#i've been good? i've held in every urge to do everything bad so far

[privitivium]

yandere big guy tries to comfort you,,, after, kidnapping you pretty sloppily. subtop m reader, dubcon,,,

being taken from your room in the middle of the night and thrown over a muscular shoulder is not the ideal way of waking up, no. you werent all that worried, if you were being honest. your friend, janey, your best bro.. you trust him and his idiotic antics. he seemed a little ditzy, and he was probably just drunk, yeah?.. you were just a little peeved at this minor inconvenience, rather than concerned.. he's done things like this before, carrying you out of bed just to sit you in the living room and have a bro-cuddle session while watching whatever the hell he wanted to show you.,.

"aw babe, come on.." he grunts softly, heaving in deeply before huffing.. growing annoyed. he reaches over to touch you and you flinch away. he was trying so hard to get you settled, but he knows it's only been a day! - "i know how much you like big chests.. it was all over your porn search history!" he cheered, chuckling softly as he wraps his thick, muscular arms around your head and thoroughly making you bury your nose into his fat pecs.. hnngh-! i-in an attempts to comfort you, after the whole um.. shoving you in the back of his car after tying you up and leaving you moderately injured since you did struggle - in front of your apartment complex. now.. where? a nice looking house, uhm.. comfortable.. there were pictures of you and him along the walls and a whole wall of polaroids and .. clothes? your clothes that you were upset over because they were missing??

"I'm.. dirty.. and i stink really .. bad!" you grunt exasperatedly, as though that were reason enough to let you go - trying to find more reasons; no matter how lame they might appear.. seemingly not understanding how far he was willing to go for you. did you already forget? the pictures of a bloody mess of a harrasser in your phone sent to you by an unknown number. "why do you still like me? what is there to like????" you squirm, jaw clenching as you resist the urge to take a fat fucking chunk of flesh from his boobs.. "what isn't there to like? you're so paranoid.. but that's alright, babe." He chuckles, removing one of his thick arms to pet your head rather gently.. "and.. you don't even smell bad.." to prove his argument, he dips his head in the crevice of your neck, humming contentedly as he nuzzles his nose into your neck - squirming to get away because holy shit that feels weird. at least he took you on this getaway just before your days off.. ugh.

"I-i just.. what are you even doing?? where even are we?" your voice cracks as though you were about to start crying, which wasn't far off the mark - you were trying to stay strong, but the heat behind your eyes prevailed annoyingly enough.. and being smothered.. well, it did soothe you.. "you're only gonna make me more nervous the longer you don't answer.." you choke out - trying to sound aggressive, still ever so moody as you nuzzle into his chest without complaint..

janey coos, gently rubbing his palm over your head with pouting lips, "awh.. fret not.." He tries to sound smaller, petting the back of your head like an affectionate owner with their cat.. "i know something that'll make you feel better.. you don't need to tell me why you're so moody - i can tell!" janey chuckles good-naturedly.. "i've been watching you all this time, babe. and i meanㅡit makes sense! you're pent up! you haven't touched yourself for a really long time - a week and a half! you usually do it every other day, but this was a stretch.." he pats you on the shoulder, grinning cheekily. you dont have it in you to look at him....... bro, how could you?

"c'mon.. this'll feel much better than jerking off to me all by your lonesome, huh?" he teases, god he felt so free - free to finally be as lewd and forward as he wants with you... all held up together, no way out.. isnt that just so romantic? he thought of everything-! he pulls you away, big hands on your shoulders - startled, as you stare at up wide-eyed. a little upset that he pulled you away from your safe haven..

"why are you talking like that?" your eyes narrow, squinting as your face grows warm. so embarrassing.. a-and, why is he pushing you back? you trip over your feet, landing on your ass - thankfully, on a cushion.. "you're being fucking weird, bro." You complain, gritting your teeth as you grip his wrists - trying to tug his hands from off your body. he relents, looming over you as you sit on the edge of the bed. uhh.. his groin in your face.

"dude, don't act like you dont like this!" he chuckles, hands on his hips as he tilts his head down at you, he looks so.. at ease. fuck this guy! in aㅡin a bad way, though.. "like, you're finally my babe! i can touch you as freely as i want without you having to be asleep!" he mentions, grinning wildly as he crawls ob top of you - being forced back and propping yourself up with your elbows - fuck he was a little heavy.. all that muscle mass.. and huge tits weighing him down... "i know i'm having a good time.." janey coos, reaching up and pinching your face gently - thights straddling yours and his meaty hand worming along the inner of your thigh - cupping your bulge very much boldly-! you yelp in surprise, thighs tensing - and i mean, hey, can you blame yourself?? you cannot be held accountable for not being able to control your body's instinctive reactions to his fleeting touches.. blood rushing to your concealed cock and merely fueling janey's amusement..

he didn't mind taking the lead, he supposes.. you seemed a little too sensitive.. though, most of his fantasies include you being the dominant one in this situation, so he certainly wouldn't mind a surprise such as that..

"ah, nuh.. wait..." you try to mediate, fumbling over your words of denial - nervous and beginning to tremble the longer his palm glides along your clothed groin, rubbing the fabric of your boxers into your dick and causing a moderate pleasureable friction,, you shift, feeling sweaty, and squirm underneath his much larger body ㅡlifting your hands to try and push him away by his shoulders while trying to worm your knees inbetween his body and yours.. god he was so much stronger. useless - as he fondles your junk to try and liven up your dick,, janey shivers, whimpering as he squirms atop your lap, heaving as he pushes himself off you - he mewls your name, rushing to kick off his pants - a wet spot on the crotch of his pants.

"i'll help you.. i'll - i'll help you ease into this, babe.. don't even worry.." janey breathes out - and you jump up - making a move away from him, not necessarily escapingㅡbefore he reaches out and harshly tugs you into his thick arms, shirt unbuttoned completely and only in his cum stained boxers..

“fuck.. no.. janey!” you squirm in his grip - you weren't in the mood, were you? fuck, your dick straining painfully against your boxers and zipper of your jeans - body weakening as you feel him palm your erection so gently, trailing his thumb along the print of your cock... “it's okay, babe.. really, i promise..” he assures, smiling comfortingly - his free arm wrapped around your midsection and holding you firmly on his lap, pressing against his own erection… he's sure to last longer, cumming so easily in his pants from merely touching on you..

you.. didn't have any complaints.. Did you? i mean.. fuck, he was getting you all heated, dick aching in pain from not being touched - but to fuck him, your crush, the guy who kidnapped you and who would send you weird cryptic shit? uah, fuck.. “.. no.. bro..” you try, once again, as he shucks off your pants roughly - kicking your legs before he was stripping down completely and straddling your lap again - hovering his ass over your tip.. he shivers, dick pressing into your body and smearing his juices messily over your skin,, you marvel, pressing the side of your face into his belly. he was so big,, tall. so tall and bulky,, your hands roaming his tanned muscular thighs before moving to his backside - completely in wonder as you try to distract yourself with the plushy, squishy feeling of his ass in your palms..,, pulling, spreading him apart as he lowers himself, really, it was a subconscious action..!

“fuck!” he whimpers, the tip of your thick cock finally making it passed his lubed up ring of muscle - continuously muttering fuck, as he proceeds to slowly rock himself down,, wanting his insides to remember the shape of your cock,, he sits there for a moment - shuddering, and trying to relax - trying to focus on the feeling of your hands fondling his boobs,,

“fuck.. that's.. my good boy..” he cooed.. janey knew how much you liked that.. his good boy.. everytime he watched you in the privacy of your room, touching yourself and writhing in your bed - cumming almost immediately after the pornstars that sounded similar to him praise the camera.. god you were so fucking cute. he tenses his walls around your girth, cock twitching and mewling and positively drooling - you really were such a good boy, fucking into him so well.. he could get used to seeing you like this,, splayed out underneath him while he rides on your cock - painting his insides white as he cums along your chest - heaving breaths,, “isnt that romantic? we came at the same time, babe..”

#ocs =͟͟͞͞★ #x male reader #dombot character :p #subtop m reader #top male reader

[all-about-seggs]

┗ Love- Lies- Bleeding

Pairing - Geto Suguru x Virgin!reader

Word count- 4.8 K

Warnings - Gaslighting, Corruption kink, snuff (not graphically depicted) and then reincarnation, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, adding blasphemy kink just to be safe.

A/n- Geto isn't a yandere here but it's Villan! Geto we're talking about so I think his actions are pretty in line with his current canon! Personality. Though a bit delusional. This is by FAR the longest thing I've ever written.

The gray cobblestones stretching across the shrine clicked against your thick wodden sandles, the quaintness of the place only making it seem unnaturally loud. It's was a regular autumn morning, which soon turned into noon as you felt the bright sun shining right on top of your head.

Having finished your morning tasks you were returning to the main shrine where the senior priestess would give you further things to do. Just the thought of more work non stop made you sigh at your monotonous shrine maiden lifestyle but as you lamented you heard footsteps behind you, the sound of which same as that of your own.

"Hey!.....", You turned around to see your little sister huffing as she catches up to you,

" y/n! He's here again!," The implications of her words made your face heat up, sure you were still a bit green and naive, but you made sure to discreet when it came to 'looking' at that one particular man that always seem to stand out among the hoards of faceless people you saw visiting the shrine everyday.

"How many times have I told you not to phrase it like that! You'll get me in trouble with the priestess!", Scrambling to get yourself together you retort sharply.

"Oh come on! Youre the one who used to stare at him from a distance like a lovesick teenager! Atleast now you're talking to him like a normal person", In terms of liveliness the sound of your back and forth was the only thing the place had.

"Watch it! If someone hears you we'll both get scolded", gently warning her again you find yourself turning back to where she came from. The other part of the premises where the peculiar man would be standing, as usual, in all his serene beauty, on the brigde overlooking the small lake.

A man in traditional Japanese cloths that you rarely see anyone wearing these days came to your shrine everyday, without fail for the past month. Everything from his attire to his elegant long hair left you in a trance and your eyes would naturally follow him.

Something about the fact how he'd always come here but never to pray or wish striked you as odd so at first you just observed and even before completely wrapping the situation around your head you two started sharing numerous conversations of the huge world that was right outside but so far away from your reach, his words fuelled the budding curiosity in your heart, the vastness of which made your trips to the lake, the most refreshing part of your otherwise monotonous daily routine.

Even if all you did was talk, a 'supposidly' demure maiden working in a shrine, skipping on her duties and rushing to the other side of the ginormous area to see a man felt almost elicit, scary even when you consider the consequences that would come if you were to get found out. The charisma his every action held was beyond resistance and you soon found yourself enraptured by the male despite everything.

"This is so pointless" you huffed, smiling out of self pity to hide the more frustrating emotions twirling within you.

"Yet you do it everyday", with a small nudge from her elbow you made your way straight to the lake, forgetting about your obligations as a shrine maiden, the responsibilities, the restrictions and all inhibitions put upon you in the name of god.

With quick steps you soon found yourself at the base of the curved brigde,

"Good afternoon Mr. Geto", your greeting came out in a rush, trying to ignore the warmth of your face, but your attempts at hiding your flustered state didn't go unnoticed by the man in front of you.

" Seems like you've been having quite a hectic day", smiling in his usual serene way Geto gracefully turns his head in your direction.

" Not any more than usual", calming your erratic heartbeat you slowly close the distance between the two of you and stand beside him on the arch of the bridge.

" It's really nice here", He remarked, his eyes sweeping across the tiny fishes swimming near the surface of the lake. You stared at him for a little while before finally asking the one thing that drew you to him the most.

" I always wondered, why do you come here everyday if you don't even want to go to the main shrine to pray?. Surely it's not just for this scenery."

" Hmmm? Pray for what?", Not particularly moved by your question he quizzically tilt his head.

"Well.....you know, the usual, success in job, finding a significant other or maybe even something materialistic? Although I doubt you're interested in the last one", you laugh a little to take the edge off your slightly personal question.

"Dreams come true through steadily applied efforts not praying", with his sage like appearance, his words didn't came off as a shock.

"Not the best thing to say to a shrine maiden but I guess it's somewhat true", Quipping back you just looked at him with a smile, silently revelling on your familiarity with each other.

"What about you? You never look like you're having fun while working here.... As if you're the one who's not satisfied with you're job" His voice took a more serious note and asked the question you always tried to push away but for the first time, you felt safe. Safe in talking about things what most people around you would call blasphemy.

"Yeah well, I wouldn't say it's my life's calling. It's basically following the ideals that has been written by others and just blindly following them day in and day out", just as you finished your sentence you realised how shallow and sad you just sounded but the slightly widened eyes of Geto was what made you mentally kick yourself before you hastily try to smooth things over.

" But! It's not that bad! Once you get used to-", after a few lighthearted words to clear the heavy atmosphere that was building up you were cut off with one long finger hovering just above your lips.

" It's okay, you don't have to worry about being judged with me", not touching your lips he quickly retreats his hand back,

"It's only natural to question your ideals and beliefs when you actually start thinking about them, it's a proof of growing up. I can say it was the same for me as well, I had thought I'd spend my whole life sequestered in 'that' place but...." His gaze takes on a far off quality as his words fade.

"What changed then?", Without even knowing why, you urged him to continue.

"Well, I grew up and realised mine were just idealistic views, far from practical."

"Wait! How old are you now?!", Unable to ignore your budding curiosity you went on,

With a soft flick to your cheek he snorted in amusement, his low baritone made you recognise your own rudeness as you rub the non existent pain off of your face.

"It's not polite to ask strangers their age, regardless of their gender, young lady".

"I'm sorry! It's just, your answer...... Was kinda vague so...." Trailing off, the fact that he didn't owed you any explanations dawned on you making you stop. But the sudden halt in your unabashed questioning didn't go unnoticed by the long haired man so he continued, as if reading your thoughts.

"Everyone's entitled to act idiotically every once in a while but you sure are abusing your privilege", he went on, after a few words of sass.

" It took a while but, I soon discovered my true feelings about the world I lived in and how I wanted to change it", The unshakeable conviction of his voice reverberated through your ears and there seemd to be more to the hint of darkness in his downcast eyes, but further questions left your brain as you felt genuine resolve through his words.

Before you could process what's happening, Geto pulled you in close, resting his hands on either side of the brigde railings, caging you inbetween the low wall and his body.

"How about we run away to a better world together?", not waiting for you to protest he spoke. The words falling from his lips were casual enough to make you overlook the outrageousness of their meaning and your oddly intimate position did nothing to stop your brain from short circuiting.

"The decision is yours y/n but I'll be waiting anyway," his voice seems to trail a little before he bends down, his thin lips ghosting over your right ear, " you see, I hate it when even the good gets destroyed along with the bad", with that he quickly pulles his body back, letting you have your personal space again.

"I'll come back here at 8 'o' clock tonight",

After announcing that smoothly, he turns his back away and walks off to the exit, leaving you gob smacked at his confusing words.You watch him saunter off, still to awestruck to move when you finally take a note of your own unsteady breaths and face that radiated heat rivaling the sun atop.

" Who would- even go along with that crazy idea", your meek words get lost in the now empty place but the longing in your eyes to see what lied beyond your conservative lifestyle was as clear as the autumn sky hanging above.

You turn your back on the place and jog off in an effort to escape your own complicated feelings on the matter. His casually spoken words clawed at your heart, an entire different life was just one step away and it was shocking to even you how much trust you were subconsciously putting in every single word he says.

The conflicting thoughts in your head kept you busy the entire walk from the bridge to at the door of the only home you had known for so many years and never once your feet held such hesitation as you entered the building to continue the tasks you had left behind for the momentary change you craved so much.

The evening passed by in a flash, the thumping of your heart only getting louder with each passing hour. You just got out of your bath and were getting ready to help with dinner when you heard two voices coming form one of the senior priestess's room

"I saw her talking to a man, he didn't looked like a -", their words weren't clear but one thing was. Their topic of discussion was you.

"No he was wearing a hakama", it was getting harder and harder to breath with every second. If they were to tell that to your other supervisors then it would become very difficult for you to live here.

"So he could be from a neighbouring temple, maybe just asking about something general?"

"But weren't they standing too close?"

Listening in from behind the door all you could make out was that they clearly saw you and Geto, but one thing was certain. You were about to be very strictly reprimanded for just having curiosity.

Before you could even think up of some excuses to get yourself out of this mess the previous offer of his night time rendezvous flashed in your mind. It got you thinking, if you were going to be made to stay under supervision for a while anyway then the least you could do was to meet Geto one more time so as to let him know that his idea was indeed crazy and that life wasn't that easy for you to give up on everything you've done until now just on a whim.

You couldn't exactly get to a proper conclusion, sure leaving seemed like the better option but the fact that you'll be heavily dependent on Geto for everything didn't sit will with you either. It's not like you had any other skills or connections and even if he said he'd take you with him, you weren't fully ready to trust him on that. Why would you? It's not like you two were connected or related in any way.

The meeting time was approaching fast and since it's dinner time soon most of the girls would be around the dining area to help. It was the perfect opportunity to slip out unnoticed and come back after explaining things to the kind person who brought a few extra colors in your dull life.

Shakily you made you way to the back door, knowing full well you're about to commit another offense.

In a few minutes you reached the bridge, it was empty right now, indicated that your are ether early or that maybe Geto was actually just messing with you and oddly enough you felt your stomach drop at the thought of the second option.

But before you could overthink out the negative options you sense eyes on your back and whirl around to see a happy looking Geto strutting towards you.

" I take it you have decided to entrust yourself to me?", Greeting you with his self assured words he smiles amicably at you.

" Actually- I've decided to not leave", you say, with both sadness and regret in your voice.

He listenes to you in silence, his face doesn't look convinced no matter how much you explain but he never interrupts you until you're finished.

" So, Is that what you really want? To rot in a place which binds you to unnecessary obligations?", He blankly says, after you're done.

"It's only natural to lose something in order to attain greater things y/n", steping in your personal space again he peers at you face, his eyes were slited enough to hide their true intentions yet leaving just enough space for the moonlight to give them an otherworldly glow.

His beautiful face just centimetres away from yours and before you can finish he grabs you by the chin and delivers a mind blowing kiss.

This wasn't good for your heart. Your previous resolve was melting, just like the rest of you. Geto quickly slipped his hot tongue inside your mouth, exploring every nook and cranny of it.

"Why are you going so far?", You ask, still not entirely convinced.

