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eumivrse · 5 months

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FUCK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME BABY (I NEED A FREAK TO DRIVE ME CRAZY!)

rough/angry sex ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso

warning(s) drunk sex + spanking (gojo), orgasm denial (geto), jealous sex + light bondage (nanami), car sex (toji), spitting + choking (choso), lowkey toxic, lots of degrading words, overstim, mention of safe word, breeding, creampie, squirting, cervix kissing, reader calls nanami ‘sir’ once, JUST A LOT OF SMUT IDK

note i’ve been equally horny for all of them lately ngl. also the title is so long but the song is stuck in my head ;0

tags @kurosaaki

GOJO

it takes a lot to piss satoru off. he lets things slide half due to his lack of ability to tell that people are mocking him and the other half because of his huge ego.

but there’s always that once in a blue moon moment when he comes home from work, mind already filled with irrational anger. and it just happens to be the same day you have your weekly night out with your girlfriends and are out until the ungodly hours of the night.

and of course that’s fine and all, but when he saw you stumbling into your doorstep tipsy at 3 in the morning, the word rational has been far blotted out of his dictionary. he’d already drank half a bottle of wine by himself at this point from drowning in his sorrows and satoru is the mere personification of a lightweight.

it wasn’t long until your face is buried against your leather couch, ass up as he pounded into you.

drool seeped out the corner of your mouth, babbling, “satoru-“ your moans were muffled, your head forced down on the couch by his huge hand while he slams his pelvis against your ass, cock sliding in with ease. he didn’t even talk to you— as soon as you were ready to give him a hug, he flipped you over the couch and pulled up the cute little skirt you decided to wear today, pulling your panties over one ass cheek to not bother himself with taking all your clothes off.

he struck your ass with his palm, then kneaded the plump to ail the pain. “gonna cum for me, princess? hm?” you nearly shrieked when he slapped you again, this time with more force inflicted. but you weren’t going to lie— having him treat you like this is more like a gift than it is a punishment.

“yes…” your voice shrunk, heavy breaths in sync with his thrusts. clawing onto nothing, you bit the inside of your cheek, suppressing your loud moans, still sober enough to realize that it’s late and your neighbors are fast asleep.

he pulled out almost completely, leaving you hollow until he pistoned into you by pulling your waist against him, the head of his cock nearly prodding onto your cervix. “fuck… i love your slutty pussy, milking so— fuck— so well...” satoru’s inability to shut the fuck up even when he’s this close to cumming is something that continues to amaze you.

starting painfully slow, his impatience eventually took over him and continued to fuck into you with deep, yet quick thrusts that happened to hit your spot, fluid spurting out of your hole and onto his abdomen. you gasp, legs trembling while satoru’s hips stuttered, cock twitching inside of you.

“yeah, yeah, yeah— ah god…” warm cum filled you full, some leaking out and dribbling down on the couch. he gave your ass one more struck, and you yelp from the prickling pain.

“satoru?” you mumble, turning your head slightly until he started moving his hips again, leaving you speechless.

he yanks you by the elbow, pinning your back against his chest, whispering against the shell of your ear, “not done yet, doll.”

GETO

“suguru, please…” you plead, eyes glossed with tears. you’re sitting on top of his lap, cock stretching your walls as his thumb brushed over your clit with lazy circles.

he just hummed, ignoring your pleas as he grabs the pudge of your hips, lifting them up and thrusting up into you, his balls slapping in between your ass cheeks.

you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder all week, all because of you started a petty argument about schedule differences. you knew he was busy, but his lack of communication was what pissed you off. on the other hand, he thought you were being unfair— he never complained when you had to work more hours than normal.

so if his words weren’t enough to get that in your head, then maybe he’ll just fuck it into you.

you rest your chin on his shoulder, hands draped around him as he kept a tight grip on your waist, switching between forcing you down on his cock and ramming into you himself by dragging his hips up and down. he gnaws on your shoulder, engraving your skin with his teeth marks.

“i wonder where you learned how to speak to me like that, love…” he breathes softly. his voice still has that tinge of tenderness in it, but you knew he was at his limit from the way he has that bruising grasp on you.

referring to the demeaning words you called him during your little quarrel the other day, he continues, “would you like it too if i talked to you like that?” when you didn’t respond, he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you into making eye contact with him.

“answer.” his firm remark only turned you on, whining with a frail, “yes please.” at this point you weren’t even angry anymore— you were so needy and frustrated from the denial of release.

he chuckles, a smug smirk plastered across his face, single strands of his raven hair stuck on his forehead. “you really wanna know what i think about you?” he shifts his hips ever so slightly, knowing damn well it pushes you further into orgasm.

sighing, he cupped your cheek with his palm. “whore.” he tapped your cheek with force, not enough that it was painful, but it was degrading with no question. “slut.” he slaps your face again and grabs your cheeks, your lips puckering from the pressure.

he jerks up again, feeling him stretch you so deliciously that you couldn’t bare to hold it anymore, and suguru can tell. he clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “cock hungry filthy girl,” he forces your face down to see with your own two eyes how fucking wet your pussy is for him despite swearing you hated him just hours ago.

letting go of your flustered face, you slurred, “please let me cum, suguru…” asking him in the first place was your first mistake, he only pressed his thumb onto your clit once more, taunting you.

he smiles, feigning innocence. “no.”

NANAMI

kento is a patient man. he considers himself grounded with his emotions, but something in the air today made him act more crass than he usually would in this situation.

long story short, you were being a little too friendly with gojo during the work dinner where everyone else could see, and it didn’t help that you were defending yourself instead of owning up to it when he brought it up on the way home.

it was embarassing for him— made him seem like a little bitch that some other man had his arm around you, whispering jokes against your ear while you giggled foolishly as if your husband wasn’t sitting across from you.

so you should’ve seen it coming that he wouldn’t just leave you off the hook when you got home.

it wasn’t long until your clothes are scattered all over the master’s bedroom, legs pinned against your chest as he pummeled into you, wet cunt clenching around him like you wanted this to happen.

the sheets were stained with puddles and splatters of your sweet release, his thighs and your pussy coated with a mix of his cum and your slick.

one, two, three, four orgasms? you couldn’t even count anymore. your cunt was drooling, stuffed full with his cum, it was impressive how he’s still drilling into you with such ease.

kento is pushing on the back of your thighs to keep your pussy wide open, your wrists bounded with his leopard tie that coiled around the headboard railing. “hah-“ he grunts, “dirty girl. you have no idea how much i wanted to fucking kill that idiot for even touching you.” he grits his teeth when he felt your walls squeeze onto him, his sweat dripping from his forehead down to your tummy.

your mind was so blank, every degrading word he’s saying seemed stifled, apparent by your eyes knocking to the back of your head and the drool trickling down the corner of your lip. the only thing leaving your mouth were moans of his name and curses, you were starting to see stars as the pit of your abdomen tightened, a sign that you’re close.

“kento— i- hahhh—” your attempt on a warning had no purpose as clear liquid gushed out of you, and the shock of your release rippled throughout your body, leaving you numb. kento only fucked into you deeper and rougher, his fat veiny cock pressing against your cervix.

“squirted again?” he’s laughing, followed by a groan when he felt that familiar twitch on his cock. “do you think gojo can make you squirt for him like this, hm?” that question was just plain vulgar, but he’s expecting an answer nonetheless.

you hold onto the silk restraining you, sniffling, “no… only you, sir.” your loving, tired tone only put him in the state of euphoria, closing his eyes shut as cum coated your cervix, keeping himself plugged into you.

as he pulled out, thick ropes of white, viscous fluid leaked out your hole and down your ass, taking a dollop to shove it in your mouth. you willingly take his fingers in between your lips, licking him clean.

you thought he was done this time— until he brought the fingers that were in your mouth down to your lower extremities, caressing your clit as he slid himself inside you once more. you sigh, “kento— i don’t think i can anymore…” every muscle in your body felt sore, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to say that word to indicate you want this done and over.

he pretended he didn’t hear your pleas, rasping as he pried your legs further apart, resisting your reflex to close them, “remember this when you decide to fucking flirt with another man again, slut.”

TOJI

this has to have been the third or fourth breakup in a span of 2 years dating this man. it just proved that you weren’t compatible for each other and the differing types of communication you two were comfortable with were clashing in the worst ways possible.

you were over it and decided to end it officially— for good.

however, toji wasn’t ready to let you go that easily.

his familiar black sedan was parked on the curb in front of your house when your first date after being finally single dropped you off. and of course, trying to stand your ground, you tried to tell him that you were done. to leave you alone or you’ll call the authorities.

but as they say, old habits die hard.

somehow you both ended up in his back seat, bouncing on his cock like you weren’t just trying to kick him out your driveway.

how else would have this toxic relationship lasted this long anyways if it wasn’t for the sex?

he chuckles, your nipple squeezed in between his lips, “what were you trying to say again? you’ll get a restraining order?” you were holding onto the handle of the car door for leverage as he groped your tit and smacked it, fascinated at the way it jiggled.

you hiss at the sting, “stop talking.” your collarbones were still littered with his love marks from previous nights and he notices them, “did your date even get a kiss tonight?” he teases as he took a chunk of your ass, manipulating your hips to move swifter in speed.

it was difficult to talk when he keeps slamming you down to the base of his cock, the sound of your slick smacking on his pelvis. “god— what is it— to you?” the incoherence with your words only provoked a laugh out of your ex, he thought it was funny how desperate you were trying to move on when it’s obvious you’d always go back to him at the end of the day.

you bite your lower lip, worried that someone outside could hear, but would that really help when the way his car is shaking gives it away?

he sneers, pulling your shoulder to draw you against his chest, face so close to his that you can feel his breath. with one last thrust, you yelped, keeping the head of his cock nestled deep in your cunt. “it’s just sad, babe.” he pouts, “you didn’t even bother to invite that bastard inside your house and instead would rather fuck your ex? was the date that bad?”

your mind was hazed, nodding before reaching in for a longing kiss, toji smirking against your lips. the date wasn’t bad at all but it was kind of a dud too— it just didn’t hit the same. nothing can compare to this.

he struck your ass once before gripping onto it again, moving your hips in accordance to his thrusts, tears welling up in your eyes as his cock jabbed against your sweet spot over and over. pulling away from the kiss, you chant his name like a mantra, “toji, fuck, mm- m’ gonna cum”

toji grunts, “okay, love. make a mess on my cock.” the familiar rasp in his voice was what set you off, and he was waiting for you to recuperate a bit from your orgasm before pulling your hips down once more, cock balls deep as he emptied himself inside of you.

toji curses and moans your name as you lean down for another wet kiss, feeling his cum pool in the pit of your stomach.

parting, he breathes, “still thinking of getting that restraining order?”

CHOSO

choso already wasn’t having a good day for some odd reason. maybe the weather? didn’t matter either way. and of course, being the sweet girlfriend that you are, you tried your best to distract him from whatever was bothering him.

when warm food didn’t work, you tried turning on the tv, seeking for some sort of entertainment. well— you could say it worked in his favor, not because of what was on the screen, but because the boring ass movie was what brought you to the present.

your panties were peeled to the side as choso freely slid his long cock in and out of your hole with ease, his sweats just hanging below his waist, moaning at how warm you are around him. “oh yeah- mm- feels good,” he reveres, whimpering as he hovered over your face.

choso almost never initiates sex— you usually do, but oh does it feel ten times better when he’s pent up and uses you as an outlet to take his stress out on.

your facial expression was scrunched, pursing your lips from how deliciously you were being split in half. choso had one of your legs over his shoulder and him leaning down, which pushed your leg closer to your chest— allowed his cock to plunge into you in angles unimaginable, leaving your jaw hung open.

choso’s mauve eyes were piercing onto yours as he collects saliva in his mouth, then sticks his tongue out, the globe of his spit making it straight down your mouth. he forces your mouth close, “swallow, pretty.” watching you as his saliva made its way down your throat.

you caress his cheek, “use me, choso.” if this is what gets him out of whatever negativity he’s feeling then you’re willing to let him take it out on you.

pecking him on the small of his cheek, he sits up, finding leverage by grabbing onto your tits, groping on them while he thrusts into you with more impact, apparent by the sinful slapping noises that followed. you tuck your chin in to get a closer look of how he’s stretching you, watching as his spit lands on your clit, using two of his fingers to rub it in, reveling at the way its so puffy and just… so wet.

his other hand skimmed from your tit to around your neck, the pads of his fingers pressing on the side, making sure he doesn’t restrict your airways completely. he’s so fucking turned on by the way your face looks, eyes half lidded, lips swole and tinted from biting onto them so much.

you whine, voice faint from the hand around your throat. “so deep…” your leg was still over his shoulder, his cock hammering into you and right up against your g-spot.

“fuck, that’s it— take me in just like that, fuck—“ he was nearing his release, holding it in so you could go first, rushing through your orgasm by swiping your clit as he slacked his hips to give himself time. always so sweet even when handling you like this.

you were so cock drunk that your vision went stark, a huge weight lifting off your body when you let it all out, your slippery cunt making it easier for choso to go ahead and lodge his cock deep enough to jam his cum in, with the intent of not leaving a drop wasted.

he keeps himself wedged inside you, letting go of your leg and neck, tapping at your clit with his fingers for one last tease. you stuck your tongue out, choso grabbing your tear stained face.

“did that feel good, baby?” he asks and you nod sheepishly, unable to speak from his hold and your aching throat.

another ball of spit landed on your tongue and you swallow with that vulnerable look on your face. he chuckles, “what a nasty girl.”

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ridingthatd · 5 months

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✧༺ CRAZY CHOSO

chosoxfem!reader, nsfw, heavy smut, possessive choso, crazy choso, choso eating it out

choso stare down at his phone, his heart is empty, he feels like it isn't even here anymore- you stole it from him. you stole it from him a week ago, the day you decided to break up after a heated argument, and what bothers choso the most is that- he knows, he knows it his fault, you have always been patient with him, you have always showed your love to him- showered him with it.

even when- choso heart tightened, even when he never did- tears swell his eyes, even when all you received was a cold hearted jerk who doesn't know how to love, choso choke on his breath, tears running down his eyes- it finally hit him like a truck, after he finally lost you, after you finally realized he isn't worth your love, reality hit him.

he can't breath, fuck he can't breath, choso grab a hold of his dark locks, tugging them hard, fuck how could he- how could he treat his baby like this, how could he never say a simple i love you, even when you said it hundreds, thousands, millions times to him, even as- he chokes on his sobs, even as you left this door, your final word was "I love you, choso" and he didn't even go after you he just stood there, staring at you dumbfounded, why couldn't he just return your i love yous, is he this fucking much of a loser to be embarrassed to show his love to you?

the house was so quite without you, the only sounds that filled it was his choked sobs, he feels like he'll throw up, choso hurriedly made his way toward the kitchen to grab a cup of water- but what catch his attention as he was opening the freezer, is the sticky notes- your sticky notes, that you never forgot to leave for choso everytime he left to work, his hands shakily grabs into one of them.

"hope you enjoy the lunch i made you love ya :p".

a tear runs down his face.

"i left you some sweets today, even if you don't like them eat them love yaaaaa >:(".

another tear roll down.

he clenchs them against his heart- the heart that is bleeding sorrow, he slides down the fridge, hitting the cold kitchen floor.

it's been a week since you left choso, for a break as you're calling it, you sigh even though it's only been a week you miss your grumpy man. even though he might be cold in front of other peoples eyes- to you he was just a comfort person- a comfort pillow, cuddling him every time you can, choso was like the comfort blanket that people keep with them from childhood- no matter what other people say, you still love your little comfort blanket- your choso.

you look outside the window, it was raining, you couldn't help but think about how you would be cuddling with choso right now in this rainy day- while you tell him to read you whatever book he has in his hands, you listen to his rough voice, while he gently stroke his hand down your spine, putting you to sleep.

you wipe your tears immediately once you hear a knock on your door, you frown making your way to see who is it, at such weather, you were stunned to see chosos wet figure at your door, his clothes were snugged into him from being wet, his hair was dripping a few dots of water down his face, and your heart clenchs as you stare at his blood shot eyes.

"choso-"

he didn't mutter any words, he just simply held you up by your hips grabbing you so hard that you're sure that it will leave red marks on your sensitive skin later on. placing your heavy thighs on his board shoulder like they weight nothing, his face making direct contact with your bare pussy- regretting masturbating and forgetting to put your panties on.

"what are you doing?"

you couldn't finish your sentence because he's already shoving his tongue up your pussy, sucking, licking the juice from the orgasm you had an hour ago, an orgasm you had thinking about him, he clearly wasn't here to talk- he was here to do a lot more than talking.

it's been a week since you had something this good on sucking on your clit- something as good as chosos tongue, suckling on your clit like it's a nipple- like he's trying to get milk out of it- but the only difference is that he isn't trying to get milk, but he's trying to rip an orgasm out of your cunt.

and of course he did, you grasp hard on his long black hair, gasping out to the ceiling, arching your pussy into his mouth, making sure he drinks all of your juice and he glady do. like a starved man who hasn't had water for day, and your pussy was a river of water for him.

you look at him, thinking he will let you go by now, but he didn't, he keeps his face shoved into your pussy, it drives you crazy the way his nose brush against your clit everytime he breaths.

"could put me down, please?"

he clearly had no intentions of putting you down anytime soon, because he selfishly licks, slurps at every drip of arousal that leave you. you weren't sure what to do, you always knew that choso was obsessive in his own way, but you only got to experience a bit of it, but now that you left him you're sure it triggered a part of him that you've never seen before. he keeps sniffing, trialling his nose on your clit, wetting his face with your wet cunt.

"darling" you moan out.

he simply lock his lips on clit again sucking on it, his eyes are closed as if he's a youngling sucking, his long eyelashs tickling your belly, ripping a giggle out of you, making him finally look at you, with his red-puffy lips wet from your juice.

"can you put me down now?"

he pulled you from his shoulders but kept you in his arms. as he led you into the bedroom, glancing at your underwear that you left on the floor. choso placed you on the bed and pressed you against it with his body. he was cornering you, engaging in some primal display of possessiveness that he never showed you before.

his hands were roaming around your body, he was clearly trying to in print you again, feel your warm skin against his hands again, he keeps his face inside of your neck rubbing his face on it, as he stroke his hand from your thighs to your ass, just to make his way to your breast, as soon as he feels the fabric of your bra- he doesn't like it one bit, so he simply rip it off, out of his way.

cold air hit your nipples making them harden, he trails his face from your neck slowly to your breast, brushing his lips softly against your nipples, breathing in but not taking it inside of his mouth. he just wanted to feel you, feel your skin against his again, because he clearly thought he won't get to feel that ever again.

your heart clenchs at the thought of what he might have felt, the feeling of being left all alone, choso never acted like this before- right now he's acting like a baby he never was able to act like, he was always putting a hard on act.

you quickly snatch his head closer to your body, holding him close, so close that you can listen to his pluse "it's okay baby, I won't ever leave you again."

you can feel it pick up, quick, clearly affected by your words, you smile knowing it always made him shy whenever you called him baby no matter how many times you say it, he still gets frustrated. he doesn't say anything, he just look up at you, before he opens his mouth that was brushing against your nipple and place it inside his mouth, his tongue was quick to circle the bud.

"we- we should really talk about..."

he makes sure to coat both of your nipples with his silvia, leaving your nipples all swollen and red, before he picks you by your hips again and placing you on his, clearly didn't have enough.

you were suffocating his face. again. choso was a 6 feet big guy, so that clearly didn't bother him.

he kept on slurping on your pussy, till it's silk with your orgasm and his silvia, making sure to print your taste against his tongue so it will last for weeks.

"okay," you panted, your sweaty forehead now resting on the cool sheets, while your defeated cunt hovered over his mouth.

"we need to talk now. you've spent half the day licking me."

but the only words choso mutter out were- "sleep now" he horsely says. as he snuggle his face into your boobs, you were about to complain till you felt wet drops slide down your cleavage, you shut your lips together, gently stroking his hair pushing him further into you.

but choso didn't have any intentions of sleeping because you feel his rough, huge hands make their way toward your wet pussy drenched with your orgasm and his saliva. he slowly warped his lips around your nipples, drawing circles with his tongue.

you felt him tug his pants down, as he frees his huge leaking cock out of it, he slowly shove his cock inside of your tight cunt and he couldn't help whimpering on your nipples, missing your warm, wet pussy.

"shh it's okay baby, I'm here- I'm here" you whine out, drunk on the feeling of being stuffed with his cock.

it only takes him a few rock of his hips before he's spilling his hot cum inside of you, you thought he was gonna pull out- he didn't he kept his cock inside of you all night, while your nipples brushed against his lips as he softly breath out, sleeping in your embrace.

you can feel him get hard again inside of you every once in awhile so he just jults awake, stare at your nipples with hazy eyes before he takes your fat hard nub into his mouth, suckling, biting on it while he start rocking his cock into your already cum filled pussy, till he fill it again, fall asleep and the process repeat till the next morning.

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undreaming-fanfiction · 10 days

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The Corroded Coffin used to think they'd be the new Metallica or Judas Priest. But where their passion and hard work never lacked, their big break just never came.

What did come, however, was an unexpected change of their career path.

It started innocently enough - they went through yet another failed meeting with recording studios, they'd travelled pretty far and it was for nothing. Instead of going back to Hawkins and risking another one or Eddie's road rages, they decided to break into an abandoned house and drink their sorrows away.

That is, until their empty bottles started collecting themselves, something invisible touched Gareth's shoulder and the dusty floor started showing written messages.

Jeff wanted to flee. Gareth to faint. But Eddie and Freak just shrugged. Eddie gestured towards the approximate ghost location and said "by the power of I don't give a shit anymore, I compel you to sit down and stop it, we'll clean the bottles when we leave tomorrow."

The rattling stopped. There was a moment of silence when the Corroded Coffin actually thought it had worked, but then the ghost overcame its shock and physically threw Eddie, his bandmates and their things out.

They sat on the wet grass for a while and contemplated their whole exitence. Eddie was pretty shaken about the whole thing because he'd just managed to royally piss off a ghost and lived to tell the tale. But apart from absolutely terrifying...it was also fun?

And his friends seemed to think the same. Jeff patted his shoulder and said: "not bad for a first touch with the unknown, huh?"

They stayed in the area and tried again. They decided to tape over their promotional video - not so great, they had to admit after rewatching it - and started documenting their ghostly encounters. And maybe it was just the timing, maybe it was their interactions and personalities, but it worked. They showed some of their tapes to a local TV station and they got a cautious yes, more than they ever had with their music.

They got assigned a small crew, Fred with a camera and Chrissy for sound, wrote their own episodes and did plenty of research. And they got to try quite a lot of different approaches with their ghostly friends. Eddie was amazing at taunting the ghosts, making them appear if there were any present. Gareth had a wonderfully calming presence, managing to save the CC's ass several times. Jeff was the brains, he made sure they'd always know the history of the house and the probable identity of the ghost. And Freak decided to dabble in the occult sciences with a terrifying precision. There could never be enough salt in Eddie's van for all the circles he made.

It all went well until they learned of the Creel House in Hawkins. They went there, did their research and before entering the house, they ordered some pizza for dinner. They assumed it would be over by midnight, thinking it was just another sad story of an unresolved murder, but the ghost of Henry Creel was out for blood.

Oh, and he also controlled the spiders of the house. That was new.

