#angst i wrote bc i couldn’t sleep

[someforeignband]

It was always strange, sort of like the world was cracking open again, like all that they’d nearly died for had been for nothing. It was like the ground was crumbling under his feet, like the goddamned sky was falling. His heart thudded away in his chest, painfully hammering, clenching and releasing, clawing at the inside of his rib cage, like it was trying to crawl out of his body.

It was strange, and sort of beautiful, like one of those paintings in a museum that you look at. The swirls of paint are made even more beautiful on account of the fact that you find out the guy who painted it killed himself. And it’s sort of funny, the way that works, the way the art reads like some kind of magnificent headstone, and he figures that he wouldn’t even know what those kinds of paintings were like, if it weren’t for Steve.

His Steve.

The Steve that was calm under pressure, while bleeding himself, who would’ve given his life if it came down to it. The Steve that dragged his half-devoured, nearly-dead corpse out of the gate, who jammed his fists into a shuddering earth and screamed fierce curses at the blood-red sky. The same Steve that returned tears with a sarcastic, utterly bitchy comment, who’d never hesitate to send you one of those wide smiles that made you forget everything.

The Steve that stared death in the face and laughed.

It’s beautiful and tragic, like when the world split open and almost swallowed Eddie with it. And he could stop the world with the way he feels in that moment, he could call himself Atlas, could muster the strength of a titan, with the way he feels like he could cradle the earth if it could make it stop.

But now they’re here, at the edge of the end of the world, surrounded by useless things, just boxes and boxes of nothing, and Steve is crying.

When Steve Harrington cries, the world splits open. It’s like he’s dying all over again, watching his boy sit in a pile of his own objects, a binder full of baseball cards to his left, multiple pairs of swim trunks spilling out from under his bed, dozens of pairs of unworn sneakers laying near the closet door. He’s sitting on a box of something and clutching a pearl necklace in his right fist, there’s pages upon pages of notebook paper in piles at his feet, and tears are streaming down his face.

When Steve Harrington cries, the world splits open. And in that moment, Eddie had never felt more like a damned god, cast to live in the wretched depths of hell for eternity. Like he was Hades, like Steve was his Persephone, damned to weep at his feet, cast out by his loved ones to live miserably within the confines of a future they’d created together.

When Steve cried like this, Eddie wondered if he’d been meant to die that night, if maybe the chasm in Hawkins would’ve sealed itself back over at his offering, if he hadn’t been so lucky. When Steve tried to tuck himself away, tried to lock himself in his room, it was like a part of Eddie died anyway, in that fucking place, where the sky shone red as the blood inside of Eddie’s flesh.

“Steve, honey,” Eddie sobers. “You’ve gotta take a deep breath, sweets.”

Steve throws the pearls to his right weakly, they hit the wall with an unsatisfying crack. He sobs harder, coughing, choking on his own emotion, head down. He won’t look at Eddie.

“Can I come sit with you, baby?” Eddie asks, staying at his perch along the wall.

Steve had said he needed to do this alone. Eddie was inclined to let him, inclined to stay downstairs and mind his own business, but then he heard the sobbing and-

“No!” Steve shouts. “I-I told you to stay downstairs god-goddamn it, Eddie.”

And yeah, a part of Eddie died with Steve that night anyway.

#idk what this is really #angst i wrote bc i couldn’t sleep #it’s part of a larger blurb but i sorta like it on its own #stranger things #steddie #steddie angst #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  GIMME HALF

REQUEST : “hi!! I was wondering if you could maybe write an age gap (legal obv) with female!reader × dean winchester where the reader is like in her 20s and dean's in his 40s :) just some rough smut with choking and hair pulling and spitting (if you're comfortable with it) and dean being like super "hungry" for her, like he's waited a long time for it to happen. also lots of dirty talks cause i absolutely love them hahah :) anyways im in love with your writing and all your stories! thanks a lot! <3” — anonymous

PAIRING : dean winchester x professor!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : miracle, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, enemies to lovers, age gap, voyeurism, smut, oral sex, p in v, praise kink, choking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, rough sex, spitting

WORD COUNT : 8.4k

A/N : devil wears prada song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — chair sex and food play. I wrote this half-asleep while listening to ASMR, like… that’s how I write most of my stories, plus, they’re always written between 00.00-02.40. Doctor Who references, ‘cause I’m a nerd. I got carried away…. Cliffhanger bc I’m cruel.

There were countless pros and cons to having houses built so close together with windows facing the same direction. 

Pros: Accidentally seeing your hot neighbour walk around naked in the living room and kitchen. Accidentally catching your hot neighbour jerk off when they think that everyone’s asleep.

Yup, she’s seen all of that and more. All from that nameless, freckled, green-eyed man next door. 

Even wholesome things, like him playing with his cute dog, babying the little rascal and spoiling it. Him cooking and baking, being wholeheartedly content with feeding it to the tall, Hazel-eyed puppy dog of a man, the tall man’s gorgeous deaf wife, and his tiny adorable son; the blue-eyed, dreamy dude in a trench coat; and that endearing young boy with blue eyes who looked like a combination of all three of the men. 

There were times where she’d seen the green-eyed man dressed as a cowboy and even a princess to entertain the little baby boy—his nephew. For sleepovers with him, he’d read him bedtime stories while being completely animated. He’d build a bunch of forts, with sheets, the couch, pillows, and some Christmas lights. He'd talk to the little boy and hold serious conversations despite neither of them being able to understand each other. He’d teach the young boy and the baby boy how to fix cars—at least he tried to. He’d pack his best friends' lunches every morning with his hair unkempt, half asleep, while sipping on some coffee. He’d even take naps with the baby, treating him as his own son. 

He’d do ridiculously endearing things, too, such as baking bread at night when he couldn’t sleep. He'd read books only when he was alone, as if he’d be made fun of by his friends, and she finally understood why. They were either romantic, erotic, or completely nerdy and abstract. He had range. He’d watch cheesy soap operas and rom-com k-dramas when he did chores. He loved to collect things such as Pokémon cards and even legos. 

There were a million things he did that she thought were cute. The windows into his house were like the screens of a television, like her favourite character, she got to see him when he’s relaxed and surrounded only by those who love him 

As for the cons, we’ll get to that…

When they first moved in, it was about three and a half years ago. She’d been visiting her family in Kansas City for her oldest brother’s birthday in June. 

When she returned to Lebanon, they had already settled down. There was a brown and beige Ford pickup truck, a black Subaru—both parked in the front, and a sleek black Impala in the driveway.

The youngest, Jack, waved at her one day when he returned with Cas after buying groceries. Then, Cas awkwardly introduced himself and Jack, and gave her the names of the other two men who were brothers, Sam is the tall one and Dean was the freckled one. 

Sam was the most social one. He’d spark up conversation with her whenever he saw her, dropping bits and pieces of information about himself, his brother, his fiancée, Cas, Jack, and Dean’s loyal dog, Miracle. 

After seven months of living together, Sam moved out with his wife, Eileen. They’d just gotten married, and they both invited her. She’d gone, the wedding was pretty, cute, and modest. Y/n had spoken to a few of their close family and friends. Dean, however, kept to himself the whole night as if he were grieving. He’d smile occasionally if any of his friends came to him, he was enthusiastic, and then he'd go back into himself.

Four months later, Sam and EIleen returned; she was pregnant. It was a boy, he’d planned on naming him after his big brother, which Y/n thought was adorable. He hadn’t told his brother, but planned on telling him the day his son was born.

Y/n could tell Dean had mixed feelings about his brother’s departure, mostly negative feelings. He loved Eileen and his nephew. But when it was just him, Cas, and Jack, he'd often drink, despite concerned, useless interventions with Cas. Unless Sam, Eileen, and his nephew were there. He’d never even glance at that top-shelf cupboard.

The good thing was that at least Dean was a happy drunk.

The first time she interacted with Dean was a few weeks after she’d returned from Kansas City, she assumed two things: his heart was closed off to new people, and he’s one hot, irritating, grumpy, sour, old man.

It was the spring semester at Kansas University. Y/n was grading her students’ creative, personal essays in the office downstairs. She was perplexed by the small percentage of her students and their inability to use proper grammar or follow the thorough, detailed checklist she created to get them to pass easily. 

Just when she thought she’d gotten great at making their lives easy, they return the shittiest, half-assed essays. She felt bad for the bad grades, but since the rest of her students managed to get perfect scores or at least proficient scores, she couldn’t just let them pass. 

Loud banging on the door startled her from reading an impressive essay. Her blood ran cold and she scrambled up from her rolling chair, ignoring that she pushed it halfway across the room. 

Her socked feet were quiet on the wooden floor, making her way quickly down the hallway until she got to the shelf where she kept her gun. She pressed it against the door and looked through the peephole, then relaxed when she saw Dean.

She was irritated by the loud knocking, though, regardless of how cute he looked when he was clearly pissed off. She opened the door and set the gun down on the table where she usually placed her keys.

“Lady, have you seen the mess you made outside?” Dean asked her, pointing behind him. She stared at him, stunned by how much prettier he looked up close. Her cheeks turned hot, but she looked past him trying to see whatever he was pointing at. 

She looked at her red Mustang parked in the front as a reminder to restock the kitchen, then looked close to where his house was. She winced at the mud and the running water from her hose going into his nice lawn.

“Shit,” she murmured, toeing her socks off before moving past Dean to turn the hose off. She got distracted by the mud and the puddles as she pulled the hose, and coiled it back where it should have been. It’s been a while since she last let her bare feet feel this beneath, the smell of wet dirt was amazing, even when it wasn’t caused by rainfall.

“Do you always do shit like this?” He asked from behind, his tone harsh. 

She frowned when she turned to look at his furious face, careful to not touch her forehead with her muddy hands when she used her wrist to move hair away from her face.  

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, tilting her head at him. He just rolled his eyes at her, then he stared at his lawn, and ran his hand down his face. “Did I do somethin’ else to piss you off?” She asked, looking around to see if there’s anything else she may have forgotten.

“One, your cat’s too damn loud, crying and meowing for my damn dog when you let him out,” he started, which made her blink in confusion. She didn’t expect something like that to get on his nerves. “And B, why the hell do you have cameras facing my place?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, her ego being injured fueled her anger and defensiveness. “Okay, listen, Doctor Who, I said I was sorry, okay?” She could tell her words stunned him by the furrowing of his brows in bewilderment, disarming him and shutting him up. “It’s not my fault your dog likes my cat, too. And the cameras are off, they’re there to scare people, so fuck off,” she snapped before she stop herself. 

Dean scoffed at her, “fuck you.” She rolled her eyes at him this time, staring daggers into his back when he turned around to get to his home.

“If you’d fuck me, maybe you wouldnt be such an asshole.” Her snide words made him freeze. He laughed dryly and he turned to face her once more, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Pretty sure I’d still hate you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, crossing his own arms. That stung, even if she didn’t know him personally and half the time she spent romanticising him based on the little bit of information she had. “And I’d rather go fuck some other chick.” She clenched her jaw and breathed in slowly, angry heat began rising up her neck the faster her heart started to beat.

Entirely unintended, she venomously spat, “according to your brother, you haven’t been lucky enough, and you’re not going to be.”

“You talking to my brother about my sex life?” He stepped closer to her, his nostril flaring in anger. Betrayal and hurt crossed his features and she realised her mistake.

“No, just overheard him ‘cause you’re an overbearing douchebag,” she lied smoothly. Truth was, Sam and Eileen did accidentally—drunkenly—tell her how hard it was for Dean to maintain a serious relationship for more than three months. They don’t remember sharing that information. It was easy for her to casually ask about Dean’s love life and availability, masking her attraction to Dean as mere surprise as to how the younger brother got married before the older one. “Makes sense now why no one will sleep with you,” she laughed mockingly, stepping closer to him defiantly.

His face was red now, too. Angry, offended, he rolled his eyes at her smug face and body language. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Sure, yeah, if that makes you feel better,” she snorted, patting his very nice, broad shoulder with her muddy hand as she made her back into her house. Preoccupied by the small mud-print on his beige Henley, he couldn’t get the last word in or stop her from leaving him flustered in her swampy driveway.

That was the start of a horrible relationship with her neighbour. The neighbour she had a crush on. 

He found all kinds of reasons to complain. Big and small. And she secretly did things to piss him off, occasionally sabotaging his plans. 

The thing was that deep down, she still liked him, but he made her so angry and frustrated. And it felt good to see him angry and frustrated by things she caused either on purpose or accidentally. Any attention was better than no attention.

Eventually, that all changed. The fun, the it’s-better-than-nothing feeling, it didn’t last. Fourteen months later, she stopped the cruel games and decided to avoid him completely. 

When her friends offered to take her out, she agreed, even if she wanted to stay home. If Dean was home, she made sure to never say no to them, and sometimes she’d offer to take them out. Wherever.

She’d started to grade at the cafe, library, or the diner, even if Dean went to all those places often. At least he wouldn’t say anything there around all those people. 

When she grew closer to Sam, Cas, and Jack, she’d find excuses not to go over to Dean’s when they offered either food, game nights, movie nights, or random hangouts. They started to notice too—the tension, the avoidance, the hostility—and they’d go over to her place instead, often without Dean, who’d choose to go out to avoid staying home alone.

It was awful. The rejection started to hurt, yet, he had her heart in the palm of his hand. Deep down, she knew that Dean wasn’t a bad person; he just didn’t like her.

Eventually, Dean ended his animosity, too, and everything went back to ‘normal’. She slowly started to reject offers from her friends to test the water, stayed home to grade, and didn't permit her cat to leave even if it cried for an escape. If she took him out, it was with a leash she eventually got him to get used to.

They ignored each other when they crossed paths—in the driveway, at the grocery store, at diners, at the cafe. They acted like complete strangers. She’d keep her curtains closed, at least she did for the windows that face his house. She made her presence as unnoticeable and as invisible as she could to prevent causing more damage to each other.

Then, about two months ago, on Halloween, Sam, Eileen, Cas, and Jack went to her house to collect candy. Sam made a point of staying back while the rest of them walked to where Dean was waiting—looking anywhere but at her house—to convince her to go to his and Eileen’s place for Thanksgiving. 

He was honest, cute, wide hazel eyes attempting to convince her to try and make amends with Dean. She didn’t doubt it, when he told her that Dean felt guilty, but her pride was bruised, and her heart was broken. She told Sam she would be visiting her own family for that holiday. She omitted that she’d be going to her mother’s house a few miles away, still in Lebanon. And she easily convinced her mother to let her stay the rest of the week until she had to go back to work.

Now, Christmas was near—in four days, to be exact. It wasn’t the holiday spirit that made her change her mind, it was the hurt and the exhaustion of planning her life around avoiding Dean. 

So, she called Sam, she asked if he could do anything to get Dean alone tomorrow. 

For the rest of the day, she would start to prepare everything—even though it was Dean who created the mess—she was willing to make the first move and hopefully meet him halfway. 

She couldn’t lie that she felt embarrassed by how excited she was to see Dean. She couldn't even differentiate the meaning of the butterflies in her stomach, but she powered through her fluttering heart and her shaking hands as she prepared everything before going to see him.

She considered not doing it at all, calling it quits—but the consequences of that quickly made her miserable. That would just mean more avoidance, more hiding, more changing everything about herself to make him happy.

All of this over one little misunderstanding. One bad day where her mouth ran without consulting her brain first ruined what could have otherwise been a good friendship—perhaps even a romantic relationship.

She was twenty-six and just like Dean, she hadn’t had a serious relationship since… Well, ever. The last time someone convinced her to date them was in highschool, and even before that, it took her a month—or less—to figure out she wanted nothing to do with them. She didn’t like the people she dated. She realised quickly that she didn’t even want a future with them, she didn’t even allow them to kiss her or touch her. So she figured that if she didn’t want to marry them, what was the point of wasting her time?

For so long, the first thing she thought of when she felt attracted to someone was: can I stand the thought of their touch? Can I see myself kissing them, letting them kiss me? Can I stand the thought of the fights and staying with them through thick and thin? Can I picture myself with them in the future, permanently?

The answer was always ‘no’ and the attraction died immediately after the realisation. 

With Dean, the answer was different. Not for some stupid reason, like fate, or the boy-next-door trope. No. This was reality, and the real reason was the fact that she got to see who he was before she was attracted to him. 

It was the selflessness, the love in everything that he did, the gentleness of his heart, the kindness that radiated from him, and the ease in the way he did chores, the way he made his friends laugh, his playfulness, the loyalty, the way he was clearly protective. 

It was the open windows of her house into his open windows that let her see through him, down to his very beautiful core. It was the lack of hidden things, the openness of his soul because he felt safe, unwatched. It was real because Cas, Jack, and Sam were proof that even though Dean wasn’t perfect, he was worth it.

The Doctor did say once: the good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant. 

For the first time, she was willing to take a chance.

She smoothed down the silky emerald-green dress. It was pretty, flowing down her body perfectly, stopping at the middle of her calves…. Actually, now that she looked at herself in the mirror, her curls perfectly maintained, the light touch of makeup, the heels… was it too much?

She ignored those anxious thoughts and made sure she had everything she needed and everything that she prepared before stepping out into the cold.

The spaghetti straps didn’t stop the cold, but the heat of her nervousness at least did something as she walked up to his door and waited after knocking gently. 

When he opened the door, he was stunned to see her.

“What?” He asked bluntly. 

She could tell that the way she was dressed caught him off guard. His eyes moved from her face, up to her hair, back down to the boxes in her hands, and lower to her feet. 

“I’ve got pie,” she said the first thing her mind thought of. Yes, it was blunt, yes, it disarmed him further… It was not smooth, but Dean looked behind him, and then he looked at her once more while biting his lip before opening the door wider, and stepping out of the way for her to enter. 

She exhaled shakily as he scratched the back of his neck. Out of habit, she slipped out of her heels before stepping inside his home, planting her bare feet on the soft, long rug he had. He kindly, wordlessly, took her heels from outside and placed them on the shoe rack he had inside before shutting the door behind her.

She felt so… warm. Finally, she was inside the place she longed to be in. Right where Dean was. Along the walls there were dozens of pictures, but she didn’t go too far, she waited for him.

She felt his presence behind her and it made her shiver, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him. Instead, she stared at photos of him with Cas, Sam, Jack, and other people she hadn’t met. Women and Men. Dean was smiling in all of them. And in a large majority of them, they were looking at him while he looked at the camera. 

What a funny thing. 

“Here,” he said from behind her, his deep voice sounded soft, gentle, unlike the last time they spoke to each other. It made her shudder. “Let me help.” She slowly braced herself when she turned around, staring into his beautiful green eyes, illuminated magically by Christmas lights. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, carefully loosening her grip on the objects in her hand for him to take what he wanted—which was everything. 

She stepped to the side when he murmured, “no problem,” and started to walk off to the kitchen. She followed him slowly, took a look around, respectfully, curiously, just when she heard the clicking of nails and the thump of paws on wooden floors, and the bark of his dog headed in their direction. 

“Miracle,” Dean grunted, setting everything down on the table, “not inside.” While the fluffy dog did stop its excited running, his enthusiasm was not lost as he wagged his tail, and playfully got down on his stomach in front of her feet. Still on his belly, Miracle approached Y/n slowly, paws and tongue at her toes, as if testing the waters. 

“Hey,” she greeted softly as she squatted slowly and laughed quietly, gently scratching Miracle’s head as he nudged her hand with his wet nose, staring up at her with adorably wide eyes—much like Sam did. “You’re so cute,” she cooed, her heart warming up when Miracle barked quietly.

He then jumped up and turned towards Dean, who was watching them—perplexed, happy, conflicted. 

“You were asleep,” Dean scolded, but sweetly took Miracle’s head in his hands and kissed him between his ears. Miracle whined and stepped away, sitting in front of Dean as if saying ‘I’ll be good if you let me stay’. “Whatever,” Dean groaned with a smile, which made Miracle happy, because he laid his cheek on his paw and stared up at Dean, resting.

Now, it was awkward. 

Dean caught her staring at him, her expression inquisitive. She cleared her throat awkwardly, but she couldn’t form words. She only now noticed that he was wearing a faded black shirt and hotdog pyjama pants. 

“So…” Dean began instead, “pie.” It wasn’t any better, but it’s as she always said: it was better than nothing. 

“Yes,” she confirmed, “strawberry… you weren’t getting ready for bed…?” She inquired, tipping her chin in the direction of his attire. 

“Not to sleep,” he reassured her, taking a few steps toward the cupboards to pull out two plates, glass cups, and then some utensils from the lower drawer. “Why are you doing this?” Dean asked quietly from where he was across the kitchen, everything still in his hands.

“I deserve better that’s why,” she snapped. He blinked at her, guilty, but she paused and took a deeper breath. Careful to not smear her eyeliner, she rubbed her temples instead. She reached behind her to wrap her ankle around the leg of a chair to pull it out and sit down. “Sorry, I don’t like… being angry,” she breathed out, looking out his kitchen window into her dark living room. She switched the Christmas lights off. “It's very stressful because I…” She turned to look at him and forgot her words as he came closer. 

He looked cuter in person and prettier, still. Three years and nothing has changed, he still had her heart right in his hand. 

“Why?” He pressed, placing everything down on the table in front of her. Looking up at him felt intimidating, so she averted her gaze. He was much older than she was… it made her… feel dumb. See-through. Like he could figure her out in seconds. 

“Because I’m friends with your friends,” she admitted without looking at him, then she reached out to arrange the plates, cups, and utensils. He sat down thoughtfully, and watched her unstack the small boxes she brought over. 

“You’re doing this for them,” he laid out flatly, but he took a seat next to her and stared at her. His eyes on her made her self-conscious, flustered. She bet he could see everything, all the ugly and the weird in her.

“I’m doing this for me,” she corrected him gently, “I just want to be happy,” she sighed, removing the plastic wrap she placed over the pie she baked. “Is that selfish?” She wondered out loud, taking the knife, she stared at it. 

“No,” Dean sighed, wrapping his hand around hers to take the knife. She inhaled sharply at the warmth of his touch, his calloused palms brushing against the back of her hand, sending warmth over her chest, pressing into her wrist with her heart excitedly pounding against her ribs.

