which is classic victim blaming and happens from Xander AND Riley (and a good amount of fans who want to excuse that behavior)

He is fine with torturing sentient creatures, and in fact had a stake made specifically so he could torture vampires without killing them

He goes behind Buffy's back all the time

Riley was not boring. If he were boring, he would be inoffensive. Dull to watch but not rage-inducing. But he is rage-inducing because, despite all the passive-aggressive gaslighting bullshit he gets away with, people in this fandom still believe he was "Buffy's best boyfriend." That she was to blame for the deterioration of this relationship. That he was the healthiest of the Buffyverse men. The show does, too. That's why Xander (Wh*don's mouthpiece) gives that sanctimonious little speech to Buffy (the audience in this case) in Into the Woods to scold us for not treating Riley better. Then they double down in As You Were to make Buffy fawn all over herself to let this gaslighting asshole off the hook for everything he put her through.

Riley's sin is not being boring. It's that he was actually awful. Wh*don himself once called Riley a "healthy relationship" for Buffy, and if that doesn't tell you something, there's no talking to you.

#btvs #buffy #anti riley finn #anti buffy x riley #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy meta #btvs meta

[stsgooo]

What Once Was.

✩࿐ summary: you had numerous problems, but resting at number one was geto suguru.

warning(s): lovers to enemies to lovers(?), self-indulgent on a nuclear level, reader is kinda obsessed with geto, unrequited requited love, cult leader geto things, semi-jealous fem!gojo, SMUT MDNI. wc; 13.8k

pairing(s): fem!geto/fem!reader, (slight, slight, slight) fem!gojo/fem!reader.

a/n: hello hello everyone!! first of all, i'd like to apologize for my month long absence from writing. i got covid and then i lost, like, all motivation for writing. but im back now so yipppeee! secondly, happy new year!! (23 days later) happy for this to be my first fic of 2024. anyway, i always see wacuoms art on here and twitter and fem!geto makes my brain go brrr SO i drummed up this silly thing based on that specific art piece. you should definitely check out their art bc it’s so beautiful and just AH!!

m.list ao3

ADMITTEDLY, YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH HER HAD NEVER BEEN… RIGHT, TO SAY THE LEAST.

Even in highschool, you’d clung to her like she was a life raft in the middle of the ocean, the only thing keeping you from floating away, the only thing keeping you from drowning. Neither of you had really acknowledged it back then. Much too focused on fighting curses and just fooling around to truly place any type of label on things. It was peaceful then. Both of you are untouched by the horrors that would come.

Then she had rushed off with Gojo on that Star Plasma Vessel mission, beaming and promising she’d be back before you knew it. Only to return with a bloodied chest and sunken eyes as she proclaimed the girl was dead.

Then she hadn’t returned from that mission. She killed 112 people, vanishing into thin air. Leaving Gojo (and you) to clean up the pieces of her sudden and brutal departure.

Back then, you’d only held contempt for her.

From the moment Yaga had pulled you aside during training with a fourth year, looking you in the eyes, and uttered read this, you felt rage. You felt a never ending, unsettled rage that sparked deep within your gut and dared to set aflame those around you.

Five days after departure. 112 dead. Village left in ruins. Home empty, but residuals indicate murder.

Geto Suguru. Sentenced to death.

Finality of her fate for the rest of time was printed on a piece of paper and passed around jujutsu society like wildfire. Always to be a defector. Always to be a murderer. Long forgotten was the girl who used to curl up against you, uttering her worries into your back. The girl who would shyly offer her help whenever you were particularly stumped. Gone was the girl who had offered something different and true to you. Now, a murderer.

A murderer. The girl who had always said death needed to be justified, that things needed reason, was the very same that killed 112 people and promised to kill more. A murderer.

You never quite got used to people associating everything horrible with her. The updates you’d hear as your school life came to an end. Whispers of her wrong doings just never matched with the face and person you had known.

It messed you up for a long time. Her betrayal. Your relationships slowly dwindled away as you fell reclusive. Faces that you used to greet daily, grew further away. Your graduation was met with little fanfare. In fact, you’d only received a voicemail from Shoko informing you that it was over and done while you were on a mission. You drowned all the negativity and the hatred down with work. Quickly assuming your role as a “powerful sorcerer”. A joke, in your books. You’d never been as powerful as the others. Never as useful.

Her defection made you feel selfish.

There was an extreme amount of anger and frustration that you took out on others when it was all pinned on her. Burned some bridges between you and few. Most notably, you and Gojo. Both of you had been pent up with the rage of the betrayal and things had been said. It was almost easy to leave her one and only. To take a job at Kyoto and completely leave Tokyo behind like a nasty stain on your favorite sweater.

What was once home and family, was nothing more than a horrible reminder of what once was.

Time moved on. Life took you different places and you met new people. You matured more and you worked towards trying to appear more stable.

But she always lingered in the back of your mind.

Gojo, when the both of you were still on speaking terms, had brazenly described her as a breath of fresh air. The last bit of blue spring. A beautiful luminous skyline that kept you captivated. Words all so flippant and nonchalant as if it were fact that couldn’t be contested or questioned.

You agreed.

But, at the same time, you’d seen her in a different light.

She’d always been the setting sun. Something that would go away, no matter how much you begged for its light to hold out a little longer. Something that would display the most beautiful things, showcase art that no other could obtain, then so ruthlessly take it away. No matter how much you reached out for it, it’d never been within your grasp. When you thought of sunsets, you thought of her.

When you saw certain hair ties displayed in shops, you thought of her.

When you lay alone in the middle of the bed, you thought of her— butting her way in, her long legs tangling with your own as she claimed you hogged all of it to keep her close.

When you saw, you thought of her. You saw a lot. You thought a lot.

Shamefully, you thought of her a lot, even after eight years.

At 24, you’re supposed to be better.

Everyone seemed to figure it all out. How to avoid the topic of her. How to move on so quickly. How to avoid talking about the sorcerer from their class, their school, their group that snapped and went on a spree. How to avoid giving updates when the higher-ups are a little desperate for someone to go out and find her, to finally put a stop to her.

Everyone but you.

Your avoidance, your loophole from thinking about her, was to simply diminish her to her. Nothing else. Nothing less, nothing more. Just her. No name. No face. Nothing.

She’d left you. She never said goodbye to you. She told Shoko and Gojo goodbye. Went out and found them. But not you. She didn’t want to see you. She didn’t feel the same as you did. All of the things you reminded yourself to keep you sane, from thinking about her with rose tinted glasses.

It was easier that way. You’d been doing good at it too. No longer your friend. No longer the girl you might’ve felt more for. No longer the strongest. No longer a sorcerer. Just her.

Well, until you received this mission.

The higher-ups had called you to Tokyo and you instantly knew it wouldn’t be anything good. Finding yourself in the middle of a dimly lit room, they offered not any ‘hi’s, ‘hello’s, or ‘good morning’s. They’d opened with, Gojo Satoru is no longer in the country and we have something of great importance to be dealt with.

Promising. Not at all threatening, right?

No way.

If they couldn’t even have Gojo Satoru present in the country for this, it was definitely something they didn’t want her finding out about. Something that she’d definitely hunt you down and kill you over if it was something insanely extreme.

Despite your inner reassurances, you knew it was something you wouldn’t like either.

Still, you couldn’t outright say no. You weren’t as strong, you weren’t as brilliant, or as cunning, or important as Gojo. You were just… you. A girl from a far off village who was lucky to be born like this, to be found when she had. To see what you could see. You’d always been plain.

You were in no place to decline.

What exactly do you want done? You had asked with trepidation, sensing something heavy in the air.

What they said next hadn’t ever crossed your mind.

One of Geto Suguru’s members has been seen scoping out the area where a Special Grade curse has been reported. We’re under the impression that she’ll be going to the area within the next two days to claim it. We’d like for you to take this chance and execute her.

The moment the name left the old man’s mouth, three years of your youth burst through your mind like a raid. Blissful times. Happier times. Before everything. When she used to tuck your hair behind your ear. When her eyes would be bright and jovial as you explained something childish to her. When she would utter your name against your skin and press the most delicate of kisses against you. When Suguru—

Your world crumbled the instant the name filled your mind.

You’d broken your streak. Of not saying her name.

It’s probably why you didn’t hesitate to agree. As her name repeated in your mind— Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. All the wonderful and beautiful things that accompanied a name as sweet as hers. Ignoring the fact that you, when the moment came and the day called for it, would never be able to harm her. Much less execute her. You agreed.

They appeared relieved. As they thanked you for your time, for your cooperation. They promised you that you would be doing the world a service.

You were not so convinced as you bowed, then took your leave. Instead, you couldn’t help the burst of unnerving giddiness that waved over you.

It wasn’t long after you got home that you received an email including files upon files of information you’d have to stuff in your mind before going to the location. Long droning essays on the curse residing in the area, the area itself, and the type of person that had been nervously traipsing around a specific building taking notes. It didn’t really interest you, nor did you really take any of it seriously. A single photo of the person staking out the area appeared to be a young man, red cheeks, and wide eyes. He looked no older than 20.

It was well into the night, your fourth cup of some bottle of alcohol that's been sitting on your shelf for years, when you opened a file and saw her.

The first thing that caught your eye was the photo at the top. The picture was shitty. Grainy and taken from a distance, as if the photographer was in the midst of a large crowd, barely tall enough to get something decent. But it was enough to make your body lock up and your eyes to take in every detail of her endlessly.

She was older, much like you, her hair much longer, now adorned in a half bun with a single bang sculpting the right side of her face— much like how it would rest in your teen years. It appeared that she still had her gauges in, possibly a larger size than the last you saw of her. New piercings appeared to adorn her face, just above her eyebrow and on her bottom lip, a single ring on the right. She was just so… her. If it weren’t for the large robes that seemed to swallow her whole, making her appear small and approachable, you would’ve convinced yourself it was still your Suguru.

You read over the information gathered about her carefully. With much more attention than you had given to the special grade and skittish curse user before her. The file was filled to the brim with things she’d been up to for the past eight years—there were gaps here and there about what she’d been doing exactly, but you got the jist that none of it was necessarily good.

Almost immediately after her defection, she’d taken over the Star Religious Group. Something that brought you pause. You’d heard that name uttered here and there when you were younger. Especially from Suguru herself. As she got that hollow look in her eyes, staring distantly, she’d told you that the applause was neverending. When you asked who, she said them. The group. It made you wonder what could possibly possess her to take over the group and create it into— well, more of a cult. The information about it was far and few. Mostly detailed information about it was Suguru’s punishment for those she believed weren’t exactly useful, they most likely ended up dead and disfigured.

It appeared that most of her followers were either men hoping for some type of attention from her, women who were the same and willing to do more, or those who truly believed in whatever deranged thing she was passing around. There was a quite a list of men that had crossed some figurative line and detailed torture they endured because of their crimes in Suguru’s eyes— you didn’t let it sway you as you, wholeheartedly, believed they probably deserved it.

Another section detailed that she had a subgroup called “The Family”.

You were ashamed to acknowledge the heavy feeling in your chest. As you read about the members that were known— a man from Africa, a woman from Hokkaido, a blonde man of unknown origins— two girls. It seemed that this was something that caught the attention of not only you, but the higher-ups too. There wasn’t much information, but they seemed desperate to find some weakness with the woman. These two seemed to be it.

13 years-old, have not attended any schools, unknown birth origins, unknown curse technique. It seemed that Suguru had done good in keeping them secret, despite them being semi-known within the people that mattered.

Your heart beats erratically against your chest, your tongue darting out to moisten your lips. It’d been so long since you saw her. Not even a glimpse at a picture. You wished… Hell fucking no. You’re not doing this again. You’re not falling down this rabbit hole again.

Still, your heart ached. She had time for this family. She could tell Shoko and Gojo goodbye. But she never sought you—

You closed the tab instantly once the thought entered your mind. Downed the rest of your cup and pressed your fingers against your eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. All that time since you saw her. The amount of time since you stuffered all those pictures into the back of your attic, telling yourself you were done. The higher-ups ruin it for a botched execution.

It was in that moment, that you promised to exorcize the curse before she could ever get there.

An easy in and out. A fool proof plan that you drummed up drunk off your ass, and trying not to think about the teenaged you who would scoff at you now. You imagined her, happier and awestruck by a girl with a dazzling smile and heart of gold, standing over you and asking how you could possibly end up like this. When you and that girl of gold had promised an eternity of fighting curses together. She would be disappointed. As you were.

You decided, for the teenage versions of yourselves, you wouldn’t kill her. No, it couldn’t be you. Instead, you’d give her a sign. You’d kill that curse and it’d be a clear cut you’re being watched. She’d take the hint.

There had been a reason Suguru, red faced and teary eyed, had banned you from making plans in high school.

You arrived at the abandoned complex at 7PM.

After a long day of traveling, you were almost emotional to see it. But you knew what it meant as you stepped through the door. Another exhaustive fight that would leave you passed out on the train and the higher-ups giving you a lashing for failing so badly.

Your steps were light as you judged the area. It seemed abandoned and you didn’t see or feel any disturbances. Everything seemed in order. You whistled softly as you walked through the halls, searching each moldy and deteriorated room with the interest of a grandfather. It didn’t appear that there was any curse lingering. You were almost convinced you had the wrong address when you felt it.

It was something you didn’t acknowledge at first. Just as you approached the last step of the 12th floor. You felt this weight lift off your shoulders and you sighed contentedly. In an instant, everything felt okay. Like you weren’t about to have a quarter life crisis once this was done and over with. You pushed some of your hair back and just let your eyes droop as if a soothing lullaby was egging you into slumber. Bliss.

A beat.

Bliss, you realized with a shudder, was the last thing you should be feeling.

You felt a tug behind you. Last second, you whirled around to meet the eyes of the curse.

It was plump and red, an array of eyes staring at you alone. It almost resembled a strawberry as it floated feet in front of you. But its touch was not delicate or sweet, landing a hard ruthless blow in your gut that sent you flying back. Straight through an opposite wall and into one of the many abandoned apartments.

For a moment, all you could do was stare up at the ceiling with your ears ringing and head aching. You asked yourself, what the fuck am I doing? You should’ve told them to fuck off. Told them that you were not going to get yourself mixed up with whatever fucked ass shit Suguru was doing. You were done. You should’ve been more assertive.

But you were a coward.

You cursed to yourself as you dragged a languid hand up to your face. Pulling back to stare at the blood coating your fingers with a heavy sigh. You pushed yourself into a sitting position, swaying in your spot as your head grew dizzy. It didn’t take you long for you to realize your RCT wasn’t working. In fact, you had little to no cursed energy at the moment. An odd sensation of emptiness filled you with anxiety and you were suddenly reminded of what you read right before you saw her picture last night.