To set the scene: The crew had fled the house about an hour ago. Eddie was crouching behind an old table, blocking Henry's barrage of kitchen knives, shouting "IS THIS THE BEST YOU'VE GOT?!". Gareth was behind the table with Eddie, but he went more into the wailing territory with "I DON'T THINK THIS WILL HELP YOU MOVE ON, HENRY!". Jeff had blocked himself in the pantry and kept trying to identify the triggering moment - "I think he's re-enacting the murder of his mother, guys! Does that help?!" (it doesn't). And Freak gave up on salt circles and was now tossing handfuls at salt around the house with a questionable technique but unwavering determination.

Suddenly, a car horn.

Then, a bitchy male voice: "Are you coming to get your pizza or what? I have other customers to get to!"

Eddie gritted his teeth as Henry added heavy pans to the mix and hit his shoulder. "We're a little busy surviving here! Ask Chrissy to pay you!"

There was a muffled and annoyed "ugh" from behind the door and then: "Is it Henry again?"

Eddie just blinked. Gareth was more ready to answer: "Sure is! He's not a fan of our exorcism!"

And the pizza guy didn't leave. He just huffed and said something that sounded suspiciously like "amateurs".

Eddie wanted to punch him.

But before he could do that, the front door opened. Gareth held his breath, half expecting a sound of knives hitting their target.

Instead, they heard a few more steps and then: "What the fuck, Henry?!"

A faint whispering reached their ears, but they couldn't decipher it. But the pizza guy could.

"I don't care they didn't get your permission, Henry. Yeah, it's annoying, but what are you going to do? If more people die in this house, it's going to get demolished. You know that. Yeah, I know the house is old, but it's great for your spiders, right? They'd be homeless. Do you want to make your spiders homeless, Henry?"

They dared to peek from behind the table, and Eddie had to pinch himself. Because in the middle of the dusty dining room stood one of the prettiest young men Eddie had ever seen, hands on hips and arguing with something invisible.

The man completely ignored them.

"That's what I thought. Now, apologize. No, they can't hear you, so get creative."

All four CC members stared as words formed in the spilled salt: "SORRY".

The pizza guy seemed to be pleased. "Good job, Henry. Now, let me get them out of here and I promise I'll get the Party to bring you some new spiders when they capture them outside, yeah? Three knocks, slide them in a glass behind the door. Got it. Take care, Henry."

Only then did he look at Eddie and the others and frowned. "That's your cue to leave. Get your stuff and go, now." And as they were quickly collecting their scattered notes and recording equipment, he added: "and say goodbye when leaving. Don't be rude."

Four rushed "Bye, Henry!" and "Sorry, Henry"s later, the Corroded Coffin was standing on the grass outside, feeling the setting sun on their skin and smelling fresh pizza. Gareth promptly paid for the delivery, and everyone proceeded to thank their mysterious savior.

"I'm Steve," he said after they'd all expressed their thanks, "and you're stupid. Do you really do this without anyone who sees and hears them? Do you just stumble blindly into haunted houses for a fun and stabby time?"

Eddie had to swallow down a very bitchy response of his own. "Sorry to stroke your ego even more, pretty boy, but a man of your talents is hard to come by."

And Steve, to Eddie's massive shock, just cocked his head and fluffed his hair, probably out of habit, but damn. "Well, consider yourself lucky because I'm open to job offers," he said with a wink that brought Eddie back into his teenage fantasies. "You need someone like me, and I assume you pay better than pizza delivery. Do you?"

Turns out, their producer was willing to get one more person on board, especially when they finished processing the leftover footage from the Creel house.

Steve was an amazing addition. He was snarky, self-confident, easy to look at and most of all, he was fun and compassionate. Watching him communicate with ghosts of kids and help them move on made Eddie's icy heart melt.

But one day they were on a site of an unfortunate teenage death, Steve was chatting with the ghost of a 17 year old girl like they'd known each other for ages, he was laughing, cracking jokes, and then:

"No, he hasn't kissed me yet."

Eddie turned around on his heel and stared at Steve, snickering to himself and talking to a misty figure next to him. And worst of all, they were both staring right at Eddie.

"Hasn't even asked me out, no. You'd think he'd be interested, but I guess I'm doing something wrong."

And Eddie's head short-circuited, and all the repressed fantasies from nights next to Steve in their trailer came back with vengeance. He howled and threw himself at Steve, kissing him right on that bitchy mouth. "Doing something wrong?! Steven Harrington, those shorts of yours are doing everything right, but how about you say something, huh?!"

Steve returned the kiss to the cheering of the CC guys, Chrissy's clapping and Fred's disgusted noise, and shrugged when they broke apart. "I knew you'd get it, eventually. Oh, and Heather?" he turned to the ghost. "You're the best wingwoman ever, in this life and after."

Four good things came from this ghostly encounter:

After the kiss, Gareth finally gathered enough courage to ask Chrissy out. She said yes.

The episode with Heather became the most watched episode of the CC's show.

Steve and Eddie remained in an equally blissful and teasing relationship for the rest of their lives.

And finally...

The TV station decided to design official merch for the CC's show: incredibly short shorts that said on the backside: "DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT".

#steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #gareth emerson #jeff stranger things #freak stranger things #chrissy cunningham #drumcheer #not proofread we die like my sleep schedule

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brabblesblog · 6 months

Text

I hope you die screaming.

One-shot, angst/comfort, astarion/f!tav

After you refuse to help Astarion ascend, he leaves you with a venomous goodbye. Unfortunately the vampire has to come back to get his things.

The idea was to mix up the warding bond rings, Astarion’s final words if you refuse to help him, and Tav suffering and dying (not permanently!) in his absence.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

It had been a miserable few days of being alone in Baldur’s Gate, without most of his possessions, but Astarion was loathe to go back to the Elfsong. For one, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d be there to do. To grab his things and go? A possibility, but not what he would rather do. To get on his knees and ask you to take him back? What he really wanted to do, but the chance of you forgiving him was slim, and he couldn’t face that rejection. So he stayed near the tavern, torn between showing himself and walking away yet again, when the ring on his finger pulsed with a strange magic and the ward protecting him dissipated from his body.

He had known you were still protecting him through the paired rings even as he stormed out of Cazador’s palace. The soft, pleasant feeling of the ward had not disappeared at all, and it had proven quite useful once or twice when he inadvertently offended someone enough for them to attempt to stab him. He didn’t get a lot of injuries - only minor cuts and scrapes - so as much as he felt guilty he figured you would be more than capable of handling it. In any case, should you want, you could just take off the rings, he reasoned.

So when the ward fell away right now, he huffed a bit and took the ring off. You must’ve finally remembered he had the other one, and there was no longer any point protecting him, after everything.

After what he said.

He entered the tavern and sat in a corner, waiting for your group to come back. He’d decided to come get his things. Without the ward’s protection, he would need his potions and armor to survive solo.

Soon enough, the door burst open and Gale came stumbling in. The gore and blood on his robes was normal enough, but his expression wasn’t. The man looked ashen and pale, and he immediately ran to the stairs. “Shadowheart! Come here. Now!”

Before the vampire could even put down the goblet he was holding, Halsin came in, something bundled in his arms. The air that wafted through hit Astarion, and he almost choked on it: blood. Your blood. A lot of it. He watched with wide eyes as Halsin carried the bloody bundle in his arms. It was a body, that much was obvious, but they had wrapped it in blankets. The fabric was stained everywhere, but it pooled the most where the chest would be. Halsin dipped his head and gently placed a kiss on the head of the body, and as he did so the blanket covering the face fell away. Astarion’s heart, if he still had one, would have stopped as he saw the face underneath the blankets. Yours.

He immediately stood up, heading towards Halsin. The larger elf saw him and let him approach, his expression one of sorrow.

“Halsin? What- is she…” he closes the distance. Your eyes are closed, as if you were sleeping. He knows it, knows he can’t hear your heartbeat and can’t see you breathe, but he still reaches out to cup your cheek. Cold, as cold as his hands were. He chokes back a scream that threatens to bubble from his throat.

Halsin moves, slowly climbing the stairs. “Come, Astarion. I shall explain.” As he made his way to your bed, he talked. “She hasn’t been well since your departure, but that is to be expected. We had a fight with the Steel Watch. She was a little too slow, too tired, and they won.”

Astarion growls. “You should all have protected her! Did you all cower when-“

“No.” Halsin rounds on him, eyes glinting with what was almost like anger. “We all have our injuries. We all tried our best. We weren’t the ones who left her.”

He laid you down on your bed, grabbing a wet cloth to clean your wounds. Astarion gripped the elf’s wrist. “Why aren’t you using a scroll to revive her?!”

He sighed. “You might not remember, Astarion, but the scrolls were all in your bag when you left.”

Shit. He had forgotten. He quickly rummaged through it, finding one. He saw Shadowheart approach and asked her for some healing potions as well. While everyone was preparing, Halsin kept cleaning your body up. Astarion scowled and grabbed his own wet towel, gently trying to clean around the hole in your chest. He winced at the amount of blood he saw as he tried to peel off the bloody shirt, then paused as he realized it was his camp shirt. Biting back the urge to scream, he kept working.

Shadowheart came back with several bottles of the potion, and they got to work. Halsin used the scroll, and as he did the vampire began pouring the potions down your throat. It didn’t take long for him to hear your heart start to beat again, and he exhaled roughly as he poured more bottles, just to be sure. He watched the color flood back into your face as you healed, unable to stop some tears from falling.

A hand gripped his shoulder and he turned to see Gale. The wizard sighed. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said dryly. “Seems like you got your wish,” he said bitterly, gesturing to you.

Astarion bared his fangs and got up, ready to tear him from limb to limb. Halsin barely had enough time to stand between the two men. “There is no point to fighting each other. What’s done is done. And she’s doing better now.”

Gale sighed. He nodded at Halsin, then at Astarion. “I suppose the druid is right. You’ll still have some explaining to do, but it can wait.” He leaves to see Shadowheart to tend to his own injuries. After a moment, so does Halsin, squeezing Astarion’s hand in solidarity as he left.

Astarion continues his ministrations, weeping openly now that no one was here. He leaned forward, kissing your forehead. When you were clean, he puts you in your nightclothes, then wraps you up in his blankets. It doesn’t escape his notice that you’ve moved into his bed, his things still there, as though you were waiting for his return. He sleeps there that night, wraps himself around you, the sound of your soft breathing something he sorely missed.

You wake up a few hours later. Your head pounds, but when you open your eyes, it is blessedly dark. The last thing you remember was a steel watch monstrosity’s blade coming straight through you. You take a breath, nuzzling the blankets. They still smell like him, and you worry that soon the smell will fade. Then there would be nothing left of the man you loved. Well, other than his clothes-

Wait. His clothes. You run a hand down your chest, wincing at the movement. You realize you’re in your own camp clothes. It must’ve been torn in the fight, ruined by the gore. A soft cry escapes your lips. It felt all too much like losing him again. You whimper, helpless. Every movement was pain, but the most painful thing even now was your heart.

You suddenly realize you’re not alone on the bed. An arm sweeps across, wrapping securely around your waist. Someone nuzzles you, shushing your cries. In the darkness you can barely see, but the scent and the temperature of said arm hits you.

“As-Astarion?”

He swallows nervously. “Darling. I… I’m here.” He can see your face in the dark, eyes wide and afraid, and then a glimmer of hope as you realize who he is.

“You came back,” you manage to croak out. Your hand finds his, and he squeezes it tightly.

“I did. I-“ the happiness in your face stuns him. You should hate him. He doesn’t deserve to be welcomed back with such open arms.

“I was in the Elfsong to gather my things.” Before you could get the wrong idea and get hurt, he pushes on. “But I think I knew even as I walked in I’d be here to beg you to let me stay.”

“There’s no need to even ask, love.” Your hand moves to his hand, feeling for the ring. It isn’t there, and you feel a small pang of sadness. “You took it off.”

“Only today,” he says. “The wards fell. I thought you got rid of it, but your ring is still on your finger. I guess it just stopped working when you-“ he swallows past the lump in his thoat. “You- you know.” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Noticing his distress, you move your other hand to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to see this. I got clumsy. I was… I wasn’t at my best.” You look away, embarrassed to admit how much you missed him.

“Darling. No,” he turns your cheek to meet his gaze. “I left you. I broke your heart. All because I was too afraid to see the right path to take. And I wished… I said terrible things. I would take it back, all of it back. I regretted it as soon as I left the dungeons. But I didn’t think you’d let me back in. If I stayed, maybe you’d be alright. You’d be-“

His words are broken by soft lips that press against his. It was tender, and he couldn’t help but lean into it, kissing back carefully and gently. More tears fell from him, and you thumbed them away. Pulling back, you offer him a kind smile. “I forgave you as you left, love. I get it. It’s just that I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too.” With those words Astarion finally breaks down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He didn’t deserve such tenderness, such love, after what he did. He vowed to do better with your heart, to give what you deserve as well. Not for any other reason than that he wanted to.

He meets your eyes, and he finally lets the words that had been sitting in his chest for ages out. “I love you. I have loved you for a while, darling, I just didn’t know how. I’m not good at this, obviously. I choose the wrong words, do the wrong things, and you still let me back in.”

You chuckle a bit, hands carding through his hair. “That’s because I love you too, idiot.”

You’ve told him that for some time now, accepting that he couldn’t say the same yet. But every time you say it his heart still soars. He captures your lips in yet another kiss.

“Forgive me?”

“Of course. You’ll have to put your ring back on, though. Maybe when I’m more healed, on second thought.”

You bite your lip, frowning.

“Oh. And I might have ruined your camp shirt. Could you fix it for me? Please?”

He puts on a show of pouting and sighing. “If I must. What would you do without me, hm?”

You roll your eyes and tug him close to you. All too quickly, you drift off, finally having a good night’s rest. He watches your face become peaceful, noting the huge bags under your eyes.

Astarion holds you through the night, vowing to never leave your side ever again.

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spider-stark · 1 month

Text

INFINITELY YOU

part one // back at the beginning

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. all versions of peter are between the ages of 19-23 in this story. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 5.4k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // playlist // no way home fan fiction //

The world seemed to slip out from under you, fracturing beneath your feet and leaving you to sink into a deep, dark hole.

It was quiet—so unbearably quiet—and the tension between you and your estranged friends had become so thick that you feared it would soon take form and seep into your lungs. Maybe that would be for the best, you thought, wondering if suffocating on your collective grief would somehow be easier than whatever came next.

“Aunt May…” You sputtered, unable to force the words out. Shaking your head, you asked, “Are you sure?”

God, what a stupid question. You almost wanted to slap yourself for asking something so mindless.

Ned’s lips pressed into a thin line, trying to swallow his own sorrow. “I wish we weren’t,” he said with a small, wistful chuckle, still too shocked to fully acknowledge the gravity of it all. “But… yeah, we’re sure. She’s… She’s gone.”

Your heart sank, unable to think of the right string of words to form a reply.

With your mind reeling, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that this was some sort of cruel joke–the kind where the punchline would never quite hit. But all it took was one look at the red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks of Ned and Mj to know that they were telling the truth.

She was dead—Aunt May was dead.

And, somehow, it seemed as though that wasn’t even the worst part of the mess your friends had gotten themselves in.

“I know that it’s a lot to take in all at once,” Ned started back up, perhaps noticing the way the color seemed to drain from your face. “If you need me to go back over it or explain anything then I can-”

You stopped listening to him, staring blankly at the doormat beneath their feet. They hadn’t even bothered to come inside your apartment, too panicked to waste any time before delving into the details about Doctor Strange and the multiverse and other Spider-Man’s.

But honestly, you didn’t care about any of that.

You didn’t care about string theory or whatever multiversal villains had apparently slipped into your world—because you couldn’t stop thinking about what Ned had said about how May died. It hurt to think about it, the shrapnel and debris that had torn her flesh, the glider that had punctured her side and left her bleeding out in Peter’s arms…

Aunt May had died a horrific and brutal death, and you weren’t sure that there would ever be any way for you to come to terms with that.

“Peter,” you finally spoke, fire raging in your eyes as you looked at Ned. “Where is Peter?”

He spared Mj a sidelong glance, as if silently asking for her permission to answer. Frustration began to prick your skin, crawling up your spine as your stare turned harsh, offended that he didn’t just tell you outright. You knew that things between the four of you hadn’t ended well, but this…

Mj crossed her arms, looking almost as frustrated as you were with Ned’s choice to look to her for permission, and decided to answer in his place.

“Downstairs,” she told you, her tone purposefully clipped as a way to show that the wounds sustained in the downfall of your friendship had not yet healed–and you didn’t care, because you knew that yours hadn’t either.

“Is he…” you trailed off, not sure how to say it. If May’s death had been so brutal, then God knows what kind of injuries Peter might’ve sustained in the fight?

But you didn’t have to speak, because whether the two of you liked it or not, you had been friends—and she always knew what you were thinking. “He’s safe,” she told you, quelling your nerves just a little. A reluctant sigh slipped her lips, shaking her head as she added, “But he’s not okay.”

You knew what she meant—physically Peter had survived the fight with this Goblin man that they had told you about, but mentally…

You understood why she was hesitant to tell you about it, too. Of the three of you, there was only one that had ever been able to delve down into the depths of Peter’s trauma and help him claw his way back out of the gnawing pit that threatened to consume him—and it wasn’t either of them.

And, just as Mj knew you, you knew her.

She didn’t want you around Peter, not anymore—and so if she was willingly telling you that he wasn’t okay, then it meant that she knew how much he truly needed you right now.

“You guys should’ve told me sooner,” you grit your teeth, desperately trying to bite back against the resentment rising in your throat. “You should’ve told me as soon as all of this started, instead of waiting until everything went to shit.”

It wasn’t your intention to sound bitter, but that didn’t stop you from coming across that way. Ned recoiled from your tone like a blow, but you didn’t have it in you to feel guilty right now.

They had been dealing with all of this multiversal crisis bullshit for nearly a week now—and yet none of them had thought to say a single word to you until now. And while you knew that your presence likely wouldn’t have changed the course of events that had unfolded, it still hurt.

And it still made you angry.

“What do you need me to do?” You asked after realizing that neither of them intended to respond to your sharp statement.

“Well,” Ned started, nervously rubbing his sweaty palms against his khakis, “it’s gonna take us some time to figure out where the villains are hiding, and even longer to work out what to do with them. And, since these other Peter’s have dealt with these guys before, we could really use their help…”

He trailed off, once again looking to Mj, this time to silently urge her to finish his sentence.

She rolled her eyes. “We need you to let them stay here.”

Your brows furrowed, glancing between the two of them as if once again waiting for some sort of punchline to hit. It didn’t.

“It might take us a bit–a few weeks, maybe—to find all of them and stop them. And now that Happy’s complex was literally blown to pieces, we don’t have anywhere for the two of them to stay while they help out.” Mj tried to explain. She looked defeated when she said, “We didn’t know who else we could go to that would actually understand.”

Understand.

If you weren’t still reeling from everything they had just told you, then you probably would have laughed at the word. You would hardly say that you understood what was going on—but you knew what she was getting.

Mj’s dad would hardly allow two random men to stay in his house with them, and Ned’s Lola probably wasn’t too keen on the idea either. With Happy’s place destroyed, they had nowhere left to turn.

You weren’t sure how to feel now that you knew they had only come to you because you were their last choice.

At the risk of aggravating Mj, you said, “I wanna talk to Peter.”

“I don’t know if now’s a good time,” Mj swiftly shot back. “I told you that’s he’s not okay—”

“But he’s here,” you stated, nodding your head towards the stairs somewhere behind them that led back down to the lobby. “And you’re insane if you think I’m gonna agree to let two random ass men stay in my house without at least knowing what his plan is.”

Mj bristled at the harshness of your tone; and so did you.

You weren’t used to this.

Mj had been your friend for far longer than she had been whatever she was to you now, and neither of you were used to this—to your once special connection being reduced to nothing more than strained conversations and fractured feelings towards one another.

“Fine,” Mj surrendered, her hands lifting slightly. “Do whatever you want.”

It wasn’t until then that you realized that you had been waiting for her permission, even though you didn’t believe you truly needed it. Peter was your friend—and he had been your friend long before he even knew Mj. If you wanted to talk to him, then you had every right to.

Yet you still hadn’t been able to will yourself to push between the two of them until she had spoken, side-stepping to let you pass. When you started descending the stairs to the lobby, you were shocked that neither she nor Ned followed, offering you a sense of privacy with Peter that you hadn’t expected—as if she still held some shred of trust in you.

You didn’t want to think about it though, unsure of how you felt about that, too.

Halfway down the dank stairway of your complex, you felt a shiver dance along your spine. It prickled your skin and set your nerves on edge, but it didn’t catch you off guard. You always felt this way when Peter was around—as if your body could always sense when he was around, even when you hadn’t yet seen him.

The last step creaked when you placed your weight onto it, and from across the poorly maintained lobby, Peter’s neck snapped in your direction at the sound.

It felt like ice skittered across your bones at the sight of him, your heart lurching against your ribcage.

You had gotten used to seeing Peter battered and bruised years ago. Even before he became Spider-Man, he often found himself the victim of bullies and assholes, rarely going more than a few weeks without a busted lip or a new bruise. But this…

This was different, somehow.

It wasn’t just the blood-stained suit that set your heart racing, nor was it the lacerated skin or his sweat-matted hair. No, those things were normal—in the same way that being bitten by a radioactive spider was normal.

It was even normal to see him standing before you, his chin high and shoulders back, presenting a perfect image of strength even after experiencing something as traumatic as losing May.

Peter’s relationship with trauma had been intimate enough these past few years that you weren’t shocked to see him like this, standing tall rather than balling up and crying on the floor. You figured that was what most others would do if they were in his situation.

But Peter wasn’t like other people.

Peter was a hero—and if you had learned anything about heroes in your lifetime, it was that they were incredible liars.

His eyes couldn't lie, though.

Bloodshot and ringed with exhaustion, his eyes were what had made you feel so sick, your stomach twisting itself into knots.

They lacked the life and hope of the boy you had loved so dearly, replaced with something like rage—a pure, unbridled and unrelenting type of rage. Looking at him now you couldn’t ignore the burning talon that seemed to rake against your mind, filling your brain with thoughts you didn’t want to think right now—telling you that looking at Peter now, with the light draining from his eyes, was the same as looking in a mirror.

“Peter,” a metallic tang danced on your tongue as you dug your teeth into your cheek, biting back against the tears threatening to well-up in your eyes.

Letting your instincts guide you, you rushed across the lobby to where he stood by the front door, reaching for his hand without a second thought.

His suit had been torn along his palm, and as you felt the warmth radiating from his calloused skin, you tried to take some comfort in the fact that at least he had survived—even if you still weren’t ready to accept that May hadn’t.

“Don’t,” He yanked his hand back from you, his voice hoarse. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”

You froze for half a heartbeat, your hand hanging awkwardly in-between the two of you. “I wasn’t going to.”

You weren’t sure if you were telling the truth, but it didn’t seem to matter either way.

Either way, you tried to understand his reaction, even as you winced from the sting of rejection. What good would an apology really do for a boy who had already lost everything?

It wouldn’t bring the light back to his eyes.

It wouldn’t bring May back to life.

“Ned told me everything,” you told him, unwilling or unable to say Mj’s name right now. You clenched and unclenched your fists, painfully aware of the absence of his warmth. “You know I’ll do anything I can to help, so just tell me what needs to be done and I’ll do it.”