She released the knife into his hold, trying to hide how much he affected her, but she doubted she could fully do that with the Christmas lights exposing the blush she could feel on her face. She could feel her veins pumping blood faster, caught up with the heavy beating of her heart. If he looked down at her neck, he could probably see it in her veins.

She looked away, down at Miracle who was still peacefully laying on his belly, and Dean looked away towards the beautiful pie to start slicing into it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, taking her plate to give her the first slice. She looked up at Dean, taking the plate with a generous slice of strawberry pie. 

“I wanted to be the first to say it…” She complained playfully, trying to maintain eye contact with him, but his beauty was intimidating, forcing her to look away, “soon as my ego stopped being sensitive,” she added. 

Dean laughed softly, placing his own slice on his plate. The sound of his laugh made her smile, her stomach flipped with elation, at the crinkles by his eyes. Her breathy exhale made him look at her.

“Well, I’m forty-four, my ego’s been bruised enough times,” he told her, “I don’t care much for it when…” he trailed off and chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. She bit her lip, too, trying not to stare too long at his pretty mouth. 

“Well, thanks,” she murmured, her jaw twitching as she looked away from him. 

“I’d consider all this an apology,” he told her, gazing at her as she opened two rectangular boxes. She smiled, shaking her head. She pulled out a bottle of homemade eggnog along with a decorated jar filled with white frosting, and a small container with crushed peppermint candy. “This isn’t… poisoned, right?” He teased, still watching her while she opened the bottle of rum eggnog, she tilted her head at him, amused. “Just making sure… you did make all this…” he trailed off, impressed.

“Taste the pie,” she encouraged as she started making the drinks.

“You’re just trying to shut me up,” he chuckled gruffly, but he picked up his fork and started to dig in. The strawberry filling barely touched his tongue when he moaned, she watched him not even begin to chew. His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, savouring the pie. 

It made her blush, but she focused on covering the rim of the cups he brought with the whiskey frosting she made and the peppermint candy shavings before filling it with eggnog.

“You made the frosting, too?” He asked, tipping his head towards the jar. His mouth was full, some strawberry filling dripped down the corner of his mouth, but he picked it up with his tongue. She licked her lips, trying to stop herself from breathing airily, and passed him the eggnog with a nod and slid the jar of frosting towards him to serve herself some eggnog. 

Dean dipped his finger into the frosting, collecting a large amount before wrapping his lips around his finger to suck the frosting off. She forced herself to look away from how hot he looked and ate her own slice of pie instead.

“I’ve seriously been missing out,” he murmured regretfully. “I was real childish,” he told her, “I never should’ve gotten pissed over… everything-”

“Dean,” she interrupted him, giving him a sheepish smile, “you already apologised and I forgive you. Besides, I did things, too.. on purpose… so, I’m sorry.” She pursed her lips and took a sip from her eggnog, swiping her tongue along the sweet frosting.

“You did things on purpose?” He repeated, a smirk on his face. She breathed out a laugh and nodded bashfully. “Why?” he wondered, leaning into her curiously, subtly moving his plate of food towards her. She considered being blunt, but she chose to test him instead.

“Probably the same reason you got pissed at everything I did and didn’t do,” she laughed, pulling a piece of strawberry out of the pie to put it in her mouth.

“I doubt that,” Dean muttered, picking up his own drink, and taking a large gulp. She eyed him closely, her eyes becoming hooded when he licked across his lips after drinking to collect the thin layer of sweetened alcohol on his mouth. 

“What was your reason then?” She wondered flirtatiously, her voice low and seductive. She pushed her plate away with her arm., and mimicked his body language, scooting forward in the chair. 

She watched as his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his fork before he dropped it. She’d never quite been stared at that way before, but it suddenly—almost, made her laugh. Her legs felt weak, her stomach heavy, almost fooling her into thinking she couldn’t get up, but she did.

With a rapid heart and shaky knees, she pushed her chair back, and Miracle lifted his head in alarm. Dean leaned back in his chair, sliding his palms up his thighs, and watched hungrily as she lifted her dress up her legs, squeezing in front of him and part of the table to sit on his lap. 

“Seems like we’ve both been missing out on a lot of stuff,” she whispered, her stomach fluttering for a variety of reasons, but mostly from excitement. He bit his lip, eyes twinkling as he placed his hands slowly on her thighs. She sank her teeth down on her lip, too, breathing heavily when his hands began sliding up her thighs, lifting her dress higher, and higher.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, continuing to move her dress up until his hands were wrapped around her hips where he could realise she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “I thought I should tell you, before I ruin you,” he rasped, tightening his hold on her hips.

“Fuck,” she moaned, moving forward in his lap until their hips were pressed together. She brought her hands into his hair, and pulled it gently, bringing her mouth close to his, but she never kissed him. She breathed against his lips and when he leaned forward to kiss her, she pulled back teasingly.

“You’re seriously gonna make me wait?” He whispered, slowly rolling his hips up into her, his hard cock pressing into her wet core. She gasped softly against his mouth and laughed breathlessly.

“You feel good,” she praised, flushing as she ground against him harder.

“I’d feel better inside you,” he smirked, sliding one of his hands farther up her dress, his warm palm flattening up her stomach reverently, stopping beneath her breasts..

“I bet,” she moaned, arching into his touch before finally pressing her tinted lips against his. Dean moaned softly against her mouth, pressing against her hungrily, then lifted her up, carefully moving his plate and cup aside to lay her down on the table. 

“Miracle, bed,” Dean ordered when he pulled away from her lips. The dog obediently stood up and excitedly made his way to where Dean’s room was. Dean kissed her once more, drawing her attention away from Miracle and back to him.

She’d never been kissed the way Dean kissed her or touched the way Dean touched her. His hands were everywhere, testing, learning, skillful. He scratched her skin sending sparks down to her already soaked core, kneading her body roughly until she moaned against his mouth. He squeezed her and made her wet. He dug his blunt nails into her and made her nerves ignite. His hands smoothed across her, sailing over her body like she were an ocean and he was a sailor. 

He was desperate, devouring her mouth with his tongue and his teeth, putting his all into the kiss, licking her lips, teasing the inside of her mouth, brushing against her warm tongue. He yearned to memorise the taste of her mouth, to feel close to her, pressing and moaning against her the way he’d done when he ate the pie and frosting. He nibbled on her lips, tugging, biting, claiming, taking the air from her lungs and pulling away at the perfect time. 

He rolled his hips into her frantically and finally started to move away from her now-swollen lips, the colour of her raspberry tint robbed and replaced by the redness of his kiss. 

He dragged his teeth teasingly along her jaw and licked his way down her neck, pressing his stubbled face into her neck, kissing and sucking softly, searching. She rolled her head to the side, giving him all the access he needed, until finally, she moaned loudly when he sucked into her sweetspot. He smiled against her throat, feeling her take handfuls of his shirt, her hips wiggling impatiently beneath him.

He kissed lower still, then back up to the other side of her neck, and bit her collarbones, kissing every inch of her skin, her shoulders and her sternum. She loved every second of it and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, touching and scratching his skin, pulling him closer as he bucked into her bare core.

“Did you know your shirt was see-through when we first met?” He whispered into her cleavage. She laughed and replied with a breathless ‘no’. “Well.. your tits on display, legs bare in those tiny shorts, all pissed as hell… it was hot,” he chuckled, lowering the thin straps of her dress until the top started to reveal her breasts. 

“Is that why you jerked off that night?” She asked, gripping his hair and tugging hard. He grunted and laughed, staring into her lustful eyes.

“You saw?” He teased, bringing his hand to her breast, squeezing roughly. “The answer’s yes.. And everytime after that, it was also ‘cause of you,” Dean confessed, “couldn’t stop thinking about you, every day and every night. I thought I hated you, but I guess I just needed to fuck you.” 

She chuckled, gripping the hem of his shirt, dragging it up his body as he latched onto her nipple. She hummed softly, tugging hard at his hair, in complete bliss as he wrapped his mouth around the bud, licking, sucking, and biting until she whimpered for him to give her more—which was impossible. He moved onto her other breast, savouring her warm skin with his hotter mouth, tugging her neglected nipple with his fingers, twisting and pinching. 

“Please,” she moaned, yanking his hair so he’d pull away. Dean growled against her flesh and bit down hard on her breast, before pulling away, drawing a mewl from her of his name. 

“You could be nicer,” he muttered, allowing her to lift his shirt up off his body, but he continued to kiss her breasts, sucking gently around the flesh to leave red marks. He lifted her feet up on the table and pressed her thighs close to her chest, opening her up to admire her soaked sex.

“We’re long past nice, pretty boy,” she teased blushing and biting her lip when he stood up straight. She didn’t look at him, too insecure to watch him as he brought his hand to the inside of her thighs, teasing her vulva.

“You think I’m pretty?” He grinned, circling her entrance, moaning at copious amounts of arousal on his fingers. “So wet… you that needy for my cock inside you?” He asked smugly. 

She looked at him now, heat flooding up her face at his obscene words. Before she could say anything about it, the tattoo on his chest drew her attention away from the adorable pride on his face.

“You’re a hunter,” she stated, stunned, blinking at him with a smile. He looked down at himself then at her, speechless. She lifted her hips and hitched her dress up higher to reveal her ribcage where she had the same tattoo, twice as small.

“You’re a professor,” he remarked with arousal on his face, pushing his finger into her. He lowered himself down her body and wrapped his arm around her legs, holding her open as he breathed warmly against her wet cunt.

Before she could close her legs to him demurely, Dean dove in, his mouth hot on her pussy. He ate her out the same way he kissed her, teeth making her whimper, his tongue parting and tasting, picking up the flavour of her wetness as she moaned. 

He salivated on her, humming in satisfaction while he sucked her clit into his mouth while he fingered her. Her hands found his hair once more, pulling hard and almost painfully, but his cock jumped each time inside the thin material of his pyjamas. Dean added a second finger as he moaned against her swollen clit, knuckles deep, pressing against the front of her textured walls, drawing silent moans from her, making her squirm more and more. 

“Fuck,” she panted, “you’re so good,” she praised, flexing her hand above his head before gripping at the honey strands. He slurped lewdly, devouring her pussy, squeezing her hips desperately holding her close to his face while she pushed him harder against her cunt. “Dean… I’m close,” she moaned, closing her legs around his head. 

He moaned again, adding another finger, shoving deep as he circled her swollen clit with his tongue, drawing figures on her clit possessively. She gasped loudly and cried out his name, tensing up when she orgasmed, her walls clamping down on his three fingers. The rapture of her orgasm seemed endless as he continued to tongue at her clit, it made her writhe uncontrollably, and he smirked against her pussy.

Her whiny laugh and the way she squeezed his head to stop him made him chuckle, and he tapped her thigh once he pulled his fingers from within her pulsing walls. She released him, melting into the table while he licked his fingers clean of her release.

“You taste good,” he told her earnestly, “so fucking good.” She bit her lip, giving him a look of disbelief. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning down to lick a long stripe up her pussy, then down, pushing his tongue past her clenching, wet hole. 

“Dean, fucking…” she moaned, “oh, God, why does that feel good?” She snickered, then he pulled away hovering above her. She opened her eyes to his smug face, his clean fingers squeezed her cheeks roughly until she opened her mouth. She furrowed her brows, whining out with her hands around his wrist so he’d release, but she shut up when he spit in her mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he ordered, licking his lips. Her pupils dilated as she looked into his eyes, the tangy taste of herself made her mouth water and she swallowed. “D’you know how hot you are?” He asked rhetorically, kissing her roughly once more, ravenous and stopped only when he felt her hands pushing his pants down his legs.

“I want you, Dean,” she whispered against his mouth, biting his lip before returning the passion of his kiss.

“Where?” He asked teasingly, wrapping his arm around her waist, he sat her up on the table and gently held her face in his hands, before releasing her to strip completely. 

“I want you inside me,” she told him coquettishly, hopping off the table to slowly let her dress pool around her feet. “I want to ride you, to feel you stretch me open…” she walked towards him, watching him completely aroused, a look of pleasant surprise on his face, “I want you to fill me up, and make me cum on your cock…” she licked her lips, staring down at his cock, erect and leaking precum. “... I’ve never seen a dick this nice,” she told him, wrapping her hand around the base and stepping closer to him.

He grunted, “suck it then.” She laughed through her nose, releasing his cock to fondle his balls. He moaned, stumbling slightly.  “I’ve been wanting to shut you up with my cock in your mouth,” he told her, a smirk on his face, “now, I’m just thinking how pretty you’ll look with your lips wrapped around me.” Dean reached up and curled his fingers around the back of her neck. 

She looked behind him, removed her hand, and tipped her head to the chair, “sit.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, kicking the chair towards him like she had earlier, then he sat, legs wide and tempting. “You’re sexier than you were in my imagination,” he told her, watching her get down between his legs, kissing his thighs while looking up at him through her curled lashes. 

“Keep talkin’,” she grinned up at him, taking his heavy cock in her hand once more. Dean gave her a sexy look, smug and aroused.

“I wanna finish in your mouth,” he told her, “want to see you swallow my load.” Pleased, she moved forward and began kissing and licking the length of his cock, teasingly and experimentally feeling the velvety, veiny texture against her hand, tongue, and lips. “I want to hear you choke on my cock, and see what you look like with tears in your eyes as I fuck your pretty face.” She moaned softly, intrigued by the description of his fantasy. 

She dipped her tongue into the slit, moaning at the taste of his precum, drooling over the soft head of his cock before sucking him into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he moaned, tangling his fingers in her hair. She slowly took him deeper, pulling him out of her hot mouth teasingly, then swallowing inch by inch of his hard cock. “You’re so good at that, baby,” he panted, letting her take her time at her own pace, but he gripped her hair tightly. “Don’t stop,” he moaned, staring into her eyes as she continued to take his cock, bobbing her head, not stopping until he hit the back of her throat. She swallowed around him, and he bucked his hips up, releasing a whispered curse, attempting to keep his eyes open to watch her suck him off.

She got comfortable between his legs, taking his freehand to put it in her hair. He took her hair, put it together, and waited for her permission before slowly lifting his hips, pushing his cock slowly into her throat. When she gagged, he slowly pulled back, then pushed back into her, lips parted, releasing quick breaths. 

Eventually, he started to fuck her face in earnest, lifting his hip up off the chair, pulling her hair hard to guide her on and off his dick. Her spit dribbled down her chin in a mixture of his precum. She swallowed as much as she could, moaning and blinking tears that tickled her eyes and her jaw. 

“You look so fucking…” he chocked on a moan, “so damn sexy.” 

She ignored the soreness of her jaw, relaxing it as best as she could as he fucked her near mercilessly. Her pussy throbbed with every sound of his pleasure, clit aching for attention at the way he gazed down at her with burning desire, but she refused to touch herself, enjoying the build-up, the desperation for another orgasm, for his touch. 

He throbbed in her mouth, turning to mush beneath her mouth. He even began to whimper and moan her name, praises and dirty words becoming scarce in attempts to hold back his orgasm, edging himself with her mouth. It didn’t take long for him to hold her with her nose against his pelvis breathlessly. 

He pulled her off his cock, and released her hair to wipe tears tenderly from her hot cheeks with his thumbs, trying to get his mind off the near-pleasure of her mouth around his cock while catching his breath. 

“Yummy,” she rasped, pulling a breathless laugh from him. She wiped her chin with her shoulder and smiled up at him, slowly getting up on her knees to get rid of the ache of sitting on her legs.

She got up, leaning back against the table, admiring him in his red, flushed, somewhat sweaty state. His hair was a mess from her hands and he had a blush around his neck to his ears. She knew the hardness of his body accounted for the fact that he was a hunter, as well as the scars she felt beneath her soft hands, bite marks, bullet wounds, and healed slashes.

“Come closer,” she told him and he laughed, bringing himself and the chair closer, stopping when she sat on his thighs, fixing herself over his strong thighs. “Gonna cum if I tease you?” She asked, tapping the head of his cock. It twitched instantly and he moaned.

“Depends,” he replied breathily, sliding his hands up her body. She hummed softly, spreading her legs, positioning his cock near her soppy folds.

“On what?” She cackled playfully, parting her folds with one hand, circling her clit with her fingers. He watched her lustfully, the wetness that made her pussy shine coated her fingers.

“How wet and warm you feel on my cock,” he replied truthfully. He grabbed her hand and moved it out of the way anyway, taking his cock to push it between her folds, pressing the tip against her clit. 

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned softly, grasping his shoulders, “you feel… I need you,” she whimpered, rolling her hips along the length of his cock. He moaned with her, moving her hips closer to him, her wetness coating his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart…” Dean moaned, watching her lean back against the table, positioning the soft head of his cock to her entrance. Completely enthralled, he watched himself slip inside her, and she watched him, biting her lip hard in concentration, the stretch of her walls around him almost painful. “Fuck… I can feel how bad you need me… I need you just as bad,” he panted, flexing his hands on her thighs, desperately trying not to thrust up into her warmth. He dug his nails into her flesh, his head tipping back, his hips rolling up.

“Dean,” she moaned again, starting to lift herself up and down his cock, reaching up to cup her breast. “Shit, you feel amazing,” she breathed out, grinding her hips against his until he was fully inside her. 

“You okay?” He asked, one of hands drifting up to knead her breast comfortingly. She nodded, buried her fingers in his hair and brought him in for a kiss as she bent her knees, and tucked her feet in between his thighs.

“I could cum like this,” she mumbled against his lips. His chuckle rumbled through his chest and he shook his head, her pussy clenched at the sound and she started to lift herself up again.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, sucking on his lip momentarily. “I’ll make you cum so hard…” He paused to moan, thrusting up into her slowly, meeting her hip. “...you’ll never want to fuck anyone else,” he promised her, building up the pace of his thrusts until she stopped moving with him altogether, letting him fuck up into her needy cunt. 

“You’ll only wanna be fucked by me,” he continued, watching her lean back with her elbow on the table, her hands roaming his warm body, “and I’ll be there, ready to fuck you hard.” He looked over her shoulder, at the jar of frosting. “Pounding into your sweet cunt,” he swore breathlessly, reaching behind her, dipping his fingers to gather frosting, “makin’ you beg, makin’ you impossibly wet.” He smeared frosting over her nipples, over her collarbone, her sternum, until he had no more while she moaned his name needily. 

“Makin’ you feel things you’ve never felt before.” He gripped her hip with frosting-coated fingers, leaning forward to lick and suck the whiskey frosting from her body. “I’ll fill you up as many times as you want,” he vowed, smoothing her hand up her back, into her hair once more, pulling until she whined his name. “I’ll fuck you wherever you want.”

Her pussy continued to gush over Dean’s cock the more he talked—his breathless, husky voice taking her over the edge. Each rough pull of her hair made her mewl and whimper as she rolled her hips desperately against his. 

“Dean, please,” she whispered, scratching down his back, digging marks into his skin the harder and faster he thrusted into her. Loud skin slapping, the wet sound of her pussy being penetrated, with every push of his cock in and out of her, squelching and driving her crazy. She dug her nails into her palm, making obscene sounds that made her self-conscious.

“I’ll fuck you all over your house, all over mine.” Another moan of his name, another rough pull of her hair. “I’ll fuck you in my car, in your car, anywhere and all over town.” He pulled away from her sticky chest, licked his lips at the sight of her, so she screwed her eyes shut. She felt a warm pool of wetness on her pelvic bone, opened her eyes to him spitting between their bodies, watching his saliva drip down her folds to her clit. 

She’d never heard of or experienced sex quite this raw and dirty.

“I’ll make you scream my name, make you forget how to talk, how to walk…” She leaned back into him, panting into his ear, keeping him close while rubbing her clit. He yanked her hair, forcing her to look at him. 

“Dean…”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, closing his eyes, he breathed against her lips, “and I want you forever.”

As he promised, she cried out his name when she came, squeezing his cock hard, coating him in her release. He grunted her name, cursing loudly as he came inside her, his hot seed spurting into her, filling her as he said he would. 

He circled his arms around her as she writhed once more, releasing her hair as she put her arms around his neck, panting and catching her breath until the pleasure subsided.

“I want all of that,” she murmured after a few moments of silence, kissing his cheek. He squeezed her and moved back, bewildered. He moved hair from her face and tilted his head at her, drawn to her nakedness, her flushed beauty. “First, I want to shower…” Slowly, carefully, she climbed off his lap, her legs shaky, her pussy releasing the mixture of their pleasure. 

“That’s a good start,” he told her softly. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled when he stood up from the chair and looked around at the mess in the kitchen. “No one’s coming home anytime soon… thanks to Sammy…” Dean trailed off, smoothing his hand over his head to fix his hair.

“Thanks to me,” she came clean with a shy smile, bringing his gaze up to hers. His eyes twinkled and he laughed loudly, tugging her towards him again by her arm, his lips pressing against hers.

➥ sempiternal

taglist

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#12daysofspnkinkmas2023 #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x female!reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction

[ponderingmoonlight]

Kento Nanami and his wife losing their unborn child in Shibuya (major tw!)

Pairing: husband!Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,5k

Synopsis: It seemed like a normal evening when you passed out on the couch, not aware of Haruta sneaking into your shared apartment until he pierces his blade through your pregnant stomach. How will your husband react, finding out what happened to you?

Warning: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING!, if you feel uncomfortable with child loss or it triggers you in some way, please don't read this, heavy violence, heaviest angst but comfort (bc Nanami is the best husband ever), didn't proofread this because it hurts my soul, please note that I never experienced something like that and wrote it out of stories from family and it might be bad

This is like the bad ending to Haruta seeking revenge on Nanami's heavy pregnant wife. You can find it here

Thank you @wifenanami for breaking our heart (I love your requests babe) 😭

Your mind is a blur when you open your aching lids against a harsh light. Damn, everything hurts, you feel like someone has stabbed you over and over again. Your stomach aches so bad…why? The last thing you remember is…

A toe-curling scream coming out of your own mouth. Hands that keep you from falling to the ground. Darkness, unimaginable agony, grief. But why? What happened? Out of instinct, your hands wander to your belly. Weren’t you at home passed out on the couch with your heavy belly laying on the side, waiting for your husband to come back to you?