" Because we are the same, that's why I know what you want and I can give that to you. So trust me okay?", A few seconds pass as you both stare into each other, when you finally heave a sigh of defeat.

" I do want more than just a life of modesty,", having changed you decision yet again you look up at the man in a renewed resolve.

"That's my girl!", Almost excitedly he envelopes you in a warm hug,

"Well y/n? How exactly do you want to celebrate your new found freedom? ", giving his words a suggestive tone he leaned forward to press his lips against your ear, placing light kisses up and down its lobe.

A surge of heat runs through your confounded heart, voice raspy as you reply " Ofcourse I want to do it with you", the snickering above you made you realise the innuendo your words held,

" I meant the celebration! It as in the CELEBRATION OKAY?!", Frantically, you push against his chest to break your embrace, trying to explain the simple meaning behind your previous words but even so, you'd be lying to yourself if you said that the thought of sleeping with him never crossed your mind.

The unmarried virgin criteria you had to fulfill in order to be a shrine maiden was in the past now. So you couldn't find any reason to hold back now.

" I'd be an honor," Geto's melodious voice reverberated through the entire room and you whip your head upwards to look for the confirmation you needed.

With minimal amount of words Geto took you to a near by cottage, saying he atleast wanted your first time to be in a proper place. You thought he was staying at just a room in that cottage but it turned out he had rented the entire place.

For you, it was quite a luxurious thing, while it was something you'd love to revel in, you had other, more important matters to give your attention too.

With a soft click, Geto opens the bedroom door and ushers you in, you breathing coming out irregular, and you were almost shaking in both excitement and nervousness.

What if he doesn't like how I look like naked? Would he like it better if I had shaved? Wait- I hope I'm not wearing my ugly panties today!. While you were freting the small details, the long haired man quietly made his way towards the bed, where you sat, buring his face at the crook of your neck as his arms wrap themselves around you.

"White suites you",His voice rumbled in your ears, his tone as smooth and sweet as honey when he slipped his hand inside the collar of your top, parting the neatly tucked fabric until your chest was exposed. The sudden contact with the air and his hands made your nipples perk up. He fondles them a little while kissing up your neck and shoulders.

Slowly he undos the cloth belts that tied your red hakama to place and eventually you feel them loosen up and then down to the ground, leaving you in just your open white kosode.

Being so exposed in front of a man and that too for the first time made you instinctively cover your chest and crotch, but it was pointless really, because even your hands couldn't hide the dampness of your panties from the sharp eyes that seems to look straight through your meek attempt at modesty.

"Come on, show me everything", his eyes met yours, all attention on you and it was almost disconcerting how vulnerable his eyes made you feel.

Felling a warm rush of blood to your face, you slowly loosen the grip of your hands around your body, letting Suguru pry them off until they rested limply on your sides. Slowly you lie down flat on your back, shyly looking away.

"Getting embarrassed is fine, but there's no need to hid yourself, It's only natural to want to look at your lover's body",He says it with such low, sweet, seduction that your toes curl in response, the word 'lover' ringing in your ears sent your heart in a frenzy.

Slipping the rest of your garments off of your shoulders he gently kisses your ear, licking the contours of your jaw and all the way to the hollow of your throat. His mouth nibbed at the skin beneath as his smooth tongue caressed the marks it left behind.

Soon he latched his lips onto on of your nipples, his teeth grazing the hardened tips pulled a few moans out of you, his long hair tickled your skin wherever they fell and it took everything in you to stop yourself from grabbing onto them.

Moving lower, he soon reached your pussy, already dripping with arousal. You felt his breath on your folds as spreaded them with one of his hand and gave the smooth space inbetween a long lick.

Sucking on your clit with fervor, his arms around your hips traced it's dips and curves as he delves deeper into your moistened sex. Your moans were inevitable at this point, the feeling his mouth in the most intimate part of your body was making you shiver in ecstasy but as soon as he brought his hand near your hole you felt your thighs clench.

"Don't worry I'll only use one finger at a time to get you all nice and ready for later" Gentle reassurances flowed naturally out of his mouth as he covers his fingers in your slick before spreading your pussy more.

His digits push past your folds and buries themselves deep into your throbbing pussy, the sensation of being penetrated both new and arousing. Geto slowing moves his finger in and out as his tongue latches on to your clit again.

The sensations of being licked and fingered together intermingled in your body, bringing you closer to your release in no time. Although it was a good thing you didn't wanted to end it so quickly. He was undeniably good with his hands, knowing when exactly to add another finger or when to curl or rub them inside.

Maybe it's because it was your first time but the onslaught of your orgasm leaves you shaking and moaning wildly in the most unladylike ways you have ever acted. It was embarrassing how much you ended up enjoying while Geto did all the work.

Though he pushes you to your limit you can't help but want to watch his every movement, anticipation building inside you when he raises his head and props himself on his knees to get a better look at your blissed out face. You let out a sigh of longing as he bought his glistening digits to near your face as a proof of you how good he made you feel.

" I'm glad you like it honey", his voice dangerously seductive, he licks his fingers just as erotically, making you embarrassed.

" Let's move onto the part where you cum on my cock now shall we?", His crudeness may have been shocking but right now all you cared about was the cumming part so you let him manhandle your throbbing form until he properly lines himself up against your hole.

Suguru didn't removed his cloths fully, just loosened his hakama just enough to whip his member out.

" Deep breaths now y/n", his gentle guiding eased your mind, and so you relax your body to take him in because even if it's your first time, you were pretty sure he was big enough to make anyone ache.

A warm tingling pain tears through your core which soon mealted into something more euphoric, unbearably good even, making you cry out in ecstasy. He filled you up to the brim and you wondered how bad it will ache tomorrow. As soon as he bottomed out in you, the entire aura of the person about you changed and the room felt like it dropped a few degrees in temperature.

It was not what you'd expected as your first time. Not the painfully rough speed he started with. Not the large hand around your neck that threatened to cut off your air supply. And certainly not the cold, detached look in his face.

Even when your breathing was getting shallower by the second you still writhed in pleasure. It was alarming as to how much you were willing to entrust your entire self to Suguru who was nothing if not composed, keeping his hand firmly around your neck while thrusting his member in and out of your pussy, fucking you like some sort of rag doll.

Long gone was the mild mannered person you looked up at with heart eyes, maybe he was just different in bed, that's what you wanted to tell yourself but the lack of consent and the level of his roughness kept you from doing so.

He eventually let go of your neck, only to flip you on your stomach and shoved his cock inside from an even deeper angle. He didn't let you tap out until you came twice, with your third orgasm approaching just as fast.

The sumptuous heat from his body lingers on yours for sometime even after he pulls himself out

And you felt that the longer you stayed in his embrace, the more darkness seeped into you which would surely make you go numb eventually

You wanted to ask Geto what was happening but a few broken screams were the only thing you could make out, everything was sudden, how the pain made your vision go white to then pitch black and as your consciousness left your body all you could hear was Geto's calm voice.

" Next time you wake up, well be in a better world"

The few rustling sounds of fabric brought you back to the waking world, the dark blue skies outside with flashes of gold inbetween told you it was just the crack of dawn.

You slowly prop yourself up in a sitting position to look around the unfamiliar room.

You catch your reflection in the nearby window next to your bed, you looked the same save for the few indecipherable marks here and there.

" Good morning y/n", Quickly looking at your right, you see Geto just walking out of the bath, his mascular form only covered by a thin cottan kimono.

He was behaving normally, as if the events of last night didn't happen. So normally that you were starting to think you may have hallucinated the whole thing.

Walking towards your sitting form, Geto bends down to cup your jaw and layers his mouth on yours, the scent of his shampoo tingling your senses almost made you forget about everything else.

He breaks the kiss, gazing at your downcasted eyes, the heat from your face made him chuckle.

"Quite an innocent reaction considering all the things we've done", he smirks triumphantly at you, his eyes a mix of dark but intense passion. All the things huh. You thought. Your mind was still in a haze and it was talking longer to process your words and thoughts.

"What happened last night?, I can't remember everything properly", you were expecting straight answers, that how did you passed out or where you exactly were right now but Geto seemed to go off on his own tangent.

You were just like my past self,", were, he said. As if you're something else now. The man in front of you was changing his colors faster than you could comprehend his words and it was terrifying you.

"That's why it's my duty to show you everything that life has to offer, the entire extent of it. As long as you stay by my side.", Not paying an ounce of attention to your shocked state he want on,

" The people you were staying with before were only going to confuse you further, that's why I had to take you away".

"You are the most free and safest at my side, darling. But if you still want your preistess life back then, I'll be your god and you can spend the rest of your life worshipping me instead"

Of course, he didn't saw you as an equal who could stand beside him, you weren't even his lover, just someone below him who he needed to worship the ground he walked upon in. But even so, the fear you experienced just a few minutes ago dissipated, bringing back the curiosity that was at its height whenever he was around.

"Were you lonely?",Geto's eyes trailed up and down your face which halted in their track after hearing your words which oddly resembled pity.

" What-", the previously composed and slitted eyes expanded a little before his expression abruptly shifts, turning serious, making you flinch under its sharp gaze, the animosity that surrounded him contrasted with the previous tender kisses and touch.

With his one large hand he grabbed your face from the base of your jaw, painfully lifting it up until your entire body was a few centimetres above the surface of the bed.

" Listen up y/n, I didn't brought you here to dote on you and the only reason I wiped out your silly little shrine because I can't stand hypocrites who spread false teachings written by equally hypocritical people. It was your job to worship things you couldn't see before and now you have to do the same job for someone you can see. That's. All."

"Ofcourse, leaving isn't an option.I've turned your body into a reincarnated curse. If any of the Jujutsu tech people caught you roaming around, it'll be instant exorcism for you." He lets go of your face and sits next to your form, Geto was quite for a while, giving you time to sort out your own feelings on the matter.

You knew what was happening now. Inbetween those conceited words flashes of the warm blooded man behind the god slipped out and you had to resist the overwhelming urge to comfort the person who just confessed to have burnt down the shire you were living in just until a few days ago. Maybe your thought process was altered just like the rest of you body, or maybe you were always this crazy too.

The source of your sympathy was unknown but the twisted obsession of his was provided you with more solid answers.

Your meeting, the conversations, how you eloped together. All of it made sense now. He wanted to save you from the oppressive state of the place you had spend most of your life in, ofcourse he would. He was thinking of you in ways no one ever had. He loved you in ways no one ever will, or could for that matter.

And you,

You loved him too. You had to.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #smut #Jujutsu kaisen geto Suguru #suguru geto #geto suguru x reader #geto #jjk geto suguru #geto Suguru #Jujutsu kaisen x reader #Jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #geto Suguru smut #my writing #tw: Gaslighting #jujutsu kaisen scenario #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

Up In the Air (Joe x Reader)

(surprise gift for you guys on Joe's birthday ^_^ I started this almost exactly a year ago, and it's finally done! Someone pointed out that I slightly hinted at the plot of this in my last fic post... you caught me.)

Words: 4,028

Prompt: Spring, 1983. Joe has an opportunity in his sights, but as luck would have it, it does not go his way (or does it...?)

-----

(1983)

"God, it was so embarrassing!" Joe put his palms over his eyes as he whined to Sav. The singer was flat on his back in the middle of their bed, and Sav's back was against the wall opposite him. The bassist had his arms crossed in exasperation.

They were back in a fresh, new hotel room after another flight to another city. They'd been settled in for a while, and- as far as you knew- Joe was physically well. Emotionally, however...

"What are the odds that things were placed so perfectly for me today, and then-?!" he swatted the air above him, "That happens? 'Just my luck!"

Sav didn't consider it as dire of a situation as Joe did. In fact, he seemed rather entertained than sympathetic.

"That was out of your control, mate."

"I know it was, but-" he sat up, "Y/n was right there! How was I supposed to keep it together?!"

"If it were anyone else other than her, you still would've had to keep it together, you know," Sav tilted his head down, but had his eyes looking up.

"Well, you're no help," Joe grumbled, crossing his arms back at the bassist and flopping back down onto the mattress.

"There's nothing to help you with!" Sav took a seat at the foot of the bed, "It's not my fault you got-"

Joe sat up again in a snap, warning with a pointed finger, "Don't say it."

"I was just gonna say that I had nothing to do with you being-"

"Don't say it!" Joe pleaded again.

"Joe, it's not that big of a deal that you-"

"Sav!"

"Alright, fine!" Sav threw up both hands, shaking his head and narrowly fighting off a laugh, "I won't say it!"

A loud sigh came from Joe, his head hanging now. The heat of embarrassment refused to leave his face.

"...do you think she's still hung up on it, too?" his voice went quiet, and his tone adopted a sad air.

Sav raised his hand, rubbed his fingers together, and patted Joe's ankle reassuringly.

"It's hard to say no," he admitted, "I know I wouldn't have liked to be in either of your shoes today."

~(5 hours earlier)~

A hand took a grip on your right forearm without warning. It snapped you from the hypnotic, musical trance you'd been in for most of the flight. Having been placed next to the singer for the first time on an airplane, you knew it was his action without a doubt. You looked down and sure enough, Joe's hand was there- holding onto you just a bit too tightly.

Your free hand took off your headphones and you asked him, "Everything alright?"

The singer wasn't focused on you, or anything, it seemed. "Unfocused" was probably the best word you could think of to describe him. His head was slightly tilted downwards, but his eyes were fixed on the back of the chair in front of him. Despite that, it appeared as if he couldn't see it no matter how hard he tried.

You gathered this impression from a split second of looking at him, but as soon as he heard your question, Joe's hold on you was instantly released. His own trance was snapped as well.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. I thought you were the armrest..."

"You were holding on pretty tight," you pointed out, "Something wrong?"

That same look on his face was back again; unfocused. His hand slowly found its way back to the armrest- now that he knew it wasn't your arm. You saw his hand shaking before he gripped it tightly.

"You don't look so good," you noted, adopting a frown.

He hesitated slightly before going very quiet, his face suddenly appearing pallid.

"Fuck..." Joe cursed himself, "I fucked up, I fucked up..."

You pressed again, "Joe... tell me what's wrong..."

He lied to you in a halting voice when a new blush seemed to form on his face, "Um... it's nothing much. There's just- something I haven't told you, and I should've mentioned it before we got on board. But I..."

He fell quiet.

"Yeah...?" you urged him to go on.

"I get... seasick- airsick... sometimes. Not every time, but... every now and then I do- and..."

He visibly swallowed, his breath trembling when he slowly shut his eyes.

Your eyebrows went up, alarmed, "And you're not feeling so good?"

"No, no, no...!" his inner voice screamed.

"Not really, but I'm fine, don't worry about me. It just happens."

His efforts to shrink the overall worry didn't work, as you instantly knew that if things went south, you were the only nearby acquaintance of his who could help him. You were also trapped with him for 2 more hours until you landed, so you would've had to help him if need be.

"Oh god- are you gonna be sick?" your hand raised up slightly to reach for a sick bag.

"No! No, I'm more dizzy than anything..."

"Well, take this-" you handed him a sick bag, "-and just try not to focus on your surroundings. And if you can't hold it down... well just keep it in the bag and away from me, okay?"

"...okay," he exhaled and took it from you, desperately hoping it wouldn't come to that. For fuck's sake, he was already embarrassed enough. He felt like a child. Even worse; he felt like your child.

Joe shut his eyes again and rested his head back on his seat. His whole body looked drained of energy, and you saw sweat forming on his forehead. It was obvious to you he was trying to make himself appear more okay than he was.

"I can do this," Joe nearly said aloud, "I can get through this without her knowing."

Unfortunately, for him, you already knew.

"The poor guy," you were thinking with sympathy, "Never knew he could look so ill."

You asked, "You've been feeling bad for a while, haven't you?"

"...what?" he squinted under his eyelids, lying to you again, "No, not really. Why, can you tell?"

"I don't wanna sound rude... but yeah, you kind of look like hell."

Joe quietly whined at your declaration.

"I know that look, Elliott- I've been in this position before."

The man next to you was intrigued by what you implied. He was suddenly beginning to think that maybe his situation wasn't as embarrassing as it appeared.

His eyes opened, "Wait, have you ever-?"

"Oh- no, I never get sick on planes, but you're not the first case I've ever seen."

"Great. This means she's stronger than me."

You held up your bottle, "You want some water? Maybe settle your stomach a little?"

Joe felt his stomach turn at the mention of liquid and shook his head, "No, I'll be fine..."

It was another lie, but you decided maybe it was best you just let him be. Perhaps he wasn't that bad.

Joe, on the other hand, was fighting the sickness with all the strength he could muster- hoping you wouldn't see it.

"Don't mess this up," he was telling himself, "She's right there. Keep it together and don't balls it up...!"

Going with your plan, you let him be, and put your headphones back on.

He took a deep breath, "Fuck, if only the seatbelt lock wasn't on... then at least I could hide in the bathroom..."

The Leppard waited in terrified silence for his ailment to subside. With the current turbulence, it was impossible. Every shudder and bump made him want to heave until there was nothing left in his stomach. Worst of all, there was no where he could run to; he was trapped.

Oddly enough, before the sickness hit him, he was actually excited to be trapped there.

It was no secret among the band members that Joe quickly developed a crush on you. What started out as a feeling of preferring you over anyone else in the crew soon turned into a reach for romance. There was no time for him to make a move in the midst of the tour, though, which left him to suffer in his teenage desire alone.

When he heard he would be seated next to you on the next flight, he instantly knew it was an opportunity he couldn't afford to waste. This was the first time he'd sat directly by you on a plane, after all. It was a brilliant time to make a move and bond together. He'd been nervous ever since he sat down, but he never got the chance to make a flirt or decent conversation before his body betrayed him. Yes, it was an optimistic opportunity, but now Joe wished it'd been anywhere except up in the air.

The stress of the situation only made him feel worse- but he wouldn't accept the fact that he was about to lose this divine opening.

Not 4 minutes of your music went by when the plane shook yet again. When it did, you thought you saw Joe suddenly move from the corner of your eye. When your head turned, you saw his fist pressed against his mouth, an arm around his stomach, and a green tint over his pallid face.

"Woah, you alright?" you took your headphones off again.

Joe only nodded, closing his eyes to reassure you (but also to reprimand himself under the surface).

"No, no no!! Stop being sick for fuck's sake! You won't have a chance with her!!"

"I'm good, I'm good," he swallowed again, wiping sweat off his bangs, "Go back to your music."