Peter scoffed, his jaw tensing. “We both know that what I want doesn’t matter,” he said bluntly. Motioning to your surroundings, he continued, “If what I wanted mattered, then we wouldn’t even be here. We wouldn’t be asking for your help—wouldn’t be dragging another person into this and asking them to risk their life!”

You did your best not to react, knowing that he hadn’t meant it quite as bad as it sounded. It already hurt knowing that you had been Mj and Ned’s last choice for help, but knowing that Peter didn’t want you to be a choice at all hurt far worse—even if it was to keep you safe.

“Well, you’re here now,” you told him, keeping your voice steady. “So you might as well tell me what your plan is—or at least tell me how long I’ll need to play bunkmates with strangers.”

You were lying when you had told Mj and Ned that you needed to talk to Peter before agreeing to let the alternate Spider-Men stay in your apartment—you didn’t care about housing with strangers, aware that there was nothing they could do to you that you haven't endured before.

Selfishly, you had just wanted a reason to come down and talk to him. To see him. To know that he was alive. You didn’t care about anything else.

Sometimes you worried that you didn’t even care about your own life, only Peter’s.

But Peter cared about your life—far more than you would ever want him to.

“My plan doesn’t matter,” he said, his tone clipped, “cause I don’t want you getting involved. And I definitely don’t want you to let those guys stay here, alright? We don’t know them.”

You steeled yourself, resisting the urge to argue with him and instead asking a simple question. “Do you have anywhere else for them to go?”

He didn’t respond, huffing out a breath, already frustrated with the defiance he knew you were about to display.

“You might not want my help, but if Ned’s right–” you told him, gesturing backwards towards the staircase, “–which he usually is—then you’re gonna need these guys.”

“But that doesn’t mean we need you,” Peter protested gruffly.

Your chest tightened, but you kept shoving back against the hurt. Later, you would deal with that later.

“It doesn’t matter if you need me,” you retorted with a defiant tilt of your chin, unwavering as his rageful gaze seemed to pierce through your skull, “because you’re stuck with me either way.”

You hadn’t expected the statement to affect him, but it did, his voice softening slightly. “I always have been.”

“Exactly. So you might as well make this easy on the both of us and not fight me on it,” you declared, trying to conjure up the most convincing smile you could offer. “Let me help, Peter.”

A sigh slipped his lips, heavy with reluctant resignation as he realized he wasn’t winning this battle. “We’ve already lost so many people… I’ve lost so many people. And there’s already enough blood on my hands,” he said, lifting his hands to display the torn, blood-stained fabric, driving his point home. “It doesn’t matter what I say—so let them stay here or don’t, I don’t care. But just know that whatever happens to you, it’s not on me. Because I told you to stay out of it, alright?”

He took a step closer, and you didn’t dare move a single muscle as his lips hovered just inches from your own. “Do whatever you want,” his voice was barely a whisper, laced with a venomous edge that nearly made you tremble, “but don’t expect me to come running to save you when it all goes to shit.”

His words hung in the air like a curse, lingering in the lobby for far longer than he did. As soon as the promise had left his lips, he was already turning on his heel and shoving the door open, abandoning you in the dim space.

You knew better than to think he meant it.

But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

You stuck your hands beneath the running faucet, scrubbing the blood from a jagged cut on your palm. It wasn’t all that deep, shallow enough that it probably wouldn't even leave a scar once healed. When you were done rinsing it, you cupped your hands and gathered the water in them, splashing your reddened cheeks.

Crying would have been a normal part of grieving for May, and when you forced yourself to look back at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you couldn’t help but wish that you could’ve been a little more normal.

But tears hadn’t been the cause of your flushed appearance—no, because you had never been very good at expressing the more delicate emotions, like sadness.

You were good at expressing anger, though.

You were very good at expressing anger.

After Peter had stormed out of the lobby and abandoned you to choke on his cruel promise, it had taken you several minutes to work up the nerve to go back upstairs and face Mj and Ned. By some stroke of luck you had managed to keep a tight leash on your often volatile attitude, telling them your decision to let the other Peter’s stay with you.

And then you lost control as soon as they left, loosening the reins on your anger and taking the uncomfortable feelings out on a nearby potted plant, shouting curses as you tossed it at the wall.

By the time you thought to clean it up, after finishing another string of irate profanities, your hands had been shaking so bad that you cut yourself on one of the dirt-covered shards. And maybe, once you felt the jagged ceramic dig into your palm, you should’ve hissed or cursed more or stopped cleaning to patch yourself up.

But you didn’t. You stayed quiet, continuing to pluck the shattered fragments off the floor until you had gotten them all, dumping them into the trash before grabbing the broom and dustpan and cleaning the dirt and scattered leaves, too.

There were more important things to deal with than cleaning a dirty wound.

Like making sure none of your friends could see that you weren’t nearly as composed as you tried to seem.

The familiar rhythmic rapping of Mj’s knuckles against the front door made you forgo the bandage you were going to fix to your palm, tossing the rag you’d used to dry your face into the sink and heading straight to the living room.

Carefully shoving your injured hand into your pocket, you opened the door and tried not to look surprised when Peter wasn’t standing in-between Mj and Ned. Of course he hadn’t come with them—why would he? He had already made it clear how he felt about all of this.

It did become significantly harder to mask your shock however when a tall, messy haired boy stepped into view from behind them, clad in a crimson and cobalt webbed suit.

“Get inside,” you hissed a bit harsher than intended, stepping aside and waving the three of them into your apartment.

The last thing you needed was your neighbors seeing an unmasked, alternate version of Spider-Man standing in front of your door. It had already been risky enough that Peter had come here in his suit, standing in the lobby and sticking out like a sore thumb.

Once they were inside, you shut the door and turned to Ned. “I thought you said there were two of them,” you noted, avoiding looking at the lanky Spider-Man who seemed just as desperate to avoid you, busying himself with walking around the room and studying the art on the walls.

Ned shrugged. “He didn’t wanna come.”

“Not that he didn’t want to come,” Mj pointedly corrected him, frowning at his bluntness. “He just wanted to keep patrolling. The Goblin, the one who…” she cut herself off, unable to force the words off her tongue. Scrapping the sentence altogether, she started again, “The Goblin’s from his world, so he seemed to think that he had the best chance of hunting him down. But we gave him the address.”

You didn’t bother giving her an actual response, a subtle nod the only sign you had heard her at all. She didn’t seem to care much, just as unsure of what to say to you as you were to her.

“So,” Ned clicked his tongue, trying to cut through the growing tension. “This is Peter 3!” He announced, gesturing to the other Peter, who was picking up a frame that had been face down on an end table. “That’s what we’re calling him, at least. Y’know, to tell them apart. The other one is Peter 2.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Creative.”

Done dawdling over Ned and Mj, you forced yourself to look at the un-masked hero from another world. He was placing the frame back onto the table—not face down, as he had found it, but up-right. You frowned at the photograph it displayed, a picture of you, Ned, Mj, and Peter from sometime last year.

“You’re awfully nosy,” you told him, your voice like ice.

His muscles tensed, hesitating as he faced your gaze. “Sorry,”

His voice was slightly deeper than Peter’s, his hair a shade or two darker, his features a bit less soft, but still noticeably young, putting him in his early twenties at most. Truthfully, if it weren’t for the suit he was wearing, you would’ve never guessed that he was supposed to be the Peter Parker of another world.

You had expected him to be more… Peter-like, in appearance, and yet as far as you could tell the resemblances were very slight, if they even existed at all.

The mannerisms were there, though. The subtleties of Peter Parker, the things that most people never noticed and yet were ingrained in your mind. He licked his lips, a nervous tic that left you always carrying chapstick in your pocket. His hands hung at his sides and you saw the way his thumb tapped against each of his fingers, starting with his index and ending with his pinky, only to start over again.

Watching him, taking note of every familiar twitch and tic and habit, made something in your chest tighten.

And, when you told him your name, it was as if your icy tone had melted altogether. “It’s nice to meet you.”

For a moment you thought he wouldn’t respond, his throat bobbing as he swallowed roughly, eyes darting around the room. But then, suddenly, he gave you a weak smile. “You too.” A trace of amusement laced his response, too subtle for you to detect.

“We’ve gotta go,” Ned suddenly spoke, jutting a thumb towards the door. “Peter’s waiting outside so he can make sure we get home safe, but-” he stopped, brows furrowing as considered whether he should finish. “But text us later, okay? Just to let us know that you’re okay.”

Your heart stuttered at the mention of Peter’s name, at knowing that he actually had come—even if it hadn’t been for you—but you didn’t mention it.

Instead, you focused on Ned, giving your sweet friend the kindest smile you could muster—which, admittedly, didn’t feel like much. Despite everything that had happened with your friends in the past few months, your fight had never been with Ned. He was just caught in the middle, unfairly forced to pick sides.

And you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him for picking Peter. Not when you knew that you would’ve done the same.

“I will,” you promised.

Ned gave you an equally somber smile before opening the door to leave. Even once Ned was in the hall, already descending the staircase, Mj lingered in the entryway—not for long, a heartbeat, maybe—turning back towards you just long enough to mutter, “Keep your guard up.”

You didn’t have a chance to say anything back to her before she let the door slam shut, following quickly after Ned and leaving you alone with… this guy.

The other Peter had abandoned his spot by the end table, seemingly done with investigating your apartment and left to do nothing but stand awkwardly a few feet away from you, clearly unsure of what to do or say now that it was just the two of you.

“So,” you breathed out, popping your lips. “Peter 3, yeah? Good name. You go by that back home, too?”

He laughed, a suit-clad hand nervously rising to the back of his neck. “Uh–yeah, no, definitely not. Just plain ole’ Peter Parker over there.”

The nervous energy radiating from the boy almost seemed contagious as you started to pick at your nails. “Do you have a nickname?”

He blinked, looking as if he hadn’t heard a word you said. “Sorry, what?”

“A nickname,” you repeated, only for your brows to then furrow. “You have those where you’re from, don’t you? Nicknames? Like, you know, something you go by other than your actual name?”

“Oh! Yes—sorry, yes we have nicknames in my world,” he exclaimed, his pale skin starting to flush.

“I just thought that this whole numerical system thing that Ned’s going with to keep track of who’s who seems a little dehumanizing, yeah?”

“For sure,” he agreed, sucking on his lip as he nodded along with you.

You gave him a second, waiting and waiting for an answer to your apparently long-forgotten question, before asking, “So… Do you have one?”

The slight blush that had tinged his skin instantly darkened, suddenly the same shade of crimson as his suit. His grip on the back of his neck tightened, too, his fingertips prodding into his own skin.

“Sorry-” he apologized for the millionth time, more nervous laughter spilling out alongside it, “I do! I mean, sort of, I think. I don’t know if it’s really a nickname, but back in my world you really just called me by my last name most of the time anyway, so–I don’t know—maybe that would work?”

The sheer quantity of word vomit spewing from his mouth was impressive and likely hard-to-follow for most, but you consider yourself a bit of an expert in the anxious ramblings of Peter Parker.

“In your world?” You echoed, instantly catching the subtle mention. “We know each other?”

Maybe it shouldn’t have been shocking to learn that there were other versions of you throughout the multiverse as well, and yet it was. You figured that it was plausible, of course, considering that two variations of Peter had just been thrown into your world, but for some reason it just didn’t feel right.

You reasoned that anyone would feel that way, though.

“Yeah,” the boy, Parker, answered, a bit clipped. “We do.”

“Interesting.” Your brows lifted, “Are we friends?”

Parker scrunched his nose, his head tilting slightly.

“Yeah,” his voice was an octave higher than before, and if you knew him better, then you likely would’ve called him on the obvious tell. But you didn’t know him, and so you didn’t say anything when he decided to double-down on the lie, “Yeah, we’re friends.”

“Well I guess that means that this is just as weird for you as it is for me, then.” You laughed, trying to add some humor to the situation.

Parker gave a tightlipped smile. “Definitely weird.”

The seconds felt like they stretched into minutes after that, silently racking your brain for something to say, hoping that he might say something—but, eventually, you settled on offering an escape from the situation instead.

“You’re probably exhausted from the whole multiversal travel thing, so if you want, I can just show you the guest room and give you some privacy or something,” you told him, vaguely gesturing towards the hallway.

Parker seemed to relax a bit at the prospect of being alone, loosing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Uhm–yeah, that’d be great, actually.”

He followed you down the short hall, his hand finally falling from his neck and his skin returning to its normal complexion as his nerves began to wane.

“This is it,” you told him, the hinges crying out as you shoved the door open. “It’s not much, but it’s somewhere to sleep, at least.”

Wasn’t much felt like an understatement, though the room was typical for a New York apartment.

A tad bigger than your average shoebox, there was just enough space to fit a full-sized bed, a small armoire, and a single nightstand adorned with an old desk lamp and a little pink teddy bear—a gift from Peter, years ago.

Parker walked into the room, looking around and brushing his fingertips against the emerald quilt. It was a bit old and somewhat thin, but it was better than nothing you supposed, and Parker certainly didn’t seem like he was going to complain about it.

“It’s great,” he assured you, and even though he did sound genuine, you couldn’t help but snort. He looked over at where you still stood in the doorway, giving you a timid smile as he said, “Way better than sleeping on the streets.”

You returned the gesture, lazily lifting a shoulder. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning. That mattress is about a hundred years old, so it’s probably the equivalent of sleeping on really lumpy cement.”

Parker hummed his amusement, carefully perching on the edge of the bed, his smile seeming to deepen when he caught sight of the little bear on the nightstand.

“I guess I’ll let you get some sleep,” you told him, reaching for the door handle, “if you need anything—extra blankets, or something—just let me know; my room’s right across the hall.”

He muttered his thanks, but as you went to pull the door closed, you heard your name fall from his lips. It was strange sounding, strangled and foreign, like he didn’t quite know how to say it. When you turned back to face him, a subtle wince seemed to etch across his face.

“Can I… Can I ask you something?” Parker stammered out the question, his voice faltering like a candle flame in the wind.

You nodded once, fingers still wrapped around the knob, savoring the coolness of the brass against the now-clotted wound on your palm.

He took a breath, his gaze momentarily flickering back to the teddy bear on the nightstand. His thoughts felt heavy on his tongue as he tried to force them out of his mouth, “Are you happy?”

You blinked at him, unsure of what to make of the hope that seemed to cling to each syllable and half-wondering if you’d heard him right.

“I-” you tried to start, only to realize that you had no clue what to say.

There was a fleeting moment where you realized that you could tell him the truth. You could tell him that happiness felt like a distant shore far from your reach, forever obscured by the fiery tempest of a brutal and ancient rage—a rage that, sometimes, didn’t even feel like your own.

But then he looked at you with those big, expectant eyes; eyes that should have been foreign to you, and yet felt so familiar—and you realized that he wouldn’t like that answer.

Sucking in a breath, you evaded his question as best you could. “Ask me again when all of this is over,” you told him, your lips curving into a soft, playful arc, “and maybe I’ll tell you the truth.”

This time when you went to close the door, he didn’t stop you.

series masterlist

a/n - i wish that i could properly express just how amazing (and terrifying) it has been to rewrite this story. first created at quite possibly the lowest point of my life, infinitely you has provided me with a necessary escape at a time when i desperately needed it. now that i'm in a better position, i found it necessary to give it the plot, writing style, and dedication that it deserved. i'm aware some people might not be interested in a rewrite and that's ok, but for those that are i just wanna say: thank you, thank you, thank you for giving infinitely you (and me) another shot. you're incredible.

if anyone would like to be added to the tag list, just let me know! as of right now, chapters will be posted every other monday, though i may switch that to weekly soon!

part two, titled "crullers & constants", to be released april 1st

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lazycats-stuff · 11 days

Note

Batfam x M reader hwere the reader is Bruce's older brother, who decided to move away from Gotham after a really big fight between him and Bruce (before Dick was adopted) Bruce wanted to reach out, but never really did because he thought the reader hated him. At some point the reader decided to come back to Gotham and meet with Bruce because he got married and had a kid, but his partner died and he needed support + his kid wanted to know about their uncle. Now total shock on the batfam part because they have an uncle??? And Bruce didn't tell them??? Now they try to build a relationship, but Bruce is still a bit distant because he feels guilty

Oh, this screams angst and fluff at the same time, aaah. Also, 1.5k followers, thank you everyone. My questionable writing is nice and good it seems.

Summary: Bruce's and (Y/N)'s relationship broke down. (Y/N) reaches out.

Warnings: fluff, angst and all in between.

(Y/N) wiped his tears yet again. He lost his husband a month or so ago and it wasn't easy by any means. They had adopted a little girl a few years ago and they named her Anna. She is an adorable little girl and a smart one too. But kids are always perceptive in certain ways. (Y/N) put the photos of his husband down and turned to the little patter of feet coming towards him.

He turned to his little girl, putting her in his lap while they sat on the couch quietly. (Y/N) smiled at his daughter, but just that made him hurt. But he needed to be strong for his little girl. She needed a strong parent right now, more than anything in the world. That was something that she needed.

Not weakness. Anna was hurting too and she needed nothing but support... But (Y/N) needs his support too. He needs someone to turn too. He can only be strong for so long. And not to mention, there were so many bills to pay and he didn't know how... Oh dear God.

" Hey honey, can't sleep? " (Y/N) asked his daughter, who nodded yawning.

" Yeah... I miss papa. " She said quietly and (Y/N) took everything in him to not break down in front of his daughter.

" I miss papa too honey. "

" Can you tell me more about uncle Bruce? " Anna asked in her innocent childlike way, not knowing how complex the situation was. (Y/N) didn't blame her in the slightest, wanting to know more about your family is something normal. Even though you are a child and adopted one too, wanting to know more makes (Y/N)'s heart even warmer.

" Well, your uncle Bruce is my younger brother. " (Y/N) started, smiling at his daughter, despite the pain he felt. Bruce was always a sore subject for him. Deep down inside he loved Bruce, but the fight they had broke that love. He adjusted his daughter in his arms and continued.

" He is brave, courageous. Annoying sometimes, but that's normal. Everyone is a little bit annoying sometimes. " (Y/N) said, making Anna giggle, for the first time in a few days.

" Why he never comes? " Anna asked and (Y/N)'s heart was hit with sorrow and pain.

" We don't like one another. Sometimes adults don't like each other and don't speak about it. " (Y/N) said and Anna tilted her head in wonder and curiosity.

" Why? "

" Adults are complex. Complicated. " (Y/N) explained and the little girl hummed, tilting her head.

" Really dad? "

" Yes love. " (Y/N) responds and she simply gets out of his lap to look at the pictures of her papa. She sighed quietly and glanced back at her dad.

" I want to meet uncle Bruce. " Anna stated and (Y/N)'s heart started beating faster and faster. He doesn't really want to. He doesn't want to open up those old wounds...

Would Bruce even want to meet her?

" I can try honey. " (Y/N) swallowed and Anna's smile was worth it. Really worth the anxiety and the stress he is about to go through. And maybe he needs family in this situation.

Support sounds great right now.

" Thank you dad. " Anna said and left to go back to her room. (Y/N) smiled. Bruce would love her.

But (Y/N) isn't going to like this.

That next morning, Anna went to kindergarten and (Y/N) has decided to call Bruce to set up a meeting. He can't just come by unannounced, even though the manor is also his, he just can't. It would be rude, considering the fact that Bruce had four boys, one biological it seems.

And Bruce took over the Wayne Enterprises too, so he must be busy. And being Batman too is not an easy feat. But around 10 am, (Y/N) called Bruce, nervous and anxious beyond belief. This is not something he would have done if it weren't for the fact that his daughter asked him too.

" (Y/N)? " It rang out in (Y/N)'s ear and (Y/N) took a deep breath.

" Yes, it's me B. " (Y/N) answered, using an old nickname from their childhood.

" It has been what, 5 years... " Bruce hesitated and (Y/N) let out a little yeah in response.

" How is life? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) teared up for a second before calming down.

" My husband passed away recently. " (Y/N) said and the silence was loud.

" I'm sorry to hear that... I didn't know you got married... " Bruce said and (Y/N) winced quietly.

" Yeah... It was small. We also adopted a little girl. " (Y/N) said and he swore he heard a deep breath on the other side.

" A nice change. " Bruce said and (Y/N) chuckled. A joke about the fact that Bruce has all boys... It's nice to joke around.

" And Anna wants to meet her uncle Bruce. "

" You talked to her about me? "

" Yup. She was curious. " (Y/N) answered and Bruce chuckled again. " And I need help... I feel like I'm drowning. " (Y/N) said, wiping his tears.

" What do you mean? " Bruce asked, wanting more explanation.

" I'm drowning in bills and I need some emotional support. And I don't want to seem like I'm calling for money, but- " (Y/N) started rambling, but Bruce cut him off.

" Don't. I know you didn't call for money. Besides, that's your money too. "

" Well, I lived humbly for so long, I forgot I was rich I guess. " (Y/N) chuckled quietly, sitting down on the couch in the process.

" I guess so... If you need help, I'll... I'll be more than happy to help. " Bruce offered, but (Y/N) sensed something more. But none the less, he decided to leave it be for now. " You can even move back with Anna. You know the manor has more than enough room. " Bruce offered and (Y/N) hesitated.

" Well... I would have to move Anna's kindergarten... And all that stuff." (Y/N) started and Bruce cur him off yet again.

" Don't worry about that now. You and your daughter need to have a stable environment. So drop by the manor. You can meet your nephews too. "

" It wouldn't be a bad idea. "

And that's how (Y/N) and Anna went to the Wayne Manor, the little girl being excited in the backseat of the car. She let out a sound of pure surprise when she saw the manor in it's full glory. " This is where uncle Bruce lives?! " She yelled and (Y/N) chuckled as he parked the car inside the manor yard.

" Is it true I have cousins? " She asked as (Y/N) quickly left the car and then moved to unbuckle her. She quickly ran out and (Y/N) sighed.

" Not so fast young lady! " (Y/N) yelled after her and the girl stopped, smiling at her dad, taking his hand as they walked up to the door. (Y/N) rang the bell, waiting for Alfred to open up. Oh God, this is weird to be here yet again after these 5 years.

Alfred quickly opened up with a smile and gave (Y/N) a tight hug.

" Oh I missed you master (Y/N). " Alfred said and (Y/N) nodded.

" You talk funny. " Anna said and Alfred chuckled, leaning down to look at the little girl.

" That's right, I do. Now come on miss, lets meet your cousins. " He said as he led the little girl inside, who was giggling happily. (Y/N) took a deep breath to compose himself before entering the manor, the place where his life started and changed so many times. He walked inside, breath hitching at the sight of his nephews, both adopted three and one biological, who looked just liked Bruce at that age...

It's just eerie...

He was caught off guard by a sudden hug from the oldest son by the looks of it. (Y/N) huffed from the force, but patted the back of the oldest son.

" I'm Dick, nice to meet you. " Dick said once he pulled away, a big smile on his face as he was shaking his hand with a firm shake.

" (Y/N), nice to meet you too. " (Y/N) said quietly, quickly glancing at Anna who was talking to Bruce quietly. Bruce seemed gentle with her and that's more than enough to ease his heart.

" I'm Tim. " Tim introduced himself to his uncle and (Y/N) noted to himself how tired Time looked, but maybe it's due to the fact that he was a vigilante. But something else was off, but that's something for another time.

" Jason... How come Bruce never told us about you? " Jason asked and (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders.

" We... Didn't end up on a good note... I guess guilt and anger. " (Y/N) says and Bruce listened from his spot with Anna, who was just talking away.