You were, but there’s something else…

Suddenly, a wave of memories washes over you, memories that make your whole body tremble with overflooding emotions.

“I-I can’t feel her anymore. Shoko, I can’t feel her, she isn’t moving!”, you cry on top of your lungs, hands roaming around your blood-soaked stomach in a desperate attempt to find a heartbeat.

You weren’t fast enough. The minute that blond-haired man with the ugly ponytail stumbled into your apartment and shot a sword directly through your belly, you were lost at words, lost at actions, lost at control. As if frozen in place, you watched as he pierced through you over and over again, your blood spilling onto the cold marble floor, discolouring everything in your crimson blood within seconds.

And hers. Your precious daughter. It was only a matter of time said Shoko the other day. A matter of time until you’d be finally able to hold her in your arms, a matter of time to see your husband putting her to sleep.

But time ran out for both of you.

“Send my best wishes to your husband! Well, you probably can’t do that anymore though…See ya!”

You can’t remember what happened next. How did you even manage to let Shoko know that you’re injured? It doesn’t matter anyway. The look of pure horror on her face was enough for you to know that it’s too late.

“Y-you…you need to save her”, you hush, tears now taking your sight completely.

You are nothing but weak. Too weak to defend yourself, too fucking weak to even move an inch when someone attacks you.

Too weak to save the life of your daughter.

Your daughter…

“Tell me she’s okay”, you mumble into the light above you over and over like a prayer.

Maybe all of this was nothing but a bad dream. Maybe Shoko was really able to use her reversed technique on both you and your precious daughter. Maybe she’s laying in her father’s arms right now, safe and sound. Her father…where is your husband? Is he alright?

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). I tried everything I could but…I couldn’t save her, she was already dead when I arrived…”

“No”, you interrupt her immediately.

You hold your breath. How often did you imagine what she might look like? Your little angel. Oh, you were so excited when you found out you’re expecting your first child back then, Kento was so overwhelmed that he even cried. She was the blessing in a world full of curses, your little ray on sunshine in the dark.

She…She can be dead…

“You were there, right? You saved both of us, right?”

Shoko leans down towards you. And for the first time since knowing her, you see her cry. Not only a single tear runs down her face, but a never-ending waterfall while she holds onto your shaky hand.

You feel numb, want to laugh and cry at the same time, want to scream and to stay silent all at once. This…This can’t be reality. This isn’t how it’s supposed to turn out. You’ve read enough books to know how happy endings work, that the people who deserve it will always find happiness.

“My darling.”

His voice catches you off guard, makes your glossy eyes widen and heartbeat pick up. This is him, without any doubt. Your husband is here.

Gently, he grabs your other hand and leans forwards.

Your breath hitches in an instant.

“Kento…”

Half of his body is burned, bruises cover his gorgeous face. But the worst thing is the unwavering sadness that gleams in his orbs. It hits you like a wall.

The things you saw, Shoko’s words.

Everything is true.

You lost your child at Shibuya.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). Everything is my fault. I should have saved you, I should have stayed with you, I should have killed him…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”

And then he breaks down on the side of the bed you’re laying in, head pressed against the soft mattress while crying so horribly that you feel like dying right on the spot.

This, everything that happened…Everything is only your fault. You should have listened when he instructed you to stay at Jujutsu High, you should have locked the door like he always said. You are not only responsible for getting hurt, but also for losing the way too young life of your unborn daughter.

She had her whole life ahead of her. Her first steps, her first time saying “dada”, your precious husband buying her clothes, bringing her to school on her first day, comforting her when he first boy breaks her heart only to scare this poor boy to death…

You didn’t only kill her, but her whole future. And Kento’s on top.

“How are you feeling, love? Are you still in pain?”

You don’t even dare to look at him, numb eyes just staring at the ceiling. No, you don’t deserve this man kneeling in front of you, you don’t deserve him even talking to you.

“You should leave.”

Thick silence hangs in the air, Kento’s eyes darted towards you in sheer disbelief. Why would you ever suggest something like that? When he woke up, the first thing on his mind was you. When Shoko told him what happened, that your daughter died and she isn’t sure if you’ll make it, it felt as if a part of himself is vanishing. You, the love of his life, the baby both of you waited for…

“I will never leave your side, love. Not when we both need each other more than ever”, he replies as calmly as possible.

“Why would you say that when I’m the one who killed your daughter?”

Your words hit him with full force, tear the ground from under his feet. It already hurts enough to know you lost your little angel in than senseless battle to that disgusting creature. But hearing that you make yourself responsible for what happened, that you think he doesn’t want to be with you anymore…

“Look at me.”

Carefully, he cups your cheek with his large hand, forcing you to return his gaze. The empty look in your eyes makes him tear up all over again.

This is so unfair, so unbelievable cruel. Isn’t it enough that you’ve lost your child? Why are you plaguing your mind with blaming yourself for that tragedy, why are you even thinking he’ll leave you?

“Let me tell you from the bottom of my heart that I love you more than ever. Let me promise you that I’ll never leave your side, no matter how numb you feel, no matter how often the pain gets overwhelming. Let me tell you that we’ll get through this together. Because you are my wife, (y/n). And even though it rips me apart to know that we’ve lost our daughter to this fucker, I will always be thankful that you survived. You did so well. I’m beyond proud that you’ve managed to call Shoko, that you pushed through and fought for your life. I will NEVER blame you for what happened at Shibuya. And I will love you through everything.”

“Kento…I miss her so much”, you breathe against his hand with so much grief in your voice that it takes him all his strength so not break down all over again.

“I miss her too, darling. But she’s always with us, she’ll never leave our side”, he whispers gently.

“I don’t deserve you…You, you are injured yourself. What happened to you?”

“Nothing but a few scratches. Let me stay by your side, okay? I never want to leave you alone again, (y/n).”

You can’t contain yourself any longer, it seems like the world around you collapses as you let yourself fall into your husband’s arms. Everything is too much, all the grief, all the sadness seems to swallow you whole. But oh does it feel good to lay against his chest, to feel his fingertips stroke your hair gently.

“I will always stay by your side. And so does our little angel.”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopstick @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp@wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami fanfic #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #husband nanami #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami hurt #jjk hurt/comfort #jjk hurt #jujutsu kaisen shibuya arc #shibuya #jjk shibuya incident #jjk shibuya arc #shibuya incident #jjk kento nanami #kento x reader #kento x y/n #jjk kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanamin #nanami my beloved

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Everybody Dies

Pairings: Rick Grimes x teen!reader, Daryl Dixon x teen!reader, Carl Grimes x teen!reader, Michonne Hawthorne x teen!reader, Aaron x teen!reader, Negan x teen!reader, Rosita Espinosa x teen!reader, Eugene Porter x teen!reader, Sasha Williams x teen!reader (all of them are platonic)

Requested by: @leahsbasement may i request a teen or child g/n reader that’s really close to the twd group and during the lineup they’re one of the people chosen by negan to yknow- receive the glenn and abraham treatment💀 and like we get some reactions from the group from it🧎 i apologize if this sounds really morbid but i am dire need of some good angst and i love your writing sm it’s amazing <3

Warnings: reader death, angst, a tad bit of fluff (definitely not much), mention of character death, description of Negan doing what he did to Glenn and Abraham, blood, mention of a brutal way to die, idk what more I guess you have all seen twd so you know what might be in this. Not proofread

A/N as usual the gif is not mine, found it somewhere on the internet. This is not proofread, well half of it is.

Now I tried to do a reaction with all of the people at the line up so sorry with Sasha I guess bc I don’t like her so found it a bit hard to write her as a character that’s close to the reader, and once more thank you for the request, it gave me an excuse to write this

Anyway idk what I think of this, wrote it in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep, so anyway hope you like it.

Everybody dies a little when the brightest soul disappears.

A sea of red water mixed with the gravel and mud on the ground. The trail of blood — that had gone its own path from the puddle it was previously in, could be followed towards two bodies. One of a hunched man, who racked with sobs through his entire body. His hands grasped towards the body before him. Blood still oozed from the head. Or what someone would once have called a head, as it was now just remains of smashed bones and brain goo. The once familiar face was unrecognizable to anyone. No one would ever be able to pinpoint who the body belonged to, because the head atop of it was gone. It had been smashed into a puddle of goo. No one would ever be able to see your smiling face, or the mischievous smirk that pulled at your lips whenever you wanted to rebel a bit. Nor would they ever see the sparkles in your eyes whenever you talked about the things you liked.

No one of the group surrounding the three bodies wanted to acknowledge what had happened. How could they. They’d all just seen three of their family members die, because of their actions. Because of them. The teenager in which the hunched man had taken a tight grip of their hands had warned them about the attack. That nothing good would come out of it, that it wasn’t who they were. Rick had been wrong like everyone else to ignore the teenager’s warnings. In the end it was what cost them your life. Their choice of actions had been the beginning of your end.

Rick couldn’t let the image out of his head, he couldn’t even look at your body as he held you tightly. His eyes stared into the distance at nothing in particular as his mind tried to register what had happened just a few hours ago. His cries had stopped only for his eyes to glaze over once more with tears. He couldn’t help but to think that it was all his fault. He had the final vote on what to do, and his vote caused your death. It caused Negan to seek them out. To line them up. To smash your head with his goddamn wired baseball bat. His goddamn Lucille. He swore to kill Negan if it was the last thing he did, whether you would want him to or not, he needed to. Rick wanted nothing more than revenge. Nothing more than justice and revenge brought to you, Glenn and Abraham.

Not soon after Rick had stopped crying his son had walked over to you and him. His eye was bloodshot by the tears that rolled down his red cheek. And his hand went up to rub his eye off the tears as he tried to control himself, as he sat beside his father. Same as everyone else at the brutal scene he couldn’t let go of the events. How everyone got a look of dread and fear on their face as Negan announced that he’d had to kill two more because of Daryl’s little outburst. Carl had glanced at his father to see that for once under this meeting he held actual fear in his eyes when Negan’s bat had landed in front of you. It was deadly quiet as all of the group watched you stare dead into the eyes of Negan who looked at you with a scary face, gleaming with excitement as he noticed everyone’s reaction.

Negan had watched with glee as everyone went into submission after Lucille had stopped in front of you. He’d felt kinda sorry for you. He didn’t usually kill teenagers but something about you annoyed him so greatly. Maybe it was the way you didn’t look with fear into his eyes, how you held your own, even with the knowledge that you would soon be dead. He didn’t know what it was but he had decided to kill you, well he decided in a way.

Maggie who had lost her husband and father to her child, stared with emptiness at you. She didn’t know if she’d be able to take it if you died as well. She had tried to fight the man holding her down, but to no vain. Her already bloodshot eyes had filled with tears and sobbed had shook through her body as soon as she saw Negan start to swing his bat. She didn’t want to lose you, she couldn’t. But her silent prayer came to no good end.

Rosita was no better than Maggie. Since the first time you met when you and Glenn together with Tara searched for Maggie the two of you had gotten close and she as everyone else got flashes of your lives together. Of all your good and bad memories of everything you had survived. How you’d found an apple tree that hadn’t been destroyed at a random location in the forest and thrown apples at your companions heads as they hadn’t stopped when you told them to. Or how you’d draw drawings with the kids in Alexandria or help hunting and scavenging for food. Getting stuck in a building while a herd of walkers walked past. The blood and the gore of every kill. All of them comforting you while you cried yourself to sleep, all the cuddles you forced them into, especially Rick and Daryl. How you forced them to take a break so that they wouldn’t overwork themselves while doing the exact same thing. Needing help from others to make sure you actually took care of yourself and not just everyone else. It just made them all get to the brink of breaking even quicker as they thought of all your moments together. Not only did memories flash inside your head, nor only Rosita’s they flashed through everyone. You had always looked out for them and what had they given you in return, nothing but death.

Sasha wasn’t especially close to you but the previous death of Abraham and Glenn and now you had her at her breaking point. She might not have known you well but you were a good kid, you helped and knew how to survive. You didn’t take unnecessary risks and you’d helped her through her losses. So she tried nothing more than to break herself away from reality as she heard the bat make contact with your head. It reminded her too much of the other two kills and she couldn’t look through another one, not again.

Eugene only stared at the distance as sobs racked through his body not being able to watch you die. He couldn’t even bring his eyes to look at you afterwards, he’d never be able to erase the short scream of pain that had left your lips. He was at a loss of words and he wouldn’t be able to really function in a few days, much like everyone else. He was scared shitless and he didn’t know for anything in the world what to do or say in the hours that came after.

Negan had looked at everyone, gauging even the slightest reaction out of them. Michonne had watched helplessly at you, she’d tried not to flinch everytime the bat hit you among a sound she’d never wished she ever heard ever in her life. The only thing on her mind was how she taught you how to sword fight or when you hunted a deer together and accidentally fell into a puddle of mudd getting every inch of you covered in it.

Arron, who had been right beside you, wanted to crawl away as your blood splashed onto the right side of him. He remembered all the times you’d gone over to him and Eric to eat pasta not wanting to socialize with the rest of Alexandria. You’d always go to him or Daryl.

Arron felt sick as he felt your warm blood on his cold cheek, and he felt even more sick as he made a glance at Daryl who didn’t do anything else but staring with regret and anger at your body who now laid lifeless on the ground. When Aaron dared a glance at you his throat became thick and a sob threatened to come out but he didn’t make a sound instead he stared at you before he looked with fear, numbness, anger and defeat at Negan.

But it wasn’t until Negan had looked at Rick Carl and Daryl did he notice that he sure as hell picked the wrong one to kill, deep inside, he knew that he’d just started a war. A war that wouldn’t take too long to brew over to the real fight. However he was filled with glee over getting a few peaceful weeks at reveling in his power and control over Alexandria. Maybe that would make the war something never to come, how wrong he had been on that thought.

Daryl felt nothing but guilt as he looked at you and it was all he thought of when he got loaded into the car and the Saviours drove away with him. He regretted having lashed out. Regretted ever getting angry. Daryl knew more than anyone that he’d miss you when you were gone. Like Beth, he’d miss you, even more so than Beth.

Carl had held a strong front, but on the inside he was breaking he lost his best friend and the only kid that had been with him since the beginning of the disaster they now lived in.

Now in the present Carl placed his hand on Rick’s shoulder as everyone surrounded your body (except for Maggie, Sasha, Rosita and Eugene). The two Grimes hugged each other as Carl dug his head into Rick’s chest. The older Grimes, having stopped his crying once more, tried his best to comfort his son while he himself was still breaking.

Rick, like Carl and Daryl, had held a shield with spikes as defense against Negan, as they had all starred with the same thought of killing Negan running through their heads. They had let a numb shield cover them while their enemies still surrounded them. They hadn’t let go of the shield until their enemies were gone. (Or in Daryl’s case until he was alone in the cell he was placed in at the sanctuary).

That day, the day you died, was the day everyone in Alexandria died a little with you. You were the brightest soul in most of their lives and to lose you was one of the worst things to ever happen to any of them.

#x reader #x teen #x teen!reader #x you #twd aaron x teen #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead x teen #rick grimes x teen!reader #Carl grimes x teen!reader #daryl dixon x teen!reader #Michonne x teen!reader #rosita Espinosa x teen!reader #Sasha Williams x teen!reader #Eugene porter x teen!reader #negan x teen!reader #Rick grimes x reader #Daryl Dixon x reader #twd x platonic!reader #platonic!reader #angst

[mystic-writings]

tangled up (in strings of emotion) | wilbur soot

PAIRING – wilbur soot x fem!streamer!reader, implied wilbur x shubble

REQUEST – anon - Hi! ok so, i had a very angsty idea. basically, we all know how wilbur had a crush on shubble? basically, my idea is that wilbur and streamer!reader have been dating for a while and the internet loves them (as they should) and reader and shubble are good friends like reader, shubble and niki are all like an iconic trio, but then wilbur starts to distance from reader and spend more time with shubble and you know who catches on first? james. and then jack figures it out, and tommy and niki and the band all have it figured out and niki (i love niki more than life itself) tells reader and the readers like “fuck you, it’s me or her william.” with prompt 9 from “angst prompt 2”?? i feel like that would be really really cool and your angst is absolutely *chefs kiss* :) if you don’t wanna do it that’s fine! just a thought, have a lovely day!!

PROMPT – 9. “don’t make me choose.”

SUMMARY –  you finally find out why your relationship with wilbur is falling apart, even if you didn’t see the signs. 

WARNINGS – angst, hurt/no comfort, tw cheating mentions

WORD COUNT – 2,720

NOTES – i listened to haunted by tswift the entire time i wrote this bc it matches so well tbh | first fic of 2024 & no surprise, it’s ANGST !!

masterlist | taglist form

How have you been so blissfully ignorant all this time?

These past few years of your life, the ones you once looked back upon as the best of your life thus far, were tainted with a dark stain. 

You don’t know how you missed it. All the signs were there, but maybe you were just too happy to believe that something could’ve been wrong in the first place. 

Being a streamer, and a successful one at that, was a blessing you never thought you’d have. It led you to all of your best friends, and to your boyfriend of nearly three years. Wilbur Soot, more commonly known now as Will Gold, who you met through your friends Niki and Shelby. It felt like it was fate, meeting him. You were at a point in life where things just felt sour all the time, and you barely had the energy to create content at the time. Then, around the beginning of January 2020, Niki asked if you wanted to make a video with her, Philza, and Wilbur, and from there things were history. 

After starting dating over the internet for a while, and with the lockdowns coming and going frequently, you and Wilbur met for the first time in his tiny flat in London. It was amazing, spending that time together, just the two of you. Deciding to make things public and when was a tough decision, but you thought it would be safer to do so after you took the jump and moved to England. You’d never forget that conversation, sitting on your kitchen counter at 4am.

“And you’re sure you want to do that?” Wilbur asked. “I mean, moving here, moving across the country just so we can be together it’s- it’s-” 

“A big step, Will. I know. But it’s been almost a year, you know. Restrictions are lifting soon. And I want to be with you. I want to be able to see Tommy and Phil and Niki and Jack easier. I want to be happy.” You told him. “I know I have Shelby here, and I love her with everything I have, but she’s the only thing here and it’s just not enough anymore. I need you.” 

After a long, anxiety-inducing silence, Wilbur sighed. “I know. I need you too. I just want to make sure you’re making the right decision here, you know? I don’t want you to have gone through all that trouble just to get here and find you don’t like it, or something happens and you have to go back, anyway.”

You shook your head, even though your boyfriend couldn’t see you. “Nothing’s going to go wrong, Wilbur. I know what I want. And besides, there’s no place on Earth I wouldn’t live if it meant I could live with you.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

“You should go to sleep. It’s almost 5 in the morning. You need rest.” Wilbur told you, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“I know, I know. I’ll talk to you later, though. I promise.” 

“Alright, darling. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Will.”

And it was after a long, unnecessarily stressful process with customs and gathering the right papers, that you finally moved in with Wilbur, who began renting an apartment in Brighton not long after the process began. 

Over a several-week-long process, you met all of your best friends in person for the first time, and it was the best few weeks of your life. Niki especially was excited to meet you, and she was one of the first to do so. 

Life for the next year or so was amazing to say the least. Yours and Wilbur’s respective careers were taking off, his in music and yours in streaming and on YouTube. Everything was coming out on top for the both of you, and for all of your friends. 

Until now, you were the happiest you’ve felt in a very long time. 

You and Wilbur had been travelling for his tour for a while now, both of you putting off streaming to travel with the rest of Lovejoy for their very first American tour. Christmas was closing in, and you were in California, visiting Shelby, Quackity, and a ton of other friends that you hadn’t seen in a long time. 

Wilbur’s show was amazing, as per usual, and you and Shelby spent the whole night glued to one another. Will, like he normally did during the performances when you were in the crowd, kept tossing loving glances your way for most of the set. He even dragged Quackity on stage to cover a song with him. It was truly amazing. 

The trip to see your friends, and the rest of the tour overall, was amazing. After it ended and you all went back to England, you noticed a shift in Wilbur’s behaviour. At first you assumed it was just work stress and post-tour burnout of sorts, but soon it became very apparent that it wasn’t directed at anyone but you. 

You spent a lot of time around Wilbur and your friends, as group hangouts became very common since you were both gone for so long. They were normally hosted at Tommy’s flat or James’, sometimes Jack’s house or round yours. It was always fun, though, and that’s what mattered.

Streams became frequent again, both solo and with whoever was available at the time, planned or not. You even did a subathon for your birthday that lasted a week and a half. You invited everyone in the area to come over for cake, called those who were too far away and everything; it truly was a wonderful birthday. 

Content creation was always unpredictable, and everyone’s lives were hectic, so you weren’t too surprised when Shelby stopped communicating with you as frequently over the next few months. The summer of 2023 seemed to be busy for everyone, including yourself. 

You were helping Tommy with his tours and upcoming plans, and your own plans for the future had you being pulled every which way. Wilbur even bought a house for the two of you, despite the rift that was still forming between the two of you. He spent most nights in his office, playing video games or working on music. 

Still, even with the distance between you, you never would’ve guessed that the others could see it, too. 

It started with James giving you odd looks whenever you’d excuse Wilbur’s lack of presence at hangouts, even when they were at your house. Then Niki, who asked if you were okay on more than one occasion. Then Jack, who came to you about an editing problem and brought up how you hadn’t mentioned Wilbur in a little while, and whose mood seemed to sully when you shrugged and told him it was because he was very busy right now. Then one by one, it seemed everyone was catching onto it, and you nearly shouted at them to leave you alone, because it was your relationship and you didn’t see any problems.

Even if Wilbur barely slept in the same bed as you anymore. Even if he rarely ever touched or kissed you anymore.

Niki. Poor, unfortunate Niki, was the first to find out why. She never told you how, or who told her, but she was the only one who knew. She came to you with it on a beautiful Friday afternoon, a day where you both decided to not stream in favour of a nice, relaxing afternoon in your backyard, drinking coffee at a little table in your garden, full of flowers and flourishing at your hand and hard work. 