"Don't lie to me, Joe. You look terrible-! Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"I'm really not that bad, Y/n. Just a little... motion sickness..." his breathing became labored, and he angled his body as far to his right as he could. He began to fidget with something as he swallowed, "Ohh..."

The cabin teetering around him somehow made things even worse.

"Honey, I don't think it's just a little," your concern was peaked, and a hand was hovering over his arm, "You look like you're about to throw up or pass out, so how about we get you some club soda and you can rest, okay? If you want to, you can even-"

Joe was turned completely away from you, and had suddenly lurched forward to vomit into the sick bag you'd given him earlier. You knew that any hope of him holding back his condition was impossible now.

You'd initially flinched at his retching; cringing and holding your breath. Only a second passed until you remembered your duty; you were the only friend nearby.

"Uh oh-" sympathetically, you sighed and reached out to him, your hands holding his hair back, "That's not good..."

***

"I feel so humiliated... I was just- so deathly sick! I threw up twice, Sav- twice! And she was right next to me! I feel awful that she had to put up with it...! I feel like that's on me. She probably thinks I'm disgusting; she probably sees me as this huge fucking pansy who can't keep his lunch down while flying..."

"Mate, getting sick on flights isn't a personality trait, and I'm pretty sure Y/N knows that, too."

Joe, who was laying down again, scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"...I think this situation isn't all that bad, really," Sav shrugged, his voice going up in pitch to take on a suggestive tone.

"What on earth makes you say that?"

"It's quite obvious! I just think you were-" he adopted Joe's voice and air quotes, "-'so deathly sick' that you didn't even realize exactly what was happening...!"

"Really? How so?"

"Oh, don't even get me started, Joe."

*** Joe was laying against you now, exhausted from the physical labor forced on his stomach and throat. He was still pale and shivering, but finally willing to accept your advice and remedies. You'd ordered him some club soda (and some mints from your purse), and suggested he take a rest.

This left you where you were now. He had a hand on his stomach, and another one under your hand to calm him.

To say the least, it felt like having a nice, heavy blanket partially draped on you. You couldn't help but think it was at least a little funny. To most people, they'd be absolutely repulsed by a man with a weak stomach sleeping on them during a flight. You couldn't blame them, as Joe could still hurl at any given moment. However, the instinct to care for him overpowered any repulsion you may have had. To you, Joe was like a sick puppy, and you were the one who found him first. You knew he needed you in that moment, and you were okay with it. It was a nice feeling, to say the least.

Joe moved his head against you in his weary and mostly-asleep state of consciousness. A soft grumble vibrated from his sore throat.

Amid those circumstances that would normally gross you out, you managed to smile at him. That, and you gently squeezed his hand to reassure him that he was safe.

That pale, clammy version of the singer you were trapped with wasn't the form of himself he put on display to just anyone. This was a whole new side of him that you knew he never intended you to see; he was helpless. Joe had given in and finally let himself be helpless around you. You found it was rather sweet, and even somehow softening your heart.

It almost felt like a strange honor that not many people had the privilege of possessing, given that Joe tried so hard to hide it from you.

Him desperately vying to avoid your concern was typical for any one of the guys. Naturally, none of them wanted to appear vulnerable around you, but Joe seemed so hell-bent on keeping up his charade of feeling fine. You wondered what reasons he had for his strict act. Perhaps it was the intimate public setting that drove him to conceal his motion sickness at all costs. Maybe it was in order to save himself from certain embarrassment; you really didn't know.

Whatever reason he had, it didn't dwell in your mind for long. All you knew was that even with a half-dead, cold-sweated Joe on your shoulder, your heart was fluttering in a way that was even more inexplicable than his behavior.

*** "First of all," Sav held up a sassy finger at Joe, "She was the one who suggested she hold your hand, plus she held your hair back, plus she let you sleep on her shoulder and tried to make you feel better. Sounds rather tender, if you ask me. Tenderly intimate."

"I'll tell you what was 'intimate'-" Joe's grumpiness was still prominent, "-her watchin' me regurgitate my fuckin guts from 10 inches away!"

"But those were all girlfriend duties!" Sav bounced in his seat, trying to get the point across.

Joe finally fell silent. He sat up, and Sav could see the blush in his cheeks.

"...girlfriend duties?" he nearly whispered to the bassist.

"I'm right and you know it. Tell me those weren't girlfriend-ly actions! She got affectionate with you!"

Joe let his sight fall, then rise back up after a brief moment of pondering.

"She did, didn't she..."

"She definitely did."

Sav was smirking at him now.

Joe asked him again, "You really think she did...?"

"There's not a doubt in my mind."

"Oh-" Joe made a swatting motion and shook his head. He looked diagonally down at the floor, "She probably would've been affectionate to any one of us in that situation..."

Sav laughed out loud at his friend's comment. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was back at home, gossiping in Joe's childhood bedroom during a sleepover.

"Mate, when I had food poisoning last month, she didn't wanna get near me! But today, she was touchin' you and strokin' you and whatnot! Now that I mention it, I saw her smile while you were sleeping and holding her hand! Believe me, she wanted to help you. It was like she had an excuse to get close to you, just like you saw the flight as an excuse to get close to her."

Resting his case, Sav crossed his arms, tongue in his cheek.

They both remained quiet while Joe sat in thought. The pieces slowly began to fit together in his head, forming a train of thought he could somewhat follow.

"Suppose you are right; what do you suppose I do about it now?"

Sav could tell his argument was a success. His work there was done.

"That's entirely up to you."

*** You hadn't been awake that long, and were still pretty groggy when dawn began to break the next day. The unfortunate sensation of jet lag was beginning to catch up with you at that time, too. It didn't matter, because it was all part of the business. Your day would begin soon enough, jet lag or not.

After rubbing your eyes and throwing on your robe, you drew back the curtains and peered out at the misty morning. Thinking the hypnotic trance might wake you up more, you began to stare. Just as quickly, your eyes began to flutter shut again. Right before they did, however, there came a gentle knock at your door.

Blinking yourself back awake, you brought yourself to answer the call.

Initially, you found no one outside your room via the door's peephole. However, when you opened the door to search for anyone nearby, there came an unexpected surprise.

Rather than a person standing before you, a colorful bouquet of flowers lay on your doorstep. Of course, it was strange, but it also left you quickly growing bashful. You just hoped it wasn't one of your guy friends playing an early morning joke on you. Even so, your mind would be too cloudy to process that.

Looking around with sleepy confusion and flattery, you crouched down and picked up the bright bundle. You shuffled your fingers through the top of the arrangement to try and find a label or card that would give away the sender's identity. Eventually, you found the exact clue you were looking for; in the form of a small note.

The fresh, awakening scent of the blossoms wafted around you as you made out the handwriting.

"I'm so sorry I almost threw up on you on the plane! 🙁 -Joe"

It couldn't have been any more straightforward if it'd been put up on a neon sign. You chuckled out loud in the empty hallway and peered around to find a trace of the man in question.

Instantly, you found his eyes peeking from around the corner a few yards away. A guilty smile on his lips made him look so shy- in contrast to his average demeanor.

"This was really unnecessary, you know," the bundle was waved teasingly at him.

"I felt it was necessary," Joe's body slowly appeared more from behind the corner, "Considering you had no choice but to put up with disgusting ol' me."

Leaning on your door's frame, your eyes followed him while he strolled forward and leaned his shoulder on the wall in front of you. You both wore humorous smiles aimed at each other. If you could think any more clearly, you'd recognize this as flirting. Maybe it was- but it seemed oddly natural in that moment.

"Despite what you may think," your eyebrows lifted as you raised the bouquet up to your chin, "You weren't as gross as you expect. That, and you weren't any trouble."

"I just feel icky about the whole thing," he scrunched up his face and shrugged in disgust, "I promise it won't happen again- if I'm seated next to you."

"Don't worry about it, Joe. You just had a bad flight; everyone's got them from time to time."

"Not you, apparently."

Joe's smile turned rather bashful when he diverted his eye contact elsewhere. He silently chuckled with a hint of embarrassment. When you'd reassured him, he all of a sudden realized what Sav was trying to make him see. There was something in your eyes and your smile and your voice that just spoke to Joe; something that hit him and made him realize you wanted to be in the position you were in the day before.

You wanted to be affectionate with him.

Out of his daze, Joe spoke up after a brief hesitation, "So- um, I know it's early... but it's the perfect time for breakfast, so would you wanna go downstairs and get something to eat?"

"You mean with disgusting ol' you?"

"Don't worry-" his face almost went red at the cheeks, and his dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth, "You don't have to think about me keeping it down this time."

Your arm holding the flowers dropped down to your side as you broke up into giggles.

"I'm not worried- in fact, I'd love to go."

You couldn't be certain, but you swore you saw Joe's face actually go red that time.

"Cool! Cool. Did you wanna get dressed or-?"

"Well, you don't seem to be dressed either, so why should I?" you reached back into your room to place the bouquet inside. When you shut the door, you joined the singer, "Let's hit it before Mike and Mal take all the good pastries."

Joe showed his teeth in his grin when you came to his side and began walking.

"If they're all taken, I'll steal one for you- considering I owe you a favor after what you did for me yesterday."

"What did I do?"

The answer was simple, but Joe didn't know how to say it without implying his feelings for you.

"You nursed me back to heath- or at least tried to..."

"I told you not to worry about it..."

"Alright, alright, I'll try not to."

"I'll tell you something, Elliott," you giggled as you both got inside the lift, "You've got a strange way of flirting."

Heat rushed to Joe's cheeks, and more threatened to join them at the thought of you noticing.

"Oh yeah?" he laughed.

"You hope I won't notice every tiny effort, yet you keep doing tiny things to make me notice. Even if we're, for example- up in the air..."

"Oh, god..." just like that, Joe thought he'd be the first person on earth to die of embarrassment. He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fuck- please don't tell me I was that obvious..."

"Calm down, don't make yourself sick again," you laughed and patted his back, "If it makes you feel any better... I did notice what you were trying to do on the flight. And- um... it worked. So..."

You stood on your toes, and lightly planted a kiss on his cheek, "Let's just say- you don't have to be sick if you want to hold my hand next time."

Joe's hand lowered from his face, and he quickly flashed a bashful glance at you before darting his eyes away.

The elevator doors opened, the smell of coffee seeping everywhere. Instead of walking out, Joe reached out to you.

"You said I didn't have to be sick next time, and I'm quite well now..."

A bashful smile of your own made an appearance as you took his hand like you did the previous day. When you did, Joe giggled to himself.

You glanced over, "What?"

With a pause, Joe rolled in his lips, then looked right at you, "Oh nothing. Just- if you get sick on the next flight, I guess we'll be even, then."

"So, you're gonna sit with me on the next flight, then?" you raised an eyebrow.

"If it means getting even with you, then yes."

"And if it doesn't mean getting even with me?"

"Well," Joe said, smiling widely, "Then the answer is still yes."

That answer was more than enough for you.

Strolling out together, hand-in-hand, you and Joe made your way towards the breakfast counter. In the corner of your vision, you noticed him snagging a pastry off of Mike and Mal's table when he passed by.

The end

#this took me exactly 359 days to 100% complete g__g #another very rare occurrence where a fic isn't based off a song or has the title stolen from a song #unfortunately the next fic is going to break that streak hah :3D #def leppard #joe elliott #def leppard fanfiction #joe elliott x reader #def leppard x reader #original content #rick savage #sav is a perfect mediator I'm sorry I have him in that role all the damn time orgiwroimvwr #everyone is a dumbass and sav is the keeper of dumbasses #I also spent nearly 4 hours making that moodboard i hope you're happy g_g #I just recycle the same boring joe birthday post every year bc I don't have any ideas nor do I have any resources in order to make- #-something different and/or better

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Three - Presage

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of Wendy’s drug use. Nothing explicitly *bad* goes on here, just some of the usual SOA shit is hinted at. :) Tig <3

MASTERLIST

Ninety degrees was horrendous. Ninety-six degrees saw Isla spiraling toward a fully-fledged mental breakdown, desperate to climb out of her own fucking flesh and melt into the parking lot outside of St. Thomas.

Seeing the Sons sporting leathers, hoodies, and long-sleeved shirts underneath their cuts made her skin crawl, too.

She'd thrown on the flounciest summer dress she owned, thin and wispy, and she was still roasting to death underneath the Californian sunshine.

It felt like they were living in the fucking ass-crack of hell.

Though, with their current state and Charming's infestation of ATF and other federal agents, hell wasn't too far off the mark.

"Thanks for the ride." Isla expressed her gratitude as she slid off of the back of Tig's bike, pulling the helmet away from loose blonde curls.

"No problem, baby--you good to get home, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm meeting Gem here, so she'll take me back to T M in time to pick my car up," she confirmed, readjusting herself.

She couldn't risk Tig Trager getting an eyeful of her asscheeks today. Not again, anyway.

"Perfect. See 'ya later, beautiful." Isla leaned in for him to peck her cheek--which was habitual for the pair--and she did the same.

Her smile was wide. She was beaming. "Bye, Tiggy. I love you."

"Love you too, kid." He reciprocated the smile, squeezing her hand as she broke away and padded toward the steps, brushing her fingers through wind-tousled strands.

Things were, for the first time in about a week, finally looking up. Resuming a sense of normality, perhaps.

She and Trager had been on precarious terms since that day, and had been avoiding one another altogether. Which, for them, was strange.

Days went by without even so much as a word being uttered between the pair, no backhanded comments, or even sideways glances.

Usually, they'd be bickering like kids, arguing nonsensically until Clay or Chibs broke them apart--but it was all just their little bit of fun. Because they bounced off of one another.

They lauded the relationship they shared because, really, it was one of the strongest.

He'd been her official favorite since the very day that they met--he and Bobby were the two she liked to talk to whenever she felt that she couldn't confide in her father.

But the last few days were so fucking hard. She was struggling with the weight of all that she did, coupled with the stress of not being able to discern Tig's current feelings on her.

And after she'd lashed out, had bitched at him for no fucking reason, she was pretty certain that Tiggy didn't want to know anymore.

That was thrown out of the window this morning, however, when Isla's clutch blew out, and she needed a ride from the garage to the hospital to see Abel.

Of course Tig was there for her. He always would be.

"Hey." Isla spoke softly as she held the little blue bear close to her chest. "I stopped by the gift shop on the way up here--Jax said he's already got bears and balloons comin' outta his ass, so I thought what's one more?"

Gemma couldn't help but smile, gesturing for the blonde to sit with her opposite Abel's isolette.

"He'll love you for it," she joked, though she knew that she was appreciative. For her company more so the stuffed animal.

With their commitment to the club and the current battle against the ATF, Jax and Clay weren't as hands on as what they usually would've liked.

Of course, Teller was at that baby's side whenever he got the chance to break away from SAMCRO, but he wanted more. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing that his little boy was being provided with the best possible care at St. Thomas.

And he was. He absolutely was. But he needed to know--for his own peace of mind, he needed to see that. So, his mother was there every waking fucking moment, giving him that love he could only get from his Grandma.

"How's he doing?" Her query was braided around a whisper, worried she'd disturb Abel's peaceful rest. "Jax said he should be coming home soon."

Gemma simply affirmed with a nod, gazing affectionately at her grandson.

It was heartwarming to see so much love, so much adoration from a woman who had a reputation for being a fucking cunt--thus proving that Gemma's main priority was her family, and their health and happiness.

That, somehow, made Isla love her even more than what she already did.

It also made her a tad jealous of Jax and the fact that he still had his mother in his life.

"He's gettin' stronger and stronger everyday. Tara said he'll be set to leave Friday--"

"Tara?" Her brow lifted as she put the bear amongst the pile of gifts. "I thought she was a doctor, I didn't think she had anything to do with the babies?"

Gemma's smile faltered a little. "She's a pediatric surgeon. Been takin' care of Abel since the start."

"Oh."

Now, she would've known that if she'd taken the time to visit her best friend's kid since he was born. But she hadn't--she hadn't even considered taking a trip over to St. Thomas to check in on Jax's baby.

And it was for the simple fucking reason that she couldn't bear the thought of facing Wendy and having to be nice to her. Especially after what she fucking did to that poor little boy.

She subsequently landed her own flesh and blood in the hospital after shooting heroin while pregnant? And she wanted Jax to pardon her for it?

Isla wasn't a hateful person, she didn't care about what people did in their spare time because that was their time.

But the moment an innocent person was harmed due to the carelessness of others...That was when she felt a scathing animosity.

"She's good with him." Gemma stated bitterly, snapping Isla from her ire-fueled daydream. "Kills me to say it, but she's a gem. A real fuckin' star."

"I'd bet. She was always good with kids."

"Yeah?" Suddenly interested, the older woman crossed over her arms. "Who's kids?"

Finally, Isla took a seat beside her on top of plush blue leather.

"A few of the girls we were in high school with had kids pretty young and Tara was usually super keen to hold them, or just hang out at their places whenever we weren't at school. Or it could've just been the wannabe doctor in her, now that I think about it."

"She's pretty maternal," Isla hummed in agreement, "but I'm glad she and Jax never had kids when you were teenagers--I don't know how that would've looked for him."

Suddenly, she was staring at Gemma like she had two fucking heads.

"I don't trust her." She elaborated, drawing another confused glance from Isla. "She and Jax would have been a fucking disaster had she stayed--"

"And things worked out so much better with Wendy?" A little more vehemently than intended, the blonde asked.

Now Gemma was the one shooting dirty looks.

"Look, Gem, I'm just saying. Jax and Tara are history now, yeah? You don't have to trust her. Just thank her for what she's doing for your grandson because when he's outta this place, you won't need to worry about her."

"And you're so sure about that, huh?" Skeptically, she asked. Arms folded over. "You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another."

That line gutted her.

It hurt her--it was agonizing--but she wasn't sure why she was so beaten by it. Because it was the truth, wasn't it?

Tara and Jax were, at one point, the strongest couple she'd ever known, and when it fizzled out he was fucking broken. She hadn't seen him so downtrodden since JT had passed, and he was suddenly left without the strength and guidance of his father.

She was his everything. Isla was a fool to think he'd be able to see her back in Charming and not feel something for her. His first love.

"I think we should throw Abel a homecoming party on Friday--if he's coming home then, that is." Gemma shifted the topic of conversation, getting to her feet.

"Absolutely. I'll help."

"Yeah?" She asked a little doubtingly, reaching over to pick Abel up. "You don't have to--I know you work Friday's."