Along with the feelings of bliss, this curse can drain cursed energy from the user. Proceed with caution.

Maybe their true plan was to kill you all along. Who would even care?

Shoko could be semi-shocked, maybe. You hadn’t talked to her in years and the shock would primarily be rooted in the ‘wow, I haven’t heard from her in years. That’s awfully sad.’ way. In the best case scenario, she could show off your liver to an awfully curious student who wanted to know what alcoholism does to the body.

Nanami, possibly the only person that you kept contact with (which was only texts on holidays and whenever you had a question about locations), would say it was a shame and move on as if it was a bad game of football he lost a bet on.

Utahime would only cry because death is sad. And she would prattle on about how she knew you and could have possibly done something, if only she had known the job they were sending you on. In true Utahime fashion.

And Gojo.

Well, Satoru would probably roll her eyes and say something along the lines of— Go figure she’d die because of her own ignorance. Then make a poorly timed joke about your demise that would only get protests out of some faux respect for you.

It wasn’t nice. Or entirely comforting. Nor did you bring tears to your eyes. It was just your reality. Something you had accepted the moment you’d walked away from those you’d known.

It was just reality.

The strawberry-like curse was about to break through, with you accepting your death wholeheartedly, the hole in the wall when a loud roar vibrated off the walls to the right of the corridor. Both you and the curse had no time to process anything when a flash of something pounced by. The strawberry-like curse was suddenly out of your view with a loud screech. You could hear it fight against something, making feeble noises as they seemed to struggle against one another, but you couldn’t see anything except for the sudden pink mist filling the air. A last ditch effort at defending itself. But the thing that attacked it didn’t seem to care as it continued to growl.

You dared to inch closer to the hole and peek out.

Over the strawberry-like curse, tearing it to shreds, was a cat-like curse. Big. Much bigger than the other curse and definitely bigger than you. Huge talons coated in purple goop, pointed black ears, pure white coat, with purple and black swirls all around its torso. It looked vicious and you were suddenly worried that this was the true curse Suguru was after. Much better than a horny strawberry curse. Much more powerful too.

“Shame, I really was going to use that.”

It’s been eight years, four months, 16 days, and 30 hours since you last heard her voice. The last you had heard of her was a week before Yaga told you of her defection. She’d shown up at your door, black hair loose from its usual prim and proper updo, she asked if she could come in. You accepted without hesitation. She laid with you silently before she asked a question you thought about often: Do you ever see yourself being something other than a sorcerer? Back then, you hadn’t thought about it before you told her no. You told her that you were happy to continue doing this— it was what you loved. She stared at you long and hard that night. Then uttered that you were right.

The next day, Haibara Yu was killed.

Bitterly, you realized it hadn’t changed at all. Still sweet, still thick like honey, a trap for you to stumble and get stuck in. To cherish until the moment you perished.

You felt sick to your stomach as you refused to look over at her. You hadn’t heard her approach. Didn’t even sense anything, but that definitely had to do with the curse’s mist. She managed to sneak inside and now she was only feet away from you. You could feel her gaze. You had always been able to tell when she was looking, when she was prying open your head and trying to take a peek. It always made you feel hot all over, a tightness in your abdomen and a burn against your cheeks.

Now, it makes you queasy. Makes you sweat and shiver, goosebumps littering your skin.

“You know, people usually say thank you after you save their life.” She continued on as if this wasn’t hard. As if it wasn’t you and it wasn’t her standing in this abandoned building while a curse— her curse— devoured another. “But I suppose you were never one for manners.”

Is your lack of manners all natural or do you have to work extra hard to be like this? Suguru used to tease you after you were particularly difficult on a mission. Bumping hips with you, hand brushing against yours, eyes half crescents as she smiled. Her. Her. Beautiful.

She had been everything.

She’d been the one you sought out when you were much too jumbled for anything or anyone else. Been the first you opened up to, spilling all your secrets and worries into her ear. Been the first to hear it all and to touch you delicately, to embrace you so tenderly that you believed you were everything horrible.

She had been love.

But that was before she became a mass murderer. Before she promised a world without non-sorcerers. Before she had left you in the dust without so much as a glance. Before everything. That was your reality now.

You clenched your jaw, head tilted down as you weighed your options.

The cat curse was in the way of the exit, still devouring the other in a ruthless onset of hunger. You wouldn’t be able to get through it without your cursed energy, which you could only just start to feel slowly returning. She was blocking the hallway that led to the fire escape. Probably a deliberate choice and she probably wanted to attack you with these lack of escape routes she’d given.

The only option was the window behind you.

To jump and free fall from the 12th floor, then book it, hoping to get away fast enough. Your only hope was that you landed and didn’t break anything.

Your foot shifted, getting prepared to book it, when she spoke again and, effectively, stopped you.

“I wasn’t going to come today, but one of my people said they saw you, and…. Well, I’ll admit, I was a tad curious.”

Your ears rang.

She had come… specifically for you? She wasn’t even going to get this shit, but you had been there, and she came?

A part of you dared to grow hopeful. A part of you that you’ve tried to push down and ignore for almost a decade. A part of you that was insane and thought insane things. Dreamt of things that could never be. It was the side that was absolutely obsessed with her. The side that just wanted to consume her whole and for you both to become one. One side that would something wish you were a curse that she could swallow and summon at will. Your mind was soaring with wild things. Crazy things.

You tried to focus on something else. Like the fact that she regarded this as a purely curious endeavor. Curiosity was an interesting choice of word. You could be curious about anything. Like the sun and the moon. Or a bug. This situation felt more like a bug. Like she was holding a magnifying glass and watching your movements, adding pressure to you, seeing what you could handle. Next, she’d hold out the glass to the sun and scorch you alive.

In your state, you’d probably thank her.

You could see her shift in the corner of your eye, she drew closer to you, and you could just barely make out the end of her robes.

“Are you not even going to look at me?” She dared to sound sad. To sound a little teasing.

You were convinced that if you looked at her, you’d be blinded. That you could never possibly look away again. That you’d plead and beg for things she’d never give you.

She sighed something heavy, “You’re angry.”

Angry? You wanted to say, instead clenching your hands at your sides, I’m downright murderous.

You’re angry you’re even here.

You’re angry that the higher-ups believed you could do this.

You’re angry that Gojo didn’t dare to even try.

You’re angry that you can pick out her soft fruity perfume as it fills the air.

You’re angry that your heart still beats wildly at her mere presence.

You’re so fucking angry that she can stand there and talk to you like it was nothing. That it hadn’t been eight years. That you hadn’t been forced to suffer alone without her.

Yeah, you’re angry.

Your eyes snapped away as the cat curse purred, making its way back down the hallway. You took a step back from the hole, fearful it’s pounce on you next. However, it kept walking, until it was by her side. You watched as it rubbed its face against her side, purring and mewling softly as she delicately ran her fingers through its fur. Her hands were bigger than you remember. Her long fingers carded through the fur gently, black painted nails a stark contrast to the white of the beast.

“I’m not going to fight you….” Yet, remained unspoken. It appeared to be completely up to you on whether or not you two would end up in a brawl. “I’m just here for a chat.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You spoke before you could think, before you could stop yourself.

She seemed to pause. Her hand froze momentarily in the fur, before it shakily began once more. “I knew you were angry.”

That only pissed you off more.

“Angry? Of course I’m angry! Here you are, after eight years, just popping in like it’s fucking nothing. Like this isn’t the cruelest thing you’ve ever done.” You retorted, your hands clenched tight at your sides as you deliberately stared at her tabi clad sandal covered feet. You couldn’t look her in the eye. You couldn’t see her face. It’d be over. You couldn’t.

She faltered once against, then seemed to take her chances, taking a step towards you. “I wanted to see you.”

Eight years too late. You thought.

You scoffed, jaw clenched, “Yeah, right, you didn’t want to see me eight years ago, why would you want to see me now?”

“Eight years ago—?”

“You went to everyone that mattered and said goodbye. You explained yourself to them and then you vanished. But there wasn’t a goddamn word for me?” You felt pent up anger and sadness from over the years conjured up once more. Nights you had spent curled up alone in bed after her defection, staring into the darkness, while the endless string of thoughts about your value and worth replayed in your head. It crushed you. The reality of it all. “Me? It told me exactly what I meant to you.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I cared about you much more than you ever cared about me. It was always you and Gojo, I just butt my way in.” You continued in an overflow of thoughts that you never dared to speak aloud. You figured, if this was the last time you saw each other, then you’d lay it all out. “I just wanted you to say something, but it made me open my eyes when you didn’t say a word. I learned my lesson.”

A beat.

“Really?” Her tone is flat, almost sarcastic as she regards you. “And what was that lesson?”

“Don’t assume your place in someone’s life.”

There was a prolonged silence between you both and you thought that she just might walk away. But you were pleasantly surprised when she chuckled. A deep and low sound that echoed off the walls and converged back on you. Goosebumps formed on your arms and there was a distinct shiver down your back.

“You don’t change, do you?” Her voice is thick with amusement and something oddly unidentifiable mixed in there.

You’re unable to answer. Had you really remained the same after all these years?

Suddenly, you’re broken from your thoughts as warm and soft hands slip to either side of your face, pulling your head upwards and you finally make eye contact with her for the first time.

The light brown warm and welcoming, an old home that called to you now as you stared at her with wide eyes. The bags that had tainted her under eye those years ago were non-existent now. Instead, wrinkles at the corner of her eyes adorned her features. You were half tempted to reach out and trace them, take them into your memory.

A sickness fills your gut as you take her in completely.

The blurry picture some informant took didn’t do her justice. It didn’t capture the warmth of her eyes, or the spread of her lips, the charming nature of it all. She looks better, healthier, than she had when you last saw her. Cheeks are full when they used to be sunken, fingers and arms no longer boney as they once were, she filled her clothes now, surely. Your eyes take in the new piercings that litter her face now. Two on her bottom lip, three on both of the upper lobes of her eyes. Her hair was longer and appeared to be silk like, still tied up in a half up bun, it was almost too familiar. The only thing that was different was the sharp smirk on her lips and her clothes.

Heavy robes, almost that of a monk, that seemed to swallow her large frame whole. The only place that seemed to be strained was her upper breasts, cleavage peeking from the fabric. Something that would surely bring shame to other monks, but pleasure to you.

Your little mass murdering ex.

“Ah,” Suguru breathed, eyes brightening considerably when you seemed to completely take her in, “Long time no see.”

You wanted to keel over right there. To fall to the ground and have your soul float upwards into oblivion. You might just die happy.

“....Suguru…” Your hand shakily wraps around her wrist, clutching onto her tightly.

Her eyes are almost manic, staring down at you as her fingers gently stroke against your cheek. “You think I didn’t see you because I didn’t care about you? You’re an idiot.” Her words are slow and deliberate, a tone that you would use on a petulant child. The tips of her nails dug into your cheeks as she squeezed them together, jerking your forward. You’re so close that you feel her hot breath fan across your skin. So close you could smell the faint scent of the mints she’d pop whenever she’d absorb a curse. It was dangerous to be so close, to be so vulnerable and under her touch. But you couldn’t pull away now, not waiting all this time just to see her. “I did everything I did because I do care about you.”

Your mind draws blank as your hold on her slackens, “You do…?” You whisper, words jumbled by the press of your cheeks.

Her eyes bounce from your own to your puckered lips, something dark residing deep within her soft hued irises. “You calling me a liar?” She loomed over you now, your back straining to keep her in your line of sight.

“I don’t know you anymore, Suguru— it’s been eight years. You’ve killed people, innocent people.” You attempt to keep your voice concise and level. To be the voice of reason in this mind numbing situation. But you can tell by her expression that you didn’t help.

She looks unimpressed, maybe even disgusted, by your words. “Innocent? They’re all as innocent as the serpent tempting Eve.” She drew you even closer, your breasts pressing against her own, the soft flesh smashed between the both of you. Her manic expression only grows more feral as she stares down at you. “They all have blood on their hands and they’re allowed to walk around without knowing what they’ve done. The amount of sorcerers that’ll die just for them to remain ignorant. Never having to know the kids, the people, that their emotions have killed. Those monkeys—”

In an instant, you were glaring up at her, “I didn’t come here to talk about your insane fucking ideals, Suguru! Now, either talk like a normal sane person, or this is done.”

She faltered.

She had the gall to look caught off guard, before masking her expression with a kind grin. She pulled away from you, her nails leaving deep red crescents in your skin. It almost burned, but your heart beating against your ears (and between your legs), distracted you from the gentle pain.

Suguru tucked her hands into her sleeves, her eyes closing as she bowed respectfully. “I apologize. I can get rather carried away with my thoughts.” The sudden shift in tone and the air was almost whiplash. It was crazy to see how easily she could go from crazed excited rage to this respectable monk offering her sincere apologies. It made your head spin. “I don’t mean to anger you.”

You eyed her for a long moment. Watched the way she kept her position. She didn’t falter or twitch. Just remained bowed.

“Why are we here?”

“I assumed you were sent here to execute me.”

With the nail hit on the head, you tensed.

This only dragged a scoff from her, a twinge of bitter amusement there. “Rather foolish on their part— thinking you of all people would kill me.”

It felt like a jab on your abilities. It was definitely a jab on your abilities.

“I could.” You childishly retort.

Suguru’s pierced brow raises, a twinkle in her eye that you could identify from your teenage years, “You could? Really?” She repeated, and it sounded terribly incredulous. “You’ve just had your cursed technique— which you could barely do anything with the last time we saw each other, by the way— leached away by a curse. You’re horribly banged up. I don’t think you could throw a straight punch even if you wanted.”

“I could kill you, if I really wanted— but I don’t do shit just because someone says so.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Suguru laughed.

She laughed and laughed. She laughed loudly. Hard enough that her head was thrown back, eyes closed. Her chest heaved as her arms wrapped around her midriff. The sound was wheezy and sharp, would’ve been mocking if it weren’t for the familiarity of it.

A sound that you hadn’t realized you missed until this very moment.

It was a heavy realization. Just how much you missed Suguru.

The tiniest of things that you had taken for granted as a child. Her laughs, her smiles, the little twitch in her hands whenever she wanted to do something, but hesitated. It made you think about all the things you had missed that year. The frowns and the distance in her eyes— the amount of times you had asked what’s wrong and let her slip by with a simple nothing too important. There were many things you should’ve done in order to hold onto and cherish those little things you once loved dearly.

You resisted the overwhelming urge to cry as you clenched your jaw, swallowing down any of the tears. You wouldn’t do this. Not here. Not in front of her.