Jason hummed and moved to allow Damian to say hello to his blood uncle.

" Uncle. You look different than I imagined. " Damian said in his voice and (Y/N) swore it really was Bruce at age...

" Damian. You are a copy of your father. " (Y/N) noted and glanced at his daughter for a second, seeing how Bruce was holding Anna in his arms.

" I know, I've been told that. " Damian responded shortly. Just like Bruce. Jesus. It's eerie beyond belief.

" Anna, do you like books? " Bruce asked her and she nodded happily. Bruce turned to (Y/N) and his boys. " Can the boys take her to the library? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) knew that they had to talk about their relationship. What to do now and all that.

" Sure. " (Y/N) said and the boys, including Alfred, led the little girl to the library. She was so happy, just giggling, not even a sense of her father's turmoil.

" Can we go outside? I need a smoke. " (Y/N) said, taking his pack out already. Bruce simply opened the terrace door that lead to the garden, where they sat down.

(Y/N) lit up his cigarette and took a long drag, trying to ease his nerves. He let the smoke out and glanced at Bruce.

" This is weird... "

" I know. Look, you can always come back home. " Bruce said dryly and (Y/N) noticed the distance. Noticed the look.

" Look... We were stupid to fight like that... And you are not to blame... I am to blame too... " (Y/N) said as he took a long drag.

" No, it was me. All on me. " Bruce said, looking at the garden ahead, refusing to look at his brother from guilt.

" Don't say that... I think we need to repair our relationship. For your boys and for my daughter. And us too. I do miss my little annoying brother. "

Bruce didn't respond and just sighed.

" Don't blame yourself. " (Y/N) said as he blew the smoke yet again. " Do you want me to move back? Anna would like that. And it would make things easier for me too. " (Y/N) said quietly, finishing his cigarette in the ashtray.

" Don't be distant Bruce. "

Bruce sighed yet again. It was hard not to be distant in this situation. Especially when you think you are at fault for the fight.

" I would love to meet my niece more and try to be that fun uncle. I want to take some of your stress too. Some burdens off too. " Bruce said, still looking away.

He couldn't even look (Y/N) in the eyes.

(Y/N) just sighed. They really had a long way to go.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

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thatfreshi · 8 months

Text

We, are going to be okay - Astarion x Reader

TW - self-harm

I don't write angst often but this concept just hit me too hard not to try and execute. Astarion tries taking others' perception of him into his own hands, and it comes with a cost.

Recommended Song: What Was I Made For? - Billie Eilish

For as long as you and Astarion have lived together, he starts every day the same. Then again, the both of you are creatures of habit, and you usually wake up soon after he does. Your lover can be found in front of the vanity, trimming away at whatever isn't perfect. He'll take scissors to dead ends, cut his cuticles, occasionally pluck eyebrows if they happen to be out of line. He does this every. Single. Morning.

At this point you're used to waking up to the sound of blades running through hair, a slight hum from Astarion as he focuses on all the details of his perfect appearance. Sometimes he doesn't even notice that you've woken up. Despite not being able to see his reflection, he's quite precise. And you have never once questioned this ritual of his.

You then are awoken by a cry of pain, a most unusual noise at dawn.

"Darling?"

You ask groggily, wondering if perhaps he cut a nail back too far. You wipe the wave of sleep from your eyes, trying to focus over at the vanity.

Red.

Red down his face. Suddenly you're soberly awake, and you stumble out of bed to see what he's done now.

"It's alright my love, just a knick."

Shaking voice, he wipes the blood off his face, and it just pours more. A slash clean across his cheek.

"That is absolutely not a knick!"

You grab a nearby rag and start applying pressure to the cut.

"How in the nine hells did you manage to do this?"

He pauses before answering, and then simply shrugs. You notice he grabs something off the vanity table, quick enough you don't see what.

"Who knows, perhaps we have a poltergeist?"

While Astarion is usually a fantastic liar, he has slowly lost the skill around you. You get suspicious, as he's still shaking from the wound. Gazing at the table, you notice everything is where he leaves it, in it's nice tidy place. Scissors back in their hiding place.

"Astarion, my love, what are you hiding from me?"

He says nothing, averting his gaze.

"Darling, please, tell me."

You take his hands in yours, bloody rag set aside. He still refuses to make eye contact. Instead, he wriggles his hands out of yours and goes to grab something out of his boot. A dagger. He tosses it on the floor. It's so slick in crimson that some red specks fall on the hardwood floor. Suddenly he chokes up, unable to speak as you keep staring at his dagger.

"Oh my love, my precious one."

You also find yourself at a loss for words, as your throat closes and the tears form at your eyes. You look back up at him. He seems ashamed, embarrassed, frightened by the blade on the floor.

"Why?"

Your voice cracks, almost unable to get the single word out into the air. You retrace your steps back to his hands, squeezing them tight, as if he'll evaporate in your grasp.

"I... I don't know. I just sat down and all of a sudden, there was all this rage, all this sorrow. I can't even see myself and everyone just decides everything they need to know about me based on something I'll never be able to comprehend. A barmaid assuming I'll flirt to get a free drink, a stranger whispering to a confidant whilst eyeing me up and down. This body, it's only ever been a facade, a trap to pull people in, a tainted memory of Cazador's reign. And I thought about upkeeping it once again, and I just-"

He is cut off by another sob. You have no idea what to say. You had no idea he was struggling like this, that he felt so judged.

"It's okay darling, it's okay."

There's nothing. You are filled by the void. You've heard the stories, Astarion going through hell and back. You've been awoken by the nightmares, you've had the long talks about his boundaries, but you never thought he would ever hurt himself. Somehow that twists your heart worse than any stories of vampire lords and monster hunters. But right now, it's not about you pitying him. He needs you.

You wipe at your eyes once more and go to check on his wound. You silently thank the fact that he's as meticulous about sharpening his weapons as he is about everything else. As you dab at the wound again, he tries to speak. You pause, to try and let the words come out. He grabs onto your forearm, holding on as if you're going to disappear.

"Do you think it'll scar?"

You shake your head immediately.

"No, it won't. I'll get whatever healer we have to, I'll pay whoever we need to."

A vampire bite, a cruel poem, he didn't need one more reminder of the past.

"I'm sorry."

You hold his head in your hands, wiping away at the mist falling down his face.

"It's okay. You'll be okay. We, are going to be okay."

He gives you a pain-ridden smile, something unsure resting on his lips, but he trusts you. He trusts that you're there for all of it, the drunken nights in town, the flirtatious glances, the moments where he forgets he's home. He reciprocates your affirmation.

"Okay."

Somehow you feel a little bit better, that you're here for him. It's going to be a lifetime of ups and downs, but you'd only want to share them with him, and he's grateful. The good, the bad, and the ugly, that's what they all say. And you'll be there for all three.

#astarion #angst #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion

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onyourhyuck · 9 months

Text

The Tattoo Artist. | L.MK

— Prologue: “Since when did i get this tattoo?”

— Summary: Where one late night visit to your shop with a drunk man asking you to do his tattoo turns to an one night stand at your shop.

— Genre: Smut. Dom!mark. One night stand type of trope. Y/n!tattoo artist. Mark loves tattoos. Mention of alcohol use. Sex in a tattoo store. Mark hitting it from behind. Overstimulation. Unprotected sex. Squirting. Ass play. Mark really loves Y/n’s ass. lip ring MARK LEE. Plot twist at the end / Cliff Hanger.

— Notes:

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The night out was Mark’s typical routine. He leaves his apartment block and gets picked up by his two friends who accompany him to go out drinking and partying like every other night. Yuta and Johnny. These two boys are like glued on to Mark’s hips. However tonight it seems like they found themselves ladies and happen to be swooned.

Typical Yuta and Johnny, Mark thought.

They said it’s ‘boy’s night’ yet they always find themselves ladies to get distracted by and Mark was left either third wheeling or led to be alone drinking his single sorrows away.

Honestly Mark prefers it that way, being single. Less hassle to be dealing with relationships and the breakup that comes with it too. Mark can’t be dealing with a girl who complains about his lifestyle choices either. He’s too caught up in the present moment and he’s never thinking about the future. The man is doing what most men in their adulthood years do — drink, party, maybe get high or something along the way.

Then wake up the next day absolutely hungover to the point your memory couldn’t even remember what you ate yesterday. And then try to recount the times you drank last night because you’re grieving how bad the headache is. The cycle continues the following night on the same day. Your friends ask you to go out and Mark accepts because he cannot say no to free drinks.

It’s a struggle. It’s a blessing but a struggle. The idea feels good and then when the happy hours pass Mark feels completely utterly shit.

Mark tells himself ‘I quit drinking. It’s the last time I’m drinking this much’ and then? Contradicted his own statement. He gets drunk, drinks past the limits maybe even more than he drank last time.

Another thing Mark has a hard time saying no to?

Tattoos.

The one thing that Mark cannot say no to other than free alcohol would be tattoos. He already has four on his body and Mark finds them so fascinating. It’s like a way to express himself.

Guilty pleasure would be the best way to describe his relationship with the needing urging to cover all of his body in tattoos. However he knows he cannot do that. At least not unless he has the money to get every part of his body covered in ink.

The man dips the glass of cola and the whiskey he managed to mix together, and then Mark found himself watching his two friends flirt away and dance with the two ladies they found to be attracted to. He can’t believe he’s the one who got asked out by then and now he’s left alone to his own company. These two surely never understand what the bro code is. Mark found himself growing slightly eager so he spiced the drinks concentration up and decided to go for the heavier beverages now.

That night if you asked Mark how much he drank he couldn’t answer you clearly, because he drank a lot more. Mark managed to woo some people himself in the crowd whenever he dances and joins the huddle however the drunk he got the more indescribable feeling of the high notes Mark was feeling began to rub off on him. The man himself wasn’t anymore as sober as he wanted to be this night but, he was still able to walk a little and manage to speak.

You can say he build up the tolerance due to his alcoholic tendencies. Mark isn’t proud of it but he’s definitely grateful otherwise Mark would have passed out by now.

Passed out somewhere on the road, or maybe a bench at a park and slept there all through the night until the morning which is even scarier to Mark. Thankfully though he has a high tolerance and so his awareness was better than most.

The nightclub itself was getting too overwhelming for Mark and he managed to slip out and sent a text to Johnny and Yuta in their following group chat that he’s going to go home.

Or at least Mark said he was, that was until he got tired of waiting and then his eyes pitch on a white paper hung up on those wooden lamp street lights. The cab wasn’t going to get here anytime soon considering the night hours are always filled with other party wild animals that are booking them. Mark’s eyes were now glued tight on that paper with the large letters to him ‘Neo’s tattoo’s!’

He squints his eyes to get a better glance, the alcohol was really getting to his poor eye sight. He’s already half blind as a bat but with the alcohol doing it’s job, it’s safe to say Mark’s sight is equal to his own grandfather now.

But that paper got him intrigued and it spoke one word and one word only to convince Mark: He needs to get a new tattoo.

It might not be the time for that but who’s going to stop him? No one. Not even his friends could do that even if they were here in the moment with him Mark would not be able to budge away from his decision to change his mind. Mark was suddenly overlapping with curiosity and excitement, he wonders what tattoos do you make? And he wonders if your shop is nearby. When he looks back at that poster he checks the address and he realised the street; it’s in the same city he was in. Mark thought it’s destiny. What are the coincidences that the same shop he wants to find and get to is on the same area as the nightclub he was in right now?

Mark doesn’t believe in coincidences so that alone makes him a believer of fate, and fate alone. When the feet take steps forward now walking down the streets that are half empty filled with wind breeze and dusts of leaves panning over the roads, cars passing by especially taxis dropping off other people ready to go on the night out; it takes a long minute of Mark looking from each street to street determined in finding this tattoo shop.

It says the opening hours are until 3am. Mark has at least an hour to spare. He cannot be wasting any longer so Mark was quick on his feet running from direction to another space until,

The same building has appeared in front of him. The same exact place on the sheet of paper he found. Mark takes a quick glance from the paper to the real life building with the signs of neon green ‘NEO’S TATTOOS.’ And he found himself growing warm and excited. Mark drunk out of his mind now though and it seems like this made him even more delusional to think getting a tattoo whilst drunk was a brilliant idea.

“So this is the place?” Mark quips under the breath before reaching the palm on the doorknob opening the door. When entering a small ‘ring ring’ was heard by the bell clinking. It alerts a figure to walk in to greet him.

When the figure approached he looks slightly mesmerised by the young woman ahead of him. You look beautiful, which was a high compliment considering he doesn’t say it to anyone often.

Your eyebrows raise up at the man that looks like trouble and definitely smells like trouble; from one glance you can tell this man was absolutely steaming from head to toe, he was definitely drunk, it was very obvious in his eyes and how he lets them wander around your tattoo store. He saw the chairs, the tattoo sketches and designs hung up on the wall, as well as your equipment in the far back. It looks like you were about to close down but now that he’s arrived you look like you could use an extra customer for tonight. Because he’s not leaving until he gets a tattoo from you.

At this point it’s an addiction, a worse addiction than his love for alcohol. He’s obsessed with them.

You now spoke with a working smile. “What can i do for you? I was just about to close but i guess I can do a small tattoo if you’d want a quick one.” It could definitely help with the extra money so you’re thinking why not.

He comes forward as he sits down nodding. “Great, what do you usually draw? Can I see a sketch book if you have one?”

Your eyes turn to the back as you grab over a thick book full of your sketches and you hand it to him hoping he finds something he takes a liking to. You don’t have much time anyways so he’s going to have to be quick and snappy. Mark flips through pages checking the sketches meanwhile you’re here checking him out from head to toe, it’s not like you wanted to, but you can’t help but notice he has like four other tattoos already.

Mark wore a loose polo-sweatshirt over a white tee. The black hair loosely curled and messy it looks like the wind made it slightly more naturally lifted, it makes him look ten times more boyish in your opinion. The two ears were all pierced with earrings that dangle around it caught your eye the moment he stepped inside your store too, they shine and blind anyone that stares. Adding on the piercings he has, Mark happens to have a lip ring piercing on top of his lips. The right side was pierced and it made him even more attractive and unreal to you. What was happening to you? And who was this drunk guy wanting a tattoo from you?

It looks like he had quite a bit to drink too. It’s not a first time since you had a customer who came asking for a tattoo but it’s definitely a first time when that customer is drunk out of his brain.

But you can’t change that. You can’t even stop your customers if they want something because it’s up to them and their will alone.

Mark lifts his head up trailing as he was watching your sketch book with observant eyes, Mark has a sharp eye attention to detail and your work was truly remarkable. It captures certain emotions.

He looks at you now almost In admiration. “Your work is amazing. I must say I’m impressed with every one.” He then lifts the sketch book up and pints to the two wings that come along from two branch leaves. “But this one looks good. I want this one.” Mark said now as he treads his index finger on it pointing at the sketch picture.

Anyone could tell his words meant a lot to you because you gave him a humble smile but then you grab the sketch book looking at the tattoo. You wonder where he wants it tattooed now.

“Okay I can do this. Where do you want it tattooed?” Your question was heard when Mark laid down at the chair and gets himself comfortable while you grab your equipment. The ink pen was lifted and you push yourself on a red stool chair spinning yourself round to where Mark was laying on the salon chair.

He looks comfortable now on the salon chair and Mark looks over at you now that you got everything and your own tattoo table was prepared with the remaining ink and colours if he wanted any to the tattoo. It’s all up to him.

“I was thinking my neck?” Mark retorts back and you find yourself watching now the Adam’s apple and neck area of his. Your hands that are wearing gloves reach out to rub and feel it as you hum thinking.

You thought maybe it wasn’t a good idea but the tattoo would really compliment him if he had it there. You can’t help but think; Mark has a really good sense of position and where it can look the best. It’s something not many people who you tattooed for have. Mark has a strong sense of attention to detail you feel and you’re right.

“You have a keen eye. Okay I can do it but you’re going to have to be very still.” You warn now sternly and Mark can’t help but look away as you start to stick the sketch on his neck so you can copy the same picture on his skin with the following ink later on. The way you feel his neck tense up while you do this. It’s not even that you’re just too close up and Mark’s drunk mind was doing a lot more than just being patient to get the tattoo done.

Usually Mark was quiet. He doesn’t really speak or make any small conversations with other tattoo artists.

But he has the urge to start one now. Might be the alcohol making him want to speak or something. Or maybe he’s curious about you.

The store was rather quiet and because of the late hours it makes sense why it was so empty and isolated. It was just the two of you in a half dimly lit store with the tattoo artist so close to his neck sketching it with the running tattoo pen that’s now buzzing against his neck sending tiny electric vibrations through his body. It was a rather stingy pain but the pain was what made this all a running fun cycle for Mark, because it was something that he feels and Mark’s addicted to it.

In a way it was because of the process too. Mark just loves to see people be able to draw such a thing on human skin.

The quiet place grew even more dark but the dimly lit fairy lights made this store a little more appealing and refreshing. It felt like you’re so focused you couldn’t see Mark’s eyes on the side watching you. With the corner of his eye Mark saw your concentration mode on. The way your eyes were never blinking or batting an eye away. Your nose long and still, your eyebrows arched forward as you’re bend down over to the neck area tattooing with the ink gun sketching it out. It leaves you in your own thoughts and the man in front of you wonders what you’re thinking of? Silence is a fine tailor and it suits you perfectly because you’re a tailor threading every bit of ink on his beautiful soft neck.

It didn’t help because Mark wasn’t the only one that’s been stunned because he was checking you out. Not sure if it was because of how drunk he was but maybe also considering the closeness between you two.

His eyes were looking down at your cleavage. You wore this white tank top on which leaves certain parts of you exposed. And your beautiful hair tucked into a messy-ish bun. Your appearance was slightly rough but very artistic because you had tattoos yourself around your arm and fingers. They were small tattoos but Mark loved them on you.

He’s always loved tattoos on other people too. He wonders if there’s any meanings for you behind them?

“I notice you have tattoos, what’s the meaning behind them?” Mark now acquired to know because he wishes to get to know you some more and might as well right?

It’s just the two of you alone in your tattoo shop. And Mark was feeling like a chatter box. This might just be because he’s drunk or perhaps he’s curious about you and the silence was killing him.

Your eyebrows rose up as you heard the silence break between the two and you were not expecting him to go suddenly all asking questions on you. He looks like the silent type. Mark usually never really speaks during getting tattoos or anything like that but with you? Mark feels like he has to ask otherwise his curiosity will be killing him all night and he won’t be able to sleep afterwards.

You bring your face back up away from his neck. Your eyes meet his and you watch him waiting for your answer. Honestly you found your meaning to the tattoos not be as interesting to share so you always found it unnecessary to bring out their meaning. Afterall to you it’s just ink on your body and there wasn’t a whole deep thinking process behind it like Mark is thinking of.

In a way the meaning behind your tattoos it’s kinda silly.

“The one on my fingers is a tiny heart matching with my friend who has the other half of the heart.” When you reveal it Mark’s eyes light up. That was cute, you’re matching with a friend.

Mark found himself liking the idea honestly. He always wanted to match a tattoo with someone from his friends but no one wanted a tattoo and he’s the only guy who actually has a tattoos. Mark asked Yuta once but Yuta said he might do it. Though that’s been a year now and it looks like the idea left his friend’s mind.

Mark chuckles. “I’m jealous. I’ve always wanted to match tattoos with someone.” You smirk and raise an eyebrow. “How come you don’t match with anyone?”

Your eyes make eye contact as you ask. Mark trials softly in a slight sarcastic way. “Well I think it’s quite obvious but because none of my friends really like tattoos.”

‘Oh so he can be sarcastic too?’ You find his words to be amusing because they’re all out of a bantering gesture and so you don’t pay much mind to the words and just take it all in. You nod at him chuckling back now as your head leans forward to now tattoo the rest of it.

Your fingers brush along the tattoo bow and you feel like this was all coming along now definitely. The tattoo was done nearly but all you have to do is tidy the edges up and do more polishing, which won’t take a while. The tattoo is pretty simple and clean. And Mark looks amazing with it so far. Your eyes can’t help but shake the feeling that he gets more attractive.

Mark’s voice comes out now again, he asked another question. “So why did you become a tattoo artist?” And you suck in a little breath. He really likes to ask deep questions doesn’t he?

You completely dodge the question by countering it.

“Are you always this talkative with your other tattoo artists?” You point out as you’re trying to concentrate on finishing this up, you really don’t have much time until you gotta close down the shop and everything.

Mark was himself not knowing why he’s so talkative with you because usually he was the quiet type during the tattoo appointments and what not. In a way he doesn’t speak unless the other person was carrying the conversation.

Mark smirks a little. “Only with you actually.”

You scoff not believing that considering how many times he wants to speak to you. You finish the last moments of the tattoo and look back at the handsome man who sits up on the salon chair checking the mirror.

“You like it?” You ask when he’s watching the tattoo in the mirror as you’re trying to read his facial expression for a way to know if he likes the tattoo or if he doesn’t perhaps. You pray that he does because you cannot go back to fix it either.

Mark turns to you now as the mirror in his hand was dropping back down and the upside face he had on turns to a smile.

“Answer my question first and I’ll answer yours if i like it or not.” He now said and you find yourself becoming cornered.

Was he really that into the idea of getting to know you? Not as a tattoo artist only but as a person as well? You’re left here wondering why he’s so curious about you.

Mark’s eyes were deeply staring into you which never leave your face the moment he walked into the store anyways and he found himself completely mesmerised. You look boyish and rough out but he likes how it suits you and your alternative style almost.

He whispers in a taunting gaze on his face. “So what will it be darling?” Mark waits for your reply and you let out a little frown stepping forward closing your gap only a little. There was still a bit of space between the both of you from where he sat and where you stood in front of Mark.

“It’s fine you don’t have to tell me how you feel, i can just read your expression and know you like it very much. I don’t leave my customers unsatisfied anyways.” You now point out smartly but in a very arrogant speaking way and Mark smirks hearing your words. You never leave a customer unsatisfied?

“Well I’m a very unsatisfied customer right now.” He tells you with emphasis on the specific wordings now as he stares into your beautiful eyes.

Well he’s now going to push his luck with you that’s for sure. The flirty expression you’re giving him as him thinking you’re definitely now flirting and giving Mark an opening block to take.

“Oh? Why don’t you show me with what.” Your lips pucker into a little amused grin. “Perhaps I can help you out…”

And he did take the opportunity. He seized the opportunity when you said those words out of your loving mouth as his hands around your waist slither round like a fashionable belt.

Oh how good it felt to be pulled closer by the waist to the drunken stranger you just met and you’re now closing the space when you feel how hot his intoxicated breath feels on top of your nose and cheekbones. You find yourself imagining just how good it must be to kiss Mark and the boy read your mind because the next minute he leans down to capture a kiss together.

You found yourself groaning the minute he kissed you with his belting tongue.

The kiss was a mixture between two beverages; to Mark you’re like wine. You’re strong and you knew what you want from the get-go. And he’s like whiskey unpredictable and intense. Mark defeats your groans with his own as he kissed you with more tugging force than before as his palms on the sides of your face go reach to deepen the kiss making it much more steamy and aggressive.

Groans of your voice muffled as if they were buried by sand underneath it. Your lips gracefully touch between Mark’s sharp teeth grazing at the bottom lip he pulls on it which made you moan as your eyes squint forward.