She’d seemed off to you the entire time she was there, quietly sipping on her second cup of coffee and admiring the flowers. 

“Are you okay, Niki?” You’d asked, eyeing her with concern. 

Her eyes snapped to yours from the peonies beside her. “What? I’m fine, Y/n, don’t worry.” 

“You sure?” You asked. “You seem… off. Like something’s bothering you. If you want to talk, we can, I mean, we’ve been friends for long enough that you can tell me anything you want. You know that, right?”

“Of course, I’m not an idiot.” She stated, fiddling with her fingers. Her stature was small, eyes attempting to steer clear of your gaze and finding solace in her mug. “I just- I don’t know if you’ll like what I have to say, and I don’t want to hurt you. You’re my best friend.” 

You smiled gently at the girl. “Don’t worry, Niki. If there’s something you need to tell me, I’m sure I can handle it. You can’t hurt me that badly.” 

Your smile faltered when Niki’s weary eyes met yours. “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I only found out last night, and I hate to be the one to tell you, especially because it’s not any of my business, I just felt that you needed to know, I-”

“Niki, calm down,” you reached out to place your hand atop hers, and she turned it over to grip it in return. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Wilbur.” She sighed, and your heart rate skyrocketed. “I know why he’s not acting himself around you.” 

“Is he okay? I mean, he’s healthy right?” You asked. “Why wouldn’t he tell me this himself?”

“Because he didn’t want you to know.” She said, tears forming in her eyes. “He’s not sick or anything, Y/n. He’s… he’s in love with someone else.” 

The world around you could’ve set fire and you wouldn’t have known. Niki’s words rang in your ears, and your heart plummeted from the place in your chest, as if Wilbur himself had dropped it from the safe place you put it; right into his hands. 

“With who? Do I know her?”

Niki only nodded, sniffling and blinking away her tears while yours threatened to fall. After a long silence and a heavy sigh, she squeezed your hand again and opened her mouth, her next words coming out shakily. “It’s… Y/n, it’s Shelby.”

You pulled your hand from hers. “What?”

“They’ve been talking for months now. She told me last night and I haven’t spoken to her since then,” Niki swore. “She said she feels bad for doing this to you, especially because she rejected Wilbur for a long time and you’re best friends. I guess she couldn’t stop herself after a while. I don’t know. All she said was that Wilbur initiated it.” 

“She still participated.” You said, words lined with tears. “Do you know how long he’s been… been pursuing her?”  You nearly gagged on the words. 

Niki nodded. “Since the LA performance in December.” 

Somehow, your heart fell further than it did before. 

Finding out was a blessing and a curse, really. Everything started to make sense once you truly thought it over. All those nights holed up in his office lately, the distance that formed after the tour ended. Those loving glances during the LA show. Somehow, you could tell now that they weren’t for you. 

After you talked and cried more about it with Niki, she left to go tend to her cats in her apartment, and offered a place to stay if you needed it. 

You spent hours on the couch, anxiously awaiting Wilbur’s return from the studio. Your stomach turned with the thought that he could be on the phone with Shelby right now, chatting and making her laugh and telling her how much he felt for her. You almost broke when you wondered if he’d ever told her he loved her. 

Finally, well after sundown, the door creaked open and shut. In walked Wilbur, guitar case gripped in one hand, shoulders sagging from the weight of the day. 

“Hello, love.” You said, barely looking at him, words cold as ice.

He tossed a quick glance at you. “Hi, darling. How was your day?”

“Good.” You said, watching him lean the guitar against the arm of the couch, lazily kissing your head as he did. 

Somehow, after all these months of being emotionally distant, Wilbur could tell something was wrong. “You okay?” He asked as he headed to the kitchen on the opposite side of the house. 

With a sigh, you stood up and clenched your fists. Might as well get it over with. “What’s going on with you lately, Will?”

His brows furrowed as he stopped in the doorway, turning to face you. “What d’you mean? I’m fine, darling.” 

“No you’re not.” You said. “You’ve been distant, and for a while now. You’ve been borderline avoiding me. It’s like you’re not even in a relationship with me! Like you don’t want to be in a relationship with me anymore! Did you know our friends have noticed? Every time I show up to a gathering without you they ask what’s wrong. Where you are. And I have nothing to say because I didn’t think anything was wrong.”

Wilbur sighed, face scrunched with indignation. “That’s because nothing’s wrong. I’m just busy.”

“Really? What, busy talking to Shelby?”

Wilbur’s face fell, the colour going with it. 

“Yeah, don’t act surprised, Will. I know.” You said, the emotion finally flowing back to you. “I know you’ve been seeing my best friend behind my back. I know you’ve been pursuing her for a year. Niki told me. She said you’ve been after Shelby, wearing her down, trying to get her to go behind everyone’s back. After all this time, after everything we’ve been through, and you cheat on me with her of all people? My best friend. The woman who helped introduce us and you didn’t think I’d find out at some point?” 

“Look, it’s not what you think, I just-” 

“Just what, Wilbur?” You asked, biting back a sob. “Just wanted to use me to get to her? I don’t even know why you asked me out in the first place. I knew you had a crush on her before we started dating.” You breathed a shaky sigh, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I guess I was just naive enough to think you’d gotten over it. Maybe you did, for a little while.”

“I swear, it’s nothing like that, Y/n. I love you, I do.” He pleaded. “Just let me explain everything, please.” 

“I don’t want to hear it. I can’t believe you, Wilbur. You bought a house for us! I moved here for you! We were building a life together! And you tore it all down for her!” You screamed. The neighbours could probably hear you by now, but you didn’t care. You needed to let everything out. “I left my family behind, my life behind for you. That’s how much I love you. I guess you just don’t love me enough to do the same.” 

“Y/n, don’t- I love you, too. We can fix this, I swear. I promise.” 

“Fuck you.” You spat, catching Wilbur off guard. “You don’t love me. Not enough to cheat on me with one of my best friends. So fuck you, William. It’s me or her. You don’t get to have us both. I won’t put myself through that.”

Wilbur’s eyes filled with emotion, with indecision. “Don’t. Please, Y/n, don’t make me choose.”

You stepped closer to him, fury burning through you. “Fine, then I will. I don’t know what the hell you thought you could do when you got yourself into this, but you’re sure as hell not gonna keep dating me.”

Before Wilbur could speak, you were marching upstairs to your bedroom – the room you spent more time in than Wilbur did – texting Niki on your way to pack a bag. Your heart was crumbling to dust in your chest, and the emotion was finally replacing whatever temporary anger you felt, crashing through you like waves, putting out the fire within you. 

Wilbur begged and pleaded as you packed your bag, but you didn’t listen. You just packed whatever was necessary, whatever you could think to bring for the night. You’d come back for the rest later. 

15 minutes later, after a quiet Uber ride, you were sitting in Niki’s living room, crying and wondering what you were going to do next. Because you changed your life for Wilbur, and it was his reckless betrayal that tore it all down around you. 

forever taglist: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality@mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @queen-asteria04 @heliads

wilbur soot taglist: open!

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot angst #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader

[slu7formen]

heyyyy, you are currently my new cedric obsession. i woshed i found u sooner fr. you wrote him so well ! can i request a cedric x fem slytherin established relationship or maybe pining please! where he’s just down bad with her just existing. maybe like he loves to see her studying very hard bcs he admires the ambition but then she collapses from exhaustion? and he takes care of her! fluff and maybe angst up to you!

@aishaleblanc thank you for supporting my writing, angel, I hope you enjoy this ! 🤍

You frowned your eyebrows deeper as your head sunk forward into the book you were reading, only to straighten up again to write on the piece of parchment the information that you just read. Your head kept moving left and right as you read and wrote, read and wrote, read and wrote.

Cedric grinned to himself as he contemplated you from afar, only a few seats away from you. He was not studying, but actually reading a book that you recommended him a few weeks ago, but as always, whenever you were around, he only focused on you.

He loved being around you, but whenever you studied, he knew he had to be as far away from you as possible, which was just a few meters away. He was not bothered by that, in fact, he agreed on doing so, because he knew that studying was one of the things in which you needed to concentrate the most, and that was understandable. But he couldn’t keep his eyes away from you, just reading a few lines on the book before checking on you again as he smiled softly.

He loved watching you study, it was one of his favorite things to do when you were near. His eyes shined as he memorized everything you did while your hand kept writing almost on its own. He was hypnotized by the way you had to keep fixing your hair behind your ear because sometimes you lowered your head too much, and your hair fell like a curtain over your soft face.

He always found it funny and cute how your eyes were all frowned as you read or wrote, a clear sign that you were way too concentrated on what you were doing, and how they would soften again when you got distracted with something or someone talked to you.

He loved the way you bit your lip when you were trying to finish writing a sentence at a fast pace, and let it go softly after finish another paragraph.

Truth was, Cedric was just obsessed with the simple fact of you existing.

Seeing you study was his favorite thing because of how silent and concentrated you were all of a sudden, how determinate you were to finish it all and all the ambition you put trough. But he went crazy about everything else too; how your lips pout unconsciously when you chew because you put too much food in your mouth, how you always groan when something in potions class doesn’t turn out the way you intended to, how you’re used to play with your fingers when you get nervous, how there’s one piece of your hair that is always curly because when you get bored, you grab it and twirl it around your finger until it hurts…

How you felt goosebumps on your skin whenever he kissed your neck, how your head would fall to his shoulders anytime it could, how you let him lay on your chest and you play with his hair, massaging his scalp as he breathed in deeply the scent of you, how you have to look up at him to kiss him, and how you softly moan when the kiss is too heated. How you hum all of a sudden when you sleep. How you let him explore every part of your body, even the ones you hate. How you let him read you like a book.

Cedric was in love with you.

His deep thinking was interrupted when you suddenly closed the book and groaned audibly, and someone from a table nearby tried to keep you quite by saying ‘shh!’.

“Oh, piss off” you turned your back to the girl, and she quickly erased the annoying look from her face when she saw your robe and realized it was you.

You placed your forearms over the big book, and then let your head fall to them.

Cedric closed his book as he got up from his chair, silently walking towards you, finally stopping behind your back. He placed the object close to your things as he let his big hands lay on your shoulders, massaging softly while he placed his mouth close to your ear.

“You still have time to finish this, why don’t you take a rest, hmm?” he whispered.

You sighed while straightening up as your fingers curled around your boyfriend’s hands, still on your shoulders, but he stopped his comforting movements as he looked down at you.

“I want to finish it” you buffed, stress and annoyance on your voice “But it’s just so difficult. Sometimes I hate Snape”

“See? There’s no way you can finish it today, honey. It’s okay to rest, don’t feel bad about it”

You stayed silent for a moment, your eyes roaming around your stained hands as the heavy book in front of you was waiting to be opened and read again by tired eyes. You breathed deeply while letting your head fall back to look at Cedric’s face, slightly groaning at the pulsing pain on your neck.

He softly took the back of your head while slightly pulling it forward again as he sat on a chair next to you, and his hand stayed around the back of your neck. “You need to rest” his voice demanded.

You hated how much control he had over you sometimes. People would assume that because of the house you belonged to, and your well known attitude, you would be the one dominant on the relationship, but the truth was, you were just a baby next to him, or a puppy. He loved taking care of you as if he was the only one who could do it right, and he did.

You knew that he knew that you wouldn’t be able to resist his gaze as he kept looking at your face, demanding you to stay as far away from the library as possible to spend some time with him, after all, it was friday afternoon and you had spent all day studying.

He still noticed your worried face, though.

“Let’s go somewhere else, let me give you some massages, no complaining, and then get a nap. You don’t have any classes with Snape until next week”

You stopped biting the inside of your cheek as you played with your nails. Cedric was already picking up your stuff so you wouldn’t carry anything on your own, and you slowly got up from your chair, absolutely silent. Just as always, you followed him.

“Will you nap with me?” you asked grabbing onto his arm and resting your head on it as you walked out of the library.

He chuckled. “I always do, love” his free arm curled around your shoulders before kissing your cheek softly. His minty smell was quick to make you feel dizzy, in a good way.

You hated how much he made you love him. You hated how you intended to look for him whenever you walked inside a classroom, how his smell was the first thing that you smelled in Amortentia, how good care he took of you, massaging your whole body, brushing your hair, kissing your face and saving the warmest cup of coffee for you every morning, just to mention a few things.

Merlin, you were in love with Cedric Diggory.

requests are open !! 🤍

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x fem!reader #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x y/n #cedric diggory x you #cedric x y/n #cedric x you #cedric #cedric x fem!reader #cedric diggory imagine #cedric x reader #cedric imagine #cedric diggory blurb

[inkelea]

han jisung as spider-man! ✭

pairing: spiderman!han jisung x gn!reader

synopsis: how it would be if han jisung was spider-man and had a crush on you.

genre: fluff, angst if you squint, friends to lovers (kinda), headcanons.

warnings: talk about bruises (duh han is spidey), nothing else i think.

word count: 0.9k

a/n: sooo, i wrote this on a hot night when I couldn’t sleep so yep! still i really like it and will die saying han jisung is one of all the spiderman that there are in the multiverse.

so, you cannot tell me that han wouldn’t be spider-man. he’s so peter parker coded. LIKE EVEN THE LOOKS, HE JUST GIVES PETER PARKER VIBES????

anyway, we all know han, he’s an awkward boy.

but as every other version of peter parker, when he steps in the suit, his confidence level SKYROCKETS. he fr becomes chat noir.

he wishes he could have that confidence when he talks to you:(

you’re the cute top student and he’s the friendly neighborhood spider-man. he knows you would make a good couple. HE'S JUST TOO SHY.

but don’t worry the guy in the chair aka lee know is here to the rescue.

he loves to play cupid AND HES A GOD AT IT.

han owes him everything<3

one casual day, on lunch break, lino appears in your table and starts eating with you. no explanations, no hello’s, he just eats with you.

han is DEAD, GONE, HE DOESN'T LIVE IN EARTH ANYMORE

and you might think “oh, but they were just eating together, no conversation was even made”

WELL, it starts with eating together and then every time han goes to talk to lino in class you’re already there.

HE’S SO GONNA KILL LINO

until he presents you both and you smile and put out your hand for him to shake it.

friendship with lino HAS NOT BEEN CANCELED!

and thank god because not even two and a half weeks later he gets so tossed around in a fight. and that’s with lino’s help.

he’s sure he would’ve died if he was alone on that one.

thankfully, all he has is a black eye and some bruises around his face and torso.

you however are not thankful that he ‘only’ has those bruises. THEY’RE NOT NORMAL BRUISES WHAT IS HAN JISUNG ON?

you’re about to cry and han can’t take it and he hugs you and and and hides his face against your neck.

HE FELL FIRST YOU FELL HARDER

no bc you need to fight yourself to not sigh and hug him harder right there and there

he wouldn’t have minded though

now, you aren’t dumb. and yes, your mind was a little fogged when that hug happened but you still didn’t forget the bruises

especially when he goes to your house at 5 am to wake you up just so you would help him cover it up. you give him some glasses and a tap on the shoulder

apparently him and lino saw a youtube video after and bought makeup products to hide them????

they’re still mostly visible lmao

BUT ANYWAY

you’re suspicious because, what was han even doing outside out of school that’d get him a black eye???

(when I say black I mean BLACK)

and as time passes you start to realize how he leaves situations in the weirdest ways possible

and how he constantly limps every other day a week

i mean, you aren’t the top of the class for nothing

after realizing you start to get more interested in the news bc they talk often about spider-man. just bc deep down you know the boy behind the mask is your cute classmate han jisung

lino knows you know almost instantly. he is lee know after all!!!

he winks at you every time han disappears out of nowhere. it’s your own little inside joke now:D

you’re the top of the class but also a reckless teenager falling in love. so one day you follow han when he starts running to the danger

oops

ofc you get hurt bc duh you haven’t been bitten by a spider before.

han wants to kill the criminal and then kill you bc what were you even thinking?

he’d revive you after obviously BUT STILL

when he takes you home (as spider-man) after the fight, you pull him in with you

for someone who just got their ass handed to them you’re stronger than he would have thought

plot armor💪

he knows you, AND, is blinded by anger so he just starts taking care of your bleeding knee

he doesn’t even stop to think that his super smart friend who’s super aware of the danger that comes with strangers wouldn’t let one enter their house, not even a superhero

he only stops to think about it when you keep looking at him like you can see through his mask

(you can:))

he knows

you know

and so, he takes his mask off and sighs

HUGS LOTS OF HUGS

and oh! muffled whispers than you can barely understand bc han has his face buried in your chest

AND HE SAYS “why did you follow me? you could’ve gotten so deeply hurt. i wouldn’t have been able to forget myself if that happened” AND YOU SAY “you’re one to talk mr. spiderman, i go to sleep every day scared i won’t get to see you the next morning at school”

you obviously have feelings for each other and you just, start dating some days after??? don’t get me wrong but this is not riverdale shdhhdh

after what you’ve been through together, your conexion goes deeper than a romantic relationship and even tho you agree than you are in one, it’s not the center of your general relationship and interactions.

and so

you know and he knows that you know and it’s a mutual acknowledgment but you don’t really talk about it

you kiss his head when he comes back to you hurt (YES THATS EVERY DAY)

and he tries to be more careful in his adventures (he doesn’t get black BLACK eyes anymore)

after all, you do make a good couple:D<3

@mochamvgz

© inkelea on tumblr | don't copy, repost or plagiarize my work.

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #han jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids blurbs #skz blurbs #inkelea

[phoxey]

I can't help you.

Bada Lee x fem!reader

CW: hurt/comfort ANGST!!!! Big triggerwarning bc of Selfharm. Please do not read this if you are currently stuggling with (thoughts of) self harming.

AN: I wrote this for an ANON request, which i got a week ago. Sorry anon that im only doing it now, i was really busy. I hope you are okay, Anon. Remember you are so loved.

Bada was your safe place. Has always been. She knew you had been struggling with depression since you were a child, due to trauma from your childhood home. Your father died after a decade of him struggling with substance abuse and depression since you were born. Your mother just told you to suck it up and to not be weak. She refused to get you therapy.

You met Bada in middle school. You immediately became best friends, after she sat down next to you on the first day of school and said: “We are friends now.”

Since then, you two became inseparable. People knew if they invite Bada, you were coming too. You even slept at Bada’s house more often than at your own home. And as soon as both of you graduated you moved in with each other.

The only thing that Bada ever did without you was dancing. Bada called dancing her second greatest love after you. She always ran her choreography drafts by you, to get your feedback. It was her trying to involve you in her passion so you wouldn’t feel left out, and you loved it.

When you were with Bada, the demons in your head were quiet. They only came out whenever you were separated from Bada.

Since Street Woman Fighter 2 began she had spent most of her time at the studio. In the beginning you were fine, since the two of you still texted throughout the day. But the more the season progressed, the shorter her messages became. Bada was just stressed and busy, you knew that. But what if…?

What if she was growing apart from you?

What if she wasn’t busy, but just annoyed by you?

What if she didn’t love you anymore?

What if, she was just holding out with you?

What if she realized that you were just a burden to her?

What if she would be more successful if you weren’t there?

What if she was happier if you weren’t there?

What if she hated you?

You didn’t know how but the next time you opened your eyes again, you were standing in front of the bathroom mirror. The cold bright lights hurting your tired eyes. You barely remembered the past few days. You only remembered sitting in front of your phone praying for a message from her, neither sleeping, nor eating. You could barely recognize yourself in the mirror. Pale and with dark circles around your eyes.

Crying didn’t help letting the darkness out of you body anymore. Neither did journalling. You had tried distracting yourself, but you couldn’t watch more than thirty seconds of a movie before your brain started to run the demons’ voices again. Nothing helped anymore.

Except…

Your eyes briefly fell to your own razor before your eyes shot back up to your reflection. Your eyes pleaded with yourself.

“Please don’t do it… “, you whispered to yourself. “Please, Please…”

You kept begging yourself to not do it, but your hands moved on their own.

When Bada actually did come home that night, she found the entire apartment in darkness, even the shutters were closed. She put down her bag on the kitchen counter and noticed how the state of the kitchen and the unwashed dishes hadn’t changed since she was here a few days ago. She heard sobbing from the bedroom and immediately rushed there. The bedroom was empty as well but the door to the bathroom was opened a crack and the cold, sterile light streamed into the bedroom.

She swung the door open and there you were. Sitting on the tiles, holding your arms, your white shirt now red. You were sobbing but your eyes were dry.

Slowly you looked up at her.

“Babe… what is this? “, Bada asked slowly. Her heart was racing and aching when she saw your arms and the razor next to you on the floor.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I really tried…”, you muttered between sobs.

Bada briefly left the bathroom, and you were afraid that she was leaving you for good now, but just a minute later she returned.

“Wash it with cold water. Rinse it off.”, She said calmly but sternly.

Was she angry with you? She had to be. You obediently did as she said and got up, washing your arms with ice cold water. She bent down and took the razor in the meantime and threw it away. But she watched your every move.

When she saw that you were done, she handed you two bandages. “Wrap those around your arms.”

You did that as well. In silence Bada watched you, but also guided you as you two walked into the bedroom. Gently she sat you down on the bed.

“Wait here.”

Bada went into the bathroom again and closed the door. You sat there in the dark for a while, pulling your knees to your chest.

You wondered if Bada was really angry at you. Would she leave you now? You shouldn’t have put such a burden on her. Why did you do that? Bada was already stressed enough and now you only added to it. Or did you? Did she even care?

You felt the mattress sink in next to you and that snapped you out of your thoughts. You looked at her. Only to meet her intense eyes, which made you immediately look down.

You opened your mouth to say something, but not a sound came out and so you closed it again.

“I don’t hate you.”, she broke the silence.

“Why were you so cold just now?”, you asked softly.

“I read that it’s best to not react too much to self-harm, and for the person to wrap the wounds themselves. Also, I wanted to radiate calmness, for you and for myself too.”, Bada explained.

You nodded. “Ah… makes sense.”