Isla waved her off, standing beside the brunette. "I do, but it's no bother. If everyone's gonna be there, then I wanna show my face too. Offer a helping hand of some sort."

"Alright, perfect," Gem stated softly, holding the baby close to her chest. "When we get back to T M, we can figure out what we need to get."

"Sounds like a plan--" Isla was cut off by a soft knocking at the door, irritating her a little bit because she'd only just gotten there and hated the idea of having to leave already.

She made a mental note to stop by a little earlier tomorrow.

"Hey, sorry to bother you--" Tara stopped herself when she needed her estranged friend, almost dropping the clipboard she was holding against her chest.

Isla Telford was the last fucking person she expected to see today.

"Hey," with a fake smile, she greeted.

The tension was palpable.

Gemma felt the irritation washing over her favorite of the duo, urging her to turn her attention back toward her grandson before she said anything to worsen the situation.

Because she would've.

"Uh, I've gotta run a few tests on Abel before we determine that he'll be ready to leave this week, if that's alright?" Tara gestured to Gemma, ignoring Isla's presence.

That stung a little bit.

"Yeah. It's fine." The response was blunt. Terse, to a point.

"Great."

Isla realized that she wasn't wanted in that space any longer. She grabbed her purse, turning toward the door. "I'll meet you outside."

"Yeah, alright," Gemma put the baby back into his crib, smiling at Isla. "You want my keys?"

"I'll wait on the steps--I'm gonna smoke--"

"Before you go," Tara cut in. She cleared her throat, trying to smile--but she just couldn't.

Telford sensed where it was going, however. There wasn't a reason for her to stop Isla in her tracks, in front of Gemma no less.

She wondered how long it'd take for it to be brought up.

"Thanks."

Gratitude genuinely swept over the doctor, letting Isla know she was truthful in her acknowledgment--or, was it more like a form of praise? Because Jax definitely told Tara what they both did for her, and she was astounded that the woman would even float the idea of helping out.

It was a strange notion. To know what she did--when she looked and acted like that--was fucking weird. And nobody would've believed her if she said that Isla helped to dispose of a dead body, which did make her laugh a little.

She knew how to hold, load, and fire a pistol, but she wasn't capable of committing the unspeakable the same way that Jax, or Chibs, or Clay were capable of it.

But she was slowly earning her title as 'Daughter of Sgt. At Arms/ Man of Mayhem.' And she wasn't sure how she liked that.

"You're welcome," she spoke plainly. "Hope everything is alright now, Tara."

"It is."

"Good." Her retort was immediate, laced with that same genuineness the other woman expressed. "You free this coming friday?"

Hesitantly, she nodded.

"If all goes to plan--and Abel is good to come home--we're gonna throw a little party for the boy," Gemma confirmed with a nod. "You wanna swing by? Everyone'll be there--Donna, Ope, their kids, Wendy, the rest of the Sons. You should come. It'll be nice for everyone to see 'ya again."

Wendy's name falling from those pink lips, in such a positive light, maimed Isla. She and Jax were starting to get along a little bit better now, but she was still wary of that woman.

"Yeah. It'll be great," the older woman added.

Tara felt cornered. She knew that she wasn't really wanted, and she also knew that was a way for Isla and her menopausal best friend--old enough to be her fuckin' mom--to keep the doctor as close as possible without explicitly saying that they wanted to keep an eye on her.

"Sure. I'll stop by."

"Brilliant." Gemma conceded, slipping past the pair. "Address hasn't changed, sweetheart."

It was passive aggressive, sickly-sweet, and it was Gemma to a fucking T. The woman was loathing every second she had to spend with Tara Knowles and she wasn't even trying to hide it.

But it didn't have to be for very long, she thought.

"What was that all about? Why'd she thank you?" Gem queried as they got outside, passing the lighter to her left.

"For not breaking her fucking neck when I had the chance to all those years ago, probably."

Isla sparked her cigarette, pacing alongside her as they headed toward the car.

"That's bullshit."

"How so?"

"Just is." She could read Chibs's little girl like a fucking book. "But I won't press--if it's something between you and Tara, I don't care to hear. Just lemme know if it goes south. I can put a bullet in her for you, baby."

Isla would've laughed had she not known that Gemma was deadly fucking serious about blowing Tara's brains out.

But it was a relief. For her to give it up just like that--uncharacteristically so--was a kind of relief that she never thought she'd feel from Gemma Teller.

She was used to being protected. Used to being viewed as the one that needed to be shielded from the horrors that shrouded the Sons. But Isla wasn't innocent, nor was she fucking stupid.

The security was appreciated, however. Because, lately, things just didn't seem to be going too great for her.

And, if she'd learned anything, they'd only worsen from here on out.

"You don't have to go full mama bear mode, Gem. I'm a big girl."

She laughed, turning to face Isla.

"I know," smoke blew from her nose, "but you've gotta protect the ones you wanna keep close, y'know? The ones you love."

The tip of Gemma's boot pulverized her cigarette into the sidewalk as she fished for the car keys, avoiding eye contact all together.

"I haven't been able to protect everyone I've wanted to from the shit that goes on in this town, honey, but I'm really tryin'. And I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you or my boy."

#tig trager #tig trager fic #tig trager fanfiction #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fandom #jax teller x oc #sons of anarchy #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Two chapters over the weekend because I was ✨ inspired ✨ and my neighbors can't stop fucking (noisily!) and I'm,,, envious.

Strange adventures in Hell. There are descriptions of desperation and doom, lots of magic and - hear me out - forced/reluctant hand holding 😌 Oh my God, they held hands!!!

"What. Were. You. Thinking?!" Strange was seething, his enormous figure and broader height towered over me, the blood-red of his cape vibrating, the only spleck of colour in the grey and dusty dark world.

"I had no choice in the matter," I replied as calmly as I managed, gritting my teeth, memories of our past stand-off fresh in my mind. We could have bickered until the end, until one of the beasts flying overhead spotted us and decorated the bleary grounds of this forsaken planet with the crimsons of our life blood. "I think it's best if we get to safety first, argue later. I have no desire to become somebody's lunch."

That much was true: I had taken a good look at our surroundings as soon as I recovered from the vacuum-like sensation of being pulled into a magical gateway; the visibility was terrible, the planet's natural light very scarce. Several suns were hardly visible in the sky, their rays barely penetrating the mists and the ashes freely floating in the air.

There was oxygen even if breathing in a full lungful seemed impossible; I tried not to think about the contents of the air, or the possibility of radiation poisoning, as the multiple amulets and charms seared into my skin where they rested under my clothes. I had four bottles of water, some bandages and salves and a sacrifice for a single ritual to my name and absolutely no conviction that Mother Earth would be able to hear the call of an earthling gone so astray.

But it was hope, so I held on.

"Fine," Stephen sighed, suddenly looking tired and weary, glancing around with furrowed brows. "Let's see if I can open a portal," his hands did that complicated set of gestures that I'd grown to associate with a golden circle and sparks on the ground. The thing flickered, once, twice, before disappearing, as if the Sorcerer's magic had run out of batteries. "Yeah, I thought so," he whispered to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"The bad news first, please," I interpreted his hesitation with a realistic outlook on our predicament.

"I can't open a portal just anywhere on this planet. We need to find a... Rift, of sorts," the man was anxiously looking around. "And those things, they'll smell us... Right about now," his eyes shot up at a winged, rapidly approaching shadow. "No good news, I'm afraid."

I allowed myself a small sigh of disappointment, keeping a tight leash on the panic slowly creeping up my body. The feeling of determination, the power of Gaia within me was still present, laying in a cozy dormant ball slightly south of my solar plexus. "Give me your hand, please," I reached out to Stephen only for him to promptly recoil.

"You should've thought about the consequences of your actions, I'm not going to hold your hand because you're scared shitless," his words were sharp but they lacked the venom. He wouldn't, or couldn't, meet my eyes.

"I know you have scarred hands. I'm a healer and you don't have to feel embarrassed or ashamed I, I've seen worse," I stated in my best 'mutant nurse' voice as Stephen's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened. "Those things can't sense me. And I know they won't be able to sense you too if we have skin-to-skin contact. So unless you want me to get under your... Robes," I gestured to the layers upon layers of clothing he had wrapped himself in. I considered the possibility of his whole body being covered in scars, too, and couldn't help the pang of sympathy. "Take one glove off and give me your damn hand before this trip to Jurassic Park goes full pterodactyl massacre!"

I saw the thing in the sky open it's mouth - but no sound came out, the clouds reducing it's outline to a vaguely triangular shadow. There was something very unusual about this planet's atmosphere.

With a couple of jerky movements, Stephen slid off the glove from his left hand, looking away as his large, dry, warm palm encompassed mine in a gentle, trembling grip. It made no sense to interlace our fingers, so I help onto him like a child holds onto their parent; the size difference of our hands and his imposing aura surely made me feel like one.

We stood a foot apart, watching the shadow in the sky begin to circle the place we stood in, it's gaping maw opening again and again, before it zigzagged across the sky with a strong dash of confusion, it's graceful glide becoming a series of rapid turns and twists. With a final inaudible shriek, it flew off into the dusty greys of the horizon, becoming a dark spot far away in mere seconds.

The silence was so loud in this world. Like the eerie stillness of my, undoubtedly haunted, apartment, I was eager to dissipate it with something beyond our combined heavy breathing. "Please don't tell Tony," I timidly gave our touching hands a sway. "He'll never leave it alone."

A chuffing noise coming from above had me whip my head up to see Stephen holding in a puff of nervous laughter; his shoulders dropped slightly as he eyed me in turn. "What makes you think I won't tease you about it?"

"You wouldn't dare," I took mock offense, rising my leaking nose to the skies.

The grumble and the eyeroll I expected, the smirk that faded into a ghost of a smile I did not. "We should go. Usually there is a rift within a few miles of every location everywhere," he tried to keep the content expression as he spoke but the storm in his eyes betrayed his concern. They were so blue, I felt like I was drowning.

I let myself to be tugged in a direction - everything seemed exactly the same, a never-ending ashen wasteland with the occasional dark grey rock that crumbled to dust as soon as the heel of my shoe touched it. My light blue sweater quickly became the colour of rotten wood, a sickly, dull monotone between brown and gray.

The complete lack of any kind of natural noise brought out the desolation of this wretched place; if we gripped each other's hands tighter, neither of us chose to acknowledge it. It was too easy to get lost in your own mind when the surroundings were dead set on rebuking anything that was in any shape or form alive.

I caught myself thinking that this must be what people think Hell should look like.

Strange walked briskly for the most part, periodically clearing his throat and eyeing me when I struggled to keep up with his long strides. It could have been an hour, or maybe two, of aimless wandering and rapidly imploding portals accompanied by Stephen's increasingly overcast face before I made the man stop and offered him a water bottle, which he insisted we split between us two.

It didn't take me a tarot reading to figure out our chances were grim. Needless, I gave him the same look I give to injured, scared mutant children when they come to the bodega for the first time; a look of quiet temperance.

And then we walked, and walked again, as Stephen grew moodier and moodier, marching on with the force of a seasoned soldier, only taking breaks when I forced him to stand still and breathe with me. As cautious and closed-off as he was, I pressed onto the fact of me being a healer of sorts, and he relented if briefly, always reluctant, always seasoned by a great dose of bewilderment.

"Do you feel that?" Stephen's stride halted, both feet firmly planted on the ground.

The ground had tremors had coming from deep within, small shocks that could have been easily missed if not for the complete lack of sound on this world. My nod was mute, I didn't trust my voice not to break when I clearly knew there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, endless fields of nothing all around us.

"Hold onto me," promptly, I was grabbed and pushed into his chest, his long arms easily picking me up, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist. "Hold tight, I might need my hands," my face grew hot as I wound my arms around Stephen's neck, clinging to him like a monkey, a palm resting on the soft fine hairs if his nape. It felt too intimate somehow, in the wake of imminent danger.

The Cape that previously swayed behind him in rhythm with his steps billowed, the red fabric of it tough as it levitated us a few feet above the ground. I felt Stephen tense with each tremor; within moments, the surface shook and stuttered more and more, cracks appearing in between the dust, turning the plains into a marble-patterned patch of darkness.

We rose above it, high enough that I could see the veins resulting from the quake stretch far out into the wasteland, jagged, abrupt lines of even more concentrated darkness. And as quickly as the quake started, it was over, leaving little evidence as the ground settled.

Stephen floated us to a larger patch of the ground, criss-crossed with thinner, less prominent lines, poking the ground with his foot before allowing it to fully bear our weight. He was shaken, there was no doubt. "That was... Something," he stated lowly.

"Mhm," I hummed, fighting the urge to frantically look around, forcing my hand from clutching at his palm like a lifeline. I had decided on a plan while I was busy playing baby koala - not that there were many other options except to wander these god forsaken bare badlands until our painful demise. "Listen, Strange, I'm aware you don't hold my people in particularly high regard but you're going to have to trust me on this," my words came out derisive as I placed his palm on the back of my neck and kneeled, forcing him to do the same behind me.

The contents of my bag greeted me grimly with out last bottle of water and the couple knick-knacks that gathered the black dust on them. I hastily poured the water into a bowl, dipping my fingers in it, and added the crushed bones to the mixture.

The time that was required to make a paste-like mixture, I used to address a bewildered Stephen. "This is a last resort. I don't know if it will work, we're not on Earth," I briefly breathed my distress. "I don't even know how far we are from home. But I refuse to die here, in this grotesque Hell, without putting up a fight and Gaia has always looked out for her flock. I might get very, very sick if this is successful."

The warning had him attempt to object before he cast a long look around us, shoulders sagging, as motioned for me to continue, those piercing blue eyes boring into my face. "Tell me what do I need to do," his voice quietly attempted to soothe my very obvious fear.

I was terrified, both of dying, nameless, faceles in this world full of Nothing; the prospect of withering away after depleting all my resources was, perhaps, equally unappealing, but dying on my home planet sounded better than dying here. "Have faith," I replied curtly, beginning to chant softly under my breath as soon as Stephen's expression hardened.

My eyelids grew heavy, limbs filling with lead and molten lava as I summoned the forces of Mother itself; my body was aching, exhausted by answering her call as it was. The warm ball in my chest that previously comforted me grew, spreading its smelten power through every vein, every vessel. No part of my body was left cold. A sense of purpose filled me, pushing me forward, driving me to move, to run, to leap.

"This way," even to my own ears, my voice sounded pained. It felt as if I was walking through swamp waters, full of clay and debris, each step taking my barely coherent form through an individual bog full of pins and needles. The force of Mother Nature burned inside of me, enraged at the state of her surroundings.

Stephen spoke to me but all I could hear was mumbling, thousands of voices, low and shrill, unintelligible to the human mind. I could feel the sorcerer's pain; the itch and burn in his throat, the constant, dull throb in his scarred, broken hands. His hand in mine only intensified the situation and I fought with his injuries like I fought with the black dots in my eyes, I forced down the unpleasant sensations, setting fire to them, letting the reigns of control on the raging inferno within me slip just the smallest, tiniest bit.

The steps of his long feet stuttered as I felt the discomfort lessen yet I simply towed him along. Time leaked through the cracks in my eyes, which were mostly unseeing anyways. The useless things grew blind at some point, not that I noticed it on the greys and blacks of the surrounding scenery. It was harder to walk, my breathing grew laboured with the extertion as we finally reached the place that felt right.

"Here," I rasped, voice so quiet it could have been mistaken for a breeze. I craved to feel it; the soft puffs of wind, the sound of running water. I had called for Earth and she demanded its child back.

The portal appeared without a stutter even though Stephen's hands shook; I saw the uneven channels, the energies traveling through them at an uneven pace. As soon as I pushed through the wormhole, coming to my senses in an unfamiliar, light room, I fell to my knees.

Stephen's pained moaning told me he was probably experiencing the same stinging, burning sensation on his skin; my eyes, they were the worst - my eyeballs felt like they were melting, leaking out of my sockets into thick, gelatinous tears streaming down my face. I blindly groped for the sorcerer's hand, directing the forces within me to soothe his hurts much like I had done in the wastelands.

"Strange?!" A masculine, shocked voice exclaimed before footsteps crashed into my sensitive ears with the force of an elephant herd. "Oh my God, they're here! Tony, come!"

"Stop fucking screaming," Stephen gasped out as I felt him curl into himself.

"Friday, scan them," I recognised Tony's voice, the tiredness and desperation standing out in it more than it did in the rest of the whispers in the room.

"They appear to be experiencing a sensory overload. I would recommend to engage Peter's Cooldown mode," the mechanical voice replied, barely audible. The noise still grated on my ears after spending... How long were we gone?

"Do it, Fri," Tony's soft footsteps reached us; I smelled the spices of his cologne next to my and Stephen's prone forms. "You gave us a scare there," the tone was admonishing but gentle.

"We were scared shitless ourselves," I attempted to speak, only now noticing how grating my voice sounded. "We were in Hell," I mumbled to myself, slowly removing my hand from Stephen.

"That," he coughed up the word, breathing through his nose before speaking again, his voice sounding much better than mine. "That place was as close as possible to biblical pits I have ever seen," there was shuffling and gentle murmurs as the two men ensured each other of their presence and well-being.

The burning sensations receded back to my core, the embers of the fires dying out, leaving me feeling like deflated beach ball, all shell and no filling. With a groan, I rolled over onto my back right in the middle of the pristine carpet on the floor, forcing my eyes open and breathing through the pain until I could somewhat see the champagne coloured ceiling without black dots obstructing my vision.

Shuffling noises reached my ears as a familiar round face with light red hair came into my line of sight, Wanda's gentle features concerned. "Star, do you need to go to medical?" She eyed me almost suspiciously but the question was earnest.

The idea of a doctor fixing a magical burnout was bizarre to me, as if it ever was that easy; I chortled sardonically. "No, Wanda, there's nothing wrong with me that a doctor would be able to fix," I replied honestly. "I should call Odette."

"I've called, she said to notify her when you return," Sam's voice was gentle as he approached. I could feel him glaring daggers at a rapidly reddening Wanda. "She was the one who said you'll definitely come back," he offered me his hand.

I had to choke down a moan of relief as I grabbed it. The warmth, the life of another human being, the precious gift of a beating pulse under my fingertips was divine. "You should listen to her. She knows her stuff." It was easy, talking to Sam as if he was an old friend. He had one of the most pleasant auras I've seen on a human being.