“You really haven’t changed,” Suguru said breathlessly, calming down from her laughing fit to address you once again. “It warms my heart— to see you untouched by time.”

Untouched.

Untouched.

Untouched?

You were, arguably, one of the most touched people by the slut of time. You had suffered and agonized every day for years. To say you were unchanged, untouched, it was almost like her spitting in your face.

“Then you don’t know me.” You flatly reply.

Her amused expression falters. “Hm?”

“These have been the worst eight years of my life. The amount of shit I’ve been through to even be talking to you now— it’s been insufferable. I have changed. A lot. I have changed in ways that I didn’t even know were possible and it’s been the worst experience.” There was a spark of rage in you as you reached out and pushed her back. She didn’t move to stop you, but she didn’t even stumble at your ‘attack’. She just stared and stared. “Just because you couldn’t, what— stop being angry? News flash, Suguru, we’re all pissed off at the world, but we can’t do anything about it!”

“You could,” Suguru said quietly after a moment’s pause, “Any of us could do something about it. There’s just no opportunity from that place. They restrict you, put you in a box.”

If anyone hadn’t changed, it was Suguru. Who appeared and sounded like she was just as self assured as she was eight years ago.

Instead of arguing over something you know neither of you would budge on, you turned towards the stairs.

Your swift exit would be the best option. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be passed between the both of you that would change the fact that Suguru was sentenced to death— and you were left behind. The realization made you sigh softly through your nose, dragging your feet as you walked away. She made no move to stop you, not even asking what you were doing, it seemed you both agreed—

“I didn’t seek you out because I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

Her words made you pause once again.

You faltered in your step and your eyes were unwavering as they peeked at her from over your shoulder. Her head was held high, face unmoved, but her eyes… her eyes carried something heavier.

“Huh..?” You uttered.

Suguru took a deep breath, “I knew that if I told you goodbye, you would’ve done something stupid, like try to convince me to come back or say that it was a mistake. O-Or you would’ve thought that you could’ve done something to stop me.” I still thought that. I still believe that. I still imagine myself finding you and dragging your stubborn ass back. “I didn’t say goodbye because I thought…. Well, I thought it was a mercy.”

“A mercy?” You frown heavily at her, “A mercy from what?”

“From heartbreak.”

There was a moment of silence between you two that you dragged on for three minutes.

A mercy from heartbreak.

It almost made you laugh. How absurd the notion was— that her not speaking a word to you somehow spared you from any pain. That you wouldn’t feel the effects of her sudden disappearance just because she didn’t speak to you. It was an optimistic view on it. It was too hopeful. It was selfish.

So you just sharply laughed.

The sound was so sudden that you were almost tempted to jump. As Suguru does, blinking at you to stare at you with vague curiosity. You hadn't expected it yourself. It wasn’t a planned action, nor did you have any opportunity to stop yourself. It just happened. As abruptly and sudden as this situation.

Suguru’s thin brow raised, “What’s so funny?”

“You,” Was the immediate reply as you recovered, taking deep breaths, “Just…. A mercy. You’ve always been so interesting, Suguru. Your concept of sparing me from all those nasty feelings is so..”

“So what?” Suguru’s voice is flat as she regards you, seemingly unamused by this sudden shift in mood from you.

You shoot her a look, “Naive.”

“Naive?”

“Terribly. The fact that you genuinely believe I would’ve rather not heard from you at all to save myself the heartbreak is naive, Suguru.”

Her nose scrunched. “I was sparing you—“

You scoffed, “Sparing me? What am I, some-some damsel in need of saving?”

“A conversation wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“All I wanted was you to say goodbye.”

“You would’ve been devastated—“

“I was devastated when you didn’t even see me!” You reached out and slapped her shoulder. She remained unmoved. Not surprising given her wide stature and statue-like physique. “Do you know what it was like, waiting for you to stumble around and tell me anything? To hear from Gojo or Shoko that you saw them but I wasn’t even worth it? I waited weeks— months for anything. I would’ve taken a card saying anything. Hell, you could’ve been like, surprise! I killed those people. See you never xoxo! And I would’ve taken it. I would’ve sucked it up and swallowed my pride. But you didn’t say a word, Suguru. Not a single thing. That’s what devastated me.”

Suguru blinked slowly, staring at you from over nose as she seemed to blankly contemplate her next words. “A conversation wouldn’t have changed my decision.” She repeated, except it was more firm.

You take in a shaky breath, “I know that.”

“No, you don’t. I can see that you don’t.” Suddenly, Suguru’s hand raised, hesitating, before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I honestly didn’t haven’t anything right to say to you. Anything that came to mind, it just… it wasn’t right. I wanted it to be right with you.”

You tried to ignore the erratic beat of your heart and the heat rising to your cheeks as you stared up at her. “I would’ve taken anything.”

“You deserved more than some empty words I would’ve given. you then.”

A part of you truly did wonder what she could have told you then to comfort you. A part of you knew that you probably would’ve tried to convince her to come with you. To try and make amends with a system she despised. Or maybe it would’ve been carnage and your rage would’ve gotten in the way. Maybe it was best that you two hadn’t talked then.

Still, that teen in you had wished desperately for her one last time.

“My conversation with Satoru… she told me to stay away from you,” Suguru continued when you didn’t speak, “She said that one of us would probably do something incredibly dumb.”

Your eyebrows shot upwards, “Like what?”

Suguru rolled her shoulder, a distant look in her eyes, “I don’t know. Something dumb.”

“We were never the smartest together.”

“I suppose.”

The conversation waned and you suddenly noticed that Suguru’s curse was gone along with the strawberry. Probably both fell away into the recesses of whatever deep dark pit they were all nestled in. Waiting to be coaxed out, waiting to obey and impress their master by any means necessary.

It almost reminded you of high school.

Your desperate attempts at catching her eye. Gaining attention from the angelic girl that sat two seats over. Pathetic battles you placed yourself smack dab in the middle to show off and impress her with your silly fighting style. You were so painfully obvious and embarrassing back then. As if you were one of her curses, bound and promised to serve her. Fight for her, live for her, breathe for her. A loyal dog. Gojo had called you that once.

Shamefully, you acknowledged that same sense of loyalty lingered in the air now.

Why else would you drag yourself to this place? Killing a curse before she could get it just to send a message? Why would you want to warn the psycho killer that inhabited the body of your first…something eight years after she completely abandoned you?

Loyalty and need.

Suguru, larger than life, had you even after all these years.

Eight years wasn’t nearly enough time to lay her memory to rest.

“I’m not going to fight you,” Suguru spoke once the silence dragged on for almost too long. Her hands were tucked into her large sleeves, a peaceful expression on her face with something prowling in the darkness of her eyes. “You can return and tell them I caught you off guard while you were attacking the curse. That I got the upper hand. It’s the easiest way to explain why we’ll depart largely unscathed.”

You tried to ignore the way her eyes trailed up and down your body, taking in the wounds scattering your skin. Instead, paying more attention to her words. Which were more kind than you expected.

“I’m sure they’ll ask you questions. Just act dumb, you were always good at that when we were in trouble.” Then she turned towards the stairs.

She was walking away from you again.

Her back turned. Long black tresses swaying across her back. Shoulders tight and straight. Respectable.

She was walking away from you again.

Suguru! You had called out softly that day. Much younger and much dumber than you were now. Her back had faced you then. You thought nothing of it. Despite how much you longed to stare at her face, you hadn’t doubted you’d see it again. I didn’t even hear you leave. Will I see you later?

Suguru had released something soft then, peeking over her shoulder at you, Later.

She had walked away from you.

She never came back.

She was walking away from you.

There was no coming back.

You just needed a moment longer. Just a little more time to drag out the various things you’d imagined in the eight years she’d been absent. To satisfy some sick twisted part of you that longed, that yearned, that held onto her memories so dearly. The delusional part of you that believed things could be the same in some distant universe.

She was walking away.

She’s not going to come back. She wasn’t even giving the illusion that you both would see each other again.

She was walking away.

What are you going to do? You can’t let her go. Not after you’d gotten a taste of the girls you once were. Not that you’d felt her and—

She’s walking away!!!

“They know about those kids.”

You’re not entirely sure why you said that specifically. Probably something to do with the fact that was the original warning you wanted to convey with this whole thing. It just kinda came out. There was no putting it back in.

However, watching Suguru’s back stiffen, rigid and almost unnatural, as she paused in her steps, you realized you wanted to put it back in.

“Excuse me?” Her voice was different. Flat and unwelcoming, hard and unforgiving. She moved her head to regard you with the words you’d just spoken. They were darker than before. Guarded.

You keep your expression carefully open, trying to convey that you weren’t threatening her, “There’s moles in your congregation. They’re watching you and your family. They’re trying to find your weakness and they’ve started to set their eyes on those girls.” You pushed out in one breath.

Suguru pauses for a long moment, jaw tweaking and lips pressed thinly, “And I assume you saw what they had?” Her tone was still cold, still stiff.

You nod, “Yes. It’s very small, very limited. But they have some type of knowledge.”

Suguru faced away once again, her arms at her side and hands clenching. “Goddammit.” She hissed under her breath.

“I just wanted to give you that, uh, warning, so…” You cleared your throat, awkwardly swaying your arm. “Be careful.”

Suguru didn’t look amused or entirely receptive to your words. She suddenly turned around and glared at you. “How much do they know?” She sounded a bit frantic under the firmness of her tone.

“Just that they’re young. That you’ve had them around for a while. But they don’t know their technique or really anything about them.”

“It’s still too much. They know too much.”

“I’m sorry.” You uttered, as if you were the one that had caused all of this.

Suguru raised an eyebrow, “For what?”

There were a lot of things. Many things that you felt responsible for. Primarily—

“I’m sorry I wasn’t enough to stop it.”

Suguru’s complexion paled and she looked unbearably uncomfortable. “Stop what?”

“I never…There must’ve been something I could’ve done for you.”

Her expression grew firm and she released a heavy sigh. “I already told you, there isn’t anything that could’ve—”

“Deterred you from your path, I know. But—” Suguru let out an unbearable noise as if you were causing her great pain. Your own expression tightened up woefully. “But I still wished you were there. That-That you stayed and I could help.”

“You realize that I would’ve been miserable, right?”

“Was I really that bad at helping you?”

“No, I just…. No, you were the only thing keeping there until….”

Until it wasn’t enough. It lingered in the air and, for once, you realized that your apology was warranted. That your teenage self had tried to push down the despair with smiles and jokes. By lingering in her space, doing everything with her. Try to drag her from the recess of her mind.

It wasn’t helpful. Not when it really mattered. Not when it should’ve.

You weren’t there when she was hurt. You weren’t there when she was spiraling. And you were basically nonexistent.

“You and Satoru— you’ve always had your complexes. Whether you realize it or not.” Suguru continues on, eyes unwavering on your face. You’re suddenly hyper aware of the space and distance between you. Large and apparent. An obvious fissure separating you both from one another. “You wanted to save me. You still do. But you can’t.”

"Is it so bad that I just wanted you next to me?" You asked desperately, subconsciously inching forward.

"No, but it's bad that you still do." Suguru said honestly, a terrible thing flashing across her expression that was so vulnerable and so raw. It reminded you of days kinder and younger than you both now.

You scoff in reply, shaking your head and ignoring the flare of heat that covers your cheeks.

"You are loyal to a fault." She continues, eyeing you tenderly as she seemingly accepts her twisted perception in your life. "But it's misplaced. You have to accept that. I'm not coming back."

Your chest aches and your hands clench at your sides, nails creating crescents in your palms as you close your eyes. "Suguru—"

Suddenly, your hands are captured in a large embrace. Long fingers wrapped around your considerably smaller ones. Warm and tender, they had always been warmer than your hands. As if she were the sun and your the cold, desolate moon. Her fingers gently pried the unbearable grip you had on yourself and instead caressed her soft tips against the crescents marring the butt of your palms now.

You dared to drag your eyes upwards once again and meet her eyes. Her gaze is soft, unrelenting, and unbearably kind. Honey glazed eyes staring into your endless pits. Much too bright for the criminal. Something stares back at you. A pleading glint in there that you recognize from a days long passed. A call for the piece of you still holding on to a memory of her.

How am I, a lowly idiot, supposed to accept that you, an angelic figure, left me behind? When you look at me like that? You think, heart aching as you clasp onto her hands.

There's something twitching on your face and you're mortified to find it's a smile.

Suguru lets out a guttural sound, almost as if she'd been punched. "I can't do this." She utters between you both, but it's more directed to herself. Her eyes frantically skimming over your every feature. She seemingly absorbed something she found in your eyes. She spoke louder, "This is driving me crazy."

You blink lazily, "Huh?"

You have to tilt your head upwards to keep your gaze on her wavering face, crumbled and desperate. Her grip on your hands tightens as her tongue darts out to wet her plump lips. "I came here as a last send off to you."

Foolishly, you realize, you came for the same, "Me too."

"Would it be so wrong to..." You're suddenly jerked forward, pressed against her as the hunger in her eyes grows. One hand slides from your own and presses against your cheek, warm and welcoming. "Would it be bad for one last time?"

"No." Is your immediate answer.

"No, no, it wouldn't." She mutters, leaning forward, "I'm terribly greedy."

"You deserve to be."

Suguru lets out a breathless sound as both your lips meet.

It makes so much sense for Suguru to kiss the way she does— eager, but tender, excited. but careful. The soft press doesn't even attempt to hide how much she truly wanted this.

A feeling blossoms throughout your body as you capture her lips into your memory once again. Fuller and more experienced than those years ago, she moves gently as if to take this in carefully. Both of you slipping into one another as if two puzzle pieces newly found and a perfect match.

Suguru's kisses were much like her personality— rumbunctious, sweet, and calm. She kisses like she was breathing life into you. Like she was the representation of everything beautiful and good. All of it makes you snake your arms around her shoulders, around her neck, and pull her closer. Please, please, don't go away now. Don't leave me like this. You silently pleaded.

She obliged, her own hands snaking down your waist and resting over your tender flesh, fingers digging into your sides. Pressing you closer against her own body.

Suguru's lips are wet, and plump, and sweet, and you might just die right there. You were close enough that you could smell the sweet perfume clinging to her clothes much like you were.

Pressed against her, her fingers grabbing at you, lips warm and parting with wet clicks, heavy breaths in between. Her eyes watch you from heavy lids, a slight red hue brushed over her cheeks and bridge of her nose. It was like a desperate pull to continue, to not part until it was absolutely necessary.