Bada’s gaze softened and out the corner of your eye you saw her turning to you and opening her arms. Slowly you sank into her embrace and hid your face in her chest. Wordless she rubbed your back. The two of you stayed like that for a while. Bada’s heartbeat wasn’t exactly calm, but it soothed you nevertheless.

“Why?”, she whispered into the dark.

“You were gone for so long… and the thoughts got so loud…”, you mumbled ashamed.

“I’m sorry…“

„Don’t be please. Please. It’s my fault. Not yours. You were busy being so great and successful. I love that for you, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“It’s not your fault either.”

“But it is… I promised you that I would never do it again… and here I am.”, you whispered.

Bada was silent for another moment.

“It wasn’t your fault. You are not those evil thoughts. They are there in your head but they don’t define you. Got it?”

You nodded slowly.

“We have to do something against them.”, Bada said then. “I would hate if this or worse happens again. I can’t promise to be with you at all times. And I want you to be safe and happy even when I am gone.”

“I don’t know what to do though…”, you said.

“Go to therapy.“

“What?”

Bada looked at you. Her stern gaze was gone, now her beautiful eyes were sad and filled with tears.

“I can’t help you.”, she said, her voice cracking. “As much as I want to. I see you suffering daily and I hate that, I feel so helpless. And when I am gone, I know you suffer even more. But I can’t change it… it’s my job. So please…”

“Bada, I-… I wouldn’t even know where to start.”, you admitted.

“You don’t have to. I am still by your side. I will help you. I will look with you for therapists, I will call them with you, I will go to them with you.”, she said immediately.

You were silent. In all those years you never looked into getting therapy. The taunting voice of your mother in your head. That you should be strong and get over yourself. You waited for it to come… but today, your mothers voice remained silent. Confused you blinked. The voice had been there just five minutes ago. Why was it silent now?

“Babe? “, Bada pulled you out of your thoughts again.

You met her gentle eyes, her beautiful face, her beautiful soul behind all that. Your heart felt oddly light all of a sudden.

“Okay.”

#bada lee #bada lee swf #bada lee x reader #swf #swf2 #swf2 x reader #bada lee x y/n #team bebe

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Eighteen (Loki x fem! Reader Hiddlesverse Crossover Series)

Series Summary: Based on Sarah J Mass's A Court of Thorns and Roses series with the Tom Hiddleston characters. You are a woman of 1880's in Aldwinter in Essex, England, dying of tuberculosis. Never to be married to the local Lusty Vicar. When Loki appears to you and offers to heal you...if you spend a week of every month with him

Chapter Summary: Longing to return to your husband and friends, you take the next steps for revenge, both big and small. Your powers perform a miracle for the town to get you into their good graces. Then, an unexpected invitation arrives.

Word Count: 4K (for me, that's short. Don't wanna write super long chapter bc I fear people hate it)

Chapter Warnings: No smut, but mentions of sex and masturbation with references to and deconstructing the canon events The Essex Serpent the book, and the show, including not portraying Cora or Will or their affair sympathetically so if you don't like that don't read this, discussions of cheating and a brief mention of the fear of sexual violence. Loki gets jealous for a hot second. Some angst, but some humor. Supporting Women's Wrongs. Reader causing problems on purpose. Portrayals of religion. My saltiness slips out into roasts.

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

The first letter had its destination. You got out a piece of paper, writing down the address of the seminary that appointed him the vicarage of Aldwinter. Then you began writing.

“Dear sirs,

I have some unfortunate news. I suspect the Reverend William Ransome is not of moral character fitting his position here. He is engaged to marry…”

You hesitated. Thinking carefully, if you signed it with your name, Will would know it was you. No, you couldn’t risk that. You continued writing. 

“... a Miss Y/L/N.  However, an intact love letter from a woman named Mrs.Seaborne was discovered in his possession. It is dated during his still current engagement to Ms. Y/L/N. It is enclosed here. There must be an inspection in his vicarage to see if he encouraged Mrs. Seaborne and if there were other incidents. If found that he behaved in a manner not befitting godly character, it is doubtful he can have the right to sacred orders and to function as a public figure of the church at least in Aldwinter.”

Sincerely, 

An anonymous member of the congregation.”

Stuffing both this paper and the first letter in an envelope, you then sealed with wax. Then wrote down the address of the council. 

You hurried to the post office, paid postage, and quickly mailed it out before anyone could see. Too many talking mouths.

You heard Loki congratulate you.

‘I couldn’t have done better, my dear. You’ve learned from the best. You’re a wife to the god of mischief indeed.’ 

Once you got home, though you skimmed over the book of Matthew beside the fire, you weren’t focused on the scripture. You would have to figure out where to send the other two letters. One would have to get to someone in town, anyone who attended church would do. You’d figure out the how later.

But the third one would require research… Mrs. Seaborne’s ambition in life was to become recognized as a woman of science. 

Too bad sleeping with another’s fiancee typically results in a woman’s utter ruin. 

And now you had the evidence in hand. You had to figure out where to send it to. Which department of science? Who received her research? What if she wasn’t sending it at all, what then? Would she gather up her fossils as Stella loved to gather up seashells?

Your thoughts then returned to Stella… your friend who shared a fate with you. 

Had you not been there…it would have been her. She would have married Will and fell in love with him. Been the dutiful, obedient wife who carried the Word in her mouth and his children in her womb. Stella, stricken with consumption, about to die…and for William to repay her devotion and life with him with inconstancy. Doomed to do nothing about her husband’s obsessive lust for another woman and in fact, smile at it. 

His happiness was what mattered. His happiness. Not hers. 

And she would have borne it without even speaking a complaint. She’d be their matchmaker like a dutiful little wife all while she never let her heart sway to another man, much less bring him to the marriage bed that her upright, moral, virtuous, godly husband had the freedom to. The marriage bed Will would have set on fire and destroyed into bits all while she smiled and laid in it and let him burn her into ashes.  

She’d want them to be together. Content and not the least bit unhappy that she never mattered to Will in the first place. She’d even attempt suicide- end her own life- so they could be together!

The perfect wife to a man who couldn’t be decent. 

…what would she get out of it? 

At the end of the day, who was kissing their lover, and who was the one about to drown?

And even for her selfless and complete and utter devotion to Will…it wouldn’t be the same from him. He wouldn’t be willing to sacrifice or control himself for Stella…not one bit. He was a man who did not deserve her. Did not deserve the great, selfless love she had for everyone in her life…even you.

You were the same not long ago. The self-sacrificial, dutiful, passive wife who wanted nothing but his happiness. That was why you agreed to that bargain on that fateful day.

You had to avenge Stella. Even if now it wouldn’t happen, you had to. For you and she were one half of one whole fate. And in this one, the abandoned woman would not passively sit until she killed herself for such selfish monsters. 

 If Stella were the one destined to not fight….you would.  For her sake as well as yours. 

You paused, remembering how frightened she was in Grendel’s cave the last you saw her.

‘How is Stella?”’ you asked Loki. You knew you asked him a hundred times before. And he would tell you.

‘She was having nightmares keeping her awake. Flinching, bursting into tears and fits of great fear of anything involving Grendel…but she is getting better.’

“When will she be home? Her family keeps asking after her…they mourn her as if she died. I cannot stay long with them without weeping. It destroys me every time”

“She was in her house when Grendel took her…she doesn’t feel safe there now.  So she wants to stay here...”

“Without it being safe for Thomas to deliver letters…They think she’s your whore for good now.”

“If I forced Stella to be my whore, I think my wife would have something to say about it. Not to mention Jonathan.”

“Oh, he’d say something. His fists can make a whole sentence itself.”

His warm laughter made you smile over the large, thick book in your lap.

“Oh, Loki, bless him-I knew from when he gave her those flowers. But I don’t think he’ll admit he is besotted with her already,” you added on.

“Jonathan is not a man who will easily admit anything, why else did he become a spy?”

In the night, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was still racing, refusing to shut off. You went to the window in your room, sitting on a chair to stare out. You looked outside at the country darkness outside. For only the stars and moon above showed any light on the little town.

Out of curiosity, your senses reached out. You sensed Will was not asleep at all and not in his house. He was in the field alone of all places! And standing before a bonfire. Then you could sense he was speaking…

“Oh Lord, I renounce my sins…”

Atoning and cleansing his sins? Looks like he was going to need a lot more firewood then.

You stopped your powers. But you went back to here and looked up at the starry sky. You missed them- all of them. Sif’s little glares when something annoyed her. Stella trying on the Asgardian dresses. Robert making quips as he lit a cigarette. Thomas happily chatting over whatever device he was working on Jonathan observing everything stoically, but when someone spoke gently to him, a beautiful smile on his face. Hal’s bright eyes as he taught everyone how to fight with a sword during training. Thor’s loud laughter. Queen Frigga coming in to ask over all of you, for it was her role as an AllMother to be Mother to all.

And Loki- dear, funny, charming, mischievous Loki, your True Love, your husband…you missed him most of all.

You had to be patient. It would only motivate you further. Once this was all done and you figured it out, you would return to see all of them without a minute’s delay. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The hairy dog that kept humping things was approaching your front yard. 

His pet was with him.

“Ah, dear Reverend, will you stop by for tea?” your mother hurried off from your gardening together to greet Will. 

“Yes, you are welcome,” you repeated, though your voice felt small.

He was in his overcoat and his formal green vest. The spaniel barked at his feet, tail wagging but held close thanks to the leash. You smiled and leaned down to pet him, for had you become married to the Lusty Vicar, the dog would be the most loyal man in your life. 

“I only have time to stop and say my hellos- especially for the lady here, please,” Will greeted, his eyes shining at you. 

You returned up. You fluttered your eyes down in a picture of docility and chastity.

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greeted sweetly. 

He then did something you were surprised he did in your mother’s presence. With his free hand, he found the ends of your skirt and gently tugged you a little closer to him. He smiled up at you.

“Why, how are you, my dear?” he asked.

“Doing alright,” you answered.

“I hear your headaches have been better, are you getting rest?”

“Yes, plenty as I can, Will,” you answered.

“That’s good, my darling,” he replied. 

You heard Loki cut in.

“That’s MY word for you!”

“Hush!” you sent back

“I just sent a telegram to Bishop Anderson. He has been promised there will be no disruptions and he will marry us next month,” he announced, his voice soft and almost on the edge of seduction. Completely unaware of the letter you sent to the council and the disaster about to hit him in at least a few weeks. 

Loki cut in again- “You do know that every Thursday he goes to the ocean and relieves his seed in it to thoughts of Cora!”

“I’m not surprised- hush!” you silently urged your husband again.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” you replied, smiling at him. 

“Are you going to be at the dance tonight, Y/N?”

The thought of being in there and having to endure potentially being in the same room as Mr. I-Can’t-Think-Straight-Around-Her and Cora and not screaming at both of them made you feel nauseous.

But he didn’t need to know that now.

“Oh, of course, I shall!” you replied. 

“Ah, then I hope to dance with my wife then,” he prodded.

“We are not yet married,” you reminded him meekly, folding your hands and looking demurely down.

“Yet you are mine already in my heart. For nothing shall stop me from joining you in Holy Matrimony and for us together to spend a life doing God’s will. I shall escort you there tonight, Y/N,” he promised.

He wasn’t wrong about the first bit, as Grendel told you.

He took your hand and kissed it. You grinned up at him with a loving look on your face. 

Yes, Y/N, smile. Be polite. Charming even. And never let him know you want him dead.

Then, urging his dog forward with his leash, he went about his way through the brown and white town. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That night was the promised dance. You kept your word and went with him. 

So many others would gather- that dance hall with candlelight that made the brown walls orange. Some people dressed in dark colors, but young people eager to flirt and laugh. Tables full of punch, cake, and fruit. A piano constantly playing. 

And Will in a tuxedo like the other men, ever the picture of handsomeness. You had three dances with him. The number permitted for an engaged couple. As tempting as it was to grab the neck of his bow tie and strangle him with it was there, you fought it back. 

No, you looked up at him and smiled. Curtsied at the end of dances as people clapped around you. 

Of course, Cora was there in her grey dress. But when she arrived, you put on a smile and curtsied and greeted her like any other person. Not talking to her more than you had to. You kept your eyes down for the rest of the party- sensing her like you were in the ocean and felt the presence of a shark. You knew Will would still stare at her intensely in your own presence. You would pretend like you didn’t know, and keep your eyes down again like a docile lady with no thoughts but love and marriage.

Maybe he had you both in boxes. For surely he thought you didn’t consent to be in Loki’s bed and that was why he pitied you as opposed to hated you. There was also the loophole- you were still considered chaste even though you weren’t. Since you didn’t want to bed Loki but were forced to.

 You were his Virgin. Cora was his Whore. 

He wanted to marry you because you fit being the chaste wife who sipped tea and quoted Philippians. And he could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted with Cora. One for his house and the other for his hand. Cora couldn’t be that wife for the vicarage. And you couldn’t be the one who could spit out some stupid science fact to make his penis erect. 

He wanted both. To have his cake and eat it too, like what Robert would say.

But as the party progressed…it occurred to you that you might be a little wrong at least on your part. Will’s touch on you was still proper- an arm to drape yours over. But only slightly more amorous, sometimes a hand to touch your back. Sometimes a brief, chaste kiss. Becoming slightly more amorous. 

It then hit you…Did Will…lust after you?  It wasn’t just chaste affection or passion he felt for you-  but did it include the Lusty Vicar’s Lusty Penis? 

You stopped for a moment and mused on it. Will left you to talk to some friends, promising he’d be back.

Honestly, It flattered you to be desired. And you had to have the shield up to not hear Loki’s complaints of jealousy right now.

You knew Will wouldn’t urge you to his bed before marriage. At the most extreme, not publicly. 

But…what if…what if that passion was still there? With the wedding re-planning, you knew it would happen soon. If you let time slip, you will find yourself a bigamist! You knew the Lusty Vicar would live up to his nickname and want to fuck you right after you said your I do’s! 

At the most extreme, if that happened…you could say no. Will had done some disgusting and reprehensible things…but you couldn’t imagine him forcing himself on you.

Perhaps you could tell him “no” on your wedding night. Tell him you were still distressed from being the Trickster God’s whore. Tell him you weren’t ready to consummate your (second) marriage. Will would very likely comply.  Maybe even tell him to sleep on the couch alone. Now- there was a funny picture! You- safe and snug in that blue bed and asleep. And the tall, hairy man curled up on his couch as much as his height would allow him. The cold air deflating the Lusty Vicar’s Lusty Penis like a balloon after a party.

But…how long would that last? He’d respect you but suspect something was up. Then, how could you discreetly get revenge on him after you wedded him? 

You had to cool him. 

But looking up, you saw with silent horror that he was staring at Cora again. There was a piano playing-a dance theme like you heard in your old dream. A song urging them to dance. Rage burned in the bottom of your stomach.

He needed not only cooling but the equivalent of a swift kick to the groin- and you had an idea of how to do both at once.

Looking over, you noted the tablecloth of the refreshment table was a dark green. Your True Love’s favorite dark green. 

Perfect.

You went up to the refreshment table for punch, taking a little cup and going to the glass bowl. A few guests talked nearby- a couple of gentlemen including a young surgeon the town had.  Dark hair and a round face, an apparent friend of the woman who ruined your life, and an expert in new ways of his profession. Chatting about amputation or other polite topics.

You then looked down and pretended to see the deep green cloth.

You dropped the glass in your hand it shattered on the ground. You let out a scream seeing the tablecloth. Conjuring tears and shaking, but careful not to step on the glass shards.

The party stopped, even the stupid piano trinkle music, to look at you.

You put a hand over your mouth and burst into tears. With the anger, the sadness, and the grief you had inside, it wasn’t hard.

“Why…what is the matter?” one woman in a dark dress asked.

“It’s Loki…like Loki’s-green like his-his-” you muttered out.

You then turned to the first man in that little group of men next to the table. Before Will could interfere, you flung yourself  at the surgeon. Wrapped your arms around him in a shaking embrace. You recalled his name- what was it again? Oh, yes!

“Lucas! Oh, Lucas! Help me! The trickster god!” you cried.

You held him tight and sobbed into the white shirt of his suit.

“What, uh, is the matter, Miss?” he asked, unsure of what on earth was going on.

“It’s green! The very green like his bed was! The trickster god is going to get me! He’s going to force me to bed him again! Oh, Lucas- please! Protect me! Say you’ll protect me! Anyone, please!” you wailed.

There were a few whispers of pity from the crowd. Lucas was stiff and uncomfortable of being labeled as your protector.

“There there, Miss Y/L/N. Sure I-we will keep you, uh. safe. it’s alright, you’re safe, no need to make a fuss, shhh,” he patted awkwardly, rocking you back and forth as you clung to him.

You peeked out and saw Will look absolutely white and silently angry seeing you embracing the surgeon. 

A taste of his own medicine.

You heard Loki’s voice.

‘Hal’s dying of laughter right now over this. Jonathan is cracking a smile despite himself. Stella is telling them all it is not funny and excusing herself to go to a corner and giggle.’ he said.

Lucas took note of Will and you heard a little panic in the surgeon’s voice.

“I, uh, think you should- should get home and- er, drink some tea and get some rest,” Lucas advised, desperately peeling you off of him before you went to Will. Pure terror on the surgeon's round face noticing the awkward situation he was in.

“I will escort my fiancee back home,” he said coldly, glaring at Lucas. 

You were escorted sternly by Will, you pretended not to notice the jealous little huff in his voice when he said goodnight at your door. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The second Sunday was the right Sunday to do the next part of your plan- for it was bright and sunny.

You were already early there to help teach Sunday School as promised. You made sure to talk in a sweet voice as you handed out the little snacks for the children forced into stiff, fancy clothes. The older teacher fussed at them to remain still. You practiced looking at a window when they turned to her. The children sat bored and sleepy hearing about Jonah. 

You saw one little light reflection out of the window flicker on the floor. Then it settled to normal before any young eyes could see. 

For the longest time, you wondered why you had these gifts of moving light around- the flash from the sun, from windows, and its reflections. It wasn’t helpful against Grendel…but it would be helpful for revenge.

Service began, and people filed over the floors, made of clear tiles of white and black, almost like a chessboard. And what a move you had in store if it was successful.

You looked up at the light shining through that brown church so it no longer looked dreary. 

The service began as normal. Blessed be God’s people now and forever amen and all that. A few hymns. Scripture readings. Will gave a sermon about King Saul and David. The men who were a part of Grendel’s army sitting in the congregation smiling. More intrigued to hear about swords and violence than patience and gentleness. 

A prayer would be the right time. Everyone ducked their heads down to repeat what was in the Book of Common Prayer.

“Lord in your mercy,” began Will.

“Hear our prayer” the congregation intoned, as did you.

You stared at the sunlight streaming down all of the windows.

“Lord, hear us,” began Will.

“Lord, graciously hear us,” replied the congregation.

Taking in a deep breath, you silently urged the sunlight to move. 

“God of love,” began Will.

“Hear our prayer,” responded the congregation.

The lights moved from the windows over the heads of all. First one stream of light, then another, and another. Everyone’s heads were down to pray, they didn’t notice. 

The lights glowing on all the windows were directed at you like stage lights. You felt warm beneath it. You squinted beneath it, smiling, your magic keeping it at you. But kept repeating the prayer responses from the service.

“Lord, meet us in the silence,” began Will.

“And hear our prayer,” replied the congregation.

When their heads turned, they saw the sunlight was all pointing in your direction and beaming right at you.

There were gasps. You heard a few books of Common Prayer taking a tumble to the floor from people dropping them in shock. They gaped at you- the frightened and superstitious town. For many things happened that scared them…this was harmless.

The service went to a halt as they all looked at you.

“It’s a sign! From God!” one murmured.

“He blessed her!” whispered another.

“A blessed lady!” another agreed.

They lost interest in Will, whose mouth dropped wide, then broke into a smile. He saw a miracle before him.

The congregation turned to you. One woman went up to you and you offered your hand, she kissed it.

“God has blessed you, my dear- it’s a sign from him!” she gasped.

“He has redeemed her…redeemed her from the Trickster God!” agreed another.

They all loved and looked at you favorably, their eyes soft and their faces turning to smiles. You released the magic and suddenly Will had to re-direct everyone’s focus back to him and the service.

But they went up to you, smiling and in awe and admiration and coming in droves to smile in awe of you once it was over. 

Now you had to keep it up for a good reputation in this town was as good as an alibi.  

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next day, you received something in the mail- something completely shocking you almost dropped it, but it was shaking in your hand.

“I do cordially invite you to a celebration of my birthday- held on the date below. Please write back if you will be there. We plan for only a few gifts here and there, some nice beef, and plenty of cake and ice cream. We shall prepare enough seats for the dinner.

Mrs. Seaborne.”

She invited you! She invited you! To her birthday celebration! What was she thinking?! Why? Did she want the new miracle woman in her circle? Was she trying to perhaps re-acquaint herself with you after sticking Will’s penis up her-

You caught yourself, catching your breath. When your parents arrived, they hurried and saw the paper. Their eyes went to you.

“I am only…only…”

Calming down your racing heart, an idea hit you. If you were at her house, you would figure out which departments of science she was contacting. You would know who to send the blackmail to.

You brought up a smile.

“I am only Thrilled! I shall write to her at once and accept! How fun!” you replied.

You would figure out where to send the second letter to ruin Cora there.

“Wonderful! Good to know your silly jealousy of her is done,” agreed your father.

“But there will be gifts- you must go and find something for her,” your mother reminded you.

…and a new idea came upon you.  Another act of revenge on her, even worse than sending a few letters. One where none would ever suspect it to be you.

“I shall, mama.”

You knew what you had to do now, you just had to steel yourself and do it. 