"I'm a doctor," Stephen suddenly perched up, sounding almost bashful. "And I can aid the healing process," he stated over Tony's disgruntled mumbling. "If you can explain to me how the hell you managed to hold a... an entire sun's worth of energy!" The more he spoke the more bewildered he became, tone growing in pitch, ending the sentence with an exclamation.

"I don't know," I replied with a sigh. The whole indignation in this man, I was not prepared to face. "When I took this up," I gestured vaguely to the burned, bent metal adornments I began to remove off my body. "I thought I was going to get an increase in tips and a better outlook on life. Help my friend with her asthma as much so she wouldn't have to use her inhaler every time she gets suprised or scared," my jewelry hit the floor with a dull clank, piling up into bent silver I wouldn't even be able to cleanse and repurpose.

Sam whistled lowly, poking at a necklace that had twisted on itself, a grotesque spiral of dull ashen grey.

"I certainly didn't think that a bleeding mutant accepting his fate as cannon fodder will call for the Earth itself," my tone grew vicious. Exhaustion was nesting in my bones. "And that Mother Nature would take over my body, pour lava into my veins and bleed recklessness into my thoughts. But here I am, freshly out of Hell and alive and kicking."

A stunned silence was interrupted by Tony's frantic whispering. "You are not leaving my penthouse for the foreseeable future," as the weight of the incident set on him. The knuckles of his hand clutching Stephen's dirty tunic turned white.

"I am," Stephen eyed me with a strange look in his eye, as if he was seeing me for the first time. His eyes then turned to Tony, who'd began rambling, arguing with Stephen. The sorcerer stopped the word vomit with a grim confession. "I'd be dead if not for Starlight. I'd be meat and bone, splattered across a barren, radioactive land in the deepest, darkest pits of the universe."

I felt my face droop in slow-motion. My throat flexed, swallowing a thick lump of filthy mucus, I coughed up, "Ra-radioctive?" As soon as I could work my voice without it squeaking.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

#practical alchemy #bun writes #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #im zoomin with a bag full of creepy

[mycupoffanfiction]

As Long As I've Got You

Coco Cruz x Reader

Summary: Coco takes you with him as moral support to meet with Celia and Leticia, but when Celia takes things a step too far, you tell her exactly what you think.

Warnings: Emotionally abusive parent, very mild violence, family confrontation, angst, some soft fluff at the end

Word count: Approx 1500

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, this was a request from an anon. I hope you enjoy it, it took me a while to work out how I was going to write this, I hope keeping some of it accurate to the original scene worked out okay. Thank you for requesting! 💖💖

“Not sure if bringing you with me was a good idea.” Coco said, staring at the pack of cigarettes he’d put on the table. The pair of you were waiting inside the diner for Coco’s mother, Celia and his daughter Letty to show up. “Hey, since when have we faced shit like this alone?” You asked, Coco finally meeting your eyes and giving you a soft smile, but you could still see the anxiety he held beneath the sweet look he gave you.

You had known Coco for years, since before he did time in prison, though back then you had just been friends, but you had been his rock when he realised he’d have to give his only daughter away. It broke his heart to have to do it, but at the time, it was the right thing to do.

Just as you were about to reassure him further, Celia and Leticia entered the diner and approached the booth you were waiting in. Immediately, you felt Coco tense next to you, his eyes hardening to a heavy glare as he fiddled with the cigarette in front of him.

As the pair slid into the seats opposite you, Coco looked at anything but his mother and you began to feel like you were underprepared for the heavy tension that quickly rose between the four of you as Celia eyed you. You knew she’d likely make you a target if the conversation went south, but both you and Coco were wise to her manipulation. “Happy?” She asked in a sarcastic tone. “Shut up.” Coco spoke dismissively before turning to Leticia. “Gotta talk to you.” He told her, the teenager’s eyes having never left Coco. “Okay.” Letty nodded.

As the conversation went on, the tension rose further than you thought it could as you watched the interaction. It was awkward and confrontational and you felt the way Coco tensed even more when Celia struck Letty to keep her quiet. “Enough. Jesus.” He ground out, jaw clenched as he glanced up at the waitress watching the commotion.

“I’m glad you’re livin’ here now, right?” Coco said after a short pause, looking solely at Letty and trying to ignore his mother. Gently, you placed your hand on his knee, noticing how nervous he was getting as he approached the truth and he glanced at you quickly before looking back at Leticia. “But you can’t go around tellin’ people you’re my little sister.” “Why?” Letty asked. “Yeah. Why Coco?” Celia piped up in a mocking tone and you had to fight the urge to kick her under the table. “Shut up.” It came out as a whisper as your grip on Coco’s knee tightened slightly, trying to provide at least a bit of reassurance.

“Fuck.” Letty breathed out, disbelief in her voice. “Fuck, unbelievable. You don’t want anything to do with me either.” Leticia slammed her hand onto the table as she got up and walked away.

“Told you, she’s out of control.” Celia kept her condescending tone and you tensed, becoming increasingly angry at Coco’s mother. “If you had did what I asked you seventeen years ago, she wouldn’t be out of control. She’d have a decent life with a decent fuckin’ family.” He snapped.

You sat in silence as you listened to the pair argue and you increasingly had the urge to intervene and set Celia straight. You had been there for Coco through everything and Celia and her judgement was out of line. You knew she didn’t have an ounce of care for her granddaughter and Coco knew it too.

“The only reason you pretended to be her mom was so you could get that welfare cheque.” Coco argued. “Maybe I wanted another child cos the last one I had was a piece of shit.” Celia spat out, pointing at Coco and you almost threw yourself across the table at her but you knew this wasn’t your fight. You were here for support. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have let every diseased cock in Fresno turn your old gash into a cesspool.” Coco hissed in a bitter tone before he pulled away from you and got up to find Letty.

“Selfish bitch.” You glared at her as you slid out of the booth. “The fuck you just say? Coco is a fucking psycho, he’s bad for everything he touches, I should fuckin’ know.” Celia argued as she got up, squaring up to you, her hand batting you across the cheek, causing you to wince in pain and lean away from her. “Coco is anything but a psycho, you’d know that if you spent a second of your time actually appreciating him rather than trying exploit and manipulate your fucking family.” You stared her down, raising your voice a bit, the waitress watching you both, worried you might start a fight.

“Why’s a normal bitch like you with a fuck up like him, anyway?” Celia deflected, attempting to provoke you. Taking in a deep breath and clenching your jaw, you kept your anger in control as the waitress tried to get you both out of the diner. “Maybe because this normal bitch sees something fucking good in him. Maybe I fucking see how sweet and caring he is. We look after each other, we love each other, which is more than you can fucking say.” You argued, pinning your finger against her chest before you stepped away from her. “He isn’t a fuck up. You fucking failed him, Celia.”

Celia followed you out of the diner, letting the truth slip to Letty that Coco was her father as she got into her car, the pair getting into another heated argument as Letty ran off and you tried to go after her.

Chasing after her, you called for Letty as she climbed into some random guy’s truck, Coco now realising she had slipped away. “L-Leticia!” Coco ran towards you, only getting half way across the parking lot before the truck she had gotten into had pulled away. “Shit.” You breathed out, your heart racing as you tried to catch your breath from running after her.

Turning to Coco, you noticed his panic, wide eyes, chest rising and falling quickly as the shock set in. “We’ll find her, we’ll get her back.” You tried to reassure him, though you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince that it would all be okay. “She’ll come around, shit like that is heavy.” You rambled, Coco taking in a deep breath as he composed himself. “I know, we’ll get her back.” He nodded. “We got to, she fuckin’ needs someone.” Coco sighed. “She needs you, Coco.” Your voice quietened and Coco softened as he looked at you, realising you had an angry welt on your cheek from where Celia had struck you.

“She fuckin’ hit you.” Coco’s voice was heavy with a broken, tired tone. “It’s okay.” “No it’s not. What did she say, coraz��n?” He asked in a soft tone, his eyes sad as he reached up to gently smooth his thumb over your cheek. “I couldn’t stand the way she spoke about you.” You admitted, eyes welling up with tears as you processed how horrible Celia had been, the entire exchange finally catching up with you. “I defended you and-.” “She hit you.” He interrupted, unsure that he wanted to hear how exactly she had hurt you right now, because he was at a loss and part of him wanted to go after Celia and get her back for laying a hand on you and fucking things up with Leticia.

“I’m sorry, mi corazón.” Coco sighed, his voice small as he watched you try to blink your tears away, hanging his head low. “Maybe she’s fuckin’ right. I am a fuck up. I’m not worth gettin’ hurt over.” It came out as a whisper as he fumbled with his pack of cigarettes, pulling up one to his lips to light it. “No. You’re worth everything to me, Coco.” Your words stilling his movements, his eyes meeting yours for a moment and he let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding onto, tears coming to his eyes as it all began to overwhelm him.

“You’re too good for me.” Coco whispered, reaching for you and pulling you against his chest. “You deserve some good, Coco and if I can be the one to give it to you, I will.” You watched as tears rolled down his cheeks and you reached up to gently wipe them away. “It’s okay, we’ll work this out, Coco.” You said, leaning up to kiss his cheek and he smiled sweetly at you through his tears. “We’ll work this out together, like we always do.”

Leaning down to capture you in a gentle kiss, Coco embraced you tightly, clinging onto you as much as he could. “As long as I’ve got you, mi corazón.”

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[wheredostarsgowhenyoudie]

I know of a heart like yours.

The sickening sound of a heart being crashed

The animated laughter that sounded demented

The shivers and chills that tear from morning to night, then back again.

I know everything, kid.

I know how it feels to be breathing, but feel like the dead.

To have your eyes open and be reminded of what's no longer there

To miss someone so bad, they keep you lost in dreams

You can't hide anything from me.

I've been there.

I'm still there.

.

.

.

.

.

"What happened to you, kid?" You ask, and I stare.

How could I answer that without breaking?

Your haunted eyes pierce mine. The pain in them was so like my own, that I would have lost my footing if you weren't holding me.

I search for whatever strength was left inside of me, but the tears still flowed.

"You made me lose you."

CHAPTER ONE - WHO AM I TO YOU?

.

.

.

Sometimes the worst distractions do not come from the outside. They come from within you, and nothing anyone can do or say can pull your attention away from the invisible storm that only you can feel.

Peter Parker's heart is about to explode into a billion pieces of combustible dust. His head hurts. His throat feels dry and he could swear his saliva tastes like gravel in his mouth. His shoulders are bent and his legs and feet are firmly stuck to the ground, the weight of everyone's expectations keeping his whole body still, too still that not even Happy's murmured "Are you okay kid?" can bring him back out of the orchestrated walls created by his own mind.

He stays rigid, head bowed and eyes unblinking and blurry with unshed tears.

Blinding camera lights keep flashing all around him, the reporters rapidly firing their questions without pause. Pepper, Happy and Rhodey and the SI security team try their best to pacify them, but their efforts are in vain.

"Were you aware that Tony Stark planned to make you his successor?"

"What does it feel like to be the legacy of the saviour of the universe?"

"Mr. Parker, what are your plans for the future of SI?"

"Are you planning to be the next Iron Man?"

"Before the reading of Tony Stark's will, no one's ever heard of Peter Parker. Can you tell us why?"

"Why did Tony Stark hide you from the world?"

"Who are you to Iron Man?"

"How did you know Iron Man?"

"Why did Tony Stark choose you as his successor?"

"Do the Avengers know about you?"

"Peter, Peter, come on! Kid, we need to go," Rhodey's voice was pleading as he tries to usher them out while Happy shields them with his body.

Pepper urges the crowd to give them a path, going as far as to threaten them with lawsuits but they wouldn't even bulge.

Peter stays frozen through all the commotion.

Every breath feels like Thor's hammer plunging straight into his chest. Every second feels like an eternity too long. It would have stayed until…

"Mr. Parker, do you intend to follow your pseudo father's steps?"

Peter drew a gasp then, to everyone's shock and excitement.

His chin lifted from being glued to his chest, and his head turned to the reporter who asked.

The crowd quieted and they all waited in stunned silence as they were greeted with his red brimmed eyes, tears still fresh and pouring down his cheeks.

None of them expected the hollow laugh that came out of him.

How could they?

They couldn't possibly know that all these are news to him.

Peter knew nothing, thought he was nothing more than an annoying protégé to the man who apparently saw him as a son.

Peter didn't even know Tony Stark cared about him that way. He'd always let himself believe the man had only acted out of pity.

But now he knows, and he wanted to scream at how unfair it is to be told all these after the man had died.

He died for you.

He invented time travel because of you.

He risked it all for you.

He wouldn't have died if it weren't for you.

The voices inside his head are back with vengeance and Peter swayed and would have fallen without Rhodey there to steady him.

"You're going to be alright kid. We're going to bring you home safe and sound," the iron patriot promised in the same soft tone that everyone who knows his true relationship with Tony had been using since the end of the Infinity War.

Peter nodded but didn't speak. He could tell Rhodey believes his words, but Peter doesn't.

All his life, Peter's never really been a good liar. But this lie, even just thinking it is too much. He just couldn't.

"To Peter, my son…" the lawyer had said back in the boardroom as he read the last will and testament of Anthony Edward Stark.

"…I leave all my techs and Stark Industries, the latter to be received when you've graduated college and under the mentoring of my wife, Pepper Stark…"

"You back with us kid?" Happy's voice asked him this time, and he blinked to see that they had somehow managed to get him inside the limousine.

Peter bit his lip so hard, he tasted blood.

How could he be alright?

And where even is home?

He didn't even know he had one since May died. He felt barely alive when Tony took him in to live in the Tower. Even then, it had taken a while and a lot of angry outbursts from him, and patience from the man before Peter finally started to feel like he could build up the broken pieces of his life again. And then the fucking Infinity War happened and now…Now.

 

 

The glass shatters.

The car screeches to a halt.

Peter had punched the window, glass shards embedded in his hand when he pulled it back. Pepper shrieked in horror, while the men cursed.

Happy was yelling to get him out for some air, but Peter couldn't hear them, too busy having a panic attack.

"Breathe kid. Breathe with us," Rhodey encouraged. "You can do this. Just like Tony taught you, Peter. You got this kid. Do this for him."

And Peter breathed as if those were the magic words.

Because of course, he would. How could he not?

He'd do everything for Tony.

But Tony's gone now.

Just like his parents.

Just like his Uncle Ben and Aunt May.

And now Peter has no one.

For a boy who is no stranger to loss, this feels like the last straw keeping what's left of his sanity intact.

There are so many words he wanted to say to Tony, so many things he wanted to do with the man.

Now, he could only wonder what it feels like to be able to call Tony Stark "Dad" to his face.

He could have done it before, he supposes. He could have done so many things if only he'd known the man had adopted him and made him his legitimate heir.

But no one had ever told him. And just like every time, the universe was adamant to mess with his head and see him crumble.

Peter didn't even know he was more than a charity case to the man he saw as his mentor and hero.

Every time Tony did something parental for him, Peter thanked him but stomped down on the warmth inside his own chest. He convinced himself to believe it was all business for the man. Peter is Spider-Man. And Iron Man needed Peter to be Spider-Man so they could help save the world from chaos.

But Tony had made sure to let him know that he cared for Peter Parker as well. He never said it out loud, but Peter felt it evey time he'd ask about his day, about his friends, his classes and everything else important to him that isn't related to his alter ego. Tony had made sure to show up at his contests. He'd cheered for him and even treated him and his friends for a job well done. The man had spent nights in his room to calm him down from nightmares. He'd been there when he was sick, when he was wounded, when he was sad.

Peter was a mess, but Tony had been there for him to make sure he wasn't alone.

There were many times Peter wanted to cry to him, and just thank him for doing everything he'd been doing for him. But Peter held himself back. He held back because thanking Tony would give a name to their new normal. It would have overwhelmed him with a sense of family, and that more than anything, was the label that scares Peter the most.

Everyone he loved, everyone he saw as family, he had lost. And he couldn't do that to Tony.

Peter couldn't find it in him to believe that the man cared for him, truly loved him like family, in fear of adding a name to his long list of losses.

But he lost him anyway.

To Peter, my son, Tony had called him in his will, having chosen him as family if the adoption papers were anything to go by.

It was everything Peter had secretly wanted but never once believed he could have again.

But he had it. Apparently, he had even if he hadn't known.

Peter feels like a curse.

He really doesn't deserve to have anyone on his corner.

If Tony hadn't adopted him, he could have saved himself from the Peter curse.

Why did he even adopt him in the first place?

Why did he take him in?

He could have just offered money and paid for an apartment, but no. Tony insisted that Peter lived with him. And now he's dead because of Peter.

Tony Stark is dead, and Peter Parker's left trying to pick up the pieces left of his tattered heart and soul.

It's not even his first death of a family member, and yet this feels ten times worse for some reason he couldn't identify.

Mary and Richard Parker were lost in the plane crash when he was six. Ben Parker died in the mugging when he was fifteen. Then May Parker followed in a car accident a year later, half a year after he became Spider-Man.

You'd think that after four losses, Peter would be used to it by now.

But damn it all, he still isn't.

Losing someone never gets any easier no matter how many times it happened to him.

Thanos came with his army. The Snap happened and Peter died along with half the universe. Then it was reversed and Peter was brought back with all his fellow victims.

Peter had been shocked by Tony's reaction at seeing him alive. Tony Stark didn't cry. But at that moment, Peter felt his tears of joy and relief as he'd pulled him into a hug.

We're there, it screams. Like an echo in a whole room of silence, and for a second, only for a second, there was no war but only them. People broken and lost, but together, were mended by each other's presence.

If Peter had known how much the man cared for him then he would have hugged him tighter and not let go. But he hadn't and now he couldn't hug his mentor ever again.

Hours later after their short reunion, Anthony Edward Stark died saving the world and Peter feels like he died with him.

"Sssssh," whispered the soothing voice of Pepper as she pulled him into her arms. Peter could barely hear her through the noise of his guttural cries.

If only he was more conscious of his surroundings, he would have seen the pitying looks of the small crowd forming around them, would have heard his broken voice as he cried out the same word at the universe that took away everything he'd ever loved.

"Dad!" he sobbed, burying his face in Pepper's shoulder. "Bring him back! God, please bring him back!"

The rain started pouring.

The pain didn't stop.

Peter heard the voice again.

It never will.