There's something terribly serious and hungry in Suguru's gaze that makes your heart beat erratically and a ball in your gut tighten. Her lips twitched upwards. Then, she was pressing a wet kiss against your neck, pulling back only the slightest to speak,

"You're so beautiful." Another kiss, then nip.

You straighten, eyes falling closed as you release a small noise. A tingling wave of pleasure shot down your spine and into that needy place between your legs. An aching feeling filled with desperation making you reach out and twist your hands into her silk hair. Tugging as she needily licked and nipped at the pulse beating against her tongue.

You tried to remain calm. Tried focusing on the hot metal that was wrapped around her bottom lip. The way it had softly clicked against your teeth as she hungrily chased after your lips. Or the way they pressed against your skin now, smooth and a stark contrast to the mess that was Suguru's movements.

She trailed her lips from your collarbone, up, up, and up to your jaw where she nips it, running a soothing kiss against it once she was done. The noises that left you were embarrassing, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care much as she moved back to bring her lips against your own. Soft and tender. Speaking more than she could possibly convey with words.

Suddenly, you push forward, absorbing Suguru's shocked whimper with your erratic and feverish lips. The woman was clearly caught off guard by your sudden eagerness, but gave no complaint as you pushed her towards the floor. You possessively grab onto her thigh, the fabric of her robes pooling at the junction of her thigh and revealing the skin under it. Soft and warm, you squeeze and bring it to wrap around your waist as you lean over her. Her hands pressed against your cheeks and opened her mouth to allow you to desperately lap at the warmth. Frantic hands moving to gently open up her robes and expose her to you and you alone.

Your fingers reached between the heavy pooled fabric, basking in the way Suguru gasps against your lips at your touch. You lower and lower and—

The fabric is like silk.

Your eyes open, pulling away with a loud smack, you stare dumbfounded at the sight under you.

Suguru, whether specifically for this or just a daily occurrence (something that made you dizzy, wore a pink-ish purple set. Elaborate bra that was sheer, see through and proudly displaying her large breasts to you adorning two distinctly new piercings on each nipple. Lower, she wore stockings and a garter, wrapped around her middle thigh that was almost swallowed whole by the fat. The stockings made your brain fuzzy as you ran the tip of your finger against it. Electricity shooting all over your body as you dragged and dragged.

Her panties made your brain short circuit completely.

They were completely see through. They left nothing to the imagination as slick seemed to collect into the fabric, vaguely making out the way her clit jumped and pulsed with her pants. You resisted the urge to cry as you spotted the Christina piercing resting just above her hood. Glittering along with her cunt, it presented itself like a beautiful jewel for a king— or, more appropriately a queen.

Awestruck, you reached out and ran your finger over her lips, listening to her whimper and watching as she clenched around nothing.

“You’re more gorgeous than I remember.” You mutter, tilting your head as you stroke her once again.

Suguru lets out a breathless laugh, eyebrows furrowed, “You callin’ me ugly, princess?” She whispered, sounding equally as teasing as she was drunk on whatever chemicals were running through her body now.

You snap your eyes to her, tense as you pause in your menstruation, “No, you’ve always been beautiful to me, Suguru— I-I just… You’re so…” Gorgeous? Amazing? Breathtaking? Show-stopping? There were too many words you could use to describe her now. Too many things running through your tiny mind in that moment to truly grasp one.

Suguru’s lips were upturned, “So…?”

You were much too distracted to care about continuing your previous statement. “I want to… Fuck—“ You jerked forward, feeling lightheaded as you licked your lips. “I really, really want to touch you.”

“What are you waiting for?”

You didn’t wait for much more before you were kissing her swollen lips again. Your arm stretched to pushed past her panties and to greedily press against her.

Eagerness overtakes you as you run your pointer and middle finger through her lips, grazing her hole, then bringing the slick back to her clit to roll a lazy circle over it— Suguru gasps softly. Lips parted and face scrunched as you press. You watch in awe as she closes her eyes, tilting her head back as your movements grow precise and smooth.

You were convinced you were touching a piece of heaven. Her cunt was as soft and delicate as the rest of her. The wetness collected their almost made it silk-like. A gentle place that you tainted by brushing her hole and grinding the butt of your palm against her aching clit.

"God, just—" Suguru growled, jaw clenched as you tease her hole again with shaking fingers. "I swear, if you don't just put them in m— ngh!"

Your two fingers pushed in and Suguru grinds against your palm as she moans. A prominent blush now dusting her cheeks. Almost like she was embarrassed.

"You're so sensitive," you say, breathless, "are you embarrassed, Suguru?"

Suguru manages to conjure up an annoyed look, that make you grin in response. So you're a bit mean, that wasn't anything new. But it felt so refreshing in this setting. The fact that she was under you now and looking so... so her. It made you dizzy and reminiscent.

"You know you're unfairly gorgeous." You start to gently thrust your fingers, listening to the squelch and feeling her tighten around you with a pant. "Even your pussy is gorgeous."

Suguru lets out something akin to a laugh, but is quickly masked by the breathless sigh she releases. "Are you going to talk all night or fuck me?"

You try to keep your head on straight as you smirk down at her. "I just want to take my time."

Suguru huffs, but continues to roll her hips to meet with your hand. It's almost too much. The way she squeezes around you and sucks you closer. The way she whimpers and moans, yet tries to keep that serious mask over her face. It all drives you insane. You wanted nothing more than to watch her come undone under you.

Much to both of your disappointment, you pull away from her.

"Don't tease me— c'mon." Suguru paws at your shirt (now rumpled and unbuttoned), whiny and desperate as she stares up at you. "We've waited so long."

Your heart almost shatters, swallowing a thick lump that forms in your throat— you didn't want to think about any of that. Any of the bad things that happened between now and then.

With a hazy mind, you tug Suguru's panties off, throwing them in an unknown direction. Your hands rest against her open thighs, basking in the way she drips onto the robes below her, glittering under the soft light leaking from the window down the hall.

"Well," Suguru starts, a grin on her lips, "go on."

Like all those years ago, you don't hesitate to obey her command.

You lean down and place a kiss just above the hood of her clit. Closing your eyes as she lets out a gentle noise, her fingers finding home in your hair and clenching. Then, you lick a stripe from her hole up to her clit, wrapping your lips around the enlarged bud.

"Oh!" Her tone falters into what sounds like a mewl.

You suck and nip, coarse tongue swirling against the aching twitching bundle of nerves. Slipping two fingers into your hole, you try to focus on the way she writhes and presses your head closer.

A hoarse moan bounces off the wall as Suguru's wall clench more erratically against your fingers. Closer and closer. You curl them upwards—

"I've missed you. I've missed you so damn bad." The curse user babbles, drunk off the feeling coursing throughout her body from that spot of plushy flesh your petting. Chasing after the nearing edge that made her tingle and whimper. "Never want to leave you— never want to miss you again."

You draw in a breath as you reach down and start to finger yourself as you pick up the pace with Suguru.

You ignore the buildup in your eyes, the undeniable build up of pent up emotions almost taking over. You clench your eyes closed, trying to not think of it all. Of how badly you had missed her— missed this. Your mind repeating the lonely nights where you had only ever wanted her beside you. The days that you wished it was instead you running amuck, leaving death in your wake, and her in Tokyo. Enjoying a cushy job with people who actually love her.

Maybe that was more tolerable than the truth.

Your mind was filled with her. Your senses, all of it— Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. It wasn't possible to think or feel anything that wasn't her.

Please, please, please, Suguru pleads from her place. Sobbing as she tugs your hair, grinding against your mouth.

Her thighs are glistening with her own juices and your spit. Covering your own face and skin as well as you desperately swirl your tongue against her as if it was singlehandedly keeping you alive. You lick a firm stripe across Suguru one more, making her cry out and arch her back. You feel yourself grow closer as she babbles on about how good you are and how much she's missed you.

"You're all I think about," she gasps and cries, "all I ever needed."

As you clenched around yourself, you moan around her. Suguru sharply gasps, then, suddenly, her walls are pulsing around your fingers and her clit is spasming against your tongue. You watch from your place as her face scrunches up with pure bliss, lips parted to release the prettiest sounds you've ever heard, faint blush dusting across her entire body.

Your close behind with your own earth shattering, white noise inducing orgasm. Your grip on her unrelenting and surely to leave some type of mark to remind her of you later.

When you slowly come down, you realize that Suguru has pulled you down to lay on top of her robe with her. Staring at you hazily, swollen glistening lips, and that beautiful glow on her face.

"You're crying," Suguru whispers, reaching up to brush away the salty tears with the pads of her thumbs. "Was it too much?"

You're not entirely sure exactly what it was. An assortment of things. Things that made your chest ache and the love you felt almost unbearable. How were you meant to tell someone you had just ate out, that was laying next to you, wiping away your tears, that you missed them? You missed her, but she wasn't even really gone yet.

"I don't...I don't want to lose you again, Suguru." You admitted in a breathless whisper, eyes unwavering as you stared at her sad expression— both of you knowing what would happen. "Please."

"I can't come back." She stated, shaking her head. "Not after everything. No one would want me back."

"I want you back— we want you back."

"Not the people that matter."

You couldn't deny the horrible pang that spread throughout your chest and into your bottomless stomach. Not the people that mattered. Not you. Never you. You weren't enough—

"Hey," Suguru's hold on your face was firm and she brought you back from your mind. "Even if I wanted to come back, the higher-ups wouldn't ever joke about it. I'd be executed. Like you're supposed to be doing."

You sniffle, "Whatever, who cares what they think, anyway?"

There was a prolonged silence as you both just laid with one another. Staring at the crumbling ceiling above you with contemplative frustration. She was right, the higher-ups wouldn't even think about it before ordering her execution to proceed. Then you'd have the guilt of her death weighing you down.

Maybe she was better off far away from you. Far away from the world she hated so badly. Happier in her own world, with the family she created. Two little girls and three randoms that somehow found their way in her inner circle. You wished you couldn't be jealous. Detest them for so easily staying in her life. But you were selfish. You were mean.

There was a reason Suguru left you behind, this you were sure of.

"I would've told you that I loved you."

You're broken from your thoughts when Suguru speaks. You snap your attention to her and find that she's got her attention solely on the ceiling above. A distant look in her eyes and a careful blankness to it all that makes you pause.

"Huh?" You hum back.

She moves her head to look at you, honestly and tenderly. "If I saw you when I left, I would've told you that I loved you. That's why I couldn't keep you around. I couldn't confine you to a cage, constantly looking over your shoulder because of me."

You sniffle, nodding. Much like you not begging for her to come back with you, she wouldn't beg for you to leave with her. "I understand."

Suguru stares for a moment longer before she's suddenly shoving your shoulder, sitting up. "You're disgusting, by the way. Fucking me on the floor of a nasty abandoned apartment building like some feral animal." She looked irritated, but you could hear the teasing in her tone and the slight twitch of her lips.

You push yourself to sit up, watching as she grabs her panties from a nearby pile, disgust on her features. "You weren't exactly complaining, if I recall correctly." You conjure up the energy to tease back.

Suguru's face screws up, then she throws her panties at you, grumbling as you snort in return. "Eight years and you act like a hormonal teen at the sight of me."

"I have my weaknesses."

"I'm a weakness?"

Suguru was joking but your face set and you nodded. "My one and only."

Her expression faltered. Suddenly somber as she extended a hand to you, pulling you up easily. "Not good to reveal your hand to the enemy, L/n." She uttered.

You raise an eyebrow, pressed against her front. "You're the enemy?"

Suguru snorted softly, pressing a kiss against your cheek. "Always have been. Now, let me get dressed." She shooed you off her robes.

You watch her with dying words on your lips. Instead, you just chose to cherish the moment for as long as you can.

"I heard you've had an interesting few weeks."

It was barely a day after you got home and submitted your report that you were confronted in your office in Kyoto.

She appeared in a flash, as she always had. A blur of white and black, an overwhelming stench of some cologne that she was either gifted or pulled off a shelf. Expensive. As always.

You jump. Eyes wide as you're met with her for the first time in three years. It almost makes you dizzy. Almost makes you mournful for what once was.

It's been years since you last saw Gojo Satoru. She was different, but you could pick apart exactly was the same. Taller, an array of piercings on both ears, hair stuck up in a mess of white tendrils defying gravity as the bandages wrapped around her eyes. Yet she still had that arrogant posture. That hip pop that always accompanied her. Arrogant.

But there were pieces of things familiar. A part of her was still that 17-year-old, standing in the doorway of your dorm, begging for answers about her best friend's defection. You could tell she was still in there. Part of her reaching out, childishly crying, pleading for something long gone by. You always knew she lingered.

You drag your eyes from her towards the pile of documents waiting for your attention on the desk. Something that you were just about to get to until the woman rudely interrupted.

"It's rude to burst into someone's office without calling first." You respond flatly.

Gojo didn't crack a smile, only kept her stance in the middle of the room, "I assume you didn't kill her. Obviously, she would've fought back. You'd be dead." She rambled to herself.

You huff, rubbing your forehead as you fall back into your chair, "Thanks."

"I thought you would've called me if you were ever assigned something like that. But I suppose you've never been the smartest."

"Like I have your number saved anymore?"

"Again, not the smartest."

You clench your jaw, her arrogant tone grating against the wrong gears within you. Gojo had always been too blunt, too blasé for your taste. Even as teens she had watched you from an upturned nose, scornful eyes scrutinizing your every move. It took you a long time before you ever went around her, let along considered her a friend. Her attitude and general disregard for most people was offputting.

You suppose that's something that happens when everyone treats you like a God.

Gojo falls into the chair across from you, long lanky leg crossed over the other, elbow rested on the back. If it weren't for the painfully straight line of her lips, you would've assumed she was at ease. But you knew better.

"I don't understand why they picked you of all people for executing her." The snark in her voice wasn't welcomed.

You draw in a deep breath, you just needed a bit of patience, "I'm sure you would've jumped at the opportunity if you were here."

"Mm, not really." Gojo tilts her head back and you can tell she's scrutinizing you from over her nose. "But, by the sound of things, you were the one jumping at the chance."

You tense and your fingers drum away on your desk top. An assortment of thoughts flush through your mind. Primarily, the things that you and Suguru had done before parting ways.

Hey! Suguru had called as you walked down the stairs, fingers found home around your arm and, effectively, made you stop to turn back. If you're ever in a bind and need me— or you realize what I did— there will always be a home for you with me. With my family.

You had faltered, eyes wide, before clearing your throat and offering a nod. I'll be sure to remember that. You had turned away and took a few more steps before looking back up at her with a small smile. You're not my enemy, Suguru. That's something I always knew.

You didn't linger on the shock that had overtook her face. Instead, leaving while you still could.