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #loki my beloved #tom hiddleston #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #loki fanfiction #hiddlesverse #tom hiddleston characters #carrie writes #tom hiddelston loki #dammit hiddleston #twhiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #loki fic #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki x fem! reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x fem! reader #loki mcu #loki mcu imagine #fic recs #loki marvel #a court of thorns and roses #loki angst

[raainberry]

Rewind You

« To rewind is to make something go back to the beginning or to an earlier point. »

Sana x gn!reader

Angst

synopsis - your ex’s concert is the last place you should be at after breaking up, yet here you are

⚠️this (very) short story is told backwards, so from end to the start. i wrote it so you can read it normally and from the end. both ways will make sense, but the chronology in which it’s told will change.

wordcount - 581

T/W - Food (One mention)

A/N - two crazy discoveries led to this: new sana pics and melanie martinez’s unreleased song You Love I from which the concept is inspired. enjoy! or not bc i actually dont know if this is good its too late for me to worry about that🥰

Everything was better with her…

You’d ask yourself how you ended up here, but you knew the answer already.

You felt lost, overwhelmed as a pain you couldn’t seem to let go of persisted deep within your chest, looking around in search for a distraction.

How deluding…

The music was loud, but the tune was off. The lights were bright, but they lacked color. The people around you were happy, dancing and singing along to whatever song came out of those powerful speakers, but it wasn’t infectious.

Your eyes followed the spotlight as it highlighted the artist you hadn’t seen in months. All you could feel when you laid eyes on her was jealousy.

Something you loved and cherished, a place and a person, they’d been ripped away from you the moment you’d parted ways. Yet there she was, still enjoying it all as everyone’s focus and passionate admiration landed solely onto her for the next two minutes.

Minatozaki Sana.

You should have gone to a nightclub... It was the most popular, if not customary short-term remedy to a breakup. Why on Earth were you at a concert instead—her concert out of all?

Needless to say, your split was a fall from grace. Heartbreaking, as you’d expect from a relationship that lasted this long. You’d never broken up with anyone, but you’d seen it in the movies. You knew it would hurt no matter how long you’d seen it coming. You even bought the ice cream in advance, which you unsurprisingly downed in days while living in your memories.

Years. Months. Days. Hours. Every minute you spent together, you made sure to love each other, feeling your hearts swelling at every gesture. A kiss, a touch, or even a simple look was enough to send you to cloud nine. High enough to only see each other.

You’re not sure when everything and everyone else faded out, what mattered was her. You truly liked her. So did she. Perhaps from the moment you’d met. But it took a while to realise just how much you cared about the other.

A first date only came after her clumsy confession one drunken summer night on your balcony. You thought it had been a dream when you woke up the next day. It felt like it at least, when you laid eyes on her and saw her clinging to your shirt in her sleep. Even unconscious, she seemed to be aware of your presence. To want it.

Her conscience never let a second go by without a thought of you either. She made it her mission to satisfy this mindful desire of hers. Texting you at all hours, calling you just to hear the sound of your voice, asking if you could meet her in between two schedules like you would even think about saying no to her.

She was all you could think about. Her smile, her eyes, her laugh, down to her scent. It remained in a corner of your mind, recalling each of them in the late hours of the night as you struggled to fall asleep. The feeling was enchanting, to the point you wondered if she was real. If you’d really met her and she was not someone you’d made up in your dreams to make it all easier.

Life wasn’t that much of a party until you crossed paths with her. While she described her ‘before’ as chaotic, you liked to see yours as the opposite. Just plain boring.

Nothing seemed as colorful, vibrant, or lush without her.

Everything was better with her.

#twice x reader #sana x reader #sana imagines #twice imagines #twice sana #minatozaki sana

[lightvixxen]

Eddie munson x insecure!bestfriend!reader

A/n:This is purely self-indulgent bc I needed some comfort lolz, also major vent post and its kinda personal bc this is actual stuff from my own vents lol, but I just needed to write Eddie comfort and ik there’s some plus sized ppl who feel the same<3

Warnings: degrading language(not the fun kind), insecurity, reader calls themselves names in their diary, negative self-talk,reader willing gets into a toxic arrangement, fluff…so much fluff, best friends to lovers, small angst but its hurt/comfort, small mentions of violence, Eddie just wants to harm the ppl that hurt you.

Summary: Eddie reads ur diary and need to show just how fucking wrong u are abt yourself.

Eddie had been in your room countless times, though this time, he was on a fucking mission. He had managed to convince you to go downstairs alone to grab some drinks, and he prayed it kept you occupied long enough for him to snoop.

You had been down the past few days and he needed to know why, unfortunately for him, you kept your mouth shut on your feelings, opting to change the subject every time he asked. Luckily for him though, you wrote down everything in a small blue notebook. Eddie grabbed the notebook out of its hiding place, flipping through its pages, he knew this was an invasion of privacy but damn it he was worried, sue him.

He stopped, finally coming to the most recent page, which had everything he needed to know.

September 19, 1987.

So, I went back to him…and I know what your thinking “why would you go back to someone who uses you?!”

Eddie already knew who and what you were talking about, had spent countless nights staying up with you as you sobbed into his shoulder about the boy who would never return your feelings and played you consistently. And spent countless nights fighting the urge to grab a fucking bat to go kill the son of a bitch. But he reads on.

Well, I’ll tell you, it’s because its what I think I deserve. I’ve kinda accepted my fate to the “fuckable but not datable” Role of my life. After all no one wants a fat ugly whore hanging off their arm.

God- Eddie wanted to both punch and hug you, you were absolutely perfect and beautiful, words couldn’t describe how much he wanted you. How much he wanted you hanging off his arm, contrary to your belief- you weren’t ugly, sure you were bigger than all the other girls, but that just meant more to love! He wanted to worship every part of your body. To show you off, show all the fuckers who said those nasty things to you what they were missing. And for fucks sake, you saw yourself as a whore?! You barely slept with anyone, and the people you did sleep with you had known for years!

I just- I just want someone to actually care, want someone to tell me they love me and mean it.

Eddie loved you, He loved you so fucking much even he, himself couldn’t believe it. He looked at you with so much adoration and love it was unbelievable how oblivious you were to him.

Nobody wants a nerd, no one wants a plus sized- or well fat, Plus size is only for the pretty ones, that of which I am not. Also no one wants baggage, or someone who’s clingy if they say they do they’re lying. Or i would have someone, pretty sure no one in this school would touch me with a 10ft pole. Lol jealous of the people who are wanted.

The entry ends and Eddie wants to cry, he hated the fact you talked about yourself like that. He wanted everything about you, he was fucking crazy over you. He wished he could make you see yourself the way he saw you. Because fuck- you were a goddess to him. He worships the fucking ground you walk on. He wanted to take you out on sappy dates, and treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Not the way you’ve been treated by your exes, he hated how they treated you like a fucking toy.

Eddie heard your heavy footsteps bounding up the stairs, he didn’t bother putting your diary away. He was going to shoot his fucking shot because damn it if that’s how you’ve been feeling he wanted to show you how fucking wrong you were.

“Okay I finally got- Eds…what the fuck?!” You almost dropped the two cans, seeing your best friend with your diary. It’s obvious he had read it, so fucking obvious in the way he was staring at you.

Eddie didn’t say anything as he gently closed the notebook. Didn’t say anything as he slowly got up from your bed. You thought he was going to run out, tell you everything you had thought was true, that this was the end to your friendship with Eddie. Instead, he crossed the room, walking towards you and before you knew it he was pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“E-Eddie?!” You squeaked, arms hanging loosely at your sides. “God- your so fucking stupid you know that?! You talk so fucking negatively about yourself, while your oblivious to the way I look at you!” You were stunned, you couldn’t tell if he was comforting you or not.

But he continued, “you’re so fucking beautiful, and pretty and so fucking amazing, I want you to be the one hanging off my arm. Fuck- sweetheart I want everything about you.” Your face fell, more than it already could. You had heard that phrase so many times, and it only landed you being stranded in your sheets.

“Eddie- c’mon don’t play like that.” You murmured, even with the way he was hugging you, you couldn’t believe someone could ever want you outside of sex. “I’m not fucking playing!” He pulled back from you, a firm grip on your shoulders, he wanted to shake you until you realized he was telling the truth. “Sweetheart, I love you genuinely, every time- every single fucking time, you mention someone hurt you, or someone used you. I’ve had to fight the urge to kill a motherfucker for making you think like that.”

Tears slowly well up in your eyes. You knew Eddie, he didn’t joke about that kind of shit. Not after what happened last year. “Sweetheart-“ Eddie wiped your tears, “you don’t know how much I love you, I worship the fucking ground you walk on, I’ve written stupid love songs about how much I want you.” His eyes are locked on yours, letting you know just how serious he is about this. “You literally consume my every thought, all I think about is what your doing, what you feel, The way you laugh, the way you smile-“ Eddie hugged you once again. “God if I knew that’s what you were feeling I would’ve told you this ages ago, but…I’m absolutely crazy about you.”

And with that he kissed you, it was slow, passionate, letting you know just how much he meant every word. Every-time you tried to make it heated, tried to deepen the kiss he would pull away. He wasn’t gonna let your stupid insecurities and thoughts ruin the image you have of him.

#eddie munson #eddie x female reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #small angst #purely self indulgent #eddie munson x you #best friend! eddie #best friend! eddie munson #kinda protective!Eddie #protective!Eddie

[shittybundaskenyer]

✹ ▬   𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

rating: Explicit

pairing: Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

summary: You want some love and Arthur gives it to you selflessly.

warnings: high honor Arthur, reader thinks she doesn’t deserve love, touch-starved, smut, porn with feelings, fingering, gentle sex, love confessions, angst and hurt/comfort, daily overdose of metaphors, can Arthur please hug me?? I really need it

word count: 2355  

a/n: i wrote this in a few hours bc i couldn’t sleep and wanted to feel loved. pretty much all of this is self indulgent rambling about love, spiced with some lovemaking, but i hope you like it guys! <3

MASTERLIST   |   ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

The sunlight lays down on the gently rolling waves, water and thousands of tiny, glittering stars, sun-mirrors, father and mother of all life, silent lovers meeting halfway. Their union paint streaks of white light onto the bottom, over round stones scraped smooth, over rainbowlike fish scales and hidden imprints of a forest long since dead, mummified in slate and rock. 

That's how he meets you. 

With the force and gentleness of the sun.

It feels too close. The heart of a star's birth, flames swirling into ribbons of heat, his heart the epicenter, rumbling, crumbling, and you get scorched, slowly, like how rot burns a fallen tree into rich earth. Bugs and fungi and critters latch onto the bones of your ribs, prying them away, open, until there's a hole wide enough for the sunlight to get in. Love, love, love. A word both too weak and too strong to capture what you mean. It catches on the tip of your tongue like a fallen droplet of sweat. Salty-sweet. 

Arthur kisses you, and fuck…

The light gets in.

His lips, your lips, a song, a ballad, a poem, a killing, a fight, an embrace. 

Get in. Let the light get in. Inside. Put it inside me, your light, put in everything, I want to feel whole, just a little, just what you can spare.

"Shh," he whispers, and you don't realize, not until the soothing gentleness of his voice, that you said it all out loud. Quiet, barely audible babbles. A confession. A lie. The barest truth that is so raw it still bleeds fresh crimson. "I gotchu sweetheart."

Dread fills you for a second, the realization of what you've done. No, no, no, no! Not like this, you didn't want to say it like this, how could you? You ruined it all, the naked vulnerability of the moment, the thin veil of peace that descended upon the pair of you when Arthur pulled you into his arms and then pressed you into a patch of soft, yellowed grass. 

I ruined it, goddamn ruined it.

But Arthur doesn't back away. Instead, he presses a finger to your chin and smooths out the crease that is forming there, a foreword of tears. He kisses you instead, again, softly, choking your tears off and making you hiccup into his eager mouth. He swallows it eagerly, your sounds of desperation and disbelief, and after a few tortured seconds, your shaky sigh of relief. 

"What do you want?" he whisper-kisses, barely parting from you, hands coming around your head, caging you in. A cage made from arches of bone and flesh and sun-worn skin, overarching the frozen heap that is your body. Between cracks of striped blue cotton fabric and horse-smelling leather, the light glints in. 

Christ, you don't know. 

You never know how to answer a question like this. It's simple. It's the most difficult of all. 

You want just this, just like how he wants it, it doesn't really matter, because you're finally not alone and he's warm and after days of cold rain the sun peeked through the clouds and the snow-capped mountains. You want everything. You want to tell him to leave and never come back. You want him to go and be happy. You want… you hope maybe he can be here, with you.

Arthur waits, and the tears prickle your eyelids, bubbling, bitter globs of liquid sorrow, getting weaved into your eyelashes like autumn dew over blades of yellowed grass. 

He coaxes the answer out of you. 

A thumb on your cheek and kisses. Many, gentle presses that draw a path down the side of your nose, the corner of your mouth, your brows. He traces them again and again, like how wild animals walk the same path to a river day after day. He waits, because he wants to, because he chose to, because maybe you're worth the time he sacrifices for being with you. 

You ain't—

Shit, this is harder than anything you've ever done. 

Admitting a want is like admitting a sin. The altar is the meadow around, below, the beating flesh of the earth, and the priest is the sun, listening, always listening. 

You confess. 

Broken, half-sobbed syllables. 

Somewhere, between words of pain and fear and the curse of being alone, always alone, his name. 

Soft. 

Kind. 

Some angel disguised between a horde of devils. 

"Whatchu really want, honey?" he tries again, because you're avoiding the question. 'Course you do. That's the only thing you've learnt like an instinct, like breathing or eating, because you had to. Because it was always convenient. 

I want—

I want—

You. Us. Something more than me. 

"Whatever you can give me," you press out between trembling lips and too-close teeth. 

That's enough. That's fucking everything he wanted to hear. 

Arthur gazes down at you, blue-green eyes swirling wild, a summer storm that somehow swam over to the cold days of October, lightning and thunder and showering rain. The sun has seen enough. Sins and confessions and love. She dips behind a puff of white clouds, and that's the exact moment Arthur leans to you and takes your lips like how he always wanted.

Because he did. 

And he does. 

So much it burns.

There's a bare second you think you'll cry, but the warmth blooming somewhere in a deep hidden part of you makes the tears evaporate. Your own personal sun, a star being born, the force of its explosion making the bones in your chest rattle and ache. You shudder against him and he grabs you, kneads your flesh, makes it warm—no, hot, in their wake, makes it tingle and buzz like a swarm of bees under tired skin. 

His tongue swipes your lip, his lashes tickle your cheek, and then another wall crumbles and falls, weaved in by flowering vines—choked by them. You let him in. The door of your heart, the poorly patched-in hole in your defenses, the seam of your mouth. He invades, like a force, like a storm, like a thousand horsemen tasked with a siege. 

He invades, and he's welcome here.

You let him lick into your mouth, let him map out the shape of you, let him kiss you until there's no breath left in your lungs and no space between your chest and his. You feel his heart against your breast, beating wild, bucking like a mustang caught on a rope, and your own flickers alive, a fire stroked back to a flow of summer-colored flames. 

"How much ya want?" he mumbles between two kisses, a softer and a passionate one, the kind that ignites the torch of unholy needs of the flesh. 

How much of what?

"I don't know," you pull away, shy, shy of this cursed want inside you, but the fire is already roaring, and there's no river that can stop its towering flames. A spark can jump over. 

"Will ya take everythin' if I offer?" he noses along the side of your face, presses a kiss where your ear meets your jaw. 

Your bodies aligned, like constellations, have power in them. 

Power that can be released, that can be reigned. Like horses. Born wild and free, only tamed proper by those who are worthy. 

Arthur offers you that. 

And you feel the urge to cry again.

"What if I want to? Does that make me greedy?"

Arthur almost chuckles. You feel his smile pressed to the crook of your neck.

"I have many sins, darlin'... This ain't one of them."

And he's back, because he can, because he really wants to, and you kiss and kiss until he wedges himself between your legs, just to feel even closer, just to show you . 

There's a simmering fire there, embers he blows whiskey on as he settles, and Christ , he's hard, and he knows, because he grinds it to you, he makes it catch aflame proper, makes the crushed seed of love bloom into a flower. 

You grow wet between the thighs, and he knows that too, because you feel his smile against you, the insistent firmness of his hands grabbing parts of your flesh, the fat on your hips, even through your riding coat and thick jeans. 

"Can I touch ya?" he asks, peppers gentle presses of his lips above the collar of your shirt. 

You're already doin' that. 

Why ask anyway when I'm yours?

"You can do anythin'," you whisper back, finally brave enough to slide your hand up to his nape, brave enough to slip your fingers into his hair. "I'd let you do anythin'."

"Don't say that or I'll—," he bites back the rest, but you feel his meaning when one of his hands goes down to your belly, to the seam of your pants to dip in. 

Wait, this is—

You never thought you could—

"Or you what?" you prompt him to finish, distracting you from the way he carefully makes space for his fingers in your jeans, almost carving it out for them, until he can slip trigger-calloused fingers into coarse hair on your mound. 

There's a noise. 

A squeak. A whisper-shout. 

A sigh of surprised relief. 

"Or I can't hold myself back," he murmurs and he fingers the spot where your folds part, just above your clit. 

"Then don't."

You know what you want, and this is already so much more. 

Arthur's eyes jump back to you, but there's no mirth of a joke in your gaze. You're dead serious.

He kisses you for it, hard and needy and passionate and you finally learn to reciprocate, to take what he offers. 

Arthur tears at your pants, pulls on the buttons, makes you wiggle them down enough so his hand can fit. It's so broad, so warm, but your thighs are warmer, and softer, and he touches them with the greed of a young thief that wants to steal the moon off the night sky. 

"Please, please, please…" you babble, and he obeys, parts the seam of your cunt that glistens surprisingly wet after such a short time. "Touch me, stuff me, I don't care," but you don't have to plead for more. 

I don't want to feel this empty.

"I gotchu, darlin'."

He pushes two fingers in, and you cry and sigh and keep whispering his name like a chant. He slides them deep enough to stretch good, to make his palm grind against your clit, and he moves them, slow, hard, and then faster when you start to sing like an early songbird, cunt squeezing and squelching and sucking him back greedily every time.

"You're so pretty," he says to you, leaning in again to steal a kiss, to make you believe he's sincere with his words. "So goddamn clever," another kiss, a lot softer. "So goddamn perfect for me."

You feel like the red string of fate is wrapped around your throat like a cord, choking you, barely reborn from the womb of the earth after sinking too deep. But Arthur… Dear, gentle Arthur pries it away. Makes the bruises fade, the red string still tight on his own neck.

He moves his fingers and you don't have time to think. His palm grinds over your mound, clever circles, and your want tickles over the crease in it, clear and white, and his fingers are thick with it too, sliding back and forth, apart and together, making way for something more. 

"Want you inside me," you tell him, leaning close to his ear, and he nods, makes it a mission to have you, even though he first wanted to draw this whole thing out. There's no time. Not enough before your walls try to build themselves back together. 

"How?" 

"Don't care," you pull on him, on the soft hairs on his nape and he kisses you in return, a reassurance. You reach for him, tug on the buckle of his belt, the front of his pants. He muffles a groan into the side of your neck, marks the place of it with a gentle peck. 

You both move.

There's no grace in the movements you two make—you turn to your side, legs still trapped from mid-thigh down by your jeans, but it's enough for Arthur to tease the head of his cock between your folds, the angle making it hard to push in at first, his clothed chest heaving against your spine, his breath puffed into your shoulder.

But when he finally fits—

When he finally embraces you from behind… 

There's no chance of this being a one time thing. It's love. Love, love, love, love. Thick, slow, glorious, just like the way he takes you, just like how he picks away the pieces of you until there's nothing left but the naked buzzing rainbow-edges of a soul. 

Your naked soul. 

And his, slowly wrapping itself around.

You make love out under the sun and the clouds and the azure sky. They're witnesses at the trial of your heart, feather light now, the truth spoken by hands and lips and the cradle of hips. 

You love him, so goddamn much. 

You try to say it with the embrace—with your hand grasping his over your belly, with your leg weaved between his own, with your cunt swallowing him deep and making him stay: a church, a mansion, a home. You can be that. For him, you can.

You let the light in. 

He shines, and you gather all of it, hoard it, deep down in your chest where blood and flesh beats wildly. 

And when he shudders against you, his cock pulled out and pressed between your thighs, thick and spurting warm over the small patch of naked skin—he comes back, with his hand and his mouth, praising you and fingering you until your climax makes your leg cramp up and your tears to spill.

The sun judges you and finds you innocent. The sky, the clouds too. Your soul dances above somewhere, over the autumn meadow of browned wildflowers and yellowing grass, intertwining with his, as one soft phrase rolls off his lips, "you're my own missing light, sweetheart."

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfiction #high honor arthur morgan x reader #ao3 #fanfiction

[soleilnomoon]

i would love to place an order for Meringue Cookies, Dark Chocolate, Jelly Beans, Candy Necklace, & Blan Manje, with Caramel & Honey. Side menu # 1 for Boa or Nami. either is fine! with a g/n reader! These stories are a blast to read!

anon i am so so sry this took forever 😭💕💕💕 but i finally finished and i'm actually happy with it; also ty for requesting, i love boa hancock sfm i wish more ppl wrote for her.

4.3k words, gn reader (no pronouns), nsfw, 18+ mdni; angst angst angst bc that's how i vibe & smut, and if you squint real hard there's some fluff somehow i think. hancock is a brat as usual and reader ain't shit, but they go great together <3 feat. cute things like oral (f receiving), fingering, a lil bondage, hair pulling, some pussy slapping, more stuff that idr anymore ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა (if u see grammar/spelling errors no u didn't ;_;)

tagging lil’ kaia bc she asked so nicely ❤︎ @cvvor

“our love would be death” — anaïs  nin

sea salt sifts through the wind, warm and fine enough that most don’t notice its intrusion. it lands on your nose and lips, coats your tongue when you exhale through your mouth; no matter how many times you try to wash away the taste, it still lingers. a persistent annoyance that refuses to leave you alone. it’s a bitter, yet familiar taste — one that fills your heart with memories you’ve long wanted to keep buried. you’re no stranger to heartache, but this is different.

you find that you can never sleep through the entire night without dreaming of your ex — of how you begged them to stay, of how you told them you couldn’t live without them. pathetic, you tell yourself one morning after another restless night — you know you need to find a way to move on, but there’s no way you can, not when you carved so many pieces of yourself to give away without much thought.

what you’re left with is a battered heart that can barely function on its own; it flops pitifully in your chest, rattling against your rib cage weakly. every day it gets harder to breathe, harder to face the truth that you’re all alone — again.

boa hancock doesn’t know why she even fucking bothers, but she can’t seem to stay away from you. it’s a privilege, in her opinion, for you to be graced with her presence, let alone be allowed to touch her intimately. so, when she finds you staring wistfully out of the window, sighing to yourself again she snaps.