A/N: Read the next chapters in the link below. Please don't forget to comment and leave kudos! 💞

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332137/chapters/66779947

#irondad and spiderson #irondad #avengers #peter parker #tony stark #spiderson #peter parker and tony stark #prepare to cry

[nothing-but-dreamy]

BROKEN

Pairing: NYX ULRIC x GENDER NEUTRAL!READER

Words: 3.401

Warnings: angst; fluff; mention of sex; raw emotions; kinda dark (?)

A/N: This is the sequel to ‘Reckless’. But ‘Reckless’ got written with a female reader. Because I’m trying to change my writing style to suit more readers, I changed the female reader of ‘Broken’ to a neutral reader. So, basically, ‘Reckless’ was about a Glaive who worked kinda thoughtless during missions. They jumped into every dangerous situation they could find. Nyx wasn’t too fond of their behavior and so, he seeked a conversation with them. Because both held unspoken feelings for each other, the conversation turned into something intimate and heated.

‘Broken’ is the darker sequel to give a bit more background to the reader. But I wrote it so that you can read it as a standalone.

Three weeks had passed since you and Nyx had your little heated 'discussion' in the Glaives' headquarters. As promised, the same day, Nyx had kept his word and visited you to show his arguments again and again why you should be less reckless. This night was the beginning of something great...and undeniably intense. None of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Almost nowhere. Even if you tried to keep it secret in front of the others, you found ways to have fun with Nyx wherever you wanted.

Nyx was drawn to your wildness as if danger was your second nature. Quickly, you noticed Nyx’ animalistic side while you were drawn to the way Nyx saw you. He gave you the feeling to be wanted. He gave you closeness where you usually just got rejected.

But like always when it became good, your past was haunting you no matter how far you would run. You had run to the farthest point you could find on the map - to Insomnia - and yet, Ryan had found you.

You hoped to get distracted as you joined the Glaives. On the battlefield, the war sounds and the screams of your dying enemies would be louder than the other voices in your head. Ryan would get silenced.

Nyx was right, you were reckless. Thoughtlessly, you ran into every new fight no matter what size the enemy had because the language of your blades were the only one you could speak fluently. Violence was what you knew the best because then, Ryan disappeared.

When you were with Nyx, the voices also became silent. When you were enjoying the man's satisfying presence, everything in your head died down to the point that Nyx was everything you could think of.

But as something else started to grow inside of you, a little, small thing called 'love', Ryan was back with full force to remind you what you were and what you had done.

"You bring death to everyone around you! You bring bad luck to everyone you love! You're the reason why everyone dies! I wish you would be dead instead of them! I hope you will never be happy!"

"No, I'm not like that! No! No! No! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!", you cried out, pressing your fists against your head to fight against the pain behind your temples.

*

For the twentieth time, Nyx checked the time on his watch and frowned. Slowly, he paced up and down at the meeting spot, becoming more and more impatient the longer he had to wait. It was unusual. For three weeks, he was dating you and every single moment had been amazing. With you, everything was so intense, passionate and lust-filled.

Then, Nyx had tried his luck and had asked you out to have a real date with dinner, maybe a movie. He wanted to show you that he saw more in you than just a sexual partner. In his eyes, you were more than just a fling. You could be more. More like a couple. You had been cautious with your answer and now, as you didn't show up, Nyx thought that he might have been too eager. That it was maybe too early for you. Maybe you felt caged by him…

Five minutes later, Nyx decided he had waited long enough and so, he walked to your place. He wanted to know what your problem was. Why were you acting this frustrating because Nyx really thought you two had worked past it. You had grown a bond. So, why were you trying to destroy it again? Nyx already searched for the problem by himself.

Nyx walked his way up the stairs to your apartment, already kinda angry but stopped as he heard something: "Go away! Why can't you just leave me alone! I'm not what you say! It's not my fault!"

Nyx’ hand froze in front of the door as he was just about to knock. He heard the angry, frantically and muffled cries behind the door as if you were screaming at someone. Without knocking, Nyx opened the door to help you but as he stepped in, the picture in front of him let his blood run cold. There was no one else in the small room except you.

Your place was more spare than Nyx' own if that was even possible. You had a bed and an old, worn wing chair. In one corner hung a used punching bag which was still swinging, obviously you had trained until the moment you had broken down in front of it.

Nyx' eyes were glued at your frame. You were just dressed in shorts and a trainingstop. Your hands were bandaged for the punching bag. You were covered in sweat while you had been slumped down on your knees, holding your head violently between your fists which were pressing against your temples. Your eyes were squeezed shut and so, you hadn't noticed Nyx yet.

Softly, Nyx closed the door. On his way over to you, his eyes fell on a bunch of pictures. He had seen them before. They were like his own: family memories with smiling faces and proud parents and a brother. They were old and the color faded on the edges but he never asked you about them because he wanted to give you the time to do it on your own.

Nyx knelt next to you, not daring to touch you because in fear to scare you. He was even scared on his own to see you, this usual tough person in such a state. You never had been this vulnerable in front of him, or in front of someone else or … at all. Nyx leant forward, searching your closed eyes, "YN? Hey, it's me-"

By the sound of his voice, your head snapped up to meet his glance. Nyx saw your bloody eyes, your lashes were spikey and your face was frozen in an expression of pure agony. Like a blank nerv, pain, hate and loathing were displayed on your features that Nyx became speechless.

"Leave me alone, Nyx!", you hissed.

He had seen you angry before but nothing was compared to what he saw now in your eyes, "No.", Nyx said calmingly, closing up on you slowly, "I won't leave you alone like this.", he said softly. Just to see you in such a state broke his heart.

"I said you shall go!", you cried out angrily, punching against his chest to gain more distance between yourself and his caring, blue eyes that made you angry. As he didn't move, you snatched out one of your blades from a hidden spot to threaten him.

Nyx moved quickly, grabbing the blade from your shaking hand and threw it aside before you broke down in his arms, crying violently against his chest.

Nyx sat down on the ground, leaning against your bed and letting you cry. He tickled your neck and stroked over your hair and back to calm you. Nyx had no idea what had happened and he didn't dare to ask. Whatever had triggered this, it had to be something extreme you barely showed someone, hiding everything like this somewhere deep down inside of you. Caging it to prevent yourself from breaking.

Five minutes later, you slowly calmed down. You felt exhausted and empty, physically and emotionally. You noticed Nyx' arms enclosing you softly but also determined to keep you close, to give you comfort. You felt guilty that he had seen you like this but you couldn't change it now where the damage was done.

You just could explain it, "Everyone of our village died that day as the imperials came.", you said low, your voice barely a whisper and hoarse from all the crying. First you thought Nyx hadn't heard you but his grip became stronger around you and so, you continued with the urge to explain yourself while snuggling closer to his chest, "That day, I lost everything. Everyone I knew died. Except me and my brother. We got rescued by some hunters. But, you know, I ... I should have died there with all the others! I should be dead instead of being alive!", you said desperately, feeling how new tears were crawling to the surface.

"No, YN. No. That's not true. Why do you think that?", he asked concerned, trying to keep his own emotions out of his voice.

"Yes, it is true! My brother was right! I always brought bad luck to everyone around me!", you argued angrily. You clenched your fists, trying to hurt yourself with your nails digging into the palms of your hands to let yourself feel something else than grief.

Nyx was shocked. He couldn't believe what he heard, "Yo-your brother? He said all these things?", he asked in disbelief.

You looked up quickly but as you saw his eyes, you had to draw your glance away again, "Yes. My brother, Ryan. The hunters had helped us. Brought us somewhere safe but after we realized what had happened, Ryan said it was my fault that our parents died. He casted the blame on me and you know what? He's right. Our mother died because she saved me and as she got shot our dad tried the same. Both would be still alive if it weren't for me. So, before I will be the reason for more deaths, I ran away."

"H-how old were you as you ran away?", Nyx whispered. His blood was slowly fueled with anger against your brother who had said all these horrible things.

"I don’t know… I guess, I was thirteen, maybe twelve as I left the hunters. Since then, I've been alone. And I will always be alone. It's the only way for me.", you whispered, determined to stay by your habit.

Nyx leant back to look into your eyes, "You're not alone-", he tried.

"Yes, I am! And that's how it should be!", you hissed and felt bad for snapping at him.

"No. YN, look at me, please.", Nyx asked and as you raised your head, he smiled softly, stroking wet strands of your hair out of your face before he cupped it, "You're not alone. You have friends here. You... Y-you have me.", he said carefully with an insecure smile. For a split second, he saw that he got through to you. Your eyes became clear with hope before the self-loathing was back.

"No. I don't have you. You can't stay with me or otherwise you will be dead like everyone else.", you whispered before you looked away.

Nyx' heart broke all over again. The pain you felt was nothing new to him, it just seemed to be so much worse than what he felt usually. Carefully, he forced you to look at him again, "Listen, as a Glaive, nothing is certain. We both know that. Obviously, our lives aren't made for certainty. But I will stay by your side as long as I can. Trust me."

"I'm bad luck. Why would you want to have someone as broken as me, anyway?"

"Because you're the toughest person I have ever met. You have so many scars and you still keep fighting. You never back down. The fire you're carrying makes me speechless. Everyone around you comes first. I admire you so damn much for everything you stand for. Your handsomeness makes me speechless. You're so damn sexy and sensual that it is addictive.", Nyx said honestly.

"You just say that because the sex is great and you want more of that.", you whispered sadly.

"No! I mean, yeah... Of course, it is great! But I... YN, I tell you that because it's the truth. It's the truth that I see you like this. And ... it's also the truth that I'm falling for you.", Nyx whispered with a pounding heart.

"Y-yo-you do- what? No! You can't do that!", you called out, panic appearing in your eyes. You even tried to leave Nyx' side, to crawl away from him.

Nyx kept you in place and chuckled softly, "You can't forbid people to like you and you can't prohibit me to love you.", he said softly. It was a very long time since he had said these words. He wanted to comfort you, sure, but they weren’t just meaningless words out of niceness. Nyx really meant them.

And to his delight, he saw that you believed him. New tears were building in your eyes. You looked sadly at him but at the same time, your eyes filled themselves with fondness for him. A tear rolled down your cheek and Nyx caught it with his thumb, "Please, don't cry anymore.", Nyx whispered and pressed a soft kiss on your lips which tasted salty after all the tears shed.

As he leant back, you stopped him. You clawed your fingers into his shirt, pulling him back to you to kiss him softly. Just slowly, you increased the pressure of your lips, noticing that he waited for your next moves, for your pace before he adjusted to it. You felt vulnerable. You hated it that he had seen you like this. And yet, that he was there meant the world to you.

Someone was there for you. Someone who seemed to love you even when you were broken like this. You knew that Nyx also had lost so many things. He couldn't save his mother and sister and suddenly, you realized that your recklessness all the time had to be the worst for him. Nyx feared to lose you while he would be helpless to rescue you because you jumped right into danger.

Slowly, you leant backwards, landing on the cold floor with Nyx on top of you. You snaked your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck to keep him close.

Nyx felt that you needed physical contact and yet, it was something completely different than usually when he was with you. You had wanted him before but that was always demanding, aggressive and determined. Almost animalistic. And now, you were so soft, caring and slow with him.

Your kisses were delicious and filled with love that Nyx melted against you. You kissed him longingly that he forgot to breathe. Your hands roamed over his body in admiring moves, savoring him and his flaws because for you, they were non-existent.

You grabbed the rim of his plain shirt, pulling it slowly up and over his head just to touch his hot skin again in the next second. You stroked over his back. Admiring every single scar you could find softly with your fingertips. You traced along them, stroking along Nyx' spine to produce goosebumps on your way.

Nyx shuddered against your frame as he felt your caring touch moving upwards to his neck. You raked your slender fingers through his hair and combed it with them. Carefully, you played with the braids as if you never had touched them before. You stroked along the small beads and enjoyed the feeling of Nyx' extremely soft, feathery hair. Never before, you noticed their softness like in this moment.

Reluctantly, Nyx left your sweet lips but his lungs demanded oxygen. He created a small space to look into your eyes which were sparkling with admiration he had never seen before. You wanted to say something, Nyx saw it but instead, you just gnawed on your lower lip. Slowly, you stroked from his back, over his shoulders down his chest.

Under Nyx' intense glance, you moved your hands down Nyx' upper body. Along his scarred chest, down his abs and to his hips before you opened his pants. Slowly, you raised your eyes to meet his glance. Connected with his blue eyes, you started to roll your hips against him to increase the friction even more.

Nyx knew what you wanted. And there was no way he would deny your request to have him. Slowly, he crawled back, offered you his hand to stand up before he undressed his remaining clothes. You followed immediately and pushed Nyx down on your bed to crawl on top of him.

Fascinated, Nyx watched you taking your time with him. While you made your way up along his body, you kissed every inch you could find: his hips, his ribcage and his collarbones. Before you reached his lips, you bit softly into his neck which caused him to moan deeply with desire. Nyx stroked along your back and clawed into your shoulder blades as he felt your teeth digging into his skin.

With you in his arms, Nyx rolled you around, bringing you into a position to enter you teasingly slow. You moaned low with closed eyes by the pleasurable feeling caused by Nyx. You clawed your hands into your bedsheets, arching your back while Nyx captured your lips with his own for a passionate kiss. He always enjoyed every moment with you but now, this was intimate in a different way. None of you were driven by desire rather by the urgency to show your deepest emotions you held for each other.

***

As the sun rose, you sat in the wing chair to watch Nyx sleeping peacefully. He was tangled with your blanket, arms hugging one of your pillows. His braids and strands were tousled while his chest raised slowly up and down. One single tear slipped from your eyes and rolled down your cheek. You wiped it away violently. You knew what you had to do…

*

As Nyx awoke, he knew the bed was empty. There wasn't much space left and he didn't have you in his arms anymore how he had fallen asleep. He pushed the pillow aside. His quickened heartbeat let him awake completely as he realized what it could mean that you weren’t there.

Nyx sat up and that was the moment where he saw you sitting in your wing chair, staring at him. You were crying again but this time silently and this was far more worse and painful for Nyx to witness than the emotional outbreak the day before, "YN? Since when do you sit there?", he asked carefully, noticing that you were fully dressed with a bag to your feet.

As you heard his voice, you blinked and looked at him, "A few hours. I wanted to leave but I- I... I saw you sleeping and couldn't go...", you whispered.

Nyx hurried out of the bed, kneeling in front of you, "I'm happy you're still here.", he said softly, cupping your face with his hand, "That's what you do, right? Leaving when it gets too much?", he asked but you just nodded as an answer. Nyx searched your eyes, "How many times have you done that before?"

You looked away, shrugging your shoulders, "I don't know. After the tenth time, I stopped counting."

Nyx sighed. He had moments where he felt lost but you were it. He had Libertus, Crowe, Pelna...you had no one. And that for a far too long time.

You looked at him, "I couldn't leave you, Nyx. I should have, but I- I couldn't... I can't give you what you deserve. I can't make you happy...", you whispered.

"Trust me, I don't even think I would deserve happiness-"

"I'm serious. I- I couldn't love you. I mean I can't love you... I don't know how. I'm not able to do that.", you breathed sadly.

"You don't have to. Why can't we just be together? No naming. No label. Just we.", Nyx offered a different way.

With doubts, you looked at him, "You still want that?"

"Oh, yes. I won't give up on you so quickly. Not after I saw so much of you.", Nyx breathed meaningfully and stood up, holding out his hand as a reason for your decision to stay.

You looked at his hand. At this strong hand that had driven you crazy and that gave you comfort at the same time. Without thinking too much, you took it. You placed your hand in his and let him guide you back to the bed. You undressed a few clothes and cuddled next to Nyx' side, curling up into his arms.

With a content smile, he inhaled your scent and pressed a soft kiss on top of your crown. Both of you were broken but at this moment, neither of you were alone because you had found each other.

#nyx ulric x gender neutral reader #nyx #nyx ulric x male reader #nyx ulric x female reader #male reader #female reader #ff15 nyx ulric #final fantasy nyx ulric #kingsglaive nyx #nyx ulric x reader #nyx ulric

[jedimasterkelly]

Shit happens when you're a woman. A lot of shit. Bad shit. And a lot of the time, you will run into doctors who do not listen to you. Will not care about you, and will not take you seriously.

This story is about the Great Cancer Scare of 2020.

I was 49, and 3 yrs post menopause. I was pleased about that, as it means no more period ever. I could deal with the occasional hot flashes, and the snapping of necks of anyone who dared bother me. Then in May of 2020, after the pandemic fully hit and the University I work at closed and sent all of us to work from home, I got very sick. Not from Covid, thankfully, but something else. I had started bleeding, and it wasn't menstrual blood. It was bright red and HEAVY. I was filling post-natal pads within 2 hours. I called the Women's Clinic where my OB-GYN lived. They couldn't see me until July. WTF! I called my GP, who got me in on an emergency basis, I mean, 3 yrs post-menopausal women don't just spring a leak, you know? My ovarian function had been almost nil for 3 years. He called my OB-GYN and demanded I get seen right away. They made an appointment for 2 weeks later. Keep reading, because it's quite a ride!

Seriously! 2 weeks later!

In the meantime, my GP discovered my thyroid was tanked out, so I was put on Levothyroxine 25mcg. It helped a lot. I started to feel a little bit more human, at least in the brain area. I finally got in to the OB-GYN, and he did a biopsy and trans-vaginal ultrasound. We got the results 2 weeks later and he called me in to go over them. He said I had hyperplasia with atypia. Cells were dividing rapidly, and he was very concerned. He recommended an endometrial ablation, or a full hysterectomy. At 49 he wasn't concerned with me having a sudden maternal urge (I have no kids), so he was fine with either choice. I decided on the hysterectomy, because why not? Endometrium grows back after an ablation, and why bother at my age? Just yank it all and let me get back to my life.

He said he didn't feel safe doing the procedure, since the cells were most likely cancerous and rapidly dividing, so he sent a referral to one of the cancer centers in OKC. I expected a call within a couple of weeks. I mean, really, if I have the early stages of endometrial cancer, they'd call me in immediately, right? Right?

Crickets. Literal crickets for 4 months! I was very concerned, hell, worried I was going to get full blown cancer and these jackasses weren't going to try and help me at all. I called OB-GYN several times during that 4 month period, and was told the cancer center in OKC wasn't returning their calls. I called them numerous times, and could never get a person on the phone.