"You said in your report that you didn't see her nor did you sense any signs that she had ever been there." Gojo continues on, oblivious to the inner battle you're facing.

You lean back in your chair, sighing in vague annoyance. "Yes, I did."

"You're a liar."

The lack of hesitation and bluntness of the statement catches you off guard. Your eyes widen and you stiffen, staring at her blank disposition with confusion. Gojo was so unlike herself in this moment. So serious. So final.

It brought you great unease.

Gojo leans forward in her seat, grabbing a mini calendar from your desk to fiddle with it. "Want to know how I know?" You can't see her eyes but you can tell she looks to you for a genuine answer. You only stare back silently in return. "Her residuals are everywhere in that place. They're all twisted with your residuals. Like you were mingling."

You frown, that could easily be explained away, "Well—"

"You're covered in her." And this time, you knew that she was staring right at you.

You stare back blankly this time. Unable to find something smart or notable that could possibly explain what her Six Eyes are seeing. It was pointless. A futile thing that would only make her more frustrated than she seemingly already was.

So, you offered her the only thing you were sure of, your silence.

Gojo clenches her jaw, hunching over in her seat. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"How long have you been seeing her? Was this just a perfect chance for you both to explain away any residuals?" She sounded heated, tense and unnatural.

You always wished she would be her annoying regular self.

"Gojo, I don't know who you think you are, but it's been three years—"

"You're the one who cut us all off!" Gojo stood, pointing a long and accusatory finger at you. You only recall the few times she's ever been truly angry. A ball of rage that's been contained for much too long. Snapping into two pieces that overflowed with a rage of someone much younger. "You're the one who-who pulled away and then got angry because I was around! Then you up and vanished without a word to anyone. Fucked off to Kyoto, like what the hell even is this shit?"

You watch as she gestures wildly around the office with disgust and a loud scoff. A bitter part of you was almost happy to see the anger rolling off of her in waves. Another part of you couldn't imagine Gojo Satoru being this upset over you of all people. This had to be something else. She was mad—

Geto Suguru.

"I called Nanami—"

Gojo whirled around on you, "Not me! You didn't call me! You just left without a word and then I had to hear from Nanami about it like it was nothing."

"I didn't think you'd even want to talk to me with how things were left, Gojo! Can you blame me for just wanting to get away from that place?"

"Yes, I can! I most definitely can!"

You scoff, shaking your head as a familiar anger washed over you. "God, you're such a child."

"And, what, you've been running around behind the higher-ups backs, seeing Suguru all these years? Is that why you ran off? Because you thought I'd see her all over you and tell on you like some kid? Is that it? Is that why you left?"

Her incessant questions were driving you crazy. Alongside the misplaced anger, you were bound to throw something back at her. It was deserved. It was warranted.

"Satoru, you are so insufferable! I rushed off because I hated that school. I hated that I had to walk around and see Suguru but not actually see her! Not to mention you were the world's biggest bitch for a year after that! You acted like I was the goddamn bane of your existence and you wouldn't leave me alone!" You stood and matched her level. There was surely someone that could hear you two duking it out now. Laying things out for one another and, hopefully, leave each other for more years to come. "And, no, I hadn't seen Suguru for eight years before she showed up at that goddamn apartment complex! I was living a peaceful and non-annoying life until three days ago!"

There was a pause between you both.

You taking deep breaths as Gojo stands in the middle of your office awkwardly, stiffly. She almost looked like one of the students after you tried to deal out a punishment for whatever foolish thing they've done. The thought alone made you take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose.

You're not entirely sure what to say to her now. Without the awkward air only growing—

"You were my friend. And you left."

You were all too aware how young Gojo suddenly sounded. Tender and all too sad to be a 24 year old woman standing before you.

A friend?

"You had Shoko." You easily countered.

"I wanted you."

The revelation made you shut up. Standing awkwardly behind your desk and staring at her with a scrunched face. Wanted you? She wanted you? There's no way that she truly meant it. It was just nostalgia making her speak. Making her lose sight of what actually happened in those years.

"I-I wanted you like a friend, by the way. None of that— um, not like gay or anything!" She suddenly stuttered and sounded terribly like herself compared to herself. "I just... you were... my friend. And... I didn't— I don't have many of those."

Her words were stilted and awkward again. Something that made you tilt your head at her. She didn't look away from you as you processed the words. You were her friend. One of her only friends. Then you left. Right after she lost her one and only best friend.

Suguru's defection made you cruel and selfish.

You press your lips together, "Well, I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything."

"Right," Gojo nods, crossing her arms over her chest. "A little late."

Your chest tightened. "I suppose so."

She stands there for a beat longer before a grin broke across her lips. "Well, you could make it up to me." Her tone was much too light and eager to be genuine or true. But you weren't about to ruin it by asking.

You hesitate in asking, "What?"

"Come get crepes with me!" She said, not allowing you to answer as she grabbed your hand. "Shoko ditched me for Utahime."

"Oh, so I'm backup?"

"No— Well, a bit. But this will be a great bonding moment." She turned her head towards you, dimples prominent. "You in?"

You stared for a long moment. Wondering what could possibly run through Gojo Satoru's mind. How she could so quickly change her emotions. To be so vehemently angry one moment and happy the next. But that had always been her. A ball of rage that could fight back at any moment and then resolve it with her smile and pretty eyes—

"C'mon, just one crepe, some talking, then you can ditch me again." She said it teasingly, but you could tell there was a hint of sadness. Desperation.

You snort softly. "Okay, Satoru."

Her cheeks dusted pink and she pulled you out the room. "Missed you calling me that!"

"Satoru? It's your name."

"Yeah, but Gojo makes it sound like you hate me."

"Well..."

"Hey!"

You and Satoru do not mention Geto Suguru that entire night. Or the night after that. Or the night after that.

It was probably for the best.

#✩࿐ t writes #♡ oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru smut #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x y/n #suguru geto x you #suguru geto smut #geto suguru angst #suguru geto angst #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fem!geto x fem!reader #fem!geto

[cultofdixon]

Haunted by what is forever told on our skin

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • When the group found the prison, no one expected the past to come and haunt us all even if they don’t understand until life is re-written • ANGST/SFW • TW: PTSD / Past Abuse / Domestic Violence / Scars / Injuries / Past Attempt Mentioned / SH Scars

Requested by: Anon

“We found a place that we can make into our new home” Rick started. “We obviously need to fix a few things for the immediate future. But it’s got good walls”

“What is it?”

“It’s a prison, which I know sounds unsettling at first but once we take care of the walkers…it’s pretty golden” Rick finished and went to check on his family while the others started to pack up the vehicles knowing they will be leaving once he’s ready.

Daryl noticed Y/N stand still for a really long time for unknown reasons that started to concern him. But when she noticed him looking at her, she quickly picked up her pack and went to join Glenn and Maggie.

Odd…

They weren’t going to tackle the main prison just yet given the time of day. All they did was take out the walkers in the yard and get their cars within the gates before making camp for the night.

Y/N watched Carol go over to Daryl to give him what accounts for dinner with what they’ve got before turning her attention back toward the prison. This time catching the attention of someone more curious and willing to speak up.

“Have you been here before?” Beth questions Y/N, snapping her out of her thoughts as she gave her a concerned look.

“Like what, a prisoner?”

“No, just. Well yes and no”

“Not as a prisoner…more like. Visiting…loved ones…” Y/N frowns squeezing her hands together to avoid an anxious harmful habit that she knew she wouldn’t be able to do in front of them anyway.

“You think we killed them?” Glenn suddenly blurts as Maggie smacks him in the arm. “What? You’re telling me people survived the outbreak in that prison?”

“Don’t mean you have to ask somethin’ like that when you don’t know the rel—-“

“I haven’t…seen him in years. He could’ve been released or…executed for all I know. Only have seen him twice and the second time wasn’t…pretty” Y/N got up from the group, going to take a walk and clear her head on the matter. All while Maggie lectured Glenn about pushing boundaries.

When Daryl came back to the group with Carol, he noticed her absence immediately but as he scanned the surrounding area for her…he watches Rick make his way over to her given he hasn’t stopped walking the perimeter since they’ve gotten inside.

Y/N stared at a walker gnawing at the fence from the other end trying to reach for her. She stepped closer to the fence rolling her sleeve up and testing fate when the voice in her head told her to stop, as well as the voice behind her.

“What’s wrong” Rick asked with a concern look on his face when she turned toward him. With the light from his flashlight he noticed the scars that littered her arms making her instantly cover them. He knows as a cop not to trigger the situation further, even if most cops tend to do that anyway. But he’s not like most. “You want to scout with me? Don’t have to be in the mess of people for a moment”

“Mess of people?” Y/N laughs slightly. “You know you’re including your wife and son in that mix”

“I do…” Rick frowns, now walking with Y/N around the place. “Honestly we’ve all done something stupid and yet I’m paying for it the most given the silence I’m receiving from Lori”

“…You know, don’t you?”

Rick didn’t utter another word but gave her a look that confirmed it all.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner”

“Well, I still don’t know you. Not a stranger. But still not enough to share something like that” Rick shrugs. “I’m not mad at you”

“Right…still. I feel bad. No one should have to deal with that. End of the world or before”

Something about what she said only drew the concern to a higher level. Rick gestured with his head to return to the rest of the group and as he went to sit with his family, Y/N went to sit alone outside of the group facing away from them. The only time she was addressed was when T-Dog dragged a blanket over her shoulders, the flinch that came from her caught Daryl’s attention even more.

When the morning came, which meant time to progress inside the prison grounds…they were careful taking out the walkers in the courtyard before taking the risk of entering the building. Rick, Daryl, T-Dog, Maggie, and Y/N took care of being the first to sweep the cellblock they entered. Taking out the few walkers they came across, including seeing a few prisoners that have met their fate to the undead or found a quick way out of the mess before they met that end.

Y/N lingered too close to a locked cell on the second story not seeing anything immediately until the walker forced itself against the bars causing her to stumble back.

Rick quickly came over taking the walker out as Daryl brought himself to her checking her person.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Uh…yeah” Y/N frowns stepping past him returning to the first floor to help Maggie in any way.

The group started to make home of the cell block for now and will progress further into the place in a bit. Just for now they were taking a break. While others claimed cells as their new “rooms”, Daryl took the catwalk not liking the idea of living in a cell and he wasn’t the only one to think such.

“Need help?” Glenn asks Y/N if she needed a hand pulling the mattress out of the cell and into the main walk way on the first floor.

“Oh uh. Yeah sure” She frowns letting Glenn help her move the mattress and before he left, he quickly grabbed one of their many blankets handing it to her. “Thanks…”

“Of course” Glenn smiles leaving to check on Maggie and her family.

Daryl leans against the railing watching Y/N sit on the mattress bringing her knees to her chest and hide her face. Her whole body tensed and hasn’t relaxed since they’ve entered the prison.

The group hasn’t relaxed like this since the farm and they were getting used to the temporary quiet.

The next morning a few took inventory of the gear they’ve found in the prison, then came to the decision of checking the rest of the prison. The men plus Maggie and Y/N. Daryl took lead while the rest followed through the darker parts of the prison.

Maggie getting spooked by Glenn after he marked the direction they came from only stressed the others and Y/N did her best not to scream as a trigger response to hers.

Then it became a game with the walkers coming from every direction, even where they came from. Resulting in being separated from Maggie and Glenn. But when Hershel retraced his steps, he unfortunately gotten bit. A bit of scrambling resulted in T-Dog and Y/N holding the doors to their only entrance and exit while the others held down Hershel so that Rick can cut off the infected part of his leg.

But it wasn’t long for them to realize they weren’t alone.

Y/N felt as if she was struck down with the realization that she recognized one of the prisoners that Daryl and T-Dog were currently holding their stand with.

“We gotta go!” Rick shouted resulting in Y/N pulling away from the door ignoring who she had just saw and helped Glenn with holding the makeshift gurney to get Hershel on.

Everything seem to escalate while a good chuck of their own focused on Hershel then Daryl took liberty with T-Dog to keep the prisoners in check until Rick came to break the news about the reality the prisoners are now living in.

It wasn’t until they stepped outside to see for themselves when Tomas, the one with the gun, turned to the three with one question that led to a million internal ones.

“The woman with yea, where the hell you find her?”

T-Dog gave Daryl a questioning look as to who he’s referring to. Maggie or Y/N. Because they were the only women they saw.

“Who are you talking about?” Rick questions keeping his hand hovered over his gun. Tomas took note of such and decided to drop it.

Meanwhile inside the prison the chaos died slightly, all they could really do is keep an eye on Hershel and check his dressings. Y/N stood by the cell with Glenn to keep an eye on him in case you know what happens, orders by Rick of course. Glenn couldn’t help but get more anxious just from being in Y/N’s vicinity.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers to avoid alerting the rest. “Do you think he’s—-“

“It’s not about Hershel. Don’t…worry about it”

“How can I not when we just learned we’re not alone in here? What do you think the prisoners have done to get in this place?”

Y/N clenched her fists trying to fight back the anxiety induced tears or more so the PTSD she’s trying to avoid reliving but the sheer knowledge alone of him alive was driving her insane. Carol from the corner of her eye couldn’t help but have concerns for her because she understands.

________

“It’s…not the best, Sophia. But at least we’ll be safe until he calms down…” Carol reassures her daughter as they were directed into a room they were gonna have to share given how many people the facility has in that moment.

The woman on the other side of the room hugging her knees to her chest avoiding looking at them when they entered. She had just arrived there for the first time and wasn’t used to how many people. Granted the amount of people only made her feel worse that so many in her shoes need to find this escape instead of leaving the relationship they were in.

“Hello” Carol started, letting Sophia get comfortable on the bed as she hesitantly approaches. “I’m Carol. This is Sophia, my daughter” she frowns watching tears roll off her cheeks. “I guess we’ll be roommates for a while. We won’t make a fuss—-“

“You’ve been here before…the way you’re talking…you’ve been here before”

“Unfortunately” Carol frowns watching the woman finally face her to notice the swollen black eye and her wrist in a cast. “You’re new aren’t you?”

“…Unfortunately” She scoffs. “I should’ve known…sooner…before the cops got involved”

Carol brought herself to sit on the bed with her giving her a look asking for permission to rest a reassuring hand on her knee which she granted.

“We like to believe that they will get better. Some just. Go too far and need the intervention…”

The woman frowns only nodding to her words as she held herself close again feeling her hand slip away.

“Do you have a name?”