Saliva connects the both of you which drove Mark over the edge and so did the boner between his pants very much so, he had that for over an hour with you. You’re just too attractive and the closeness earlier had him itching to get his hands on you.

Mark doesn’t usually sleep around with people but when he does it’s always a good time, it has to be someone he finds a connection with and you happen to be one of those very few people.

It wasn’t just because of your attractiveness but also because of how well your conversations bounce back. Mark knew you were a little stubborn because when he lifts you up to switch the position between you both your voice comes out as a groan and it seems like you were playing hard to get knowing your hands were teasing the hem of his boxers under the lower clothing.

“Take them off, darling.” Mark said demanding to you smirking as he feels your fingers play between the boxers now. You look up sheepishly.

You’re enjoying how needy this drunk man was, you can’t even remember if he said his name to you but you enjoy seeing his reactions to your difficult self and your teasing tactics. “What if i refuse?”

You saw how his expression falters into a scared one when you said that you’ll refuse to take off his clothing and he leans closer to kiss your neck, practically whining now.

“Please… Y/n… be good to me.”

‘Oh god he’s whining… that’s hot.’ You can’t help but fall for the idea even more, maybe it doesn’t hurt to continue a little bit more. You tell yourself this but you knew it’s risky. But you’re so tempted to take that risk and continue this. Even if you’re the sober one you’re so swayed by this man in front of you.

The moment you heard his pleading words, only directed to you, it makes your body act on its own and so your lips reconnect with Mark’s and your hands find themselves slipping off his shirt and then the oversized black cargos he wore. The boxers playfully rubbed by your fingertips around made Mark so peevish because you heard the querulous words that are nothing but needy whines to your ears telling you to take them off. Your eyes met his words coming out his mouth as you let your mouths connect into another hungry kiss while slipping your hand into his boxers to feel how harden his wood was and you’re left gasping when Mark grabs your hips and starts to work his way around your own clothing now. You feel your cheeks expand as the kiss goes on and on. Mark was an amazing kisser, you have to admit. He knows exactly how to get you going.

At once your nudity became a blessing to Mark as he feels himself growing even more greedy. Having you look so good and untouched by him was temptation in disguise. You feel your breasts fondled with roughly by a tight and firm squeeze from his hands. The lips around your neck marvel at your glowing skin. The simply stunning eyes of yours close and open at each pleasuring angle when he kissed you even lower than before.

“Please don’t keep me waiting.” You sigh into the air as your head flung back. You don’t want to wait as much as you wanted to anymore.

Your body was just growing to want him.

Mark stood with his furtive body when you said this and the playful eyebrows raise up at you enjoying how vocal you’re becoming. Now look where the table’s turned? You’re the one begging him now. He enjoys it much more than he thought he would so he runs along his hand by your silhouette until they met your hips and he slowly moves them around.

Twisting you around he saw you gandering your face in the behind direction where he stood now towering you leaving no space and your ass rubbing on his erected boner. Mark rubs them between your ass cheeks as his wispy groan reaches your ears. You bite your bottom lip. “Shit… please fuck me already.”

You’re lacking the patience. This man needs to be inside you or else you’re going to have a breakdown.

Mark smirks leaning closer with his nipping voice that cuts you open like scissors across light paper. “I think we should introduce ourselves before you say that don’t you think?”

He was right but now picking a time to introduce yourselves? He knew what he was doing he’s just making you wait a little longer.

Your face diminished and broke down in to a hefty storm. Mark purposely rubs his cock’s tip between your entrance to tease you while waiting for you to start. “Fine…My name is Y/n… what’s yours?” Your voice came off much short because he made your own sound of your voice to differ when the tip rubs the top of your ass.

“Mark… Mark Lee.” He whispers now and he’s satisfied. He gotta know who he is going to fuck after all and he wants you to know what name you’re going to scream all night.

Your leering eyes went down when a prod between your walls now sips on a long thick shaft deeply inside you. Your voice cuts off by a palm on top of your mouth and you’re muffling your sudden jolting voice because of how intensely he has you stretching. You’ve never been this surprised by how thick he was. Mark was making you wistfully begging to have more.

“Oh fuck… please Mark… just fuck my brains out.” You’re not able to calm the storm before anything else you’re just begging the guy you met in your tattoo storm a hour ago to fuck the shit out of you.

It’s so unlike your character, but Mark had you twisted.

He paced forward rutting the hips against your round beautifully shaped ass he couldn’t get enough of, heck, he was so obsessed with it especially when you’re forced into a behind position over the salon chair to get your back blown out by him. It was a sight that made his night more memorable even if he was slightly intoxicated he found himself becoming drunk off you now.

And the paces was so eager and quick your insides feel like you’re being roughly pushed through a moving platform in and out. It feels so good when his length kisses each of your sweet sensitive spots inside and then finds places you never knew someone could reach so deep inside you. It made you even closer because Mark had a hand under your stomach area holding you even closer than before, it’s like this man wants you to be a part of him at this point. He’s a wild animal, and he’s definitely treating you like one because he’s doing exactly as you told him to do: to fuck your brains out.

Colliding with the movements between your two asscheeks Mark follows his eyes down and slams his hands on your beautiful skin giving you spanks with each incoming shift his thrusts make. You feel yourself seeping out your moans and the tattoo store was echoing all your body parts slapping together. You feel him being so deeply inside you that your lower stomach with his hand on felt the imprinting cock in your guts and that your arms were folded forward in a weak lowering form over the salon chair. He keeps fucking you so hard you’re struggling to stand still. He made your legs so weak you found yourself only moaning out to the top of your lungs and Mark had you exactly how he wanted, a mess.

His eyes burned with lust watching over your expression seeing how your eyebrows were fluttering and your eyes were watering with how good and intense he was fucking you from behind, you’re bend over for a customer you just met for the first time and you feel so sheepishly embarrassed but at the same time; why was it such a turn on?

“Is this what you wanted on a Friday night?” Mark whispers dangerously on top of your earlobe as you find a shudder across your spine, Mark’s hands brush alongside your silhouette arching for him, bending for him and only him.

You feel your lips pucker out and the condescending tone Mark spoke with to you makes your stomach flutter. “You’re such a whore Y/n… I bet you’d fuck any of your customers if they got their hands on you.” He threads like a champ he was, because he had you wrapped around his finger.

“N-no… that’s not true.” You said embarrassed because it was definitely easy to tease you in this position and situation.

Mark laughs a little darkly behind and you feel the thrusts increase even more, he was literally ramming inside you and your voice cuts off with a jolting sound. Your body pressed so deeply on the salon chair you feel the metallic parts of the arms stand coldly pressing against your body full of heat.

“I don’t believe that.” He croaks out leaning down to press a kiss against your spine while the lower body of his was jabbing the pleasuring thrusts and the hand down at your stomach holding you moves even lower to touch on your clit.

The nub down below becomes easily swollen with how his fast two middle fingers press and flick it as he’s thrusting you. Your voice became even more loud now because the overstimulated hand on your clit was pleasuring you there but so was his hard cock deeply buried to kiss the top of your womb.

“Pretty whores listen to me, will you be good and do the same?” He now asked you while his hands was abusing your down regional and you grab the salon chair feeling so weak to the pleasure your mind went poof and became blank.

Your hips stutter and so did your legs that resemble jello and it makes Mark smirk. The sight of you pressed in her own store while getting her back blown out by a customer she met, it definitely was something he’s never going to let go off.

“Y-yeah… hhgh I can’t last like this Mark…” You nod your head frantically but the way you’re literally holding on to your last strand because the orgasm was reaching you so quickly.

You’re not going to last much, Mark knows it.

The hand speeds up the movements however, he wants you to finish and see you come undone to the too overlapping pleasures between your hole and your clit getting abused out by him. You firmly shut your eyes.

“Cum darling, you’ve been good so far.” Mark sternly said while he awaits you to reach your end. The world stops for you in that moment.

When he gave you the permission to come undone on his hand and cock at the same time, you found yourself ascending and your head hung low as your body pushed out your liquid down on the ground dripping. You’re soaking if anything. Mark had a proud wide grin on his face now and goes behind to kiss your droopy mouth panting. The lip ring touched your mouth as the kiss was sloppy from behind.

You moan when Mark pulls away from the kiss and his hand leaves your clit alone. Your own orgasm pushed him very close to his own high. He just needs to have a few more thrusts and Mark feels himself becoming done too.

It’s the way your body was making him feel so good too. It’s no doubt your bodies are compatible.

“Hmm… you’re a squirter? That’s so hot.” He jeers at you with both devastated degradation and flirtation behind that tone.

You roll your eyes back in the aftermath of the pleasure. This was probably your first time ever having this much of an orgasm. You don’t remember ever squirting before.

“Fuck…” You whisper under your breath when Mark pulls your hips forward and makes your body stand up straight again because you’re now becoming too weak to even make yourself stand up in this behind position, your orgasm had your legs turning into weak muscles.

Mark whispers now warningly. “Now let me cum yeah? Be good and let me pump you up full of my load.”

You feel your eyes igniting like big red flames at the idea. When Mark starts to thrust again your body starts to break down even more down to the pleasure.

It was all too much but you can tell from how deep he’s reaching you this man won’t be able to last very long. Your walls squeezing him around the shape we’re making it so hard.

Mark was pumping himself until he can feel his cock literally tremble to continue anymore. And you feel the salon chair shake with each rough patching movement against your body rocking it forwards.

The store lets the body slapping between your sweating bodies to continue as you’re in your own world together. Mark had you pulling up against him as he lets your breasts flow with the rough movements of rocking you forward until he has his own orgasm itching at the door.

You feel your heart pace up when you heard Mark groan softly against your back. “Fuck fuck fuck…” and you just knew he was so close now, because his voice felt like a mixture of a whine and a groan.

The silky velvet walls of yours had him begging to pump you full of his cum and have you dripping out only of him. To have you ooze only him out and that’s exactly what he wants.

He wants you full and stuffed of him.

“So… so close, Y/n… fuck…” Mark’s whiny whispers were caught off at the end a little as he takes a deep breath in and within the same moment he kept up the thrusts.

Even if it was so difficult to continue to stimulate himself until he’s reaching his end, Mark finds himself addicted to the way your womb welcomes him. It feels so good, so much he couldn’t shake the feeling of it away.

Mark jerks forward and then suddenly a cry out was heard with Mark burying his head between your nape and shoulder area, he squeezed himself around your walls so deep you feel the load practically injected inside you. You let out a soft groan at the feeling that you’re being held so tight as Mark slips himself inside you even more to fuck a little bit of his own cum in you to ensure it won’t all fall out.

You feel like your body was melting when Mark huffs out a few burning words from his lips. You find yourself stuck with this man all night…

You wonder if he’s going to remember anything in the morning. Or if he won’t?

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The next morning Mark woke up in his bed completely wrecked and exhausted. Unaware of what’s happened last night it’s like deja vu to him.

Whenever he drinks alcohol he cannot remember a single freaking thing and Mark was in the cycle where he’s telling himself off for drinking way too much.

“I should really stop with the alcohol…” Mark equips with disappointment in his voice, he really should stop.

Walking across the room he was shirtless wearing only grey sweatpants and he slowly moves out of his room to see his roommate Donghyuck already up in the kitchen.

They lived together for nearly a year now. Donghyuck was a year younger than Mark but they’re pretty close now.

Although sometimes they fight, they both really feel like they’re close like brothers. Mark with his tired expression and groggy eyes opens the fridge and yawns into his hand.

“You’re up?” Donghyuck smirks as he saw how hungover his friend was, god he always looks like a mess when he goes out with Johnny and Yuta.

Mark hums grabbing the bottle of milk and pours himself a glass. “God you look like shit.” Donghyuck said now with a little laugh.

The boy wanted to roll his eyes and say how nice of you but instead Mark just drank the glass of milk to neutralise hopefully his stomach otherwise he will be having a hard day ahead.

Hungovers are so bad. He just wished he didn’t drink so much last night but he’s always like this. Mark has no self control at all.

What’s worse?

Mark can’t even remember what happened at all last night. He’s just a blank canvas now. Everytime he drinks Mark couldn’t remember anything even if he tried to remember and make himself forced to see what happened last night he just can’t.

So not only was he left feeling utterly crap. Mark was also having a hard time what happened.

“I’m never drinking again.” Mark said with a sigh out once he finally finished drinking the glass of milk. He puts it down in the sink and Donghyuck knows Mark won’t keep to those words.

He wants to tell Mark he needs to stop lying to himself but he doesn’t say anything because his eyes caught on Mark’s neck something.

Donghyuck comes a closer to Mark now with squinting eyes. He recognised something different about him. “Hey Mark did you get a new tattoo last night?”

“What? No…” Mark said with a soft rejection because he certainly doesn’t remember getting one. He slowly moves to his room opening the closet to look in a mirror and when he saw that Donghyuck was actually right…

His eyes widen and he runs his hands over the tattoo that stings a little at the same time, he wonders when did he get this tattoo?

The tattoo was beautiful and it was delicately done. It was two wings crossing together and Mark wonders if he got this done when he was absolutely hammered because if that’s the case, Mark feels so dumb. He can’t even remember the night or anything like that.

Mark whispers in disbelief. “Since when did i get this tattoo?”

He’s a little determined to know who did this work, but he cannot remember anything, the next thing he knew he saw his phone buzz open with messages from late night.

One that came from the contact name: The Tattoo Artist.

The Tattoo Artist: Hey Mark had fun last night. I hope you like your tattoo and you can come by round the shop sometime! :) -Y/n

One thing he knows for sure, he had your number and he now knows your name which rings a bell to him. It’s like his body remembers you but his brain cannot. It’s like he knows you guys did something more than just a tattoo because the text messages says it all.

Mark is definitely meeting you again, to get a new tattoo, or to end up drunk at your store again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! Reblog this fic and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out. <3

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aphroditestempleimagines · 6 months

Text

That fool

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Reader - 18+

Words: 3943

Warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk reader, Geto is a teddy bear gojo is the mean one change my mind, sex (i promise geto is NOT a dick), fingering, bit of oral sex (fem!receiving), LOTS OF ANGST, name calling (princess) but just a bit

Summary: Your engagement to the heir to the Gojo clan has been arranged since you were young. Yet you can't help but realize that Satoru himself does not seem to care, neither about duty nor about you. As you try to drown your sorrow, you bump into your old, now criminal, friend.

Colour: Hot, Forbidden and very angsty

His love series - part 1

Author's note: idk why i wrote this when i'm a gojo simp, i'm in class and i'm bored. Also I'm gonna attempt a mixed pov.

"Is that what you wanted to discuss with me?", the man asked.

"You must understand", Geto responded, "It is the only way to truly eradicate evil from this world"

"It is aggressive and extreme and I will not be a part of it"

The man stood up. The short glass of whiskey fell down as he bumped the table.

"You yourself stood up against the monkey who hurt your son", Geto maintained his calm composure despite the man's reaction to his proposition.

"That was...different", the man uttered behind his teeth.

Geto smiled at the guy's clenched fists. He picked himself up and threw his arm over the man's shoulder. "All I'm saying is", he said firmly, "We keep losing our people to protect a lesser species who is, not just not thankful, but oppressive and prejudiced against us". He leaned in, anger brimming from his eyes. "How is that fair?"

The man lowered his head. Geto raised his gaze for just a second, out of habit. His eyes fell on your figure, lone and ridden with sadness, as you sat at the bar at the other end of the room. His first instinct was to run away; he would have, if you had not raised your hand to order another drink, directly from the young bartender. He leaned back to his potential associate, giving him a warm smile.

"You don't have to decide right away", he told him, "As long as we both keep this meeting confidential you can think on your answer for however long you'd like"

The man's fingers had not stopped fidgeting until Geto gave that small reasurement. A smile of relief adorned his face, yet some stress still remained in his eyes as he nodded and stumbled out of the establishment.

Geto focused his sights on you; your reddened eyes, your slumped form, your unquenchable thirst for liquor. Normally, he would not dream of talking to you again, not after he left Jujutsu High. He had to put everything behind him to move on with his goal. And though he remembered that fateful day he ran away from the crudity of the sorcerers' world as one of the brightest in his life, the thought of your tears and the memory of Gojo's calls were a constant anguish to him even to this day. And there they were, those tears he had feared, even though unspilled they remained so evident behind your tired eyes.

He approached. His legs brought him to you faster than his mind could object. His heart thanked them for it, but still broke a little at the sight of your startled face.

"Fancy meeting you here princess", he pretended to smile. It was quite easy since a part of him rejoiced at the reunion, even though in such saddening circumstances.

"What...ar you doin 'ere?", you slurred your words. You had not realized how heavy your head was until you tried to lift it up. You clutched your forehead. Your heart tightened. The stool was falling backwards. Your hands reached for the counter but it was no use; you could not reach it anymore. Your back hit something hard but it was not the floor. Geto's hands were on your arms as your head rested on his kimono-clothed chest.

"I think you've had enough", he said.

"Let me go!", you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, forgetting for a second that he was the only pillar keeping you from falling. Fortunately, his hold was quite strong. He released you only after he restored the stool to its proper position.

Geto's gaze scanned the room; it was full of them monkeys. He often said there were two kinds of them: money-collecting monkeys and curse-collecting monkeys. But when faced with a lonely drunken soul there came a third kind, the most vile of them all.

"That's it", he said as the hungry gazes collected on your form, "I'm taking you home. Where do you live?"

"I'm not telling you where I live, Geto"

"Is it still at the apartment in Shinjuku?"

Your face turned red. You had gotten that house during the last year of school so it would be quicker to attend emergencies in Tokyo. He and everyone else had helped you move in and you had not moved out since then. "y...yes", you whispered.

Geto was quick to guide your hand around his waist, throwing his around your form. "Just grab on to me", he said plainly, almost in annoyance, "Tell me if you can't walk anymore".

"I can do this by myself", you objected.

"You don't have to", he said, his gaze focused on the darkness surrounding you.

You did not speak as you walked, nor did you speak as you boarded the train from Roppongi Station. He held you close as you walked through the crowded tunnels to change lines in Shinjuku. His outdated attire did not draw nearly as much attention as your hazed gaze and reddened cheeks. You covered your face with your hand and buried your nose in Geto's robes.

"We're almost there", his grip tightened reassuringly around you.

You finally reached your apartment building. Your hands fumbled around inside your purse until they gripped the keys. He helped you open the lock and soon you were in the safety and comfort of your home. Geto stood at the doorway, not moving a step in as you took out your shoes and fell onto the couch. Everything was exactly the same as it was back then. Apart from a few minor items that were replaced after the times wore them down, nothing else had changed. He had not been there since that year. That year that had been the worst of his life. He could still remember Haibara helping out to set up the table, just as he could recall your beautiful smile as you and Shoko chatted while hanging all of the paintings that decorated the walls. Both images made his heart ache. He had not felt any remorse about his decision in years, yet there he was, being pulled in two different directions like he was in those days. And all it took, was one visit.

"Why are you just standing there?", your voice disperced his thoughts. You were rubbing your eyes with your hand. "Just come in", you told him.

He almost did not. He almost ran away back to the temple he had sought refuge in. Perhaps he should have. You were safe now. The only danger to you was he himself. Yet his curiosity won him over. He took off his sandals and went to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water, and him a bottle of sake. He sat on the couch next to you as you gratefully gulped down the refreshment you craved. You left the glass on the table and fell back on the pillows of the couch. He was overcome with the temptation - no, the need - to caress your heavy head as your messy locks fell upon your face. It took all his restraint not to.

"I can't do this anymore", you said. He had not asked a question, but he guessed you were drunk enough to wallow in your own pity.

"Exorcising?", he asked.

"No", you responded, "I know you probably wanted a different answer but...it's what I know how to do. So I'll do it"

Those words poured blood in Geto's clenched fists. That was exactly what Haibara used to say. He knew Gojo was far too strong, and perhaps even far too selfish, to share the same fate as he. But you? You, Shoko, Nanami were among the people he wanted to protect from the foolishness of the life as a jujutsu sorcerer.

"I never thought I would want him to love me. I know he never will", you continued murmuring.

You did not have to explain. This was about Gojo. Ever since High School he knew the two of you were arranged by his clan to be married one day. Gojo took no interest in the idea back then. He thought himself far too young for it. But after all these years was he continuing the same immaturity?

He could not be mad at him. He would never truly be mad at Gojo. He often wondered if he was ever mad at him but the opposite was never going to be true. And yet your tears felt as if they were his own. Your broken heart crumbled onto his hands and he fully knew that if he was the one to hold it initially he would not had dared cause such damage.

"I know at the end of the day it does not matter", you said, "But...it feels like...he's fine by himself. I can never stand at his side and neither would he ever want me to. And I just feel so...alone"

Geto knew that feeling well. He poured himself another glass of sake and gobbled it down.

"No one would care if I disappeared"

"I would", Geto stated. The words slipped his mouth. He looked at you. You had lifted your gaze. It fell troubled onto his face. He cupped your cheek and leaned towards you. His thumb brushed away your tears. "I would", he said again with even more determination. If he could not take the words back he would make sure you understood them. He would make sure you never felt the way he did back then.

You grabbed his kimono and pulled him in for a kiss. It was sloppy and desperate but at the same time everything you needed. He hesitated to put his hand on your waist, but he was already reciprocating the kiss. He felt your tears wet his calloused hand and he knew he was nothing more than a replacement. He did not know what you were to him exactly, what you were definitely seared onto his heart. And as he devoured your cherry lips he got even more drunk on the nectar of your kiss; he would have never guessed he could have such an alternative to the curses he forced himself to swallow.

"You're not thinking straight", he breathed against your face as you climbed on top of him.

"I know", you responded, "I simply don't care"

He held you close and kissed you again. His hands traveled up and down your form. The last notes of your perfume enveloped him. He thought of your smile, one of the few things that gave him true joy during his dark days. You both loved Satoru but Satoru was determined to prove he was better off alone. Would he hurt him if he slept with you? A part of him wanted to, wanted to get revenge for staying true to the jujutsu world, for making you cry, for everything. And a part of him could not. But he could not push you away either. He could not be the cause of more tears. He could not be the reason you did not find your smile again. And most of all, he could not cool down the feverish heat that overwhelmed him as your body pressed against his.

"Suguru...", you murmured above his lips.

That was it. He could not take it anymore. He flipped your bodies so that your back hit the couch cushions. He nibbled your neck as his hand hiked up your black dress until it was scrunched over your hips. His thumb pressed on your bud over your panties and traced small rough circles. He tried to pull the neckline of your dress down but he just could not stretch it down enough. In a swift move, he reached for the hem around your waist, pulled the dress over your head and threw it on the floor.

Your body trembled at the sudden chill. You reached for his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss, your hands undoing his long black hair. His locks fell on the sides like a curtain.

He was kissing your chest. His fingers pulled your underwear to the side and glided over your clit. Your hands got tangled in his hair as he pressed one of them past your lower lips.

"Always the idiot", Geto murmured as he kissed you between your breasts, "He'll never change".

Your body trembled as he dexterously thrusted his digits inside you. Your hands blindly searched for the tie of his belt. Geto used his free hand to pull open his robes until he could shake them off his shoulders and let them hang from his waist. You traced the faded scar on his firm chest. He placed his hand over yours and brought your palm to his lips for a gentle kiss. He kept your hand close to his cheek, relishing its touch with closed eyes.