I was told it was the pandemic. The pandemic was shutting everything down and causing huge backlogs for non-Covid issues to be seen. I told OB-GYN to refer me to the oncologist from Tulsa, who also worked once a month in Stillwater at the SMC Cancer Center. He didn't want to, he wanted me to see the doctor in OKC (who wasn't returning anyone's calls!) I called SMC Cancer Center and asked how soon I could get in with Dr. Thomas. His office called back within 2 hours asking for my chart and biopsy results. I had the Womens Clinic send my information to Dr. Thomas in Tulsa. Within a week, they called and had me on the schedule to see him in Stillwater on his next visit.

This is where the story gets good. And by good, I mean, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. Thanks for sticking with me this far.

Got in to see Dr. Thomas. I researched him and learned we have the same Alma Mater. That day, we were both wearing t-shirts from said same Alma Mater. Instant bonding! I also work in Administration at said same Alma Mater, so we spent some time discussing (gossiping) about my department since he had taken classes with a lot of my faculty during his undergrad. Then he got serious and handed me my biopsy report. He told me he was going to assume I wasn't shown this, since I am:

1. A Master's of Science graduate student in Education Leadership - this making me a researcher who knows how to do research, do research, and understand research.

2. Work full time in a Physical Sciences department at a Big 12 University.

3. Edit manuscripts for my Dept. Chair, thus proving I am scientifically literate. You can't edit scientific manuscripts without having a good, solid knowledge of said science. If he's alternating between "adsorb" and "absorb", I have to understand his research in order to correct his manuscript. This is important because his manuscripts have to be peer reviewed before they can be published in a reputable journal.

"Read it to me, out loud," he said.

I started reading from the paper in my professional scientist voice. It didn't take long before I began to falter as I came to the realization I had been lied to.

"Read it again," he said.

This time, I read it with a lot more heat in my voice.

Diagnosis: no hyperplasia with atypia, no abnormal cells detected

Dr. Thomas waited for me to explode. I didn't. I just stared at him in anger and horror. He offered to do another biopsy to make sure, but he suggested I fire my OB-GYN immediately and find someone who actually gives a shit about me.

I was still randomly bleeding, 6-9 weeks at a time, so we agreed on another trans-vaginal ultrasound and biopsy. The attached photo shows he took 3 samples from my uterus. He wanted to be sure.

A little ditty about endometrial biopsies:

They hurt like a motherfucker.

Take 2-3 ibuprofen before you leave the house to go to your procedure.

Relax. It usually only lasts a couple of minutes. The doctor normally takes 1 or 2 samples. Pinch, snip, clip, done.

Not this guy. He wanted to be surely sure.

He went for a 3rd pinch snip clip. My uterus seized up in the most painful spasm I ever had in my life. I almost came off the table. He was seated on a little rolly stool so he shot back away from me before I could connect his head to my foot. He triumphantly held up his little weapon of Uterine Destruction and declared, "Got it!"

"Yeah, you almost got your ass kicked mister," I growled at him.

"It was worth it to get this beauty of a sample."

So, after a biopsy of your uterus, expect some bleeding and cramping. I had severe cramps for 2 days. I was not amused. We're talking laying in bed with a heating pad and ibuprofen every 4 hours kind of cramping.

Got the results back in a couple of weeks. No cancer. No hyperplasia. No abnormal cell growth. He recommended I find a new OB-GYN fast. I decided fuck it, I'm done. I'm never seeing another OB-GYN ever again.

Dr. Thomas said several times he's convinced my issues are endocrinal. I filed that away in the back of my mind.

(if you ever do test positive for cancer and you are in the Tulsa area, I highly recommend Dr. Eric Thomas! Make sure you have a sense of humor with him.)

My GP started pressuring me back in March of 2021 to find a new OB-GYN. The Women's Clinic has several, but they have a fucked up rule you can't switch doctors there. So if you go there, you are stuck with the same doctor and can't move over to his colleague on another floor. I saw my GP again, and asked if he was still best buds with a gynecologist who had his own clinic. He was always full, and not taking new patients, so GP would have to call his buddy to get me in.

Which he did. Buddy-GYN's office called the very next day to schedule me in. He had been sent my chart and was concerned about the long bleeds (6-9 weeks in duration) and why the fuck were they happening after being 3 yrs post-menopause.

I went in for a consult in April of 2021. First thing out of his mouth, "Has anyone ever talked to you before about PCOS?"

I laughed.

I laughed because every GYN I saw over the last 20 years told me I didn't have PCOS, endometriosis, or any sort of hormonal issues. I was just fat, lazy, and a piggy pig pig. I actually had one OB-GYN tell me to go on The Biggest Loser. Fat shamed while sitting there naked on his table after an invasive exam of my female bits. Thanks a lot, asshole.

I told him about that. He informed me he could tell by LOOKING at me I have the classics signs of PCOS. I use an epilator on my crazy man-hairs, so he asked if I was tweezing or waxing. I about fell out of my chair. Nobody ever believed me that I was having to remove crazy thick hairs off my chin and neck all the time. He asked if I ever had ovarian cysts. Affirmative, I was diagnosed with ovarian cysts the first time one exploded back in 1994. He stood there, holding the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

"Well, going by your chief complaints, your abdominal circumference, history of bursting cysts, and no period for 3 years, I am saying you have PCOS."

He went on to discuss my need for an appointment with an endocrine specialist, he was convinced my thyroid tanking out sent my ovaries back into production, and now my hormones are all over the place, most likely, and I needed specialized care.

He must have talked to GP, because I soon got a call from the endo clinic to come in.

This post is already long and tedious, but I am happy to say I finally have 3 doctors who listen to me. My new Endo doc tripled my levothyroxine and scheduled a follow up blood test for next month. Buddy-GYN talked me into a pap smear and cervical exam in July as well. He also wants a mammogram, which I begrudgingly need to schedule so he doesn't chew my ass in July when I walk in with no results. GP is working on my other issues (weight, bad fluid retention, etc...). We discovered from a blood test last Friday my iron levels are dangerously low. I am now on a Rx iron supplement. I've always struggled with anemia, but it never occurred to me or GP to check my iron levels. If you're a woman, and you feel like absolute dog shit and your doctor can't figure out why, have your iron and electrolytes tested. It'll probably take about 3-4 weeks for me to see any results from the iron supplement, but I can already see a reduction in fluid retention.

In September, I have an appointment with Dr. Le at Integris in OKC. He's a bariatric surgeon. I have gained so much weight from having PCOS and Hypothyroidism that I need to drop a lot of fat fast. I'm pretty healthy - I don't have the normal problems obese people tend to have. I'm not diabetic, don't have sleep apnea, my cholesterol levels are good. I am what they call "healthy fat" which seems like an oxymoron. However, it will improve my chances of getting approved for a sleeve gastrectomy.

I turned 50 last week, and had to endure 3 decades of no one listening to me. I feel I lost so many years of my life and I can never get them back. I hope this post reaches a lot of younger women having issues. Keep looking for a doctor who will listen to you. It sucks we have to hunt for these unicorns, but they do exist. I finally have a good team who actually cares about me.

You have a right to be listened to! You have a right to be heard!

I was asked: Who are my doctors?

Dr. Daniel Brown D.O. Stillwater Physicians Clinic

Dr. Yasuto Taguchi M.D. Taguchi Women's Clinic

Dr. Wynter Kipgen M.D. Stillwater Diabetes & Endocrinology

#women's health #pcosawareness #pcosjourney #pcos #thyroid #hypothyroidism #symptoms #make doctors listen #women #reproductive rights #finding a doctor #listen to women #women's pain #women's suffering #endocrine #be heard #gynecology #reproductive health #gynecologist #oncologist #cancer #obesity #overweight #hormones

[creedslove]

Hurt and comfort

Sabretooth x Reader

A/N: this ended up being a lot more personal than I intended, but I hope you guys enjoy it! Especially if you are feeling down/upset out there, maybe this will make you feel better!

When Victor heard Y/N's sniffs, he sighed to himself and shook his head. He was growing frustrated to see his baby girl crying so often. He placed his laptop on the couch by his side and looked around, knowing she was in their bedroom. His first urge was definitely come after her and see what was going on, but he knew he had a harsh way to deal with things sometimes, and those things would only make their situation worse. Instead, he walked to the kitchen, had some water and decided to take a candy bar with him, if things went wrong, at least he would give her a sweet treat. 

Y/N cried for what it seemed hours, she felt so done, so angry at herself and everything around her. Every time something good, fun or pleasant happened, another bad one, came right afterwards. Bad thoughts, paranoia, anxiety, an infinity of small things that seemed to have the goal of ruining good moments. Just to remind her she didn't deserve good things in life. 

She was sad, disappointed in herself and didn't know how to get out of that situation, she knew how to do so per se, but she just didn't have the motivation, the attitude, the guts to go after it. Y/N solution to that was just avoid people. If she felt disappointed in herself, it was pretty obvious other people would too. Family, friends, Victor… she took a distance from them all. She was still there, acting as if nothing happened, but the spark was gone, the joy, the laughter just as fake as every "I'm fine" she'd been saying.

She knew Victor knew. 

And yet, she kept on doing it, even the person who matter the most to her, now seemed so far away, like she didn't have the right to be around him anymore. 

She tried wiping her tears when his heavy footsteps were heard - Victor was like a cat, he could move with such speed and agility, but he could also act like a regular person would, especially if he didn't want them to be caught by surprise.

"Y/N…" he entered the room calmly and sat on the edge of the bed, his clawed hands held her ankle in a gentle but firm way, preventing her from escaping him. "I know you've been crying, you don't have to hide that" 

"Victor.. I-" 

He scooted over, approaching her even more. Deep blueish-green eyes studied her face as big hands rubbed her back…

"I know you don't wanna talk about it, trust me… I've been there, right where you are, and I can promise you two things: everything will be alright and I will be by your side, no matter what" 

His tone was nothing more than a deep purr, as Y/N couldn't hold her sobs and threw herself into his arms. His broad chest offering the comfort she needed to feel in peace, as his warmth managed to soothe her cold thoughts. 

"I just need you to accept me by your side, Y/N. Don't shut me down again, I need you just as much as you need me" rumbling purrs came out along with his sweet words, the vibrations on his chest, making it all seem like a distant, bad dream. 

Victor nuzzled her neck affectionately and caressed her face. 

"I promise everything will be alright"

___________

I might or might not have cried while writing this, but oh well 🤷🏻‍♀️

#victor creed #victor creed x reader #victor creed imagine #sabretooth #sabretooth imagine #sabretooth x reader #liev schreiber #liev schreiber imagine #liev schreiber x reader #xmen #xmen movies #xmen origins #x men #x men origins #x men imagine #x men fanfiction

[hiredhorse]

Sirry prompt: Harry ressurects sirius with blood magic post ootp and they live together in peace. I've been listening to Hozier recently (specifically 'like real people do' and 'work song') and thats just big sirry energy to me :)

Holy four-letter-word, anon, I am deeply in love with you. 

The soundtrack you gave me is fueling a huge project for which I have absolutely no time but, nonetheless, a sudden furious energy. In short I don’t know when there will ever be more, but because I feel like I can’t go another month without expressly responding to your ask, here’s the first chapter:

Now.

Sirius was slumped over the table in the kitchen, the room where he’d more or less set up camp the past week. He barely left it for the other parts of the house except for when he felt desperate to look out a window. It was a little better than being penned in his room. He’d thought of getting out of Azkaban as coming back to life, and when they’d made him go to the house that time, his old room had seemed like the best option. It made him feel like a teenager. It reminded him of his friends. And though the deepest sorrow of his life was tangled up with James and Lily and Peter, all the joy he’d ever known was there, too, inseparable.

But now that he’d been truly resurrected, and somehow was trapped here again, the last thing he could stand was thinking of James. Not that it could be avoided, with his son —

The Floo chimed and Sirius stood up from the bench, his heart racing even though he’d been expecting Remus, stepping out onto the hearth then just looking at Remus. Harry came through behind him, stumbling up against Remus’ shoulder. Remus turned slightly toward him with a reflexive smile.

“Harry,” he said lowly, “like I said, I’d like to speak to Sirius alone.”

Sirius looked at Harry and then was torn between the urge to look anywhere else or to stare at him forever. Everything about Harry, now, was a wave of commingled delight and horror for Sirius. His shoulders, skinny but suddenly broad enough to stretch out the shoulders of Dudley’s old hand-me-down t-shirt, which was pulled loose around the collar, flashing a prominent clavicle. The belt bunching the waist of his too-large jeans tight around a narrow waist that Sirius wanted to pull loose for a dozen reasons, among them the desire to replace Harry’s every article of clothing with the sort of fine, tailored stuff his posh dad had liked and also to cinch Harry’s wrists together over his head and…

Sirius blinked. He looked at Remus. Remus was staring back with an expression of naked rage, like he’d read each and every one of Sirius’ thoughts. It startled Sirius. He’d never known Remus to get angry, truly, even when he should be. 

“I’ll just be…” Harry gestured vaguely toward the door, sidling toward it as though he wasn’t willing to turn his back on them. “Will you two…?”

“We’re only going to talk,” Remus promised softly, but even though he was speaking to Harry, his voice had an undertone of danger that made Sirius want to flatten his ears and growl.

Harry was frozen with his hand on the door. Sirius looked at him and smiled. Reassuring. He didn’t have to look at Remus to know how this was fanning the flames; he half-expected his oldest living friend to combust in Fiend Fire. But he just looked at Harry, trying to radiate good feelings while fighting the urge to crawl out of his skin, to be a dog and cower or run or raise his hackles and fight. 

Harry swallowed, throat bobbing, managed a shaky answering smile and slipped out the door.

“You piece of shite,” Remus said as soon as the door closed. He took a step toward Sirius, which brought him down off the hearth at last. His footstep seemed to echo in the room; Sirius winced at the sound. “You worthless, cowardly — “

Sirius cut him off, eyes narrowing, “It isn’t like I did the ritual, Moony!”

“Don’t call me that.”

They stared at each other. Remus took a step again, this time sideways, his head lowered. Then another. One at a time, slow and deliberate, like he was stalking something he wanted to kill on the first try. Unthinking, as Remus moved, Sirius did too, so the table stayed between them.

“I know how you are. You’ve already looked everything up, right? You know more about the spell than I ever will? Well, then you know I couldn’t hurt him. I couldn’t do anything he didn’t want…”

“It’s not right,” Remus bit out. “Don’t try to justify it. It’s sick and it’s unforgivable, and I should do him a favor and…” His shoulders went tight, and Sirius realized what was going to happen a moment before it did. Remus leapt onto the table and then back to the floor in two inhuman bounds, putting him face to face with Sirius, his wand suddenly in his hand.

Sirius didn’t draw in return. He did reach out on reflex and grasped Remus by the forearm. Remus’ pupils were huge, his breathing harsh. He looked so old, this close. It made Sirius wonder what James would have looked like, how he would have grown up. It should be him here, murdering Sirius for Harry’s honor. A part of him wanted to bare his neck to Remus, James’ proxy in this righteous execution, and welcome a final ending at last.

But. There had been so much cold darkness. Not just in death, but before. Wandering through the years in Azkaban, then Grimmauld Place, subhuman. A wraith. When Harry had pulled him from the veil it had felt like going into heat and light at last, painfully intense and pathetically welcome. Sirius wanted to live. 

“What was I supposed to do?” he murmured, searching Remus’ face for some shred of understanding. “Was I supposed to just stay dead?”

Their faces were close, and he saw that it cost Remus nothing at all to hiss, “Yes!”

Sirius’ heart seized at that. He shoved Remus with unconscious strength—shoved him harder than should have been possible. His body was so much stronger than it had ever been. Even when he was a perfect, vital twenty-year-old still bright-eyed over a new war.

So strong that he knocked an angry werewolf all the way back against the far wall. There Remus stood, arms spread to either side as though plastered, eyes wide, so pale his scars stood out all over his face in dark red relief. 

A little of the venom went out of Sirius. His hands were fisted, and he flexed them open. His palms were stinging where he’d accidentally cut himself with his fingernails, four bloody crescents on each palm.

“Well,” he said roughly. “If that’s how you feel, I guess you can fuck off.”

Remus shoved himself away from the wall and summoned his wand, which he’d dropped somewhere midway. He didn’t look at Sirius, only at the floor as he strode back to the Floo, grabbed the powder and muttered his destination tersely. Sirius stood transfixed, watching the flames shrink back when he was gone.

Harry came in. Of course he noticed Sirius’ hands immediately, and picked them up with a little cry, rubbing each cut with his thumb. Sirius tried not to wince. It wasn’t hard; though the touch stung, Remus’ words had left deeper wounds.

Or had they? Had he really been surprised?

“You have to be careful with this stuff,” Harry muttered, cleaning the blood with his sleeve. “I don’t want to have to give you any more,” he added, and Sirius was startled enough to look at his face.

Harry smiled wryly.

Sirius snorted. “You have a dark sense of humor,” he noted. “I say that as someone with Black humor, so I should know.”

Harry’s smile deepened. He was swiftly healing each spot on Sirius’ hands with his wand. His magic felt sinfully good on Sirius’ skin. 

“The darkest form of humor is punning, of course,” Sirius said, only half-conscious of what was coming out of his mouth. He grimaced. “How much of that did you hear?” He couldn’t imagine that Harry hadn’t stayed near the door, and Remus had been in such a state it hadn’t occurred to him to cast any spells for privacy.

Harry nodded, finally looking up, though he still held Sirius’ left hand. He put his wand in his pocket. Sirius reached out, helpless against the urge to touch. He cupped his hand over Harry’s neck and rubbed back and forth the way Harry liked. Harry stepped nearer so they were fully in each other’s space and rested his forehead on Sirius’ shoulder.

“He didn’t mean it,” Harry said, sounding sure as anything. Both his hands, and one of Sirius’, were now trapped between their bodies. Harry stroked Sirius’ stomach with his knuckles.

Sirius grunted and didn’t reply. Of course Moony meant it. If their roles were reversed and it was Moony who’d let Harry fuck him back to life — repeatedly — then Sirius would have done more than wish him dead. He’d have killed him.

Here was his final proof, if he needed it: he was as bad as any of his ancestors. Worse, maybe, because there was nothing Sirius loathed more than a hypocrite.