“It’s—-“

________

“Y/N” Carol frowns finally having a moment away from the mess, being handed a towel from her because of the blood all over her person. “Y/N are you alright?” She whispers to keep this conversation between themselves but all Y/N could do was show discomfort in her expression and try not to let the tears fall.

“We can’t let them stay here. They aren’t good people. He’s not a good person” Y/N wanted to let go but they were soon interrupted by Rick.

“Y/N I need your assistance with clearing a cellblock for the prisoners”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Carol questioned immediately and for her.

“We’ll kill them if they go too far but for now. We made the deal so we can get half of their supplies. We need to hold a front for a short while longer or until they’ve proven—-“

“Rick” T-Dog calls for him outside their block as he nods indicating they’re on their way.

“I’m sorry. I need Y/N. Glenn is watching Hershel and Maggie is out of commission for now. I need a good fighter and she’s one of them” Rick states, taking Y/N’s arm only for her to shove him off before walking toward T-Dog. The smallest action made Carol smack him in the harm.

“You push her and you won’t hear the end of it” Carol threatened before returning to Hershel’s aid as that left more suspicion with Rick.

When they started to go over the plan with the prisoners, Tomas instantly locked onto Y/N who made herself known finally.

“Baby—You’re alive” Tomas declared about to make his way over to Y/N when Rick stopped him. Daryl instantly looked at her as the tension and anxiety from her all made sense when they arrived. “What? There’s no prison laws anymore. I don’t have to wait for visiting hours to see my girl”

“She’s here to help. Not rekindle anything from the before” Rick stated pushing him back as that only angered the man but before he could even retaliate, Y/N quickly pulled Rick back blocking the way resulting in hesitation from Tomas.

“Just listen to him Tomas” Y/N struggled to keep a steady speech but the way he relaxed and nodded. This was only going to put her in a position that Rick will hate himself for later. Hell, the hate will come from more than him.

As Y/N steps back she felt Daryl’s gently tap her arm indicating for her to stand with him. Which she did. Tomas had her attention all on her while Rick explained how they are going to handle the walkers.

As the group watched the prisoners take out a handful of walkers in their own creative way. Daryl turned to Y/N watching her struggle to get a deep breath in given being in the same room as the man who hurt her was only making her suffocate.

“Hey…take a breath. C’mon” Daryl whispers keeping his attention on her, lifting his hand and lowering it then repeating to show he’s trying to get her to follow the breathing pattern. “There. You’ve got it…I’ve gotcha”

When they were alone in a room for a more controlled way of taking out the walkers, Tomas brought himself close to Y/N but enough for her to hear him given Daryl was hovering.

“Miss me?” He smirks watching her step away. “Aww come on baby. I’ve been good. I was going to get out in good behavior if the world didn’t end”

“Oh yeah, which guard did you bribe into helping—-ow!” Oscar snapped as Tomas smacked him in the arm.

“I have a restraining order. You wouldn’t—-“

“Baby girl. You’re right here. Right now. It’s the end of the world and the laws don’t apply—-“

“Focus” Rick snaps and then one of the prisoners got scratched right when the wave calmed down.

The other prisoners were trying to argue in saving their friend but right as the arguing got to a point, Tomas suddenly took the crowbar he had to killed the prisoner. The action put Y/N in a frozen state of mind as she tried to get herself out of there but she wasn’t moving. Then when Tomas decided to put all his anger toward the prisoner when he really wanted it toward another, Daryl forced Y/N to look away but she wouldn’t move so he blocked her view.

“You see the look on his face?” Daryl asked Rick as they hung in the back covering Y/N from Tomas who was in front of them.

“He makes one move…”

“Just give me a signal” Daryl stated as they all entered the laundry room from the looks of it.

One door.

One door was what Rick told Tomas to open.

…

Everything just has to go to shit huh?

Tomas tossed the walker at Rick directly and while he did and the others took care of the rest. He instantly went for Y/N. He heard the two of them talking and it doesn’t take a genius to understand that one wrong move and he’ll get killed in the process.

“No—No no” Y/N instantly thrashed against his grip only for Tomas to pull her into him wrapping his arm around her front but have his hand on her throat. “Please——“

“I tried to be buddy buddy for this pig bastard. But I know the only reason I’m in here in the first place is because of you” Tomas whispered angrily, tightening his hand around her throat.

“Let go of her” Daryl snapped readying his crossbow but before he fired, Rick stopped him as the gun Tomas had pressed itself against her throat.

“Lower it or I won’t hesitate” Tomas threats putting his finger on the trigger as Y/N couldn’t help the tears in that moment. “I know you’re just going to kill us the second you have a chance because of what we were in the past—“

“Right now you’re just provin’ you haven’t changed” Rick stated keeping his attention on Tomas as well as Daryl but he also took note of how Y/N was doing and by her body language, she wants this to be over. “The fuck do you want in order to let her go unscathed…mostly” he watches his grip on her neck lessen but not enough for her to free herself.

“Let me go. Like that one said before. Let me try to fend for my goddamn self out there with the stuff I’ve got” Tomas pressed the gun into her neck more when he watched the two move. “You have to lower your weapons entirely…or I will kill her on my way out”

I’m not losing her Daryl instantly lowered his crossbow, even set it on the ground and that action led Tomas to glare at Rick to do the same along with T-Dog who had a different vantage point.

Tomas slowly stepped back, dragging Y/N along with him before tossing her to the ground keeping his gun pointed at the few. He waited a moment then turned on his heel making a break for it but before Daryl could grab his crossbow, Rick stopped him as Y/N took out her holstered gun aiming it at Tomas and taking the shot. He dropped instantly and his death led to another prisoner losing it and making a break for it.

As Rick grabbed his gun chasing after the other prisoner, T-Dog kept the other two in check while Daryl quickly brought himself to Y/N’s aid assessing how bad the bruising was on her throat and noticing the return of the frozen state she was in.

“Has she spoken to anyone since it happened?” Lori questioned Rick as the two were at the entrance to the prison watching Y/N sit in the field alone.

“No, but I know for a fact Daryl ain’t gonna leave her out there alone for much longer” Rick referred to the archer who couldn’t keep his gaze away from Y/N when he was helping T-Dog with more walker burn pits.

After some time, Y/N flinch hearing footsteps as she turned around to find Daryl holding his arms up in surrender. She relaxed turning herself back around as he brings himself close taking his poncho off and carefully putting it on her.

“If you’re gonna stick around out here might as well have that” Daryl sat himself down beside her leaning back on his hands.

“You wanna know don’t you?”

“Know what?”

“What he did. How he got there…I can’t explain why he was the way that he was but I can try—-“

“We all have our scars. You don’t have to share yours…we all were just. Scared for yea even when we didn’t know” Daryl frowns watching her get comfortable with the poncho on her as she kept her bruises hidden the best she could.

“He hurt me. The first time was…or I thought it was an accident. Then it kept happening every time I did something wrong or he was mad at something else.” Y/N frowns hugging her knees close to her chest. “He even got mad when I tried to get out of it…”

“Get out of the relationship, right?”

The look she gave him was full of sadness and even when the threat being permanently gone, there was still the anger toward her past self for letting it happen for so long and not ending it sooner.

“Oh…well, uhm. I’m glad you’re still here” in some way, that was him telling her exactly how he felt about her.

Y/N finally let herself break with the tears starting to stream down her cheeks. She held herself while she sobbed, gripping onto the poncho reminding herself that she’s safe now.

“I won’t let anyone hurt yea…ever again” Daryl promises then…

and will promise forever.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

[thewulf]

The Last Time || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Hotch x reader fic based on the last time by taylor swift and gary lightbody

A/N: I just love a good angst to comfort. Thanks so much for the request anon! I had a good time writing this :) Let me know your thoughts!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 2.6k+

“Hey A.” You grinned leaning up on your tip toes to kiss your husband on the cheek. You noticed the small breath he let out before putting on a façade, a smile on his face.

“Hi sweetheart.” He pulled you in without much thought. Smelling the top of your head you instinctually melted into him. You knew how hard his job was. The horror of the cases he saw on a daily basis. Choosing which serial killers, he and his team went after and which ones they had to ignore, for now. You knew how he felt like he played God with people’s lives. How heavy those decisions weighed on him.

When you pulled away you studied his face. He looked utterly exhausted. When was the last time he’d taken even a day away from the office? You knew it usually didn’t lead to anything good, so you’d shut up about it, “How was your day babe? Jack aced his math test, took him out for some ice cream.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together, “He had a math test?”

You nodded hiding the disappointment of his increasing absence over the last few months. The BAU seemingly taking over his entire life, “Pre-algebra. He’s been studying all week.” You didn’t want to make him feel worse, but you didn’t want to lie either. Jack had been studying. Vying for his father’s attention which seemed to be entirely elsewhere.

A curt nod. One you were sure was reserved usually for the team, “Thanks for letting me know.”

You sighed, tired of his absence, “Yeah, sure.” Breaking from his embrace you walked over to the fridge not having a plan in mind but not really wanting to be around him.

“You’re mad.” He stated sitting down at the barstool underneath the kitchen island.

Closing the refrigerator door, you looked at him with your eyebrows raised, “You’re good at your job Aaron.” Placing an emphasis on the word job you crossed your arms over your chest careful to keep your voice down. You’d just gotten Rosie, your toddler, down for sleep and God forbid Jack here a nasty spat between his parents.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He stood from the barstool making his way toward your slowly.

You shrugged, not really wanting to pick a fight right now. He was home now, you wanted his time not an argument when he was home, “You’re a profiler, figure it out. I’m tired A. Can we just watch a show and order some takeout?” You tried to change the conversation away from the looming fight and into a calmer one.

His eyebrows scrunched together further. Something was wrong. You were acting weird. When was the last time he’d even talked to his you, his wife he adored more than the world? Sure, he knew he’d gotten caught up at work over the last few months, but he might not have realized just how severely he’d been absent from your lives.

“We’ll talk about this in the morning. But for now, that sounds perfect honey.” He smiled letting you lead the way.

But of course, his fucking work phone had to ring. You shuddered hearing the infamous, “This is Hotchner.” After two damn rings. It was like his body was on autopilot.

You sat down on the couch praying that he wouldn’t be leaving. You didn’t even get a night anymore?

“That was Strauss. Emergency case in New York…” He trailed off seeing your distant gaze. One that wasn’t even sad. Wasn’t anything, neutral. Terrifyingly neutral.

Blinking a few times, you looked back up to him, “Do you have to go?” It was a long shot, but one, nonetheless.

He nodded, “I’m sorry honey… I should be back soon.” Even he cringed hearing how indecisive that was.

“When’s soon? Jack has that soccer game on Sunday. You promised you’d be there. This was your weekend off.” You knew how badly you were hurting him, but you just couldn’t find it in you to really give a damn any further. Jack had begged his dad to be there. He’d made the seventh-grade soccer team and wanted his dad at the first game. The odds were slipping away rapidly.

He sighed looking away, “I’ll try honey. Really, I will. But I can’t make any promises, you know that that.”

You gave him a dry laugh, tired. So tired of him choosing the job over you guys. Did you even matter anymore?

“Be sure to make it home, case solved or not Aaron. It’s not that fucking hard.” You rarely cussed in front of him knowing it set a bad tone for the kids, but they weren’t here, and you were at your wits end. He wasn’t listening to you. So, you had to pull out the big boy words. Words that caught his attention.

He cocked his head to the side in surprise. He was looking at you curiously, profiling you surely, “Now sweetheart, you know that

You squinted your eyes feeling the frustration bubble up on over, “Don’t patronize me right now Aaron. We’re tired of you never fucking being here.”

He frowned taking a step forward, “Just let me get through this case and we can talk about it. Yeah?” He tried reasoning. But you weren’t having it, not anymore.

You shook your head, “What happens when Strauss calls again Aaron? Are you going to keep picking her over your wife and fucking kids? Does your daughter even know what her dad even looks like anymore? I don’t think she does.” You spit out with venom in your voice knowing that was an extremely low blow

“Y/N.” He bit back before stopping himself, “You know this is important…”

You cut him off, “More important than me? Rosie? Jack?” You knew a tear had slipped down your cheek, how dramatic.

“Honey, I have to go.”

You couldn’t believe he was going, running, “This is the last time Aaron. I swear to God if you walk through that door…”

He cut you off this time, “I have to. We’ll talk when I’m back.”

You watched in horror as he grabbed that damn bag and walked out the door murmuring a soft ‘I love you’ before vanishing. You had to do something to get his attention because this wasn’t doing it anymore. You texted your mom, asking her to take the kids for the weekend as you needed to go see Allie, your best friend who lived a few hours downstate. She’d agreed no questions asked. Then you were off. You’d dropped the two kids off the next morning at your parents place before hightailing it down to Allie’s.

When you got there she helped you craft a message to your husband. She and her husband had gone through a similar rough patch not that long ago and you could use her help. So why not use it?

‘Hey, A. Kids, are at my mom’s. I’m at Allie’s for the next few days. I’ll be back in time for Jack’s game on Sunday. Need some time away to think about things.’

You’d sent out before waiting for a response. But Allie wouldn’t let you wallow. She took you out making you leave that damn phone at home. You knew you’d be getting chewed out for that later, something about how unsafe that decision could be.

When you’d gotten back to Allie’s home tipsier than you’d care to admit you went straight for your phone. 13 missed calls and five texts. You cringed before opening your phone and reading the string he sent.

‘Please answer the phone.’

‘Why are you at Allie’s? Please just answer the phone.’

‘I’m on my way home. Please call me back, are you alright?’

‘Dammit, please Y/N. You can’t do this to me. I messed up alright. Please just call me. Or text me. Something. I love you.’

‘I love you.’

You shook your head letting a few tears fall freely reading through them. You’d begged him to stay, and he left. Now that you wanted space he was coming to talk? You felt your hands shaking thinking of something to say back to him, your husband. You felt so detached from him, why were you so nervous?

‘I’m fine. Just went out and the phone died. Please don’t come. I need space. Please.’

You wanted to set your phone down, but he replied almost instantly.

‘I’m almost there.’

He wasn’t giving you an option.

‘How? I’m downstate. Go back with your team. They need you or something.’

You were picking a fight and you knew it. You were tipsy and tired and pissed off at your absent husband. The love was always there it was just laying low right now. A caged animal crying to be let out.

‘Flew into another airport. I’ll be there in five.’

You groaned deciding to call him instead. You didn’t want to see him. Afraid you might say something you may regret. You’d gotten exactly what you wanted, his attention. You’d never done something so drastic. But then again, you never had to do anything so drastic before.

Before he could speak when he answered you started talking, “Please don’t come Aaron. I just want to be with my best friend right now.” You knew how little your voice sounded. So distant from the person you always were.