“y/n, look at me,” she commands loudly, voice piercing through your body like a thick arrow that keeps you frozen in place. you know better than to disobey her, even though you want to; you know you’re being unreasonable, but the heart always wants what it can’t have, right?

not that she cares about any of that. in her mind, your ex is an ex for a reason. she grabs your face with her hand, squeezing tightly, delicate brows furrowed together as irritation drips down her spine. she could easily kill you and you know it. “i’m the most beautiful woman in the world,” she boasts, although there’s something melancholic about the way she says it.

you narrow your eyes at her, mouth moving before you can think better of it. “and what of it?” it’s not often that you challenge her like that, but today you’ve had enough of her games, of constantly catering to her whims and desires, of her veneer that she insists on keeping even when she’s alone with you.  

it dawns on her then what the actual problem is. “you’re still in love with them.” anger seeps through her pores, and she knows if she doesn’t walk away soon, she might say or do something she’ll possibly regret.

you flinch, eyes widening — she’s not entirely wrong, but she’s not right either. you’re just stuck in limbo, unable to move on because you refuse to do so; after seeing them so happy with someone else, you can’t fathom finding any sort of happiness yourself. so, you cling onto the past, even when it threatens to destroy your present life.

for some reason, this pisses you off — that hancock is so much more perceptive than people give her credit for; that she’s not afraid to tell you the truth, despite how your friends sugarcoat everything for you. the rage that’s bubbled deep inside of you for months finally pushes out; you can barely think or see properly, and you forget yourself when you practically shout back at her.

“and you’re just jealous because for once, you’re not the focus of my attention.” you’re not sure why you say it, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel like shit.

there’s rarely a moment where hancock finds herself in absolute shock, but your venomous words cut into her bruised ego with vigor. it's a harsh reality that she refuses to accept, so she lashes out at you again.

“you’re pathetic.” her tone is cold, and she steels her face enough that she almost looks bored with you. hancock releases her hold on you and swivels on her heels to walk away. you don’t bother calling after her, but she pauses in her gait to look over her shoulder at you. “i’m done playing with you, get out of my sight.”

the dismissal is the first slap of many and her insistence on blatantly keeping her back turned while she ignores you is another. something in you breaks, but you know you’ve angered the pirate empress enough for one day. you don’t hesitate before scrambling to your feet and leaving her alone. after you close the door, you hear a shriek that’s accompanied by what sounds like a large vase shattering. you don’t bother checking on her, because you know you’re not wanted in her presence right now.

you should’ve seen this coming. one doesn’t simply think about another lover while in the presence of boa hancock; it’s absurd and theatrical, but it’s an unspoken rule that you keep breaking over and over. in the back of your mind, you know you should go make things right with her, but you just don’t know how.

hancock’s frustration continues to build throughout the day. she doesn’t know why someone — you, a commoner who should be groveling at her feet daily — can be so insolent without remorse. she’s smashed several expensive sculptures, shredded her mattress and bed sheets with large scissors, and cursed out every staff member in kuja palace. her anger only intensifies when she hears someone whisper your name, so she locks herself in her bedroom, refusing meals or assistance from anyone.

you’ve always thought that the pirate empress was annoying, self-centered, and unnecessarily mean without reason. you’ve told her this on several occasions, stunning her into silence — a feat that most cannot achieve. hancock would normally sentence someone to death for those sorts of callous remarks, but for some reason she spares you. maybe it’s because despite her incomparable, unrivaled beauty, you don’t helplessly pine after her.

and she absolutely hates that about you.

hancock’s not someone who’s used to being treated like a regular person, and yet that’s what you do to her. you barely hold any reverence for her, give her the minimal amount of respect owed as a citizen of amazon lily, and you don’t flinch when she threatens you publicly. most are afraid to be associated with you, out of fear for incurring the snake princess’ wrath — not that you care, you’ve known that your personality can’t be tolerated by most because you tend to happily go against the grain.

you’ve always found her beauty to be intense and intoxicating — imposing like the sun, forcing a heat to surge through you that has yet to dissipate. you hate that your attraction to her impedes your daily life, especially when you’re plagued by dueling thoughts of her and your ex. you’re barred from entering the palace, and you’re thankful for it as you don’t know how you’d be able to face hancock after all that you’ve said. you know that you should apologize profusely, but a woman like hancock requires something extravagant and elaborate — something that’ll prove that your adoration and loyalty is genuine and not forced.

the first few days are relatively easy; you work tirelessly to keep your mind and body busy, and you’re so exhausted by the end of the day that you sleep without dreaming. when a week passes, you start to notice that certain things are off; you didn’t make it a habit of frequenting the palace that often, but you were there enough that the staff didn’t give you a hard time when you showed up unannounced. you tell yourself that distance is good — it means you’ll be able to finally focus on the things that are important to you.

but, when you sit and think about it, you’re not quite sure if that’s entirely true.

after the second week, you start getting antsy. your friends keep pestering you, asking why your mood keeps shifting day to day — you’re intolerable and grouchy, snap at minor things and make mistakes all day. your heart, as tired and as worn out as it is, still skips a beat when you think about hancock despite what you try to tell yourself when you’re alone. somehow, you’ve convinced yourself that the only reason why you’re thinking about her, is because you miss fucking her.

the lie is tough to digest, but you keep repeating it and sooner or later you’ll believe it, right?

soon, everything reminds you of her.

on a warm night, a small festival is held, and you wander around listless and slightly tipsy. memories of the first time you met boa hancock — outside of all the fanfare that her royal title awards her — plague you relentlessly. you remember the warmth from that night, similar to this one; you remember how highly oppressive and unbearable the humidity was; and you also remember that you were on your third drink when you unceremoniously bumped into the pirate empress.

at first, her sisters demanded you apologize, but you were annoyed and had just been dumped so you chose audacity instead.

hancock’s irritation was evident, despite her not saying much — and it wasn’t until your rambling struck a nerve that she fired back. it was the first time he’d let her walls down, and her sisters watched in shock as both of you went back and forth over nothing. hancock called you all sorts of terrible names, and you sneered and laughed in her face. the fact that you weren’t cowering in fear or salivating over her beauty set her skin on fire in a way she didn’t understand.

you remember her dismissing the other gorgon sisters, insisting that she’d be able to handle you on her own. and she did, in a way. if anyone were to ask her about that time, hancock would easily admit that she regrets meeting you that night — but it would be a lie. the only thing she regrets is allowing you to infiltrate her heart, to settle without permission, to make her feel less than when she knew she was anything but.

her brattiness is unappealing on the surface and you normally wouldn’t be attracted to a woman who boldly wears such an ugly personality with pride. somehow, hancock has made the trait endearing to you, in a strange way; she’s so unapologetic with her behavior, that you find it rather comical. why people take her seriously is beyond you.

but, despite all of that, you do miss her.

you miss seeing the way her nose would scrunch and wrinkle when she was disgusted with something insignificant and minute; you miss kissing her in the middle of arguments and watching her easily melt underneath your touch; but you mostly miss hearing her complain about your lack of etiquette, about how odd she finds your views on the world, and about how you see her more clearly than anyone else on the island.

that sort of vulnerability terrifies her, and it’s why she’s been so miserable without you.

her sisters pay you a visit one morning and implore you to talk some sense into hancock. they tell you about how her temper tantrums have gotten uncontrollable (even for them) and how she barely eats or bothers leaving the palace these days. that bit surprises you, as hancock thrives off the validation from the populace. at first you mean to refuse them, but when you take note of how marigold anxiously fidgets with the gold bracelet around her wrist and the way sandersonia has dark circles under her eyes, you give in.

after taking a long, long soak in the bath, hancock pads back to her room naked, deciding to keep the windows open so she can air dry properly. you find her shortly after, out of breath from running over to the palace; she didn’t lock her door — and why should she? she’s the empress, after all — so you enter her room with ease. because she’s been so out of it lately, she’s been sluggish in her reactions to certain things; especially since she hasn’t stopped thinking about you.

with the door shut and locked behind you, hancock’s mind clears a bit; she blinks slowly, her dark eyes honed on you, taking in your thick thighs and toned body. as usual, hancock’s face only features an impassive expression, and she keeps her tone flat when she addresses you.

“why the hell are you in my bedroom?” she grabs the silk robe that’s draped over her mattress and puts it on in a rush.

before you can answer her or move closer, she picks up a large pillow and chucks it at you in the hopes that you’ll get the hint and leave her alone. you sidestep the attack, lips pressed together as you hold back a laugh; she can’t honestly think that a pillow will stop you, can she? hancock keeps throwing things, anything within her reach that isn’t nailed down to the floor or wall. you try to reason with her, try to make your way closer, but stop when you see the way her lips quiver.

she keeps fumbling with tying her robe properly, keeps looking down at her trembling fingers — the same ones that have tugged on your hair more times than you can count — but still she won’t say anything else to you.

after a minute, hancock manages to compose herself once again, her lips pressed tightly together as she fights the urge to berate herself for looking weak in front of you — as if you care about any of that. your silence compels her to swiftly make her way towards you, long legs shimmering in the sunlight, captivating you so much that you forget you’re supposed to be angry with her.

“look at you,” she stands tall, her pride giving her the confidence she needs to verbally tear you apart. “you’ve come begging for my forgiveness, right?” she doesn’t wait for you to respond and simply flips her hair over her shoulder before continuing. it’s all she can do to keep her composure around you; she knows if she gives you even a fraction of an inch, you’ll take a whole damn mile. “i should have you gutted for entering the palace without permission. you should know your damn place.” while her words are harsh, her delivery doesn’t quite match the expression on her face. maybe it’s because you haven’t taken your eyes off of her since you entered her room; or, maybe it’s because she’s standing much closer than necessary but can’t physically move herself away.

did you cast a spell on her without her knowledge?

while her eyes do narrow at that possibility, she highly doubts that you could, as there’s no one on amazon lily that doesn’t succumb to her treacherous beauty. but you continue to defy her expectations and you never know when to quit. which is why she just wants to grab you by the neck and toss you out the window; maybe if she actually kills you this time, she’ll be done with you forever.

except, she could never bring herself to harm you — not really. so she continues with her rant, reminding you that you’re beneath her, that you should be happy someone like her gave you any attention at all, but the more she talks, the more you want her to just shut the hell up.

“you’re right,” you say, cutting her off without remorse or any regards for your own safety, “and i deserve all of that,” and possibly more, but you don’t add that bit in. it becomes a little difficult to focus, what with hancock watching you with a different kind of intensity than you’re used to. “i… should’ve just explained myself properly before. but, more importantly,” you decide to take a risk and gently grab her by the hips.

silence wraps around her, blending into her thoughts, warping her perception of everything that’s happening. your hand is warm — much too warm, hot almost; she can feel the heat through the flimsy fabric as she presses her body closer to yours. whatever it is you want to tell her doesn’t matter — maybe she’ll pester you about it all later, but right now all she wants is you.

so, you give in and allow yourself to be more selfish than usual.

when your lips brush against hers, she completely comes alive — the longing you both felt for weeks, the irritation and unsaid words, they all prompt her to wrap her arms around your neck. it’s something short of a loving embrace, but you know better. your kiss goes from slow and tender to something much more fevered and enthusiastic; her lips are soft and supple, wholly inviting and terribly mesmerizing. you back her against the wall as she threads her fingers through your hair, tugging on it roughly, her patience practically nonexistent from all her wanting. you laugh at her in between kisses, breath warm against her skin — a feat that simultaneously annoys and arouses her — and remind her to play nice.

when she tugs on your hair again, you bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but run your tongue along the miniature wound to soothe the sting. she inhales sharply, the pain not noticeable, but the way you suck on her lip makes her head spin while also leaving her breathless.

 a woman like hancock doesn’t beg, but when you grab her ass roughly — aggressive, yet completely undoing — she lets out a whimper so pathetic she’s almost ashamed of herself.

she should slap you, but all she does is roll her hips forward once you spread her legs and run your fingers against her folds. in a fit of desperation, to excuse her reactions, she tells herself that it’s because she hasn’t been touched in so long — but deep down she knows the truth; she knows it’s because there’s no one else she’d rather have here with her, and that is a terrifying revelation. still, she’s very receptive to your touch, her back arching as soon as you spread her with your fingers.

her arousal drips down slowly, and while you’d love to take your time with her, you also know that if you don’t hurry up you might actually lose your mind. you trail kisses down the length of her neck, and hancock presses her lips together to keep from making any more embarrassing noises. it’s ridiculous the way her body can easily be commanded by you without much effort; she wants to hate you for leading her down this path, but she can’t ever bring herself to do so.

love makes people incredibly foolish and tender indeed.

“that won’t do,” you remark lightly, gliding your fingers back and forth, barely grazing her clit. her breathing stops momentarily when you open her robe completely and drop to your knees in front of her. “why are you holding back?” you don’t ask her because you actually want the answer; you ask because you know it’ll annoy her greatly.

you tease her entrance with your fingers and a shiver fires through her entire body; with her lips parted, you strain your ears a bit, but you hear through her all of her light panting, her softly saying please, please, please. she’s trying so hard to hold it together, and you commend her for her efforts by inching your fingers inside of her slowly. hancock’s façade finally shatters, and you hear her moan audibly as you plunge your fingers in and out of her pussy. you love the way she clenches around your fingers — warm and tight, soft in a way that just doesn’t make sense to you — and the way she moves her hips once your tongue playfully swirls around her clit.

you drape her long, shapely leg over your shoulder and scissor your fingers inside of her pussy; you hum against her skin, thoroughly enjoying the way her chest heaves and how she can’t seem to stop moaning your name.

if only she was always this compliant.

a heat passes through your body as her nails rake against your scalp, and if you weren’t so hellbent keeping her steady, she’d probably fall over by now. you eat her pussy with vigor, swapping your fingers for your tongue; you thrust it inside without remorse, and she quickly becomes a whimpering mess as she chants “yes, yes, yes.” you mean to tell her to keep it down, but a part of you also enjoys it when she lets go and gives into her desires. you don’t want to get caught, but the thrill of it incites you to lap at her pussy — greedy and eager, as if it’s the most savory meal you’ve ever had. her wetness drips down your chin, glistening along your lips but you don’t stop.

she watches you in a trance, unsure if she’ll ever be able to let you go after this. possessive by nature, hancock never thought she’d find herself in this sort of position, but there she is, completely under your spell. every swipe of your tongue brings her closer and closer to the edge — a dangerous dance that she does without thinking. she brings her free hand to cup and knead one of her breasts — hefty and round, moaning repeatedly, voice already straining as she shamelessly rides your face.

you love it, though and when you suck on her clit roughly, lightning wraps around her veins, time slowing down around her, causing her vision to blur. she’s so wound up, that the orgasm takes her completely by surprise — her hips buck wildly and you hold her firmly as you work your fingers back into her pussy. you pull away just to give her a haughty look — one that she catches by accident through her tear-stained lashes — voice low and husky as you continue teasing her. “you’re doing so good,” you lick her clit hard enough to have her eyes roll back, “do you trust me?”

it's not fair of you to ask her genuine questions right now, but you need to know.

hancock swallows hard, unable to think properly, but answers without hesitation: “y-yes.”

her voice is sweet, much more demure than you’re used to; your heart suddenly feels much too big for your chest, the beats growing louder and thunderous; a dangerous combination when coupled with your cowardice. but you know better than to cower away, so you muster the courage to quietly respond with, “good, i’m glad.”

you’re not sure why you ask her that, but you keep thinking about it when you have her naked on her bed with her hands bound above her. thanks to you, her normally blemish-free skin is littered with bite marks and dark red bruises — small and harmless, but you do feel a sliver of remorse when you realize she’ll have to cover herself up for a bit when she’s outside of the palace. you tell her she’s a masterpiece worthy of exhibition, and she tells you that you’re insolent for stating the obvious.

she’s so beautiful and vulnerable in this position — flushed cheeks, tears in her eyes, legs shaking as they’re spread wide for you; her pussy is swollen after you slapped it a few times when she gave you lip a few minutes ago. out of habit, hancock wants to run her mouth again when you hover over her, but her words never come out. she looks up at you, silently wondering why you keep coming back to her. the melancholy that accompanies those thoughts is heavy enough to make her want to cry, so she ignores it. she wraps her legs around you as you rock your hips against hers, cunt still dripping — eager and inviting.

fucking hancock is like being trapped in a feverish dream, one where you fall over and over, unable to predict if you’ll survive in the end. it’s an unending maelstrom — powerful and unpredictable, wild, and all-consuming. sweat pools at your temples, but you don’t slow down until you wrench another orgasm out of her. her voice grows hoarse, and she claws at your chest; you lick the tears off her cheeks and kiss her in a way that deludes her into thinking that she’s your one and only.

when you finally cum, it’s with her name on your lips. your hips stutter and your breath is uneven — for you, your pleasure comes mostly from watching her unravel underneath you. hancock never lets you stay over, but she’s surprisingly soft with you afterwards, even letting you run your fingers through her silky, ink-black hair.

the intimacy scares both of you, but you can’t stop yourself from touching her like that. and even though you’re both sticky and sweaty, skin burning in a way that doesn’t make sense, you still stay close to one another.

she opens her mouth several times, the compulsion to curse you out for driving her mad grows weaker as time passes. she watches you fall asleep and she admires your features without restraint. she refuses to tell you that you’re much more attractive than she’d like you to be; she’d rather you be hideous with a shitty personality, but that’s not the case, is it? she’s hopelessly enamored with you, and you with her.

nothing will ever be perfect between the two of you, but you don’t need perfection or superficiality — not with her; you like dealing with the true, raw version of herself. there will be a moment — not now, but in the near future — where you’ll be brave enough to finish your confession; but for now, you keep it to yourself, tucked safely away in your heart, and enjoy the way your limbs are tangled with hers.

#*cries softly* #i am finished!!! finally #fic request #500+ followers event #milestone event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭 #one piece smut #one piece angst #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #boa hancock #boa hancock x reader #boa hancock x y/n #boa hancock smut #hancock x reader #hancock x y/n #one piece imagine

[kyojurismo]

★ — disposable .

character : sanemi shinazugawa

summary : accepting to sleep with a rich and spoiled college student, what could possibly go wrong?

tags : modern au, fem!reader, 1.8k words, slight smut, no happy ending, i made sanemi suffer *evil laugh*, reader is a rich spoiled college student btw ( for context ), sanemi is a couple of years older but no age specified so you’re free to choose, does it count as angst? there’s a part where some guy is trying to touch r w/o consent but nothing too bad, alright it doesn’t make much sense so don’t look at it too closely okay, barely proofread of course.

notes : first, i don’t know what this is. second, i wrote this bc i liked the idea of r being the one holding the knife y’know… the initial concept was amazing in my head, but when i finished writing it turned out differently lol. so as i said, do not look too closely and just enjoy reading about sanemi finding himself in such a situation. ALSO, i’m genuinely bad at summarising my works so ignore them bc most of the time they don’t make any sense lmao.

“she’s clearly using you,” tengen raised the cigarette to his lips, after some seconds he blew out the smoke through his nose. “yeah? i don’t really care though.”

sanemi stared down at his drink before gulping it down in one go. he grimaced at the burning in his throat before glancing at his friend. “jeez, have some self-respect, man!” obanai couldn’t believe his childhood friend was alright with that situation. not at all.

“the sex is fine, you know i don’t care about finding a long lasting relationship. so if she just wants to fuck, that’s fine with me.”

was it really fine though?

sanemi stared at your figure, as you grabbed your clothes from the floor and fixed your hair. “hey,” he called for you, making you sigh and turn to look at him. “hm?” you didn’t exactly looked annoyed but he could sense it. “wanna go out for, i don’t know… a date or some shit?” he asked, trying to sound casual about it. you raised your brows, surprised by the sudden desire to see you for something like that.

“oh um. nope?” you chuckled before biting your lips. “plus, i’m busy,” you added and grabbed your phone and keys from the nightstand. “i didn’t say tomorrow or anything. i meant in the future, like some day… i don’t know,” he shrugged and scratched his cheek slowly.

“listen ‘nemi. you have a very nice cock, and your voice is sexy and all… but that’s it, okay? i’m fine with what we do now, and i don’t want anything more,” you explained plain and simple, smiling at the end. “if you can’t keep up with that, we can stop. no grudges,” you added.

“no no, i was just looking for some company to drink because my friends are out of town. i’m fine with just sex,” he was quick to reassure you, offering a smirk.

he didn’t realised his heart skipped a beat when you said you could stop meeting.

─────────────────────

“god…” you sighed deeply and smiled, satisfied. sanemi pulled out and then collapsed beside you, taking a moment to come back to his senses. “you left a hand print,” you complained then, noticing it on your hips.

“not my fault you can’t handle me,” he spat, looking at the ceiling. you were surprised, since he never acted like that. he would always apologise and promise to be more gentle. “okay… i thought you came too, dickhead,” you said in return, offended by his behaviour.

“the fuck– you sure are a spoiled brat,” he glanced at you, noticing your annoyed expression. “yeah, i am. what about it? i thought you were fine with fucking someone like me,” you retorted before trying to sit up. “ha! not yet, darling. i still need to fully empty my balls,” he pulled you back down into the mattress and was on you again now.

you looked at him in surprise before moaning as his fingers moved to your center and started playing with your puffy clit, sanemi watched closely as you twitched under his muscular body. you weren’t really ready to leave.