"Don't ever say things like that about yourself again", he said firmly, "You're the best our world has to offer"

A few tears escaped your eyes. Geto noticed and kissed them away before adding a peck on the bridge of your nose. He moved his fingers more meticulously as you climbed in ecstasy. Your heaving breath exploded against his face, his eyes blazingly observing your heated expression. The spring of the coil was being twisted more and more by the minute. He gave you a quick kiss, hiked your leg over his bare shoulder and pressed his mouth against your clit. You moaned his name out loud before you came on his fingers. A subtle smile formed on your lips, pure and simple. Suguru could relish that smile for all eternity.

He climbed back up until he towered over your body. Your arms wrapped around his torso as he kissed you deeply. You were so beautiful; even more than he could remember.

"Suguru", your name left his lips again.

"I never realised how much I missed hearing you say my name"

Your hands reached for his belt again. "I want you"

"Not as much as I do", he aided you in undoing it. He threw his robes next to your dress. He gave you small kisses as his dressed length pressed on your entrance. "Tell me if it hurts".

You fisted his hair as he entered you. You did not stop him until he had bottomed out. He continued kissing you reassuringly, one hand massaging your tailbone, the other holding your leg around his hips. He was kissing your neck now, waiting for you to catch your breath.

"Don't be nice to me", you told him, "I don't want you to be nice to me"

He laughed. "Yes, you do", he lightly nipped at your collarbone, "And you always get what you want"

Soon the room was filled with your sounds of pleasure as Suguru's hips met yours in a passionate dance, tuned to an intoxicated melody. His cheeks had grown hot; yours had too.

"You're so beautiful", he breathed. There was a battle going on in his mind. He had loved a lot of people. He kept a list in his mind of those he wanted to protect, those he wanted for sure to be in his new world. You, Gojo, Nanami, Shoko...He loved all of them equally; or almost. You and Gojo were always a little higher on the ranks. But this? This was a new you he was seeing for the very first time and he was intoxicated. All the have-nots and could have been in his head were suddenly turning into a plausible reality. If only he could keep you with him. If only he could have you by his side, every day he woke up. He had chosen to leave so he would not burden any of his friends with the cruelty of his mission, but the prospect of the happiness he would gain by just gazing upon your face every day was too tempting to pass.

Yet there was another thought trying to force its way into his mind. 'If I could become Satoru Gojo for a moment, the dream would be achievable'. He was hurting him by being with you. He had taken one of the many things bestowed upon that man that he ungratefully scorned. And as much as it pained him to cause Gojo anguish, a part of him thought of it as well-deserved for his foolishness. Maybe he would finally mature and appreciate everything he had been given.

"Suguru!", your moan pulled him back into reality.

He held your sweated cheek. "Come for me, princess", he said and lowered his voice and lips close to your ear, "If you want to use your legs tomorrow that is"

Your hands gripped his hair again. Your walls clenched around his length. He grunted as he felt them squeeze him. "Two can play this game, princess", his hand rubbed fiercely on your bud.

Your breathing turned irregular. Your vision turned hazy. All there was was him and nothing else. Your thoughts were overcome with the knot in your stomach, threatening to break any minute.

Your head fell back as you came with a loud moan of his name. He followed soon after. You could feel his tired breath explode on the skin of your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder. You brushed his hair with your fingers. He planted soft kisses under your hairline. He sat up for a moment to put on his boxers, burning the condom into nothingness with a spell. He pulled your tired body against his as he lay on the couch, his arms wrapping around you.

"Y/n", he called your name softly.

"Hm?", your ear was pressed on his bare chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

He cupped your cheek to guide your gaze to him. He wore a genuine smile for the first time in years as he caressed your face. You could not help but return it. He planted a kiss on your forehead, his hand diving under your locks.

"No one deserves your tears", his low voice whispered next to your ear, "But if you have to spill them, let them be mine"

He picked up his robe and threw it over your bodies like a blanket as you drifted off to sleep.

*****************************************************************************

When morning came, Geto woke up alone. Y/n's warmth still lingered over his body as he blindly searched for her with his sleepy eyes. His ears finally focused on the sound of running water. He smiled. They had not taken a shower last night so it was only logical she would do it first thing in the morning. He sat up on the couch, pulling his robe properly around his body. His gaze ran around the small apartment. Memories of your life were carefully placed all over the walls, the counters, the tables. He walked up to a dresser at the back of the room, probably storing all the linen needed in the living room-dining room fusion. Two photographs were placed on it; one with your class and Nanami's class, happily drinking together at Shoko's birthday party. The other one was with you and Gojo; smiles much subtler as you posed for an engagement picture.

Gojo's glasses were different than the ones Geto remembered. It must have been a more recent picture. He smiled as he admired your beautiful face, all dolled up for the photo. Then his eyes fell on Satoru again. His face turned serious. He missed him, that was sure. But he had grown accustomed to hating him, knowing he was probably hated back. He had grown accustomed to blaming him, knowing he was being blamed back.

He looked more carefully at his glasses. He could just see the shiny blue of his eyes underneath. His own eyes opened wide. Gojo's gaze was on you. The smile he wore was not fake at all; Geto would have recognized it. It was clear as day he had feelings for you. Yet you were not lying about your broken heart either. His eyes watered. He had thought he would be happy hurting Gojo's pride, but his heart was too much. He left the picture on the dresser and walked to your bedroom. He knocked on the door. Your voice called him in. One look at you and he lost all the words he wanted to say. He wanted to stay with you. But doing that would hurt Gojo. And if he chose to leave and spare Gojo from further pain, he would strike your heart at a moment when it was already bleeding.

"Last night", you drew his attention, "It was a mistake"

Those words were a knife through his chest. You kept your back turned on him as you lazily dried your hair with a towel.

"I wasn't thinking straight"

"You said you didn't care"

"I was wrong", you told him.

Suguru walked towards you. "You were not. I...I missed you"

"Don't lie to me. You just wanted to get back at Gojo for once", you spat. You cursed your lips the moment the words left your mouth. Suguru remained silent. "You won't even deny it?", you asked, "Geto"

"Suguru", he corrected. You sat there in silece for a moment. "Y/n", he finally spoke, "Look at me"

You shook your head.

"Please", he said again, "Look at me"

You slowly turned to face him. He had known he had guessed it right. The tears were back to flowing from your eyes, and this time he was the cause. He had made the wrong choice. All he had wanted was to bring you to smile.

"What brought this on?", he asked calmly.

His face was as it had been in your school days; calm, composed...kind. You could not help but answer him, even though it would be an unpleasant thing to do so. You reached for the small radio next to your bed and turned it back on to the station you had been listening to. You waited for a while before the newsman returned after the break and continued with more details on the newest strange mass attack on humans that took place in Tokyo the night before.

"That was your friends, right?", you said, your lips trembling even though you knew the answer.

"Yes", he said, "There was a cult forming with knowledge of our kind. I had to eliminate them"

"Do you hear yourself?", you cried as you shot up on your feet, "What did these people even do?"

"It's not what they did, it's what they most likely would have done"

"Get out", you spat. Your voice cracked as you repeated those words again and again.

Suguru did not move. "I will", he said, "But I want you to know, I've never said a single lie to you. And I never will"

You were covering your face with your hands as you cried and so you neither heard nor saw him approach. You startled as he placed a soft kiss on your head.

"I'm sorry", he whispered, "It was never my intention to cause you pain".

"That hardly matters"

"I know", he said. "I know", he repeated it one more time as he touched his forehead to yours.

He turned to leave but stopped right before your door. "If you see Satoru", he said, "Slap him for me. Then kiss him for you".

"What?"

"He's so immature, you need to slap him back to his senses. Or he'll be too late again"

And with that, Suguru returned to the shadows of Tokyo, far away from the light he had found in the small apartment with you.

#geto suguru #suguru geto #geto x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #getou suguru x reader #jjk suguru #jjk angst #geto #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru x you #suguru geto x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru smut #suguru geto smut

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ozai-the-bonsai · 14 days

Text

Cry for the Moon

Pairing: Zuko x firebender!reader

Warnings: none

A/N: I did end up writing more, thus we get to see our fav boy Zuko in the upcoming chapter - but I quite enjoyed writing this one and digging deeper into the internal struggles of the reader! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did writing it ^.^

Taglist: @annonymatic @yoongiesstar @lost-inthe-v0id @lokigodofmyheart @4l3x1s @potato87123 @asciendo @angelruinz @unamused-boss @junieshohoho @yourlivewire @itszzmoon @coolgirl458 @vyliie

Mai’s raven hair was, just as you had last seen her, partly in two small buns and the rest fell on her shoulders. The dark, sleeveless jacket seemed to be a new one but other than that, her maroon clothing and black, fingerless gloves were the same as always.

As soon as your amber eyes found the slim figure of Mai, an uneasy feeling appeared in your stomach. Even the mere sight of her made you uncomfortable for every time you laid your eyes on her, the fact that you were never going to get your former best friend back hit you like a wall of bricks.

Even after Zuko’s banishment, or after you got together with Shuzi, the raven-haired girl insisted on keeping her distance from you. Not that you would easily forgive her, of course, but you found her stubbornness childish from time to time.

[Flashback]

You found Mai sitting on her swing at the backyard of her parents’ house, moving back and forth ever so slowly. The dull expression on her face became duller, as if it was possible in the first place. You felt the heaviness on your heart growing.

“Mai, I know there is something bothering you.” You said as you approached her carefully, you were afraid she would run away just like a cat. “Please, talk to me.”

Mai shook her head. “No, I don’t want to.” She said, it was obvious that she was trying to hide the sorrow away, but she was so heartbroken that made it almost impossible. “I cannot stand looking at you anymore!”

You felt tears rushing to your eyes, but you quickly sent them back. “Why? What have I done to you?” You asked as you sat next to her on the swing. “Mai, you are my best friend. I don’t want to lose you.”

“It just hurts too much,” she muttered while kicking the stones on the ground. “Seeing you and him together all the time.”

She was talking about Zuko.

“Mai, I…” Honestly, you didn’t know what to say. You were aware of Mai’s obvious crush on Zuko for years, but everyone knew that it was decided long, long ago that you were going to be his future wife. “You know that our parents have decided that when we were just babies.”

Suddenly, Mai stood up from the swing with a furious aura surrounding her. “I love him, okay? I should be the one with him! You… You are just acting that way because of this stupid arranged marriage!”

For the first time in your thirteen years of life, you heard Mai screaming.

You swallowed for a few times to destroy the lump in your throat, you were on the verge of breaking down. “What makes you believe that I don’t love him?” You asked with a low voice, trying to keep your emotions under control.

Mai let out a scornful laughter. “Ah, please. Zuko - he is a fool for you, but you are simply with him for the sake of duty and power. It is obvious.”

Slowly, you felt sorrow turning into fury as you stood up from the swing. “You are wrong.” You said with a cold tone. “I do love him. And if you had been really my best friend, you would have known that. You would have seen that.” As you shook your head, you turned back to leave Mai all alone. “As it turns out, you were only acting to be my friend. Out of duty.”

[Flashback ends]

Mai didn’t even look at you as she put her hands together and bowed slightly towards Azula. “Please tell me you are here to kill me.” She spoke with her usual, dull, emotionless tone. Then, she looked up at Azula with a slight smile on her lips.

Azula placed her hands on Mai’s shoulders as she giggled. “It is great to see you, Mai.”

Ty Lee rushed forwards to give Mai a big hug, ignoring the fact that Mai was not a fan of hugs. The gloomy girl gave Ty Lee an uncomfortable pat on the back. “I thought you ran off and joined the circus.” Mai said as she stepped back from the hug. “You said it was your calling.”

“Well, Azula called a little louder.” Ty Lee said, hiding the sarcasm in her tone skilfully, only you knew what she really meant by that. Once again, you found yourself feeling sorry for the poor girl – she only wanted to follow her passion.

Slowly, Mai turned her head to meet your amber eyes. “Hey,” she said with a small nod, her voice lacked even the tiniest bit of emotion.

You, too, had put on your resting bitch face. “Hey.”

Azula rolled her eyes in an exaggerated way. “Oh, come on! It has been three damn years.” The Princess turned her gaze to Mai, pointing at you with her right index finger. “She has been dating someone else for the last six month and none of you have seen my fool of a brother in over three years!” Azula took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. “Just leave that childish drama behind you already!”

Well, I kind of saw him a few days ago … which caused weird feelings and thoughts to arise …

Before you or Mai could say anything, Ty Lee spoke. “Well, technically, the arranged marriage is still on – as long as Zuko comes back with the Avatar, right?”

You let out a scornful laughter. “Ah, please, as if he stands any chance now that we are on the hunt as well.”

Azula looked at you with a smirk on her lips. “That’s my girl.” You winked at the Princess, who turned her gaze to Mai once again. “I have a mission and I need you all.” She said as she laid her right hand on your shoulder, her eyes wandering between all three of you.

“Count me in.” Mai spoke with an annoyed expression on her face. “Anything to get me out of this place.”

[Time Skip]

You shielded your amber eyes from the sun as you approached the three figures standing on the other side of the road. Two of them, who were standing on the sides, were wearing blue clothing that resembled those from the Watertribes.

The boy on the left was holding a baby, probably Mai’s brother, and had his hair in a stylish ponytail. To the right stood the girl with hair loopies and a water bag. The boy in the middle was, unlike the other two, in yellow-orange clothing with an orange hat-like piece on his head. You raised an eyebrow to yourself upon seeing that he was carrying a staff.

As she was the one responsible to carry out the trade, Mai stood forth and the rest of you waited behind her. Meanwhile, a crane was lowering the metal cage that held King Bumi of Omashu as hostage.

Quickly, you eyed Azula up – you were sure she had another motive behind this trade. A baby for a king, eh? I don’t believe this is something Azula would approve of.

“You brought my brother?” Mai asked. The boy with the staff nodded as he pointed to his left, showing the baby.

“He is here.” The boy said. “We are ready to trade.”

Just as you expected, Azula interrupted. You couldn’t help but smirk. “I am sorry, but a thought just occurred to me.” Azula spoke so naturally, it was impossible to point it out as perfect acting if one didn’t know Azula good enough. “Do you mind?”

Mai turned to Azula. “Of course not, Princess Azula.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Azula was weighing down some options. “We are trading a two-year-old for a king,” she said at the end as she looked up at the King of Omashu with an arched brow. “A powerful, earthbending king?”

The King himself nodded.

Azula’s eyes wandered between you, Ty Lee and Mai. “It just doesn’t seem like a fair trade, does it?”

You kept your chuckling to a minimum to avoid being heard, you had known that exactly this was going to happen. Knowing Azula good enough, it was to await that she would have an ulterior motive in taking the matters in Omashu – or rather New Ozai as the Princess had recently renamed the city – in her own hands.

It was Mai’s call now, she had to decide between family and duty.

“You are right,” Mai said with a voice that lacked even the slightest bit of emotion, even towards her own little brother. Well, one could clearly see that her brother was – at least for now – in good hands since the boy in blue clothing did his best to keep the baby safe and comfortable.

She probably wants to carry out Azula’s part of the plan first.

“The deal’s off!” Mai announced and held up her hand, gesturing the guards to pull the King back up.

However, no one – and especially you – wasn’t expecting the boy in the middle with yellow clothing to start using his glider to fly behind the King. Without even thinking about it, you reacted the same way as Azula and you both sent flames in his direction to block his path. The boy dodged the flames by leaping high into the air.

Did he just… Airbend?

As the boy used his glider with airbending, he lost his hat, leaving his arrow tattoo exposed. You and Azula gasped at the same time. “The Avatar!” You both said simultaneously.

A smug smile formed on Azula’s lips. “My lucky day,” she muttered more to herself, then she called out your name. “Follow me!”

[Time Skip]

The attempt to capture the Avatar in Omashu had, unfortunately, been unsuccessful – but it was something to expect considering that none of you were prepared to face the Last Airbender and a King that could earthbend simply with his face.

As the royal palanquin was being carried out the city; you, Mai and Ty Lee walked besides. You felt yourself sailing from one thought to another, dangerously close to getting lost in the vast ocean that is your mind. Chasing the Avatar made you realise something: you had never thought about how it would make you feel while helping Azula capture the world’s last hope.

You had complicated feelings and thoughts considering the war, the Fire Lord and the Avatar. It was for a fact that you despised Fire Lord Ozai after everything he had done to Zuko and Azula, you held him directly responsible for Azula’s corruption.

Of course, there had been a big Ursa factor as well, but that was a whole different topic.

Even though you were loyal to your nation until the very end, you didn’t really want to see Fire Lord Ozai becoming the supreme ruler over the Four Nations. He was a horrible man, he lacked even the slightest bit of empathy and compassion. A man who was incapable of loving his own children should be, under no circumstances, given such great power over all of humanity and its destiny.

But then, there was Azula.

You had mastered the skill of detaching your emotions from your actions when it came to her, which enabled you to carry out tasks which would otherwise burden you when awake, asleep and even dead. Your loyalty, compassion, and love towards Azula was stronger than everything you had known – well, except for the love you had felt for Zuko, but that was long gone.

You knew you needed more time to reflect upon this dissonance you were experiencing but you believed that standing with Azula was more valuable than anything you could think of at that moment. All these years, you had put in so much effort, time, and tenderness into your relationship with her – even the mere thought of doing the slightest thing to shake her trust brought you on the verge of a break down.

“So, we are tracking down your brother and Uncle, huh?” Mai asked, which caused you to come back to the present moment. You shook yourself.

Ty Lee giggled. “It will be interesting seeing Zuko again,” she spoke teasingly, “won’t it, Mai?”

At first, you kind of waited Ty Lee to divert the same question to you and correct herself but quickly, you remembered that you had been together with Shuzi for over half a year. Whether you would see Zuko again or not didn’t really matter anymore, despite the arranged marriage still not being called off.

“It is not just Zuko and Iroh anymore,” Azula spoke with a serious tone. “We have a third target now. The Avatar.”

You felt knots in your stomach.

As you headed towards the ship to spend the night and plan the rest of your mission, Azula explained Mai and Ty Lee why she decided to leave the royal guards and the navy ship behind. The main problem was to find a means of transportation that was fast, could go over any kinds of terrain without having the need to find a road and was strong enough to overcome any bending.

“What about using a tank train?” You suggested, earning an intrigued look from Azula, who was still sitting in the royal palanquin. “I am sure the army can spare one of them for the Princess’ mission.”

Azula made an approving sound. “That is actually brilliant,” she muttered, more to herself. “They are designed to travel at high speeds over most terrain without the use of tracks, but they can still accommodate many people – we can take some servants with us to run the errands.”

Ty Lee seemed a little bit uncomfortable. “I don’t want to be stuck in a metal machine for days – I need sunlight!” She was playing anxiously with her braid.

“I wouldn’t mind not having to see the sun for a while,” Mai muttered, not much to your surprise. “I don’t like the way it disturbs my eyes.”

“You would rather live in a black hole for the rest of your life.” Ty Lee rolled her eyes at Mai, causing her to shoot an angry glance. You bit the inside of your cheek not to laugh – Ty Lee was more than right in her statement. If you gave Mai a bucket of never-ending black paint and a brush that could be extended as much as one needed, she wouldn’t rest until she painted the whole sky black – setting aside the fact that such a thing is impossible to carry out.

The Princess heaved a sigh. “You can jump onto the roof to do your sunbathing, Ty Lee, as long as the insects flying at your face do not disturb you.” Ty Lee grimaced upon hearing Azula’s words. “And Mai, you are free to lock yourself up in a dungeon, as long as you are there to fight whenever I need you to.”

This time, you couldn’t hold back your laugh. Azula raised an eyebrow as she looked at you, whereas Mai and Ty Lee carried annoyed expressions.

“Do you also have a specific request?” Azula asked you. “And no, you are not allowed to bring your dog to our mission.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “For the last time, Azula, he is not a dog – I am not putting anyone on a leash.” Upon hearing Mai mutter something under her breath, you shot her a warning look and turned back to Azula. “And no, I am completely fine, as long as you leave those two sisters back on the ship.”

It was no secret that you despised Lo and Li, your hatred towards the sisters seemed to both amuse and entertain Azula every time. The Princess let out a small laughter.

[Time Skip]

The whole ship was asleep as you sat on the front porch, watching the night sky while the cool wind played with your hair, which wasn’t in the top not anymore. It was cool outside; you shivered and wrapped your arms tighter around your body – the red gown wasn’t thick enough to keep you warm. Heaving a sigh, you used your breath of fire to get rid of the shivering.

Ever since you had agreed to help Azula on her mission, you found yourself carrying out inner battles more often than usual. They used to be, when Zuko’s banishment was just new, the only thing you had known for a long while; however, after accepting the hard truth, you thought the battles would be finally over.

And they were, for the last two years, you didn’t have to deal with any internal conflict.

Until the thoughts about the Banished Prince and your distant past crept out from the dusty corners of your mind. You thought you had forgot him long ago – everything about him had to be burnt to ashes. As it seems, this had never been the case, the realisation of which was hitting you just now.

There was no compassion for him left in you, this was the truth; however, your past feelings for Zuko were still enough to confuse you, to distract you. It was like a sweet poison: the embrace of those distant memories felt oh so sweet and familiar – it felt just like home – but when you realised that they were in fact chocking you, drowning you – it would be too late.

I should have never let my mind wander off to those forbidden territories of my own memory. You thought to yourself as you breathed out crimson flames, the gentle touch of the wind was making you shiver once again. I cannot allow myself to get distracted. Not now.

Maybe… Maybe I should just face him.

That particular thought seemed to strike interest and excitement within you. Ever since the Banished Prince abandoned you on the deck when he left the Fire Nation, you secretly had been craving to face him and scream at him, tell him all those wicked things you wished he had heard from you.

Tell him how he broke your heart to a million pieces, burnt all your love to ashes and threw them out into the vast ocean.

And thank him for letting you turn into this thing that could disconnect her emotions from her actions simply by taking a deep breath and thinking about the strong bond she shared with his sister.

“You keep lecturing me about getting enough sleep and yet here you are – not sleeping.”

You chuckled as you turned left to look at Azula, who was standing next to you. She, too, was in a red robe, but hers was adorned in gold around the collar and the sleeves. She had let her dark hair down, which looked absolutely pretty either way.

“Do as I say and not as I do, Princess.” You responded, gaining an eyeroll from her. Slowly, you stood up. “I have trouble sleeping.”

Azula nodded, she also seemed thoughtful. “I understand.” She paused for a moment. “You were thinking about my brother, weren’t you?”

You didn’t see any point in lying – Azula knew you good enough to tell when you were hiding something, just like you could do it with her. “He started messing with my head, again.” You spoke with a low tone, avoiding Azula’s amber eyes as you looked at the dark waters ahead of you.

The Princess laid her hand on your shoulder with a soft manner. “I can understand why his presence would confuse you,” the warmth in her tone caused you to meet her gaze. “But I need you in her best form and mind – distractions are not something we can allow at this moment.”

It was quite rare but sometimes, when it was just the two of you, Azula would let her shields and icy walls down. Every time when such a time came, you couldn’t help but adore how much she trusted you – you doubted that even her own family knew this side of Azula.

You nodded with a small smile on your lips. “I am very well aware of that, and I do not intend to disappoint you, Azula.”

The hints of a smile could also be seen on Azula’s lips as well. “You have given me no reason to think you would disappoint me.”

“I really appreciate your words, sweetheart.” Your amber eyes lit up with happiness. “For the matter of your brother, I think I have found a solution – I am going to put an end to these distractions.”