A still silence and his driving vehicle is all you could here before he responded, “I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry. Please Y/N. We can talk. I need to talk to you. I can’t lose you.” He spit out. You knew that was a big fear of his, after what happened to Haley. Jack now only realized what happened to his biological mom who loved him more than life itself. You couldn’t fathom carrying that around with you.

You had to give in. That soft voice let you know he was actually going through it, “You could never lose me Aaron. I just needed advice and some comfort. My mom didn’t have a problem watching the kids, you know it’s a treat for her.”

“I know.” Aaron sighed as he pulled into the driveway right next to your car. He knew exactly where she lived, he’d visited a fair share of times with you, “I’m here honey.”

You felt your heart rate quicken, “I’ll be right out.” You called out to Allie letting her know what the hell was happening. The one thing you loved and hated about the man. He was relentless. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Walking out a few steps far enough away from the house so that Allie and her husband couldn’t here you watched as Aaron spotted you and made his way right towards you. Gently, he placed his calloused hands on your shoulders pulling you into himself tightly. He brushed the back of your head with his hand while he held your body tightly into his.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart. I don’t…” he paused collecting his thoughts, “I don’t know what I was thinking, I can’t lose you.” At that he gripped you just a little tighter. Calming his nerves you squeezed him back, not nearly as aggressively but a reassurance for his racing mind you knew so well.

When you pulled away you looked up to him with teary eyes, “You stopped listening. Jack’s been all but begging you on his knees for you to pay attention. Rosie asked where you were yesterday Aaron. We miss you. We need you back. I can’t do this alone either. It feels like I have been for the last few months.” You let the tears fall and the damn burst open. You let yourself feel every pent-up emotion, every frustration as you cried.

He pulled you back into his embrace with a frown on his face, “I’m so sorry honey.” He squeezed you tightly while you let the tears flow free. It felt good to have let them out, let pent up emotions you’d been holding back go.

“Just listen.” You mumbled into his chest letting yourself have the breakdown you’d needed.

He squeezed you once more letting you know he’d heard you, loud and clear, “I will. I’m so sorry you had to do this. That I made you feel this way. I just want the promotion so bad that… that I feel like telling Strauss no will hinder it. But I’ll talk to her. I promise. For you. For Jack and Rosie.” He kissed the crown of your head feeling that overwhelming feeling of dread pool in his stomach. He’d done this. He was the reason for your tears. He’d neglected you., the kids.

“I can’t beg you anymore Aaron.” You whispered after the sobs had long since died down and the tears were slow to come, “This is the last time.”

He nodded seeing the seriousness in your eyes, the hurt you’d usually hidden so well, “I hear you.” He brushed a gentle finger over your forehead as he looked over you. He then ran his thumb beneath your eyes collecting the stray tears that were lingering on your skin, “I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

The intensity of his gaze was hard to hold. He was everything and more to you. A sweet crush turned passionate romance that led to where you were today, ten years and a kid later. You knew what you signed up for when you got married but this was on another level. Being single when you’re married is one of the loneliest things you’d gone through. Especially when you’d practically begged for his attention for weeks now. You’d given him one last shot with a Hail Mary attempt, and he’d caught it. You’d never been so unsure of decision before, always being so sure with him. Nobody was perfect, you knew that. But you needed him to see. Thank goodness he did.

When you didn’t respond but instead hugged him he let you do as you needed. Whatever comfort you needed he was willing to provide. But after five minutes of holding each other he needed to break the silence. You certainly weren’t going to.

“Let’s go home? Kids can stay at your moms. Let’s have a day to ourselves tomorrow. Sleep in, make you breakfast and do something fun. How’s that sound?” He asked you softly, continuing to rock you in his arms.

“Yeah, that sounds lovely.” You yawned feeling the late night and the emotions of the day taking its toll on you.

“Then we can pick the kids up on Sunday, take them to breakfast and go to Jack’s soccer game. That sound okay sweetheart?”

You nodded in his chest feeling the warmth spread over you. He was listening. He was going to do what he said he was going to. This was Aaron Hotchner after all, “That sounds perfect A.” You felt okay, content. It was going to be alright. Just a little rough patch is all.

He smiled down at you, “Let’s get you home then, go grab your things and tell Allie I said I’m sorry too.”

You let go of his torso looking at both cars in the driveway, “We have two cars.” You sighed not feeling up for the drive home. It was already pushing eleven o’clock.

He shrugged, “It’s a rental. I’ll have the somebody from the FBI come get it tomorrow.” He pointed to the car he’d drove in on.

You shook your head, “There are some perks to that job of yours.”

He nodded leaning down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, “That there is. Now, let’s get you home. I have some making up to do.” He shot you a wink before pushing you gently in the direction of your best friend’s house.

You turned around with a brilliant smile on your face nodding rapidly, “That you do Hotchner, that you do.” You rushed back inside careful not to let him get the last word in. It certainly was going to be alright.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds:

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Request Taglist: @fictionallifestuff

#aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotchner x reader #hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner one shot #ssa aaron hotchner #ssa hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #jack hotchner #agent hotchner #aaron hotchner au #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds angst #criminal minds agere #criminal minds au #criminal minds aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

[strawhbrrries]

Hell on Heels.

pairing: rhett abbott x tillerson!afab!reader

summary: you made the devil a deal; he made you pretty, he made you smart and rhett abbott she’s coming after you.

warnings: everyone calls reader ‘honey’, sweet rhett, the tillersons (they need their own warning tbh but i love a good forbidden romance), mutual pining (sorta), unprotected p in v, car sex, a wee bit of fingering, creampie, let me know if i forgot anything, no use of y/n or description of reader, not proofread 

word count: 4.4k words

author’s note: i love rhett abbott and i think this rivals the cowgirl series as one of the best things i’ve ever written. I’m just a sucker for a white man in a cowboy hat. honey is ENTIRELY inspired by the pistol annies so channel them when you read them. I’ve been hyping this up to @thesirenrealm all night so i’m saying my prayers that it lives up! as always, please enjoy!!! mwah!!!!

read the next part here!

“The rodeo ain’t ‘till later tonight.” 

His voice was warm, wrapping you up in a thick blanket and protecting you from the world. A false sense of security, your brother’s had tried to scare you with some bullshit about not trusting the Abbott boys. As if your family was any better. 

“Stalkin’ me, Abbott?” You turned around to face him, the railing of the arena leaving indents on the undersides of your arms, the corners of your lips turning into a smile.

“Luke know you’re out here?” He looked around, almost like he was expecting your brother to pop out of the shadows somewhere and give him shit for even speaking to you, avoiding your question.

“No, and I’m an adult. I can do what I want.” You huffed, annoyed everyone saw you as an extension of your older brother. Even more so that Rhett did, you’d tried so hard to stand out to him.

“He doesn’t see it that way. Why’re you out here?” He inquired, leaning against the railing next to you, squinting his eyes as the sun found its way under his hat

“Space,” you looked over at him, “ I assume that’s why you’re out here?”

“Bingo.” He looked over at you, holding eye contact until you broke it and looked back into the arena in front of you. “Why don’t you leave the ranch if you want space so much, Honey? You’re out here more days than you’re at your own home.”

His observation was a slight stab in the guts, only because he was right. You loved your family, truly, as best as you could while keeping yourself sane. Luke wanted to control everyone and everything, including you and what you did. You were half surprised he hadn’t implanted a tracker underneath your skin, in your car, or downloaded one on your phone. In some ways it could be written off as well meaning, he just wanted to make sure his people were okay. He was just crazy, you knew it. Billy, he was a sweet thing, just never knew when to shut the fuck up. Your dad had gone off his rocker long ago, probably forget he had a daughter due to your absence around the house. 

“And where do you suggest I go, Abbott?” You scoffed at his suggestion, your family might’ve had some money but you’d never seen any of it. Buying a house or renting was out of the question. 

“Quit callin’ me that.” He scoffed right back at you, his eyes never leaving you.

“Fine, Rhett. Answer the question.” 

“I’ve offered multiple times, Honey. It still stands now.” His tone was softer now, more serious. 

You’d ignored him, walked away and got into your car, drove all the way to your house. You wanted to contemplate his offer, wanted to take him up on it but you’d just be intruding on his family’s space. You’d rather act like you only slept at your house before you became a burden to another family. Your phone lit up three times with Rhett’s name on your drive home, probably telling you to think of the offer or maybe asking if you were gonna see him ride later. 

He’d been shocked when you walked away, didn’t say a single thing or make any indication he’d done anything wrong. He was right, he’d offered you a place multiple times before, when he pointed it out he didn’t think he was going to upset you. He knew all about the loyalty you had for your family but he also knew the type of crazy Luke and Wayne were. Some days he wondered if you were ever truly related to them, sweet ol’ Honey. Your sweet demeanor earned you the nickname, you’d had it for years. It could be your real name and you’d know no different.

“Honey. Honey. Honey what the fuck.” Luke was yelling the second you walked in the door, it made you want to turn around. Pick up your phone. Tell Rhett you’d accepted his offer and was on your way.

“Luke, shut the fuck up.” Is all you had to say to him as you walked right past him and into your room, slamming the wooden doors as loud as you could. 

Luke had yelled something in response, you couldn’t give a singular shit about whatever that man child wanted. You balled your fists, shaking them at your door quietly as he continued yelling. All you wanted was some peace and quiet. That’s why you spent so much time down at the showing arena during the day time, nobody else was there. It was deserted. Just you and your thoughts. Apparently also Rhett, not that you minded. You liked Rhett, a lot. He was just the right amount of rugged to contrast the delicate world built around you from being the only daughter. Just the right amount of mean to contrast your sweetness.

Your phone vibrated from its spot in your back pocket, you pulled it out and looked at the name at the top of your screen. Rhett Abbott.

“Honey.”

His voice was soft, just as soft as it had been at the arena, not a hint of annoyance with you. You appreciated that he wasn’t making you feel bad for leaving him hanging, appreciated that the guilt you were feeling wasn’t because of his words. 

“Hey, Rhett. I'm sorry for leavin’ like that I-”

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have overstepped like that. I just need to know if you’re comin’ to watch my ride.” 

You should’ve given it to him for cutting you off like that, but your sweet heart had a Rhett Abbott shaped soft spot and always had. You listened to him talk like he was preaching the Sunday sermon, like whatever he was telling you would save your life.

“Yeah..yeah I’m comin’.” You flopped back on your bed, imagining where he was and what he was doing. Were his thoughts filled with you? Like yours were of him.

“Good.” 

He hung up and filled you with disappointment, you knew he had to get ready to ride but it didn’t make you any less upset he didn’t have the courtesy to say bye. 

“Bye, Rhett.” You whispered into the air, laying your phone down next to you, staring up at the angled ceiling as your thoughts became overrun with what you’d wear. 

You loved being a girl; loved dressing up and looking pretty, loved the (wanted) attention you got from it, loved the solidarity you got from most other women. Tonight was no exception, the rodeo was your favorite excuse to wear the jeans that hugged your ass in all the right places and the bra that put the girls in the right place to get what you wanted when you wanted it. You didn’t need to dress up to impress anyone, you knew that but god if you didn’t love it. Touching up your hair and makeup was the last thing you did before shoving your phone in your back pocket, walking past whatever screaming fest your brother had found himself in now, and hauling ass to the rodeo. Sometimes, life wasn’t so bad.

“Honey! Over here!” 

Your head snaps to the group of girls calling for your attention, a huge smile immediately lighting up your face as you walked over to join the group. You gave all the girls a hug and a kiss on the cheek before settling in a spot, you hoped Rhett could easily see you in. If it wasn’t your whooping and hollering that would get his attention, it was the cowboy hat he gifted you years ago matched with bright red lipstick. You were sex personified. Hell on Heels. 

He’d spotted you the second you’d walked into the place, watched your hair bounce as you walked and watched the smile that stood proudly every time someone spoke to you. Watched your ass jiggle in the jeans you always wore when you dressed up, he hated them simply because he knew every man you encountered watched you saunter away the same way he did. The cat calling the kettle black. Rhett was many things but he was a dirty hungry man, hungry for all the things Honey Tillerson could offer. He watched you sit with a group of girls he didn’t know, nor did he give a single shit about, and try to get a glimpse of him. Unfortunately, he’d placed himself out of sight. He wanted to admire you from afar without being caught, boy was he glad he did when you started searching for him.

“Here for prince charming Abbott?” One of the girls teased, trying to get a rise out of you.

“Obviously, I don’t support anyone else as fiercely as I do for a man who isn’t mine.” You shot back, rolling your eyes playfully before breaking into giggles to let them know it wasn’t as serious as you’d pretended.

“All I’m sayin’ is, I’d never wait for a man who can’t commit.” You don’t know shit.

“Agreed, I mean I’m sure any Abbott boy is a catch but girl you’ve been pining after this man since grade school!”

You knew the girls were well meaning, just wanting you to go after a man who wanted you more than you wanted him. You’d die lonely before you settled for someone who wasn’t him, it didn’t matter if it took you a hundred years to get him to see you the way you saw him. He already did, you were just oblivious and put it off as some sort of kindness he gave to everyone. Rhett wasn’t the kind man to everyone like he was to you, he couldn’t give a shit if anyone had a place to stay trying to escape their crazy family, but he gave multiple for you. 

“Ash you can’t even talk, your man can’t keep it in his pants. Leave mine alone.” You snapped, feigning niceness despite the venom of your words, tilting your head to the side daring any of the girls to try you one more time. Your sweetness only ran so far before it ran out, they were running it thin.

“God if I was a man, Honey, I’d be knocking down your dad’s door beggin’ him to let me marry you. Scratch that, I’d pay him to let me do it! If anyone supported me like you support Rhett, it’d be a miracle I wasn’t knee deep in kids.” The girl next to you spoke, laying her head on your shoulder as she did so. It felt nice for your support to be noticed by someone. 

“I’ll be next in line in case he turns her down!” 

The girls continued talking about how they’d love to marry you in another life up until the announcer came on to start up the rodeo. The rodeo on a summer night was your favorite place to be. Between the screams of everyone in town coming out to support someone they knew and the lights of the stadium, it filled you with warmth. You only half paid attention to all the bull riders before Rhett, wishing them good luck but not enough that they’d beat your man.

“Everyone stand and welcome our hometown hero! Rhett Abbott!”

You were the first to your feet, yelling louder than you were the last time, making sure he’d see you before his run. He’d whispered to you one night after a run, sneaked to your house to see you and thank you for coming to watch him, that you were his good luck charm. That he searched for you everytime he was getting ready to ride, it was a drunken confession but a true one nonetheless. Ever since that night you made sure he saw you, that he knew his good luck charm was there. Your voice rivaled his parent’s in loudness, depending on the night it was louder.