─────────────────────

as time passed, sanemi grew frustrated with you. he knew you were spoiled and too self-centered, you only cared about yourself and did something only it said something could be beneficial for yourself. but he promised himself it would be fine, he would get the possibility to fuck you whenever he desired and watch your face go stupid while riding his cock.

what he didn’t planned was to somehow fall for you. you knew how to behave like a decent human being, you just preferred to keep going on your path. he thought he could change it, maybe you would fall for him too.

but the more it went on, the more he realised that things never go like we desire.

he sat quietly, sipping his drink, while looking at you dancing and have fun with some random guy. tengen rolled his eyes when he noticed you. “give me one valid reason for her to be here too,” he turned his head to sanemi. “i want to fuck later, it’s easier if we’re already together,” he muttered, making eye contact with you before you purposely leaned over to the guy next to you and started making out with him.

“there are plenty of spoiled brats, but you fell for the worst ever. i swear to god…” tengen’s words became unclear at some point, sanemi’s purple eyes watched how that guy started touching your back and hips, before going to squeeze your butt. you pulled away, trying to stop him.

sanemi was already walking towards you, taking a deep breath. you pushed the guy, yelling at him to leave, but of course he didn’t listen.

“go to hell,” sanemi spat with enough venom to make the guy freeze in place and grabbed your wrist, pulling you away with him. “my saviour!” you hugged his arm happily, giggling softly.

of course you were drunk.

“hi tennie!” you waved energetically at sanemi’s tall friend and he simply glanced at you, not really happy to see you. “my ‘nemi saved me!” you explained, hugging him tighter. “stop,” he tried to make you sit down in front of him, rolling his eyes. “lemme guess… now you’re on babysitting duty?” sanemi glared at tengen, making him understand he had to leave him alone.

“my ‘nemi, what a bullshit,” he repeated under his breath before asking for another drink. you moved your head to the rhythm of the music, laughing a bit too loud to his liking. “stop, you’ll get a headache,” he warned you, feeling like he was talking with a child.

“you’re angry? why?!” you leaned closer to his face, making him flinch away. you changed completely after too many drinks, he hated it. he hated that a part of him found you adorable and wanted to protect you.

“i’m not, now sit down properly,” he sighed, before gulping down the third glass of the night.

“i wanna leave, can we leave please? the room is spinning,” you pleaded, grabbing his hand. “hm, alright,” he helped you down the stool and grabbed your hand. sanemi walked towards the table where his friends were sitting to say goodbye.

“drive safely!” mitsuri smiled at the two of you, always kind. “bye bye,” tengen waved his hand distractedly, focused on listening to something his girlfriend was saying. obanai nodded at him and then you two walked away, towards the exit of the club.

you were singing a bunch of different songs during the whole ride home, chuckling and trying to convince sanemi to do the same, without any results.

once sanemi reached your apartment, he accompanied you and helped you getting ready for bed. he took care of you. once again.

you sank into the bed and giggled, rambling about something. sanemi made sure to leave a glass of water on your nightstand, with some painkillers for tomorrow morning.

he stared at you for a couple of moments, deep in thought.

“i can’t keep up with all this,” he said then, even though he knew you couldn’t hear now, you just fell asleep after all. “somehow… for some reason, i love you. i’m fucked up in the head, i guess. but you’re not the right one for me, so i have to let you go,” he caressed your warm cheek gently, looking down at your peaceful expression. “even though i don’t want to… that’s what i have to do.”

tears formed into his eyes quickly as he leaned over and kissed your forehead, caressing your face one last time. he pulled back and glanced at you before finally turning around to exit your bedroom and your apartment. he wiped away the tears before entering his car and start the engine.

sanemi was ready to disappear from your life, and what hurt the most was that you seemed to be completely fine with that. after all, sanemi was the one always calling you and messaging you in the past year, so why would it change?

#📂 — writing !! #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x you #sanemi shinazugawa x y/n #sanemi shinazugawa imagine #sanemi shinazugawa one shot #sanemi shinazugawa fanfic #kny sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic

[callsigndragon]

A Rebel In My Soul | Chapter 9: 1-day leave

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Fem!Mitchell!Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff, mentions of death (this is gonna be here forever i swear), mentions of alcohol, mentions of food, important conversations that were meant to happen, angst.

Summary: Y/N “Rebel” Mitchell is one of the best aviators of her generation. She grew up hearing the adventures and stories of Maverick, her father, that he used as bedtime stories. She became an aviator with her best friend Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw and now both of them have to come back to the Top Gun Academy for an important mission. Only the best of the best is called for this mission, including the southern idiot called Jake “Hangman” Seresin. Both of you had hated each other since day one. Now, having to work together once more, you count the days for this mission to be over, not only to never see Hangman again, but to also cut all connections again with your father.  

Tag list: @callmemana @theprettytragic @thatoneweirdhorsegirl913 @shrimping-for-all @inky-sun @popcrone818 @blue-aconite @milestellerwife @chaoticassidy @smoothdogsgirl @nemtodd-barnes1923 @bregarc @alanadetigy @starkleila @plutotcles @bradleysgirl @dempy @stinkyjax @justanothermagicalsara

All TGM tag list: @tayrae515 @alexxavicry @xoxabs88xox 

(if you wanna be tagged comment here or sent an ask!)

A/N: a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, a bit of jake being a Swiftie. Karaoke night is implied sorry i didn't wrote it but i didn't know how to. Also i have to change the links of the previous posts bc they don't work. i'll do it this weekend.

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Waking up in the middle of the night has to be one of the worst things that can happen to a human being. Being pulled out of a dream, as if someone was grabbing you by the throat and you couldn’t breathe anymore. At first, the only thing you can do is sit up, touch your neck and check that there’s nothing there. It was just the result of a bad dream. A nightmare. 

Usually you would turn around and try to sleep again, but this night, you’re not sleeping alone. So when you turn around, you find yourself facing a green-eyed cowboy who seems to have just woken up and decided to stay quiet, watching what was wrong. Jake strokes your cheek with his thumb and kisses your forehead before pulling you closer to him. 

“Bad dream?” he asks, voice hoarse and words slurred. 

“Don’t know. Can’t remember it” you hug him closer, feeling his hands on your back, moving up and down soothingly.

“Better not to. When I was younger and I couldn’t sleep, my dad used to walk with me around the neighborhood. We can do that” 

“Jake, you should sleep” 

“I’ve slept enough” he gets Rooster’s phone from the nightstand, looking at the clock “Five hours, this is a record” 

You giggle a bit, getting out of the bed. “Want some coffee?” 

“I’ll make it, you can get dressed meanwhile” he gets up, gives you a soft kiss and goes to the kitchen. 

You smile to yourself, thinking how lucky you are to have him in your life. You don’t know what would have been of you if it wasn’t for him. Your best friend has been going through the same shit, and you’ve stayed up until late several nights talking with him about everything. Rooster doesn’t really talk about his feelings, so it’s kinda hard to know how he is. 

You go to the kitchen, Jake is there looking like a shirtless god while making coffee. It’s not fair for someone to be so hot. You get close to him, hugging him from behind and pressing your lips against the skin of his shoulder. 

“That feels good” he says, putting his hands on top of yours. 

Your only response it’s to leave more kisses along his back. They’re so soft and gentle that you can see the goosebumps in his skin. “You really like that” 

“Only if it comes from you” he pours coffee in two mugs and turns around, still between your arms, to kiss your forehead. “Is this what I’m gonna get every time I wake up with you?” 

You nod, hiding your face against his chest. “I don’t want to leave” 

“We don’t have to go on that walk, you know” 

“I’m talking about the mission…” 

Jake sighs, grabs you by the waist and sits you on the kitchen counter. “Look at me, darling”

You look at those beautiful eyes that look like emeralds. “Everything will be okay. I’ll be up there with you” 

“We don’t know who’s flying this mission, Jake” you say, looking down. “But I went on that course with Mav and I made it… I’ll have to be there”

Jake makes you raise your head, grabbing your chin between his fingers. “And if someone can make this happen, it is you. You’re a hell of a pilot, Rebel Mitchell. I wish I was as half as good” 

You look at him, trying to swallow the lump of emotions that you have in your throat. His free hand searches for yours, intertwining your fingers with his, while he leans over, his forehead touching yours. There are a lot of difficult emotions conveyed in that simple gesture. You wish that you didn’t have to go on that dreadful mission. You simply wish that this could be over already, go with your friends on a road trip, go to the beach, get tanned, get drunk, laugh and be a normal person for a while. Just for a few hours. 

But you knew the type of world you were getting yourself into all those years ago. A world in which even the training sessions are risky. You don’t regret anything, but you seriously need some rest. And to not have this conversation. 

“If something happens up there…” you begin, your watery eyes searching Jake’s. 

“Nothing is gonna happen to you, Y/n” he says with a stern voice. 

“Jake, please. Listen to me. If something happens to me, you can’t do anything stupid. You go back to the carrier and wait for orders” 

“You’ll be okay” he says, shaking his head and refusing to look at you. 

“Promise me” 

“Y/n” he insists. 

“Please. Promise me that if something happens you’ll follow orders” your tears begin to fall, staining your cheeks. 

“Why are you making me do this?” 

“Because my father will do something reckless and I don't know how his actions will affect the mission. But I know him well enough to expect some trouble” you try to laugh, but it comes out as a sob. “And I want you to be safe. For me. Do it for me, okay?” 

He sniffs and looks away, trying to hide his own tears from you. After a few seconds he nods and gets your coffee mugs. “I think it’s cold already” 

You sip your coffee silently, your mind focused on the shapes and forms that Jake’s fingers trace on your thigh. Jake’s love language is contact. And it actually surprises you coming from a man that is always distancing from the rest as “the best pilot”. Guess that when you spend so much time on the top, you really miss the warm feeling of someone’s hand on yours. 

You’re pulled out from your thoughts by the ring of your phone. You go to your room to get it. It’s Cyclone. 

“Rebel” you answer. 

“Morning, Rebel. I hope not to wake you up” 

“Don’t worry, sir. I couldn’t sleep. Is there any problem?” 

“Actually we’re leaving tomorrow instead of today. I’ve been trying to reach the rest of the team. Can you inform them?” 

“Yes, sir. Don’t worry. Same hour, same place?” 

“Affirmative. See you tomorrow, Mitchell.” and then, he hangs up. 

You turn around, Jake is leaning against the door. “1-day leave?” 

You nod, sending a text to the squad group chat. “Thank god. We need some rest”

Natasha is the first one to answer with a message that makes you smile. 

Come to my house. BBQ. Beers. Swimming pool. And Karaoke. 

“We have plans for today” you say, opening your closet to look for your swimsuit.

“Bob, can you stop throwing water at me?” yells Coyote who is sunbathing by the pool. 

“Move to another place, Javy. You’re next to the pool” he says while getting out of the pool and doing a cannonball. 

“I’m surrounded by kids” sighs Phoenix while applying more sunscreen to Rooster. “Hey, aren’t you two closer than usual?” says while signaling to Jake and you. 

“Excuse me for being close to my girlfriend” tells Jake to Natasha, with the same tone someone will use to talk about the weather. 

“Your what” all of your friends talk at the same time, saying the same exact words but in different degrees of surprise. 

“You didn’t ask for my permission, Seresin” Natasha throws him a towel. 

“I had Rooster’s and that’s all that matters” 

Jake, glad that the secret was out now, grabs your chair and pulls it closer to him. He smiles and moves his glasses down his nose to wink at you. “Hello, darling” 

You laugh, raising your legs from the floor and leaving them on Jake’s lap. It only takes a second for you to feel his fingers moving up and down your leg. 

“You’re gross. And cute. Disgustingly cute” says Payback, walking closer to Fanboy and pushing him. Mickey falls into the water, splashing water to Javy who is now completely wet. 

“C’mon Reuben!” 

You laugh and smile. Yeah… you needed this. 

“I think it's time to sing" says Rooster, looking at Jake. "And you're the first one because you didn't sing Great Balls of Fire" 

"And why does that make me go first?" Jake whines. 

"Cause you're the only one we haven't heard yet" Fanboy adds. 

"I didn't know the lyrics" confesses the cowboy. 

"You were the only one who didn't know them" Coyote bugs him. They're teaming up against him. 

"And don't you think that it was weird that every single person in the room knew the lyrics of a song that came out in 1957? Most of us weren't even born then!" 

"I mean…he's got a point there" you state. 

"Shut up, you suck faces, you can't defend him" 

"Payback, that's the most idiotic thing I've heard today" you laugh and get up. "Jake will sing a Taylor Swift song" 

You can see Jake's ears turning red. It's true, he's a Swiftie! 

"Roos, you owe ten bucks" you say doing a happy victory dance. 

"You made a bet about it?" questions Jake feeling a bit betrayed. 

"Years ago. I'm sorry, babe" you apologize and kiss his pouting lips. "We can sing one of her duos" 

There's a collective groan at your words. "I liked you two better when you fought all the time" says Fanboy, getting out of the pool and entering the house. 

"Hey you're soaking wet, don't get inside!" yells Natasha.

Jake hugs you and carries you on his shoulder inside between laughs and chuckles from your friends.

Hours later, after Jake and Bradley's voice becomes hoarse because of all the singing, Fanboy stops giving tequila shots to poor Payback and Coyote, and Natasha and Bob finish painting each other's toe nails, you all sit on the floor around the coffee table and fall into a comfortable silence. 

You don't need to ask what's in their mind. They're minds are filled with the same exact thought. 

'Will we ever be able to do this again?'

You wish you could answer the question. You want to spend more time with all of them. Get to know Bob, Payback and Fanboy better, even though they're part of the family now. You want to send each other random pictures from wherever you get deployed after this. You want Jake to invite all of you to his family farm, and see Payback run away from a horse because apparently he's scared of them. You want to see them get married and have children. Be the cool group of aunts and uncles of a little kid and spoil them. 

You want to create memories and see your family grow. But you don't know if in the next 48 hours some of them will be gone forever. Or if you will be here. 

"I know I am not the one that should be saying this… but I love you, guys. You're a part of my family now" says Bob, breaking the silence with his sweet words. 

"Why shouldn't you say that?" asks Natasha, nudging him with her elbow. 

"I'm the new guy" 

"Bob, you're a member of our little family. And I'm glad I met you" you say, making the wizzo smile. 

"Thank you, Reb" 

Rooster looks at you, intently. "You better don't pull a Maverick on me up there. Because I will bring you back to kill you myself" 

"You know I never do reckless things. What would you do without me? Besides, I have more people waiting for me to come home now" you look at all your friends briefly, your eyes stopping on Jake a bit longer. He notices and grabs your hand, taking it to his lips to kiss your palm. 

"I need you to meet my family, so you better come back in one piece" 

"Yes, sir" 

"Who do you think will be up there?" questions Javy. 

"I went this morning to the base to get a few things from my locker, and I heard something" says Fanboy, leaning over the table. "There's gonna be six aircrafts. Not four" 

You look at Jake and you know. You're definitely going on this mission. 

"Maverick. Rooster. Payback and Fanboy. Natasha and Bob. Hangman. And me" you count aloud. Six aircrafts. 

"Why six? The first two pairs are supposed to blow the target but what about the other two?" Payback looks at you, as if you had the answer. And actually, you think you do. 

"We're the other two" says Jake, signaling between him and you. "You're gonna need some backup after the egressing" 

They all nod, understanding that you two are the fastest and the ones that could save someone's ass in case of need. 

"But that means…" Natasha begins to say, but she can't even finish the sentence. 

"That means that someone won't turn back" Rooster finishes for her, looking at you. 

Yeah, you know what he's thinking. If one of you is in danger, someone is going to sacrifice to save the rest. 

Maverick.

#top gun x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x fem!reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #hangman x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #jake seresin x reader #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #jake hangman fic #a rebel in my soul #top gun imagine #jake hangman x you #jake hangman imagine #hangman x you #jake seresin #hangman top gun #tgm #hangman fluff #hangman angst

[kasperbunny]

i finally FINALLY wrote some angst for Arty :D i needed to vent today so i wrote this little thing. the ending is abrupt bc i suck at endings but idgaf, enjoyyyy (also tw for self harm if that bothers you. nothing happens but its mentioned briefly)

Artemis hadn't been able to sleep, another nightmare jolting him awake as a sheen of cold sweat covered his body. He was shaking slightly as he sat upright, his eyes wide with fear and his breath caught in his throat. 

He glanced a look over at his partner sleeping next to him. Danse looked so peaceful laying there in the dim light, his dark hair slightly messy and his handsome face relaxed against the pillows as he breathed softly. For a moment Artemis was envious, wishing so badly he could shake this feeling off and join him in his slumber. He knew better than that though, the universe was never so kind to him as to allow him a restful night.

He knew not to wake Danse, there would be no point. Artemis despised being seen this way, so pathetic and scared, buzzing with fear but hiding it behind hot, boiling anger as he always did. He couldn’t even recall what the dream had been about, but it always seemed to be the same thing anyways. Always in that vault, always in that pod, being frozen and helpless to save the people he cared about the most, watching them being taken away right in front of him.

Somehow he had managed to leave the room and close the door behind him without waking the other man, swiping the knife hidden under their bed as he left. His paranoia never seemed to lessen, despite the security they had built up around their makeshift home. The turrets did little to quell his racing thoughts, but a knife at the ready made him sure that matters would always be taken into his own hands.

The knife in his hand shook violently as he attempted to keep a grip on it, his trembling fingers fervently fighting against him. He stared himself down in the shoddy bathroom mirror, speckled with dust and grime but not enough to obscure the man looking back at him. He didn’t recognize himself, he hadn’t for a long time. He knew the scar that webbed its way from the top of his chin to right below his left eye, but the face around it seemed foreign. His eyes, once blue and bright with life now seemed dull and beaten down, the only spark left in them being that of pure rage. His hair had gotten long, longer than it had ever been in his life. It was down past his shoulders these days, wild and untamed, obscuring his face when he loosened it from its messy bun and allowed it to drape over his broad shoulders.

He glanced back at the knife in his hand. He thought about how the cool, sharp metal might feel biting into his skin. How the stinging, lingering pain might finally make him feel alive. How easy it would be to open himself up, to watch the rich, deep red blood prickle up and run along his arm, dripping onto the cold tiles of the bathroom floor and staining it with all his grief and all his regret.

He looked up at himself again. The dog tags around his neck glinted in the yellow-tinged light of the room and he thought of Danse. He felt guilty. He felt his eyes well up with tears, then watched them fall hot and thick down his cheeks. Why had he stayed with Artemis for all this time? Put up with his anger, his trauma, his restless nights and violent outbursts? Sometimes he thought of Danse as stupidly loyal, but even so he was relieved to have the man in his life at all. Without Danse, Artemis might as well be dead.

Even thinking of his partner, Artemis’ anger and grief still bubbled sour and oppressive in his chest. His free hand was grabbing a fistful of his own black hair, twisting it in his grip as he ungracefully worked the blade through it in choppy, aggressive motions. The pain as he pulled at his roots over and over deterred him little as he continued on, simply gritting his teeth as ebony locks littered the sink and fell to the floor beneath his feet.

His scalp stung from the continuous pull, but the pain left him satisfied after some time. He huffed through his nose, finally feeling like he could breathe again after his outburst. The aching anxiety that had nestled its way into his chest had subdued for now. He shut his eyes tightly as he gripped the edges of the sink, hanging his head and listening to the sounds of his own breathing. His shaking fingers finally lost the grip he had, the knife falling to the hard floor with a loud clang that echoed throughout the small room  and rang in his ears.

In the morning, Danse had awoken to find Artemis sitting in the garage, smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of coffee, apparently watching the birds through the open garage door. He noticed right away of the damage that Artemis had done.

“Artemis?” Danse approached him slowly, kneeling beside his chair so that they were eye level. He could tell Artemis hadn't slept, “What…did you do to yourself?”

“I know, I know,” Artemis didn't turn to look at him, only sighing and taking another drag of his cigarette, “How bad does it look? I didn't bother looking in the mirror.”

“What happened?” The gentle concern in Danse’s voice made Artemis clench his jaw in guilt. He didn’t dare look at him, lest those big, caring eyes of his made Artemis fall apart completely.

“Nothing. I was mad.”

“You’re always mad,” Danse’s tone was slightly amused, the soft look on his face evident without even looking at him. He was stroking his fingers calmly against Artemis’ knee now.

“I was really mad,” Artemis took a long sip of his coffee, “Just had another nightmare last night. I’m fine, babe.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

Artemis simply shrugged at the question, taking another sip of coffee and apparently finishing it as he set it on the table next to him.

“Look at me.”

Danse’s voice was stern and commanding, but not unkind. Artemis obliged him, slowly turning his head as their eyes finally made contact, his cigarette held loosely between his unsmiling lips. Just like he predicted, Danse was giving him that concerned look, the one he always gave him when Artemis did something ‘detrimental to his health’, as Danse always put it.

“I understand if you don’t wish to talk about it, but don’t push me away, Artemis,” Danse squeezed Artemis’ knee gently, “Please. We’re partners, if something is bothering you, I want to offer you my support.”

Artemis couldn’t handle those big soft eyes looking at him like that, he just couldn’t. They always broke him down in the end.

“Alright, alright…” His free hand was stroking through Danse’s messy bedhead now, Danse happily leaning into his touch, “I’m sorry. Was just a bad night, but I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay,” Danse was rising back up to his feet now, leaning down to give the other man what was supposed to be a quick kiss, but Artemis’ fingers entwining into the back of his hair made sure their lips didn’t separate. 

He tasted like smoke, but Danse didn’t mind at all, more than happy to kiss Artemis for eternity if he was so blessed. They stayed that way for several long moments, their kisses deep and slow and unhurried as they cherished the feeling of each other.

Artemis was the one to finally part, their lips breaking away from each other with a quiet, wet noise. Danse was cupping Artemis’ face gently with his calloused hand. Artemis turned his head slightly to press his lips into Danse’s palm and place a soft kiss there.

“Would you like me to help you fix it later?” Danse was looking intently at Artemis’ hair now, running his fingers through the choppy mess. It was short now, almost as short as when they first met.

“Yeah,” Another drag from his cigarette, before he finally stubbed it out in the ashtray sitting next to his empty coffee mug, “Thanks, Danse.”

#kas writes stuff #danse/art #artemis tag #danse being a puppy dog boyfriend as usual but i tried to make it more arty centric