“Exactly what I was hoping to hear,” Azula said as the edge of her lips curled upwards. Then, she gave your shoulder a small squeeze. “Come on now, we both need our beauty sleep – or you are going to end up having eye rings, remember?”

You grimaced as you followed Azula into the ship. “Nobody wants that.”

#prince zuko #atla zuko #zuko x reader #the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #princess azula #zuko #zuko x oc

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redrose10 · 4 months

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Chapter 3 is here! Next chapter in a few days!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word Count: 3,609

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

In no way were you going to to cry in front of a couple hundred strangers. You decided to focus in on a bouquet of flowers that were just behind Yoongi’s head to try and distract yourself. A beautiful set of blue hydrangeas. You chose to ignore the words that were being spoken by the minister standing between the two of you. Instead your thoughts were brought back to being seven years old and laying in your Aunts back yard on her swing while she read the newspaper. The hydrangea bush next to you was in full bloom providing an intoxicating scent and a beautiful hue of purples and blues. Your aunt gently stroked your hair while she told you about some recipe that was listed in the paper, asking you if you thought she should try it for dinner one day. It was one of the last times you remember feeling genuinely happy and at peace and loved.

You’re brought out of your trance after you hear the officiant whisper your name. Yoongi is looking at you with one eyebrow raised. The officiant speaks again, “Y/N, do you take Yoongi as your husband now and forever?” Unable to speak you nod your head and the ring is placed on your finger. A few more words were spoken and then you were welcomed to share your first kiss as husband and wife.

You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about what it would be like to kiss Yoongi. You wondered how this would go. Should you take his hand? Will he caress your face? Does he even want to kiss you? Moments later he leaned in. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla stronger than ever. Briefly he looked into your eyes and you saw something different. Not the usual disgust or indifference. His eyes showed that he was nervous. Maybe even scared. Before you could think there was a quick touch of your lips and then he backed away leaving you wanting more. He grabbed your hand dragging you down the aisle behind him while the crowd cheered and congratulated you both. Maybe you were seeing things but you swear you saw the tiniest bit of pink brush across his cheeks.

Afterwards the guests were ushered into the reception area to enjoy cocktails and appetizers while Yoongi and yourself were whisked away to take photos. The sweet photographer tried her hardest to make it seem like there was a lot of love and admiration between the two of you. However no matter how hard she tried the atmosphere was anything but that. Thankfully the photo session was over quickly and it was time to begin the reception. Dinner was served and then after a couple of speeches guests were encouraged to hit the dance floor to celebrate. Mr. And Mrs. Min paraded you around introducing you to a bunch of people whom you assumed were very important to their empire based on how they talked you up. After what felt like an eternity they excused themselves and you were left alone for the first time since the morning. That’s when you realized that you hadn’t seen Yoongi in quite a while. Scanning the room you couldn’t catch any sight of him. Curious as to what he was up to you started wondering the halls which may have been your biggest mistake of the evening.

Making your way down a dimly lit hall, the carpeting muffling the sound of your heels, you were startled when a door a few feet in front of you swung open and a disheveled looking Yoongi came stumbling out. His hair was a mess and you watched as he finished zipping up his black dress pants and then adjusted his belt to the correct position. He was closely followed by the same blond from the earlier ceremony stumbling as she finished pulling up the top of her barely there dress.

You felt a burning sensation in your throat and tears forming in your eyes. It was suddenly hard to breathe as if you were being smothered. You knew he wasn’t going to be the picture perfect husband but you didn’t think he would cheat on you and at your wedding reception of all places.

Quickly you turned and made your way back to the party area not noticing the way Yoongi looked after you.

Realizing that you needed some air you found the nearest exit door and stepped out onto the terrace. The cool air feeling good on your flushed skin and in your lungs. You felt like the last little bit of hope you had at a happy marriage was just crushed. Trying to take a few deep breaths to calm yourself you were interrupted when you heard the latch of the door click open.

“Y/N”

Turning around you faced Yoongi standing by the door. Hands in his pockets. Unreadable expression on his face. It looked like he had fixed his hair since it was no longer sticking up all over the place and was back to laying down styled like nothing had ever happened. Without saying a word you turned back around to stare out at the city below you. A strong breeze blew through the air putting you into a deep shiver. Seconds later you were wrapped in warmth. You were hit with a familiar smell. Cinnamon and vanilla. Noticing the black fabric draped around your shoulders you realized that Yoongi had placed his suit coat around you to try and bring you some warmth and protection from the chill in the air. Twenty minutes ago the gesture would’ve caused your heart to explode. But thinking back to Yoongi walking out of the room with that woman making it clear as to what they had done, probably while he was wearing this same suit jacket, you felt dirty having it touching you.

“Y/N, I know this isn’t ideal. That this isn’t how we had imagined our lives going so I don’t mind if you want to see other people behind closed doors. We just have to put on an act for the public but when no one’s watching you’re free to do whatever you want.”

You replayed his words in your head. Was he trying to clear his conscience because he knows he got caught? Maybe feels a little guilty and will feel less guilty if he knows you’re also out cheating on him? Does he think that he’s being kind towards you by doing this? You couldn’t stop the laugh that left your mouth. Shaking off his jacket and letting it land on the ground, not caring how expensive it was, you looked up at him and held up your left hand to show the wedding ring that hasn’t even been on your finger for a full eight hours yet.

“I can’t. I’m married and I’m not a disgusting, low down, uncaring, selfish, ignorant, cheating, loser, asshole like you Min Yoongi. You better not get caught either. It’s in your end of the contract.”

With that you turned and walked into the reception area taking a seat at the wedding table and downing your glass of champagne and also Yoongi’s that was sitting next to it. You have no idea where all that came from but it felt good. You snuck a peak out of the tall glass window to see Yoongi still standing there, hands in his pockets, mouthing something to himself before turning back to look out at the city below.

You groaned when your alarm went off the next morning. Why did you agree to a 6am flight again? Slowly you rolled yourself out of bed trying not to wake the loudly snoring figure next to you. You forgot just how cute Jimin looked while he was sleeping. All curled up in a ball with a deep pout on his lips.

Of course you didn’t spend your wedding night with your new husband. Especially not after the events at the reception. You and Yoongi were supposed to share a night in the biggest hotel suite in Seoul but you knew there was no way you could face him. After your little outburst on the terrace the rest of the reception was even more awkward especially having to share your first dance with him. You spent most of the dance staring down at the ground blaming it on having two left feet and not wanting to step on Yoongi’s expensive dress shoes but you and him both knew why you couldn’t look him in the eyes. The night ended with you spotting Yoongi standing in the corner talking to one of his business partners when your favorite blond woman walked over handing him a piece of paper with what was surely her phone number on it before giving him a kiss on the cheek and walking off. There was no way you were going to be stuck in a room with him after all of that.

Thankfully Jimin had planned ahead booking himself a room at the same hotel figuring he’d be too drunk to get himself home at the end of the night. You jumped in the shower letting the hot water soothe your sore muscles. Once you were thoroughly cleaned you put on some light makeup and a comfy outfit. Today you and Yoongi were heading off to your honeymoon. A week spent on a tropical island. You didn’t mind the ocean but you really hated the hot humid weather. The sand that got everywhere. The guaranteed sunburn no matter how careful you were. Yoongi had asked where you wanted to honeymoon. You’d always wanted to stay in a cabin in the Swiss Alps during the winter. Something was always so comforting about the snow. The cold feeling invigorating and refreshing. You imagined sipping a mug of hot chocolate by the fire place while wrapped in a blanket. Maybe going for a walk and taking in the beautiful scenery. With Christmas just around the corner there’d probably be lots of decorations. Yoongi had nodded at your request like he was accepting of it so you were shocked when he told you that your honeymoon would be taking place in Fiji, somewhere that is the complete opposite of what you had asked for. But at this point what could you really expect from him.

All of your bags were packed before the wedding so you just threw in some last minute essentials before zipping up the last one. You didn’t have to take much. Just a duffel bag and a carry on for your makeup and important items. Growing up without having much you learned that you didn’t need much to be happy. Walking over to the bed you quickly realized that trying to wake Jimin up from his hangover induced coma was going to be useless so you placed a kiss to his forehead and grabbed your bags heading out the door.

You were startled when you opened the door finding Yoongi with his hand raised as he was just about to knock.

“Oh sorry. I didn’t expect to see you there.”, you said hand clutching at your chest.

He hands you over a warm to go cup. “I texted Jimin to ask him what your usual coffee order is but he never responded so I got you a vanilla latte. It seemed like a safe choice for you.”

You gave him a tight lip smile and took the cup from him. Truthfully you weren’t much of a coffee drinker but the fact that he actually put effort into something made your heart twist a little and some caffeine in your system wouldn’t hurt right now either. Gently you shut the door behind you and began to walk down the hall when you heard someone mumbling your name by the elevators. When you turned you were greeted by a young man. The poor thing looked like he was being crushed by the weight of all the luggage he was carrying as he desperately tried to keep everything together. Once you looked into his eyes you immediately recognized him as one of Yoongi’s interns, Jungkook. You’d met him a couple times and he was always very sweet and polite.

“Mrs. Min, let me take your bags for you.”, he said reaching out for the duffle bag in your hand.

You chuckled, “Oh no it’s okay. It looks like you’ve got your hands full already. Plus I’m definitely capable of carrying a couple bags down to the car.” Taking another sip of your coffee you waited for the elevator to arrive. Once the familiar ding of the bell sounded the doors opened and you stepped onto the platform making room for Yoongi and Jungkook. You couldn’t help but notice that Jungkook seemed a little less frazzled and Yoongi was carrying one of his own bags now. A small smile crept onto your face at the thought that maybe your words struck a nerve with him.

The car ride to the airport was mostly silent until Yoongi cleared his throat, “I waited for you to come to the room last night. I wanted to talk about things.” You continued to look out the window as the you passed by the buildings before responding, “I figured you’d be busy and didn’t want to be in the way of anything.”

Before Yoongi could speak the driver announced your arrival at the airport. You’d never been on a private plane before. The only plane you’d ever even been on was the one you took to South Korea and that definitely wasn’t private so it was nice. The plane ride and the following drive to the resort remained pretty much silent minus the occasional question or statement.

The suite at the resort was of course luxurious. You stepped out onto the balcony and were immediately hit with a wave of the heat and humidity that you hated so much. But you did have to admit that the view was stunning. Crystal clear water. White sand. Palm trees and tropical flowers wherever you looked.

Walking back into the cool air conditioning you took a look around the room and felt a sudden rise in your body temperature. The cause of this-The one king bed staring back at you. Normally a couple on their honeymoon wouldn’t think twice about sharing a bed but you and Yoongi had an odd situation. He must’ve noticed your new concern because you heard him chuckle from the other side of the room.

“We’re adults Y/N and we’re married. We can share a bed for a week.”

All you could muster was a nod and a tight lipped smile. Part of you wondered if this meant he’d keep his hands off of other women on this trip. Or maybe the two of you would finally-

“I’m heading out Y/N. Don’t wait up.”, he said and you looked over watching him grab his room key and head out the door not even looking back. Of course, you sighed.

Not wanting to leave the room you ordered yourself some room service and called it an early night. When you woke up the following morning you felt more refreshed than you had in a long time. It was definitely the comfiest hotel bed you’d ever slept in. You began to feel slight movement next to you and that’s when you remembered that you were on a honeymoon with your husband.

The movements stopped so you thought it was safe to take a peak. Yoongi had stayed as far on his side as he could. Looking over you once again admired how handsome he truly was. If you didn’t know what kind of person he was you’d definitely have a huge crush on him. Maybe you did anyways. He was still in his clothes from earlier. He smelled like a brewery with a hint of that familiar cinnamon and vanilla scent.

He must’ve gone out drinking all night and came back at some point while you were asleep. You weren’t sure if you were relieved he came back at all or upset that he spent the first night of your honeymoon downing whiskey at some bar. The forever comforting person in you didn’t want him to catch a cold from the air conditioning that you had set on full blast so you tried your best to shimmy the blanket up to his shoulders to cover him and that’s when you noticed it. Right on his neck just below his ear. A kiss of red lipstick stared back at you like a forbidden tattoo. Curiosity getting the best of you and knowing that he was still too out of it to notice you gently tugged down the collar of his tshirt revealing what you had feared. Several more kisses of the same color lipstick painted his chest along with a couple love bites. Feeling like you were going to be sick you quickly ran to the bathroom shutting the door behind you.

After a long hot shower and taking your time getting ready you finally felt like you could face the world. Yoongi was sitting on the edge of the bed his head in hands clearly feeling the effects of the night before. He heard the jingle of your purse and looked over noticing you standing there in your pink sundress with the sunglasses to match. He thought it was cute how you always tried to accessorize your outfit with something matching in color.

Your original plan was to ask him to come have breakfast with you and then see if he wanted to go to the beach. Even if you hated it you were still going to try and make the most of this trip. But after this morning you don’t want to be in the same room with him. Silently you walked out the door letting it shut behind you and made your way down to the resort cafe.

The next few days were spent the same. You and Yoongi spent most of the day doing your own thing until he’d stumble into bed at some point during the night. You didn’t even bother looking for any signs of what he did out there. At this point you didn’t want to know.

On the last night you decided to treat yourself to a nice dinner out. Yoongi had been gone all day and you knew he wasn’t going to spend the evening with you anyways. The food was incredibly delicious and you had a really nice time with the waiter, Hoseok. He was like a big ray of sunshine and for that one dinner you were able to forget everything that had been happening. The two of you exchanged numbers so you could get together for lunch next time he visited his parents in Korea. As you were walking back to your room you came across two people all over each other in the hallway. The man’s hands were slowly going farther up the shirt of the brunette he was with. Soft moans could be heard between the two of them. Normally you’d be pretty off put that two people would be so open in public but you were happy that someone was getting intimacy. You were craving any sort of touch and these two just made you want it more.

That was until the woman accidentally dropped her purse and bent down to retrieve it revealing the man that she was with. Yoongi looked at you with his classic unreadable expression. The woman standing back up realized you were now present. She was understandably confused as to why you were waiting right there.

“Oh I’m sorry. Is this your room?”, she asked looking back at Yoongi for an explanation.

Deep down you had thought he’d tell the truth. Let her know that you were his wife and he was caught. That she needed to leave. That this was your honeymoon. That he wouldn’t bring another women into your hotel room while you were there with them. Instead he just sighed,

“Yeah this is my sister Y/N. She’s sharing a room with me unfortunately.”

You felt your heart crack. The woman looked a little shocked pulling away, “Oh I’m so sorry. Maybe we should continue this elsewhere.”

You watched the smirk spread across Yoongi’s face, “Nah she won’t mind. Right Y/N?” In your head you screamed, “Yeah of course I mind. You’re my husband and you expect me to just sit there while you fuck some other woman.” But instead you gently shook your head and watched as Yoongi pulled the woman back into the room with him kissing her as he went.

You stood there and watched the door slam shut. The faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla the only thing remaining in the hall with you. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t sit in that room with them. So instead you made your way down to the lobby. At this time of night all the restaurants were closing up and you weren’t much for the bar scene so you grabbed a water bottle from a vending machine and walked out to the beach to wait it out. Once you felt you had a safe spot chosen you took a seat down in the sand. As you stared up at the sky you felt the exhaustion taking over your body. Slowly you laid back allowing the warm sand and the sound of the ocean waves to lull you off to sleep. The smell of the salty air a welcoming change to the cinnamon and vanilla that was slowly driving you crazy.

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #min yoongi #arranged marriage au #bts fanfic #bts yoongi #ceo au #yoongi au #yoongi #bts x reader #bts fic

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soulkeeper801 · 10 months

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Never Too Much - Mina

Requested: Reader overhears Mina talking about how she’s too clingy sometimes, so reader starts being distant towards her

Mina x f!reader

Angst, fluff

Words: 559

"I mean, she can be clingy sometimes," Mina said, her tone laced with frustration. "Don't get me wrong, I love her, but I just need some space, you know?"

You sat alone on the park bench, the autumn leaves falling gently around you. The chill in the air matched the heaviness in your heart. It had been days since that fateful conversation, the one that shattered your world. You overheard Mina talking to her friend about how she felt you were too clingy at times. Those words echoed in your mind, replaying over and over like a broken record.

The realization hit you hard, like a punch to the gut. You thought everything was going well between you two, but now doubt crept into your every thought. You questioned your actions, your words, and your affection. Had you been suffocating her? Was your love too much for her to handle?

Unable to face the pain head-on, you resorted to a different strategy. You decided to give her space, to be less present, less involved. You believed that if you distanced yourself, she would see that you could change, that you could be less clingy. But it wasn't as easy as you had hoped.

Days turned into weeks, and each moment of silence felt like a knife twisting deeper into your soul. You avoided her calls, ignored her messages, and made excuses not to see her. You convinced yourself it was for the best, that you were doing the right thing by giving her the space she needed.

Mina noticed the change in your demeanor and tried to reach out, her voice pleading. "What's wrong, love? Is something bothering you?" she asked, concern etched on her face. But the words that had wounded you so deeply remained unspoken, trapped within your aching heart.

Late one evening, Mina approached you tentatively. "Please, talk to me," she implored, her eyes brimming with tears. "I feel like I'm losing you, and I don't understand why."

Your voice trembled as you struggled to find the words. "I overheard you, Mina. I heard what you said about me being too clingy," you confessed, pain lacing your voice. "I didn't want to be a burden to you, so I distanced myself."

Mina's face contorted with regret and sorrow. "Oh, love, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I was just frustrated at that moment, but it doesn't mean I love you any less. You're not a burden to me; you're my everything."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked into Mina's sincere gaze. In that moment, you realized that love wasn't about perfection or fitting into someone else's mold. It was about understanding and accepting each other, flaws and all.

You nodded, feeling the weight of your own mistakes lift off your shoulders. "I missed you too, Mina. I'm sorry for pushing you away."

Mina shook her head at your words, her voice still filled with regret, “No, I’m sorry for making you feel this way,” she said, wrapping you in her embrace. “Please believe me when I say you’re my life and I couldn’t even bear the thought of losing you, I need more than you can imagine”.

She left a tender kiss on your lips and pressed her forehead against yours. She could never live without having you by her side.

#twice x f!reader #twice x reader #mina x f!reader #twice mina x f!reader #twice mina fluff #myoui mina x f!reader #twice mina imagine #myoui mina imagine #twice scenarios #twice imagine #soulkeeper801

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jamneuromain · 7 months

Text

Revenge Oh So Sweet

Steve Rogers x You (Agent!Reader)

Warning: Revenge (sort of), dick pics, bad language word, fluff? Clintasha if you squint.

Summary: For once, you decide not to put up with this shit anymore.

A/N: Based on the prompt from the bingo challenge. The inspiration came from @rogerswifesblog / @rogerswifesblog-updates (a big smoochie) and my recent experience, there's another experience under the tag #why I hate men. So ... yeah, you get the gist.

Your life-long happiness seems to have been a mutual concern of every Avenger in the compound.

After two not-so-successful relationships and another couple of failed dates, everyone is eager to share their experience or their suggestions as to what could help you find a partner.

"Be yourself." Tony commented on your love life when he accidentally overheard you girls talking in the kitchen, "Trust me, that's how I got Pepper." He said with a smug smile on his face.

Natasha rolled her eyes as Maria tugged the corner of her lips and made a rude - you considered it not so rude, but Tony jumped and felt offended - face.

"Come on, Stark." Natasha huffed out, "That's because Pepper is loyal and devoted. And you can't live without her."

Wanda stayed quiet but nodded like a chicken pecking the grains right in front of her.

"I can introduce the guy working for the IT, nerd, but... cute." Natasha fished out the Instagram of said guy.

Tony grumbled something under his breath as he headed out.

And it was not long before almost everyone on the Avengers team started to give you advices on how to secure a partner/date.

You were nursing over a bucket of chocolate ice cream, your standard medication for sorrows of "not being able to find a boyfriend" the other day when Thor's voice boomed by your ear, "... I am SURE Asgardian warriors would be kneeling at your feet if you could swing the battle sword during a fight."

He smelt like Asgardian mead.

"Thanks, Thor." You appreciated his effort, nonetheless, raising your ice cream bucket for a gestural toast.

Tony snorted at the end of the coffee table, probably having way too much caffeine than he should, and patted Thor on his bicep, "She needs a boyfriend, Point Break, not becoming Arnold Schwarzenegger."

Clint plopped down next to you on the couch, nudging you with his shoulder, gathering your attention, and asked, "Look, why don't you just kidnap some hot dude? That's what Nat almost- HEY!"

He yelled when Natasha threw a couch pillow in his direction, hitting him square in the chest, succesfully shutting him up.

Clint shrugged and gave you a glimpse of sympathy, which you were 99% sure he meant "Sorry kiddo". He shrunk to the corner of the couch, taking a swing of his beer.

"Why not try meeting someone with mutual interest?" Steve carefully pitches his suggestion, he looks at you with a hint of thought, "Like finding someone who shares the same passion over some exercises in the gym."

"Except I'm not a big fan of gyms." You pouted slightly, "But yeah, I guess book clubs and stuff... could work?"

"Gym." Bucky sniggered without even trying to mask his amusement, "Such a Steve thing." After receiving a warning glare from Steve, Bucky moved slightly away from his best pal, and singsongingly added, "I'm sure a candidate is much closer than you'd think."

Sam shook his head. Leaning on the counter of the kitchen, Sam proposed his idea with much delicacy to you, chuckling, "Steve might have a point. You know, maybe get to know your coworker better." Sam said this almost suggestively, a knowing smirk lingering on his lips, "After all, we never frown upon office romance. Not a bad idea to date your coworker as long as they are nice decent people, while you get to have fun."

"Surely redhead is neither nice nor decent." Bucky pointed his finger towards Nat on the far-end chair, whispering loudly.

"Don't get me breaking all your fingers, Barnes. And I'm not only talking about the ones on your right hand." Natasha retorted back, looking as if she was ready to bicker with Bucky again.

Vision, on the other hand, was not comfortable with processing a large conversation with so many participants even though he was able to identify every one of them. However, it was customary for everyone to join the conversation, no matter how they contributed to it. After doing some research in his head, Vision spoke up with confidence, "May I suggest a less time-consuming approach?"

This certainly drew the attention of most people in the room as Rhodey walked in.

"I have been analyzing the data of Miss Y/L/N, and I have come up with a list of results. It is a list of possible partners of Miss Y/L/N." Vision gave some time for this information to sink in before starting the list, "On top of the list, data run came back with a 99.7% matching rate to a book named-"

"A book?" Tony almost sprang from his seat, "HOLD ON. Hold on, for a minute here." He raised his index finger shushing everyone in the room, "What's the book?"

After hearing his question, the room fell into a unison of grumbles. "Seriously Tony?" "You're interested in that book? There's something wrong with..." "Ask him to take another look at the data for Christ's sake-"

Tony rolled his eyes in the most elegant way, "Fine. Vision, would you please erase all lifeless forms of matching in your database and focus on possible 'human' partners?"

A few seconds gone with Vision processing the data in silence, before speaking up, "I have now entered the condition of 'human partner', and the first person with a 99.4% matching rate is Andy Barber, lawyer-"

Gasps and murmurs swirled over the room again.

"...he lives in Newton, Boston, Massachusetts. According to data, he is married to Laurie Barber. Being the leading character of the crime fiction Defending Jacob-"

You would prefer to be drowned in your chocolate ice cream than to have Vision pairing you with a fictional character - even if it's a fictional character that is played by a very handsome actor in the TV series.