You held your breath through his entire ride, always scared to death he’d fall and get trampled by whatever bull he was riding that night. He never did. Always came out on top. He was the hometown hero, after all.

“Rhett!” You called after him, running up to him as he exited the ‘Rider’s Only’ area. 

“Honey.” He smiled, scooping you up and twirling you around. It was the most affection he’d shown you, sober.

“Mr. Hometown Hero. Always winnin’, huh?” You teased, matching his smile as you looked down at him. Aware of the fact that he was almost entirely supporting you with one arm, your core just getting a tinge warm at the thought.

“Always, when I got my good luck charm here,” he nipped at your exposed collarbone, “God you are one gorgeous woman. Don’t know how the guys in the stand didn’t maul you before your pretty ass got here.”

“Oh hush, don’t care about ‘em anyway.” You placed a kiss on his cheek, waiting for him to cross the physical boundary of kissing.

He’d been close to it only twice before, once on your birthday and the other on the same night he’d first called you his good luck charm. Both times he’d been interrupted by a knock on a door and the holler of your name.

Your birthday is one you almost kiss you think back on frequently. You’d managed to ditch your family and friends for a few hours, sitting in the passenger seat of Rhett’s truck as he drove you back to your place. You invited him in, no one was home so there wasn’t anyone to tiptoe around. Showed him your room and locked the door. He laid down on your bed, moving onto his side so he could look at you as you laid down.

“Pretty lil thing.” He whispered, tracing a finger from the start of your forehead to the tip of your chin. He used that same finger to get you to look at him. 

The two of you laid there, staring at each other, for a few moments. Admiring the other person. If the rest of your birthday had gone horribly wrong, laying here with him made it all better. 

“Can I kiss you, Honey?” He asked, already running his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“Please, Rhett.” You whined, it was airy and desperate. 

He leaned in, keeping his finger on your chin and pointed towards him, his lips ghosting yours. There wasn’t a centimeter of space between the two of you, 

“Honey? Are you in there? Rhett Abbott’s truck is in the driveway.” It was Billy, the better of your brothers to have been home first. 

“Yeah I'm here! He brought me back and was making sure I was okay!” You scrunched your face in annoyance, pushing Rhett off of you and trying to hurry him out of your room before anyone else arrived home. 

The night he called you his lucky charm was also the night you think you realized that you loved Rhett Abbott, like truly loved him. He’d had his best ride of all season, gotten dragged out to go drink with the other riders when he’d rather celebrate with you. 

You’d gone home slightly disappointed, you understood the other guys wanting to celebrate with him but you also wanted to see him. You weren’t greeted when you got home, not that you cared, but it only added to your disappointment that the people who were supposed to care about you didn’t. Your phone had found its way in the middle of your bed, being left there while you took a shower in some attempt to scrub away the disappointment. When you got dressed and finally picked it back up it read,

3 missed calls from Rhett Abbott

Your face fell, how could you miss these? You clicked on the notification and waited anxiously as it rang, nervous he wouldn’t pick up. 

“Hey, baby.” His voice was loud, he was yelling over whatever commotion was going on in the back. Baby was new. 

“You called?” Your voice barely above a whisper, gnawing on the end of one of your acrylic nails as you awaited his answer. 

“Wanna come see you, see my girl.” His girl.

“My family’s here, you can’t.” Despite the thick walls providing a lot of sound proofing, you couldn’t help but whisper in fear that one of them had a cup to the door listening to your every word.

“I’ll park at the end of the driveway, walk around to your window. Please?” 

“Just…be careful, please.” You smiled softly at the reflection of yourself on the screen, excited you’d be able to see him tonight. 

What felt like forever went by before you heard a soft knock on your window. You unlocked it and pushed them open, leaning over the sill to look at him. 

“Rebellious rebellious Honey Tillerson, what ever will we do with you.” Rhett joked, putting his hands up on the window to hold yours.

“Congrats, Rhett. You did amazing tonight.” You took his hands in yours and smiled down at him, although you could barely see him in the dark. 

“Cause I had you, had my lucky charm, my girl.” His girl. 

Your smile at that moment could’ve lit up the whole sky, the brightest thing he’d ever seen. If he hadn’t forgotten his phone in his truck he would’ve snapped a picture of you, probably would’ve fucked his hand to it later.

“I’ll be there, every time.” You leaned down just as he leaned up, hopeful it’d finally be the moment you’d kiss. You’d be lying if it wasn’t something you dreamed about constantly since your birthday. Your lips were once again, centimeters from each other when a fucking knock on your door rang out. 

“Honey. Do you know where any of dad’s meds are?” Luke’s voice instantly filling you with rage, didn’t anyone in this house have anything to do when Rhett was trying to kiss you.

“No, I’ll help you look.” You yelled back, giving Rhett an apologetic look before closing your window and walking away to go help your incompetent brother.

Now here you were, in Rhett’s arms, inches away from his face. You felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, that he was gonna feel the excitement and the nervousness spilling out of you. And yet, he didn’t kiss you. He didn’t lean in or pull your face to his. He set you down, he put your feet back onto the ground.

“C’mon, I’m not kissin’ you here.” He read the disappointment written all over your face, grabbed your hand and brought you to his truck. “Because the last thing I need is someone trying to get your attention when it should be on me.”

“And your truck is that much more private?”

“It drives and the doors lock, your family seems to always need you when I do, I’d say it’s a bit more private.” He responded, opening the passenger side door for you and closing it once you got inside.

He got in the drivers side and closed the door, locking the truck and taking a deep breath before he turned to you. 

“Honey, I am going to kiss you. If anyone fuckin’ interrupts me I will become a murderer.” He placed his hand on your cheek, leaned in and placed his lips on yours.

You placed a hand on top of his, just reminding yourself that Rhett Abbott was actually kissing you. He leaned in further, deepening the kiss a bit to test the waters as this was the first kiss the two of you shared together. He swiped his tongue over your lower lip, a small whine escaping the back of your throat causing him to chuckle against your lips. 

“C’mere, pretty girl.” He helped you over the console in the middle and into his lap, his hands caressing your sides before finding their way to your ass. Giving it a nice squeeze, he’d thought about this every damn time you wore these jeans.

“Rhett.” You whined, leaning into him for support. Not because you couldn’t hold yourself up, you simply wanted to feel his hands on you and the strength he displayed earlier when he picked you up.

“What, baby? What? You gotta use your words, you know that.” He whispered, placing open mouth kisses along your neck.

“Need you..”

“Need me to what? Words, Honey, words.” He sucked and nipped at one spot directly under your collarbone, he knew it’d start some shit in the future but at this current moment he had you all to himself. He’d rather be a dead man than not mark you as his, hell he’d fucking carve it into your skin if you’d let him. He’d ask you about it later.

“Need you to fuck me..” You whispered, your skin turning pink at the confession and the lewdness of it all. Rhett wouldn’t be your first, you’d drunkenly hooked up with men before but it was a different kind of need to finally have sex with someone you’d been pining after.

“Was that so hard? I can do that for you. Take real good care of ya. Fuck you six ways to Sunday.” His words turning you an even pinker shade, you didn’t know he could say such dirty things but god if it wasn’t the hottest thing anyone had ever said to you.

Both of your hats were thrown into the back seat as it became a race of who could get their jeans off the fastest, you’d win by a few seconds as your mobility wasn’t limited because of someone else sitting on top of you. Your jeans would soon join the hats in the back, tossed loosely back there to just get them out of the damn way. Sure it would’ve been easier to just fuck back there but the small cramped space of the drivers seat was spurring the both of you in a way you hadn’t before that it didn’t matter where you fucked. You just needed to fuck. Now.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this. ‘Bout you.” He confessed, combing his fingers through your hair before smashing your lips back together, giving you no time to think.

Kissing Rhett was nasty, messy, and you loved it. His mouth was on yours, making up for all the times he tried to but hadn’t been successful in kissing you. His hands were roaming your body, caressing the newly naked ass presented to him. He felt like he was fifteen years old ago, seeing a naked body and losing his mind. But he wasn’t fifteen and you weren’t naked, he was losing his mind at the thought of getting you naked. It’d have to wait because he’d become a murderer if anyone else saw you naked from this point on. 

“Thought about you too. Your fingers and how they’d feel inside me, probably so much bigger than mine.” You confessed, taking breaths in between your words, staring at Rhett as he processed what you just told him.

“You are the hottest woman I have ever met, goddamnit Honey.” He groaned in response, sliding your panties to the slide and playing with your clit. “I’m gonna finger you for a second, just stretch you a bit and then I’m gonna fuck you. Okay?”

You shook your head yes and leaned your head against his shoulder as his middle finger slid inside of you. He twisted it occasionally, adding a bit of fun but never letting your orgasm build up. He wanted you to cum on his cock and not a moment before. He slowly added his ring finger to the mix, fucking into you slowly enough to stretch you and be not enough to get off. You wanted to cry when he removed his fingers, no longer feeling the fullness of his fingers, but it wasn’t long before it was replaced with the tip of his cock.

“How bad do you want it?” He teased, pushing just the head in and pulling it back out. Making sure to never let more than his head go inside of you.

“Rhett please, need it. Need your cock, need you to fuck me..” You cried out into his shoulder, gasping loudly when he pushed the whole thing inside of you. “Holy fuckin’ shit..”

He chuckled at your response and kissed the top of your head, waiting just a few moments before he pulled all the way out and pushed himself all the way back inside of you. 

“This pussy was fuckin’ made for me.” He grunted into your ear, slowly starting to move just a little bit faster. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours Rhett, shit, yours..”

He seemed satisfy with your answer and braced himself with one hand on the console and the over wrapped around you, fucking up into you like he wasn’t gonna see you again and this was your last night together. His thrusts were hard and deep, you’d felt a fullness you didn’t even know was possible until now, fast and rough. His soft grunts and groans were like music to your ears, adding to the warmth that was slowly building in your belly. The knot was slowly coming together and it was all the doing of Rhett Abbott.

“Shoulda done this ages ago, made you mine, made sure no one else touched you.” He rambled, words spilling out of his mouth at a speed you’d never heard him speak at. “Fuck, gonna make you Mrs. Rhett Abbott, shit baby, this cunt is so fuckin’ warm.”

“Gonna cum, Rhett I’m gonna cum..fuck fuck fuck…” 

“I’m right behind you, baby.”

He quickly brought his hand down to your clit and pushed you over the edge he had you teetering on. Your orgasm milked the orgasm out of him as he fucked you through it, making sure not to change his motions until you moved his hand away from overstimulation. The windows had long fogged up, only lines from your hair moving against them were left unfogged. He relaxed completely in the seat, breathing deeply in an attempt to catch his breath. 

“Holy shit, Honey. Fuckin’ Hell on Heels.”

#maddies fics #rhett abbot x reader #rhett abbot smut #rhett abbott #lewis pullman #outer range #outer range smut #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott imagine #lewis pullman smut

[granulesofsand]

Reasons people underestimate the prevalence of RAMCOA:

Untraumatized people don’t think about trauma nearly as much as survivors

People don’t know what the signs are. Trainings are shitty when given, attendees don’t think they’ll need to use the information, and trainings offered are usually online and easy to walk away from

Mandatory reporters don’t usually follow through their contracts. This is sometimes a good thing, but it can leave room in the wrong places for endangered children

People who know the signs will ignore them. They think it unlikely, that they’re overreacting, or they just don’t notice

Survivors are quiet. Speaking up puts us in danger, and more people think of us as media material than peers

The police don’t do jack shit for us. Some stations train officers to overlook our cases, and it’s difficult to take to court if a survivor wants to. In larger cases, government works with organized criminal groups that perpetrate or do so themselves for research

We’re a test question. The only time we are brought up in psychology classrooms is if they want to nod to a DID diagnosis. Few therapists are educated and willing to take us on as clients

Abusers know how to make connections with local authority. In high control groups, members may be taught how to abuse and evade interception

All of this makes it hard to report anywhere how many survivors exist free, and the low numbers in turn make us less believable when we do report

RAMCOA includes severe religious abuse, manipulative coercion, programming, cults, trafficking rings, criminal gangs, and more. Survivors are your coworkers, neighbors, cashiers, librarians.

Signs to look for:

Ritual Abuse

History of self-harm, substance use, sui/homicidality, especially with prescribed patterns

Unusual phobias (red or brown foods, kinds of houses, churches, hospitals, fear of the dark or being alone in adults)

Aversion to or obsession with the occult/witchcraft or other faith traditions

Patterns of nightmares, aversions or obsessions with common or nondescript themes (gore, needles, bugs, rodents, monsters, babies, men or women)

Sudden or irresistible urge to relocate, recontact abusers, participate in abusive ceremonies

High pain tolerance

Repeated phrases with violent, aggressive or religious themes

Mind Control and Coercion

Unquestioning obedience of a person or doctrine

Defers to another, speaks as though scripted, frequently accompanied by another or has to ask permission inappropriate for their age

Sudden or dramatic change in behavior, hobbies, or long-standing habits

Refusal to consume media unless approved by another/without further explanation

Anxious or idealized descriptions of childhood home and family, unable to recall these things

No memory of childhood or missing years

Multiple self-states, especially in high quantities

Organized Abuse and Trafficking

Disconnection from peers, family and friends

Does not attend community events or faith services or is perpetually preoccupied with a single group

Repeated unexplained absences from work or school

Disoriented, confused or dissociated for long periods of time or without explanation

Fearful or self-persecutory behavior, especially with allusions to another person or group

Bruises, broken skin or other wounds in various stages of healing

Minors engaging in commercial sex (including CSEM or survival sex)

Timid, skittish, fearful or submissive behaviors (including when this is the norm)

Malnourished, dehydrated, exhausted or with untreated ails

Without belongings or suitable living space

Many indicators of abuses flow together, as do the events themselves. It’s common that RA and OA perps use MC to keep victims in line, and techniques are often implemented by default in abusive environments. A group using RA or MC also qualifies as OA. This is why the community acronym includes all three.

There are more discreet examples for each. It’s possible to find many symptoms of RAMCOA and have none of those maltreatments as the cause. It’s possible to have none and still be abused.

Noticing indicators in children should be followed up by alerting any available reliable authority. Children sometimes disclose using metaphors or slang words they have been taught, so keep this in mind if you work with them.

#ramcoa #tw ramcoa #ritual abuse #mind control #organized abuse #did osdd #dissociative identity disorder #traumagenic system #osddid #did system #polyfragmented system #ramcoa system