That you probably watched more than a dozen times. But still! Fictional!

Rhodey murmured to Tony: "And that's why we still wouldn't apply AI to our weaponary program..."

You groaned in agony, "Vision, I adore you, really. But I really need you to stop-"

"Ya-Da-Ya-Da-Ya-Da-" Tony cut through your sentence, "Vision, no fictional characters, we need real men-"

"Or woman." Wanda squeaked, clearly more amused than everyone else in this room.

"Or woman. Thank you, ponytail," Tony cleared his throat, "Someone who is actually living on the planet right now-"

"Recalculating. Ari Levinson Kidron, former Mossad agent. He is 99.3% compatible. He was renowned for Israel's Operation Moses and Operation Joshua from 1984 to1985."

"Eighties?" Bucky chimed in with mischief sparkling in his eyes, "How old is he?"

"He is currently 78 years old. A movie based on him was released in 2019, starring an actor named Christopher Robert Evans." Vision replied, "Your Netflix history clearly shows a tendency toward strong powerful men with romantic gestures during dating."

You buried your head as deep as the ice cream bucket allowed, "Please, Vision, I'm begging you. Don't leak anymore of my browsing history before I decide to jump into the Hudson River."

Wanda shook her head lightly at Vision, the latter seemed to gain a hint of realization after a while, "Sorry. I have been intrusive. My deepest apologies, Miss. Y/L/N."

You waved your hand in the air to indicate "all is well", but your eyes were still staring into the brown-ish ice cream, which had started to melt.

Shit.

Wanda scooted closer to you, holding her phone in front of your face, she seemed optimistic about what had just happened (even though you were devastated and actually considering being single for the rest of your life).

"What about dating apps?" She showed you a few, swiping men's profiles for you to see, "It's definitely simpler than asking some random people. You can also tell them at the start that you are looking for serious relationships, rather than sex."

Actually, that sounded...

"Thank you, Wanda." You shot her an appreciatiating look.

That sounded like the most solid suggestion anyone has ever made. Especially with the match-making plan of Natasha and the nerdy guy didn't work out, you were willing to try Tinder. Or something similar.

Wanda gave you an encouraging smile, before hugging you on the shoulder and helping you start your own profile on some app. While Sam half-dragged Steve out of the living room, mumbling something about "bats".

After a couple dozen men who wanted "something casual, sorry" and a disastrous night, you scrolled through your dating app to see if anyone has messaged you last night.

You were on an all-nighter mission with your teammates. Due to an unfortunate incident, you had to chase the criminal for about twelve blocks. On foot.

Just got your phone back from your locker, you sagged down on one of the empty chairs by the mission dispatch center, and scrolled through your dating app.

Daveid757: Hi.

You clicked on his profile picture.

"Daveid" is a decent-looking guy with a thin beard and hazel-brown eyes. Tall and broad-shouldered, he held a few 10-foot-long fish in half of his pictures and his different fishing rods in the rest.

Not bad, at least.

You returned to the chatting screen.

[Daveid757 typing]

You should probably say hi back.

Daveid757 stopped typing.

And the next thing you know, a dick pic that took up almost half of your phone screen attacked you right in the face.

A dick.

A at-first-sight-it-was-five-inch-but-some-skin-and creases-are-repetitive-so-it-was-at-most-a-two-inch dick.

A naked dick and his naked thigh.

A tiny but photoshopped dick.

You began to wonder what should you reply at this point.

You sure it's not two inches? No. Basically harmless to a guy who sends dick pics.

Fuck off you prick. No. That came off too strong.

How about I've seen bigger? That could probably trigger his competitiveness, though. You were hoping for something that could make him as furious as how you felt when you received his dick pic.

The sickness of getting a genitalia photo, the rage of being disrespected by men, the grumpiness from your staying up all night, and the frustration of knowing that the "dating app" method was a bust, all united as one .

Although you knew your blood was boiling from all four emotions, they were helpful too, enlightening you with a brilliant idea.

You should get a Nobel Peace Prize for it.

You searched "dick" and selected a dick pic that looked significantly larger and thicker than the one Daveid sent you.

Your dick pic is smooth and pink, clean-shaven, and with a man's hand gripping the foreskin, revealing the angry red tip.

This one looked much better than his.

You looked at this dick pic fondly.

And sent it to him.

Daveid757: You fucking crazy motherfucker.

Daveid757 has blocked you.

His profile picture turned grey, just like the type of picture people will put in front of his casket during his funeral.

Out of nowhere, a surge of euphoria washed over you. Having you doing your best to maintain a calm presence. You try your best not to smirk or giggle, trying your best to keep your lips between your teeth, biting the inside of your mouth from hollering out laughter.

Yeah, you definitely like "your" dick pic better.

While the two dick pics stayed on your screen.

Peacefully. Paying each other respect.

"Hey Y/N," holding his first cup of coffee in hand, Steve emerged behind you in his full tactical suit. He still had an hour before his mission and he decided not to board the jet without a healthy caffeine dose at 5:32 am. He saw you from the break room across the hall, and he just had to say hello to you.

Professional. This is purely professional courtesy!

You seemed undisturbed, gazing into your phone, with a smile ghosting your lips.

Naturally, Steve trotted near, earning a peek to your phone - he didn't intend to be sneaky about it, he only wanted to know what was mesmerizing you - while sipping down some hot hot burning lava hot coffee and -

You're looking at dicks???

"Oh my - Steve! Are you alright?" Shoving your phone into your pocket, you found some Kleenex in your bag and put it into Steve's hand. He choked and coughed violently, whole face flushed red as he waved his hand, stepping away from you, continuing coughing his lungs out.

You were struggling to understand whether he means "No, I'm not alright" or "No, I don't need the Kleenex" or "No, everything is alright". Though you didn't know how the last one worked the way inside your head.

Steve calmed himself after coughing into his palms some more. Shaking his head but accepting your tissue paper: "Yeah I'm - EHEM - 'm fine." Dabbing his suit which now has coffee splatters over his chest, he muttered an almost inaudible "Thank you".

He didn't look you right in the eyes when he was busy cleaning up his mess, but he felt like he had to when he should talk to you about workplace ethics. He finally looked up from the ground with his baby blue orbs, and tried to sound serious with his ears and cheeks blushing: "Y/N, I'm not ... " he winced, "You know I'm not that type of person who ummm... tries to dictate what others do or don't."

"Like Tony?" You scoffed, but the scoff was more directed to Tony rather than Steve. God, you should know better than to let Tony participate in your love life, giving out advices.

Steve manages a smile witth difficulty, "I'm not, but ... I don't ... I would consider ... I uh - I believe genital photos are not workplace appropriate."

You choked out a laugh, fishing your phone from your pocket and showing him, "What, this?"

"God, please, Y/N." He blocked your screen with his leather-gloved hand, becoming visibly more nervous, blurting out but his tone appears to be more begging than commanding, "Not ... here!"

You giggled. The few hours of sleep you had while you were on the plane back from the mission had led you to an unstable mindset. It would be completely insane for the "normal" you to show Steve Rogers, a work fellow, dick pics. But right now? With all those emotions boiling down your veins, the lack of sleep (and apparently, the lack of clear sense) and the sudden euphoria of making Steve nervous, you were feeling bold. Audacious. Felt like you could conquer the world and slam a monster silicone dildo right onto Daveid's face.

So you apologized, though not with much sincerity, and told Steve why you were "watching dick pics" on your phone in your workplace.

"He started it!" After accusing Daveid of sending you dick pics, you whined like a grumpy child, which you definitely wouldn't, if you were not sleep-deprived, but Steve felt like the most trustworthy male person on the planet at that moment, so you spilt your guts and tried to excuse yourself out of the workplace ethics violation that Steve nearly had you reported to HR.

He almost would never. Report you to the HR. But he kept that to himself.

"And it's not my dick. I suppose it's not entirely my fault?"

Steve chuckled soundlessly. It was in fact, adorable for you trying and whining, "Even if it is your dick, you don't send him that until you're out of the compound, okay?"

"I don't have a dick!" You huffed out in a hush voice. Seeing his typical look, the look with the raising eyebrows that says "yes, and-", you put up your hands in defeat, "Okay-Okay. You have a point. No dick pics."

"More like no dating apps scrolling while you're at workplace, just in case." Steve was amused. He thought for a while before making amends, "Tell you what, there's a nice little place in Brooklyn. You free tonight at 7? I'll wine and dine you, and you can tell me about all the awful macho men you've encountered. Promise, no judging."

He looks at you, almost sympathetically, with his crystal blue eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat.

You lowered your head, pretending you need to find your bag before summoning up the courage and shrugging, playing it cool, "Deal, Captain. Be ready for some of the worst men you've ever heard of."

After some most amazing medium rare steak and two glasses of fine-aged red, you were beyond caring (about your little crush of the handsome blonde sitting across you) and exchanged laughs and giggles that were definitely way too loud for a decent date.

You attracted attention, being the most stunning couple in the restaurant (so the "couple" word maybe a little too "ouchy" for you, since you normally spent time admiring Steve from afar), and some glances from other customers were casually thrown this way.

You had to admit, watching Steve in a brown leather jacket and jeans, triggered something inside you that encouraged you to climb him like a tree and slam your lips over his.

Steve chuckled, covering his lips with his fist, temporarily blocking his seductive (and to you, sinning) grin, "I can't believe Daveid is actually nicer among all the douches you've dated. Being a long-term friend of yours, I'd suggest you not to pick up men from dumpsters."

You cast a sour look in his direction, raising the glass to your lips, taking a small sip from the third cup of wine, "I would if I could." Your glass landed on the table with a bit too much force. Faking annoyance, you groaned at the ceiling, "Men are just ... awful."

"Touche." He murmured over his glass, clicking it with yours before downing a big gulp. Feeling bolder than usual, he looked at you right in the eyes, hoping he would convey a message, a hint, anything, "Surely ... there are a few good men out there. But, 80% of them are plain stupid, you know? You gotta ... I don't know, it's not about trying harder, I guess, but ... open to other ... options?"

You snorted, leaning back onto the comfy chair, teasing him, dipping your toes in the water for a second, "Oh, you're spoiling me and trying to get me zero dates in my future since you raised the bar too high, Captain."

He looked more jumpy and edgy after your "captain" comment. His ears and cheek turned pink under the dim yellow restaurant light, "I'm certain that you can have a boyfriend in the future that would be ... nice, to say the least. Apart from your lapse of judgment on this guy," he couldn't help but let slip of his smile, "you have some good friends and I'm sure you'll go on a date with someone better than him, someone better for your relationship, and more deserving for you."

You feigned a gasp of shock, "Are you calling yourself "better"? So competitive, Captain Rogers."

His fluster-ness drained from his face all of a sudden, slightly narrowing his eyes to focus on someone behind you, "I think - Is that ...?"

"What?" You were bewildered.

"The ass who sent you the dick pic." He shifted his focus back to you, "Your four o'clock. Black suit, Caucasian male, 5'7''. He's not looking this way but I'm positive he's the guy."

You spared a glance at him quickly. He did look like "Daveid757" and his profile pictures.

"Fucking hell." You muttered.

"You know what would make him furious? Letting him see you're having the best time of your life." Steve placed his palm on your wrist, giving you warmth and support, "Letting him know what he has missed out."

"Flip my hair and giggle?"

Your words didn't mean to be sarcastic, but they sure came out this way.

"Or we could return to the compound to suit up." Steve kindly offers, "I'll beat his ass until he learns a lady is supposed to be respected."

You drained your wine, teasing him with a dash of liquid courage, "Revenge doesn't suit you, Cap." And I don't want you to get into trouble, even if it is a tempting gesture. You swallowed the latter half of your sentence.

And of course, you had a much better plan...

"Is he looking this way now?" You moved to the seat by Steve's side, making sure Daveid could turn his head and see you with little effort. "Accidentally" having your wine class clatter with your ceramic plate, you made a loud noise for the entire restaurant to hear.

"Yeah but-"

The rest of his words fell on deaf ears, as you cupped his chin and kissed him.

His lips were soft. Grape-flavored with a bitter taste of alcohol. The kiss was sweet, tender, careful even, as he reciprocated your small nibbling, threading his fingers with the base of your hair.

Your liquid courage burnt down faster than you had imagined. Burying your face into his chest, you were rid of all the strength you had to check Daveid - or Steve, for that matter, because on second thought, using Steve to get back at Daveid wasn't such a good idea if Steve misunderstood your feelings as a method to get even with the dick pic dude -

"I hope you haven't fallen asleep, because that guy looked like he could swallow his wine glass. And he broke his plate, dragging his date to leave but - oh ho, now the waiter is asking him to pay for the plate and the wine -" Steve sounded normal, unaffected, calm. On the contrary, you wanted to jump into the Hudson River right this second for kissing Steve and wash off all the embarrassment and nervousness.

"I suppose you need to get some air and not suffocate yourself in my jacket?" He joked, patting on your back almost in a comforting way, while you were still buried into his chest, "Don't worry, the Daveid guy made a bigger scene and now he got kicked out of this place."

Your hair must be awful. The move messed up your hair, and your lipstick no doubt. And ruining your make-up. And you couldn't face Steve knowing that you kissed him and this - you are going to be a joke to the whole compound within 48 hours.

"But if you don't say another word for five seconds, I'm going to presume that you are losing consciousness and perform CPR in front of the whole restaurant."

You sat up reluctantly, wiping the outline of your lips and possible lipstick smudge without a mirror. Pouting.

"Or how about being my fake girlfriend for five minutes and we will show Daveid that we are a happy couple?" Steve observed your expression, making yet another proposal.

He was sweet. He was really sweet offering all these choices for you and your pathetic dating app experience but all you wanted was - "How about being real girlfriend." You grumbled under your breath.

"Sorry?"

"Never mind." You shook your head and decided to put this delightful dinner time behind you, "Let's -"

"You mean it?"

"Huh?"

His crystal blue eyes searched your features, searching for signs that you wanted him, wanted this, wanted you two to be a thing. It was cliche and a chance in a million, having his friend -you falling in love with him, but so were myths and superheroes. He liked his odds.

"Would you," He spoke, painfully slow, "like to be my girlfriend? Not because of revenging. But because I want it to work. Because I love you and I want to kiss you. Because you feel the same way, and finally, you can help put my misery of seeing you dating other people to a stop. I want to date you," he thought for a small while before adding, "exclusively."

The sun must be rising from the west, or the sea must be pouring back into rivers, or the dead must be alive from their graves.

A most-amazing miracle was happening.

Because the next thing you knew, you nodded and he pulled you into his warm hug.

And offered you one of his many sweet, sweet kisses.

Bonus:

You sneaked back to the compound, holding hands, grinning like fools, feeling like the first day of being in love.

You walked past the living room with Vision in the corner still knee-deep in his thoughts, calculating, or searching.

"It seemed the most fitting human candidate is Captain Steve Rogers, with a 99.2% match." The sudden voice startled you both, but Vision raised his head and greeted you, "Ah. I see that my data is no longer needed. Congratulations on finding a perfect partner, and good night, to you both."

You whispered a "Night" as Vision drifted towards his chamber.

Turning around when you noticed Steve went silent, you saw him scratching the back of his head, just a little bit annoyed.

"I rank behind a book and two fictional characters?"

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fluff #captain america fanfiction #agent!reader

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onlybeeewrites · 11 months

Note

If you decide to write for Bridgerton, can you write something for Benedict? Maybe like friends to lovers or something x

The Muse

Requested: By anon

Warnings: nothing just pining

Painting: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Request: If you decide to write for Bridgerton, can you write something for Benedict? Maybe friends to lovers or something

Authors Note: I beg for forgiveness that it has taken me so long to get to this. I had insane writers block, then university hit like a truck and had to put writing on hold. But I have returned and I loved this request. I am currently rewatching Brigderton after watching Queen Charlotte so I hope this to your liking. So sorry again, love <3

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You had grow up beside the Bridgerton Household your entire life—to the estate beside theirs at least. Your father’s had been quite good friends, and as your parents began with their families the relationship between the two had grown. This has allowed you to have direct access to the household since you could even remember. Your were at the young age of four and twenty, just a few years older than the eldest Bridgerton daughter, but still a few years younger than the second eldest Bridgerton who also just so happened to be your closest companion.

You remembered the first time you had met the boy, or at least remembered meeting him. You were but about six years of age, and Benedict was ten. Your mother had dragged you over to the house as she more often did to have tea with the Viscountess Bridgerton as they did more often than not. It was in their tea room where you were interacting with Colin when Benedict had come in rather excitedly to show his mother a drawing he had made. You could remember her cooing her second eldest son, praising his rather interesting art piece. Curiously you had glanced over, interested with all the paint colors and such. Benedict had noticed your curiosity and offered for you to have a closer look. From then on whenever you had come over you had eagerly awaited to see what Benedict had created next.

This little routine continued as you all got older. Of course after the passing of their Father, there was more comfort and reassurance whenever you had visited. Though, even in a time of such great sorrow, Benedict had portrayed that emotion within his paintings and drawings. You had been the one to support him and aid him in any such way possible.

As time continued, the two of your had grown closer. Of course you had grown closer with all the Bridgerton siblings, Benedict was the one you were closest with. The one you could also scope out at balls if you needed to escape another dreadfully boring dance partner, or an attempted suitor that was twice your age. Of course your father was there to ensure nothing of the sort would occur, but there would be times where Benedict was simply closer and much better at conversation.

Often Lady Whistledown commented on the you both, sometimes a bit too often. There would be whispers about you both, how often you dance with each other at balls or are seen giggling a bit tipsy with each other in the corners. Most of the time it had not bother you—when you were younger at least. Though as you blossomed and grew into yourself, you also were able to recognize your feelings. You believed it was around ten and six when you had realized you were doomed. That you had fallen completely in love with Benedict. It was not something you liked to think about nor dwell on for too long. Why would he, a Bridgerton, a most handsome, talented, funny, charming man like himself even think about courting you?

It was not that you felt like you were unattractive in some sort of way, you were rather pretty. But it was the fact that you were best friends with Benedict that caused you to think this way. There was a chance of him not returning those feelings. There was a chance that he would laugh in your face assuming it was a joke. There was a chance of him scoffing in your face and cutting you and your friendship off completely.

There was no chance that you would even consider taking that risk—no matter how often Daphne or hell, even Elouise would reassure you that he had returned those feelings to you.

Though one afternoon, you sat with him in the Bridgerton’s drawing room. You had been having some tea that Rose had gotten for you while Benedict drew. He drew with his charcoaled that made his long fingers turning an odd shade of black within his drawing pad. You had always admired the way he looked to serious when he drew. His eyebrows furrowed, causing wrinkles to cover his forehead. He also had this habit of tilting his head; you assumed it was to get a different angle on whatever his latest creations was. But your most favorite thing was when he would be stuck on something. Maybe it was because he could not draw it correctly, or the art was not coming out the way he wanted it to. But once he figures it out, or it comes out the way that he had wanted and the ways his eyes lit up with pride and eureka was your absolute favorite.

“what is it you are drawing today?” You asked, lifting the fragile porcelain to your lips as you take a small sip of the warm tea. Your eyes flicker from your cup to the Bridgerton across from you. And just in time too because was already looking at you. His body tensed slightly before he attempted to play it off.

“Nothing you must worry your head about,” he said in a teasing tone, as he most often did. But he was just trying to play it off when in reality it was you. He was drawing you, in your beautiful soft green dress, your hair done up into a neat braid to keep from your beautiful face. You looked stunning and he wanted to capture it like he had done many time before.

It was always you that he drew, especially when you plagued his thoughts in the late. Hours. Oh if you only knew that you were his muse. The very figure and image of you filled pages and pages of his work. Two of the things he loves most wrapped into one. But what if you were to find out? You would never return and that would break his heart. He was so in love with you it ached to not be able to hold you, kiss you when he wanted. He felt this especially at balls and suitors would come up to your constantly, it made his blood boil. But he had hoped he kept it well hidden. Well, enough to keep it from you. His family on the other hand seemed to know or notice it for quite sometime. According to his mother, both of your mother’s knew of it. Everyone seem to know. Everyone but you.

Too busy in his thoughts, he did not feel the dip in the sofa until it was too late. You had seated yourself right next to him with a small huff as you tried to peak at this new creation before he was able to hide it. But he managed, which caused you to pout slightly. Of those lips…he wanted nothing more to cup your face and kiss you right then and there.

“Benedict. You always show me your drawings,” you had insisted, which just caused the other to shake his head.

“Nonsense. There are plenty of work that you have not seen. Besides it is no good anyways, there is no point in showing it off if it is no good.” He said, giving his best friend a look. This only made you want to see more. “you always saw your work is no good and it is always beautiful. Let me see, please?” You pleaded as you took hold of a part of his drawing pad. There was some back and forth, some ‘no’s’ and ‘oh please’ as you both struggled to take proper hold of the pad.

Eventually his hands slipped and lost its grip on the pad, landing it right into your smaller grasp. “ha! I have got it now. Now, let us see what you have been working so hard on,” you tease before looking at the drawing Benedict had been working so hard on. It was a lady, a rather beautiful one. But the longer you looked, the more you realized that this lady in the charcoal had the same features as you. the same face shape, body type, hair—even the little scar that was right on the bridge of your nose that you had gotten as a child. And you face began to redden as you slowly looked towards Benedict. “Are…is this of me?” You ask in wonder, amazement and without a single sound of disgust or hated—this reassures Benedict a bit more at least.

He nods and before he could utter another word, you flip through pages; more drawings of you. “You make me look beautiful..” you say in wonder and this causes Benedict to furrow his eyebrows once more but not in concentration but confusion.

“Because you are beautiful. I draw what I see and what I see from you is…” he stopped himself from speaking another word, too afraid to come across as too forward. He took a breath, figuring now is a better time than ever. The Bridgerton boy took the drawing pad from your hands and placed it next to him before giving you his full attention. Your face is covered with blush, flustered from this whole thing.

“I suppose now I must explain myself before it comes across strangely. But I do draw you. More times than not because you plague my every waking moment, you have since we were children. You have captured my heart from years and you have refused to return it to me. My dearest friend…..my feelings for you grow into one where I want you by my side forever, not just in my drawings. You are my muse for everything I do and I cannot bear it being another nor you being with anyone else..” he said, “So I suppose-“

You cut him off by leaning forward and giving him a kiss. Your soft ones pressed against his own. It was bold and improper. But his words were moving and your heart would not stop its fluttering. So you had kissed him, hoping no one would see. The kiss was everything you both had imagined it would be like and more.

So once you had pulled away to his surprised but smug reaction, you simply nodded, “Of course, it would be delighted to court you, my dearest. I have been waiting so long for this moment.” You say, still almost not believing that your love was also your best friend.

“I suppose we both were a bit too blind and afraid to admit it, hm?” He chuckled, taking your hands in his, getting a bit of the charcoal onto your hands. You giggle and nod,

“Yes I suppose so. But I also would love to see these other drawings of me that you have mentioned,” you teased him, now making it his turn to blush as he realized what he had admitted.

“Perhaps another time…?” He asked hopefully and you grin mischievously, almost impishly.

“Or perhaps we can give you something else to draw,” you said suggestively continuing to tease him about such thing.

“Oh I quite like the sound of that,” Benedict grinned as he pulled you in for another quick kiss. Perhaps it was a good thing you had seen the drawings after all.

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