[hoopdiddies]

I'm Not Over You// Ben Hardy x Reader (10.1)

A/N: The last part! Here you go! Thanks for supporting the entire series, guys. Means a lot ♥ ♥

Summary: A wedding brought you apart and it will be a wedding that will bring you back together

Warnings: Microscopic angst and FULL ON FLUFF

WC: 3k

Tags: @haendel-me-with-care

@mrsdoradominguez-barnes

@mickmoon

@lakef

@mrsmazzello

@valeriecarolinaw

@queen-turtle-boiii

@loveandbeloved29

@hazme2

@boherahpsody

Parts: 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

"What- I thought Gwil- never mind, did I hurt your shoulder?" You stumble over your words and he chuckles, the curve his red lips are sporting making your insides melt.

"No, you didn't."

"Oh thank heavens. Sure I didn't add to your injuries? " You had to say it but luckily, he shakes his head good-naturedly and seems to have shrugged off the issue. "I'm okay now. I've been for so long actually." At least you've got the conversation going, against the odds of you doubting that it might've ended up awkward with how long you haven't been in touch. You smile crookedly and rub your arm, sighing profoundly to say another word but as you open your mouth to do so, Ben beats you to it. "What about you? How've you been?"

You shrug. "Same old but tortured...and pissed...at Joe...for doing me injustice like that." He rubs the back of his hair and cocks his head to one side. "Oh? Tell me about it."

You give him a brief, speculative look– thinking that it's a miracle you're talking normally like you haven't kissed each other the day you left him lamenting on a hospital bed, been in contact for an entire year and made love with your eyes during the ceremony– in that order.

You snap out of it and look around the busy reception. "I- well-"

"To make it easier, let's head out for a walk on the beach, shall we?" Ben steps aside to let you leave before him and you tuck a tendril of your hair behind your ear, nodding as you walk ahead. He follows you out and you glance over your shoulder, looking past him and seeing Joe wiggle his brows at you from their table– to which you widen your eyes in annoyance and a little gratitude.

Your walk has been graced with the twinkle of a thousand stars and the calm splash of the evening waves against the shore. You've let your hair down from the tight bun you've put it in and taken off your sandals to traipse along the water while Ben remains along the dry sand to stay practical– not that you aren't. He just has his shoes on while you're holding onto yours.

You haven't strolled far from the party with the lamps spanning from the vicinity within the reception still present as you tread along. You've told him all about Barcelona and your studies and everything else concerning your life there; so far it's been good and jolly. He's taken a new project and is in the process of filming, something you've congratulated him on as well– the previous one being his full recovery and you didn't bother to bring up the prior events to that, it might just lead to something you'd lose your voice to talk about. It's a relief that you are able to share a few laughs in between, something you thought wouldn't be possible anymore. You haven't talked to each other like this is ages.

"I guess we're both working our fingers to the bone." He chuckles and stops in his tracks to enjoy the breeze. You involuntarily mimic his stance and stand semi-still on the water, tossing your sandals onto the driest part of the sand.  "I guess. Business before pleasure they say."

"Well my business is my pleasure so it seems like it only applies to you." The smile on his face widens thoroughly and you scoff underneath your breath, swinging your leg back and forth, creating mini splashes. "Excuse me, it applies to neither of us. I love working for something I know will finally lead to my dream."

He hums and bends down to pick up a pebble, casting it smoothly against the water and makes three skips. "It just occurred to me that you never once told me anything about your dream to become a doctor or anything." You give him a fleeting smile and shake your head, crossing your arms as you begin admiring the sky. "If I had told anyone, it wouldn't come true."

"Seriously?"

You raise your hands up briefly in defense and let out a chuckle, bending down to pick up a pebble to skip as well. "I'm living proof that it's effective, you should try it sometime." While you cast your pebble and watch it skip, he studies you intently and with great focus, drawing in a sharp breath before taking off his shoes to join your spot in the shallow water. He sets it aside and stands next to you, lifting his gaze up to the sky and then to you as you take in the cluster of stars dotting the heavens.

The gleam in your eyes as you beam at the starry view puts him under a spell and you sense his piercing stare, encouraging you to catch his fixed look. "What is it this time?"

He gulps, his mouth going dry. "I've sent you a message a couple of weeks back. Never got a response from you..."

You angle your head to one side amusingly. "I replied? Maybe you just don't check your inbox that much- and wait, I changed my number, how did you-"

"Our boy, Joe."

Of course. Joe really needs a new girl in his life, he must be exhausted from being such a mediator.

"And yes, I don't check my inbox a lot. Busy as a bee lately." He adds with a defeated smile present. You weave your fingers together, keeping your vision limited to the horizon yet sensing his eyes penetrate through you.

A little shy to let him see your blush creeping up your cheeks, you tear yourself away from his gaze and sigh inwardly. "I know that look somehow."

"For the third time asked in this lifetime, would you care to finish the dance we had at the after party? A dance to satisfy all the dances we never had the chance to finish. "

Your mouth shamelessly hangs like an attic door with loose hinges at how he was able to remember that. You recall his attending physician say that there would be no risks of amnesia or any sort of memory loss, although he shouldn't be able to recall minor details.

But then your dance wasn't a minor memory.

Ben's still waiting for your answer and you recompose yourself from the jaw drop, stuttering in the slightest as you speak up.  "Uh y-yeah. I mean, we never get to finish dances, am I right?"

Without tethering himself from taking your hand in his, he draws you close to him, the movement of your legs making small ripples and swishes in the water. You can't keep a firm eye on him and as he understands your uncertainty due to how long it's been since the pair of you have closed a distance, he manually positions your arms around his neck, putting a little forethought into snaking his hands around your waist to ease you into it again.

"Hey, like old times, right?" He cajoles softly and you look up at him.

"Like old times." You repeat after him and find it easy to stare into his eyes again, once more submitting yourself to the metronomic beat of your heart. He initiates with light sway, feeling the crashing waves beneath your feets put an effect to how you're moving. With you studying every detail of his face adoringly, you notice the small yet noticeable scar on the near left of his forehead; a small residue of his injury. You frown as you reach up to trace your finger smoothly across his scar, your heart breaking at the memory of that night.

Ben takes notice of your flitting expression and cups your cheek to alleviate the worry you've put yourself in at the sight of his scar. "Hey, hey. Don't worry about it, I'm okay now."

You hang your head apologetically, chewing on your bottom lip with the urge to bring up what you wanted to suppress out of guilt.

"I'm sorry if I left you like that. At the time you really needed me the most, I scrammed and ghosted you for an entire year. I broke my promise, your arm and a small fraction of your skull," as inappropriate as it is to laugh a little at it, you let it slip past your lips anyway to give it a stretch and lighten the weight on your shoulders, "and it's all thanks to Joe for making up that worst case scenario."

Joe did say you'd hurt him on every possible level– ranging from physical to spiritual. Though you didn't afflict him physically per se, your carelessness on the highway did. "I'm so sorry, Ben, for letting my emotions get in the way of what we had. Our friendship. You loved someone else then and being in a way cursed with unrequited feelings, I-I had to distance myself."

He assures you with a loose smile, twirling you under his arm and leisurely pulling you back to his body. "Every bit of it is alright. I had sworn on the day we met that I'd protect you with every fiber of my being and I should be the one that's sorry. All you ever did was love me," he stares down at you intimately, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles, "though how clueless and unbearable I was," a kiss to your wrist, "through all my complaints and nasty fits," a kiss to your cheek, the sensation making you giggle slightly, "through my clumsy tendencies, " a kiss to your nose, "through all my mood swings after a bad day on set," an elongated kiss on your forehead, parting away deliberately before flicking his eyes to your lips and back to your Y/E/C orbs. He gulps audibly at how he's asking you for permission to do it. "When I couldn't return that love to you because I was blind enough to let Rosy stay. For loving me...in both my lowest and highest."

He's risking a few inches in but you can tell he's holding back. You slacken your arms from his neck, little by little dropping them to your sides as his green eyes finally overwhelm you.

The corner of his eyes crinkle as he smiles, breathing out the words you've long waited for. "You've held my heart in your hands even when you were miles away and though you won't be staying for long, I'll always be waiting." In the same way you had when you left, you tip your head back to let his lips meet yours only this time it doesn't take him by surprise. Your lips don't move against each other for a few seconds and you pull away, breathless.

His green eyes are wide yet flecked with awe, unruly brows lightly creased together with small strands of his combed back, blond hair falling into them but they soften as the smile on his face widens. "You're not with Joe, are you?"

You chuckle, shaking your head and heaving out a defining exhale. "I never was. You're not with Rosy anymore, are you?"

He shakes his head as well and it appears the blissful grin on his face won't be coming off anytime soon.

"Long done. I love you, and you alone."

You'll be blaming him later for the ear-splitting grin now etched on your face.

"I love you too, Benjamin."

He throws his head back in relief and lifts you up in his arms, tilting his head back as he savors the full feeling of your lips on his, the kiss gradually becoming open-mouthed.

As if on cue, the fireworks meant for Rami and Lucy come launching up into the sky and bursting into bright colors, the sparks raining down and vanishing into thin air shortly after. Cheers of the people emanate from the party as Lucy and Rami share the same kiss from outside at the same time you and Ben are. You pull away with unridable grins on your faces and share the magical sight of the fireworks lighting up the night sky with no other disturbances to ruin the moment.

"You think they'd start wondering where we are?" You hum with your head rested against his chest. He kisses your hair and smiles as he tightens his hold around you, revelling deep in the moment.

"They'd get the idea, babe. They'd get the idea."

Lucy was right, Ben has always been your soulmate; the three dances you've had in your lifetime somehow always brought you back to each other. Hopefully the one you just had will be the one that will never tear you both apart ever again.

You've yet to thank Joe for tricking you into thinking that it was Gwilym he wanted to spin you off to.

How magical is that tape you used to stick the polaroids together?

It somehow pieced you and Ben in the same manner and stood the test of time.

-Fin-

#borhap #queen #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #borhap cast #borhap cast x reader #borhap imagine #ben hardy fanfic #imagine #fanfic

[areiton]

(1)Cause you're (rightfully) grumpy about people's purity wank I've got a question that might distract you and which I desperately hope you have an answer to: I mostly read steter fic so far. Now i wanted to get into sterek but ... I seem to be too picky?? I'd like to read sth not totally au (Erica and Boyd being alive is fine for example), with not too much ooc-ness, with Peter NOT being the villain and with Derek's abusive past 'relationships' and Stiles self-destructiveness actually adressed

(2) and I can’t seem to find sth that really … catches me. There are so many amazing steter fics out there (yes, I very definetely talking about your fics too) and I’m sure there are equally amazing sterek fics, but …. yeah. I’m obviously not able to find them. So - help??? Please??

~*~

Oh, friend. You are my favorite. This is the kind of ask Iadooooore. Ok, you ready? Cuz this list is LOOOOONG. (big thanks to@bloody-bee-tee for helping me find fics for this list.) Not everything fitsall your criteria, but all of them fit some.

**Are especially good for dealing with Derek and/or Stiles healing.

~~

Patterns of Intention by drunktuesdays:

Derek looked likethe stuff of his deepest fantasies. His shirt was rumpled where Stiles had hishands in it, and he was breathing hard as well, chest heaving. His eyes—hiseyes were glazed over and he looked stunned, like he’d been—like Stiles had—

“No,” Stiles said,blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to bewrenched out of his chest. “God, no.”

~~

Paper Skin and Glass Bones byhushlittlewolf:

Derek can’t takethis. He can’t take this joking, concerned boy that has the evidence of Derek’sshortcomings carved into his skin.

Or

The one where Dereknever paid attention to how much Stiles got hurt…until he sees Stilesshirtless and notices all the scars.

~~

**Carry You Home byCastielific:

“Derek letshimself fall on his back, breath short, heart beating fast. He can feel theWolf in him, purring in satisfaction and contentment. Asking for more. It wantshim to turn and touch, to never stop touching. Instead, Derek squeezes hishands into fists and closes his eyes, trying to push it back, this need, thisinstinct screaming for his mate. For Stiles.”

Title inspired bythis Firefly quote: “When you can’t run anymore, you crawl, and when you can’tcrawl, when you can’t do that, you find someone to carry you”

~~

Trust Fall byStoney:

Stiles is fairlycertain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming backto Peter Hale. This time it’s pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated byswapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. Thatmakes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thingwhere his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek isactually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide.

Great. Wait…does this mean he’s the Alpha until they figurethis out? Holy. Shit.****

Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a fewminutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loudmouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going tokill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him againjust to kill him all over.

They were going to have to play this cool. They would have tostay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into thissituation with someone who physically couldn’t be calm and focused.

Of course.

~~

Stilinski’s Home for WaywardWolves by owlpostagain:

“At least yourpuppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them tobe well-mannered.” 



“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly. 



Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges,abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up andall but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, andsure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock ducttaped to the vinyl siding: 



DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

—

Or, in which StilesStilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school andaccidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

~~

How  Derek Met His Smallest Fan by purleduvet:

Derek is standing inthe fruits and vegetables aisle, trying to decide between two very nice lookingwatermelons, when someone small crashes into his legs.

or

Derek comes back toBeacon Hills after years of being gone and meets Stiles and his kid at thesupermarket.

~~

Make it Feel Like Home by redeyedwrath:

Maybe it would’vebeen different if things had never happened. Maybe it would’ve been different ifhe hadn’t persuaded Scott to go search in the woods. Maybe it would’ve beendifferent if he hadn’t been so stubborn. Maybe it would’ve been different if heand Scott had never met.

Maybe it would’ve been different, would’ve beenbetter, if he hadn’t been born in the first place.

He tightens his fingers on the steering wheel untilthey turn an ugly, bloodless color. The only good thing, in his opinion, that’dcome out of all of this, had been meeting Derek. Derek, who’d been an assholebut turned out to be the most loyal, kindest person Stiles knows.

He resists the urge to drive off the road and screaminto his palms. Beause Derek had left, and now he’s alone.

Or, an AU where Stiles runs away to find himself but finds Derekinstead.

~~

Misfire bymothlights, unpossible: (this one has less than fantastic Peter, buthe isn’t actively bad, and it’s amazing)

“The debt must berepaid,” she says, and it has the weight of a vow. Thewords resonate through him, ringing through his ribcage and the bones of hisjaw, and Stiles loses his breath and maybe his grip on reality because shedraws herself upright and where there had once stood a supermodel-level MILFnow there is Galadriel’s much hotter older sister, a Presence of unmistakablepower in their ordinary, smells-vaguely-of-Thai-takeout hallway.

“Oh shit,” Stilessays.

~~

And You Say You’re Alone by taelynhawker:

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter’suntimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derektry to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles dealswith the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he andScott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, andthat includes Stiles.

~~

The Art of Dying Well by kinneas:

Yousaid we’re friends.“

"Whoa, way to holdwhat a guy says in the heat of the moment against him,” Stiles repliesautomatically, but… that’s not what he wants to say, not at all, not to thequiet contemplation that is Derek Hale on his living room sofa. So he adds,“I guess, yeah.”

Derek doesn’t speak fora long moment. “Then it’s inevitable.”

“Wow,”Stiles whistles, “you are the biggest downer.”

~~

Gracious in Defeatby yodasyoyo:

Stiles needs to getaway from Beacon Hills after the end of his senior year. Derek offers to lethim stay with him in São Paulo, and they finally act on the tension that hasalways simmered between them.

The thing is, whenit’s time to go home- Stiles doesn’t want to leave.

~~

Crash Landers by gyzym:

In which Stiles learns to Stalk That Stalk.(Or, how to accidentally woo your unfriendly neighborhood alpha in roughly fivehundred handwritten steps.)

~~

**Not Quite Lost (Not QuiteFound) by alocalband:

A year after thenogitsune is defeated, Derek is living a quiet life in the mountains above asmall town in Colorado.

Then Stiles showsup.

~~

The Darkness Inside by isthatbloodonhisshirt:

The sheriff watchedhim for a moment, then he sighed and turned slightly. He reached out to open acabinet door beside him, and pulled out a shelf. It was on a track, so itrolled out of the cabinet fairly easily, and held a small CCTV. Derek frownedand inched his chair to the side a little bit so he could get a better angle.

He was looking at a teenager, or someone at least young enoughto be the same age as Scott. He was sitting on a bed in what looked to be alarger room, the area he was in surrounded by four glass walls, with his legscrossed and head tilted.

He was also staring directly into the camera, as if he knewsomeone was watching. A creepy smile slowly slid onto the teen’s face, and heheld up one hand, wiggling his fingers in a slow, eery wave.

Derek felt his mouth run dry. He didn’t know who this kid was,but he didn’t like him.

“Who is that?” he asked quietly.

“That,” said thesheriff, “is my son.”

~~

***Bravery is a Loaded Gun byLiviKate:

“No, I’m notasexual, Stiles,” Derek said shortly.

The teen’s heart sank in his chest, his palms going clammy andhis neck prickling with the familiar feeling of rejection.

“So then it’s,” Stiles swallowed, throat clogging, unable togive voice to the facts he would much rather ignore. The silence grew betweenthem, growing tense the longer it was left. For the first time in years, Stilescouldn’t speak. The weight of inadequacy held down his typical stream ofuseless banter. What does one say in this sort of situation? ‘I’m sorry youdon’t find me attractive?’

In which the boys speak in half sentences and have two totallydifferent conversations. What they can agree on, eventually, is that they loveeach other. And that Derek should jerk off more.

~~

Warm shadows bystilinskisparkles:

“Fine,” Stiles spitsback, “We’ll die together, it’ll be dandy.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Derek snaps, “I’ll get some peaceand quiet for once.”

Stiles grinssuddenly, blindingly. There’s blood on his teeth, and his eyes are dark anddesperate as he looks up at Derek, but he’s never looked more stupidly,infuriatingly beautiful.

~~

Give Me Back My Bones (maybe thenwe’ll talk) by kariye:

Derek meets Stiles on a Wednesday. He comes infor his usual cup of coffee and somehow walks out with hot chocolate, cinnamonon the top, and no idea what just happened there.

~~

Romancing the Sourwolf. (OrStiles Stilinski’s Foolproof Guide to Getting Your Man) by lucyinthesoupwithcrutons:

The 15 year plan for Lydia was clearly thewrong way to go; Stiles won’t be making the same mistake with Derek. He decidesto do his homework this time.

~~

Throw Me to the Wolves by skoosiepants:

He feels thephysical embodiment of devastated, his already too strung-out mindstruggling to wall up all the hurt, the rejection—he takes a deep shudderingbreath and looks down at the shredded skin on his arms, at the sluggish waythey’re weakly healing.

There is nothing, nothing he wants more than tohave Derek sweep in and make everything all better. He should have known,though, that something like that would never happen to him.

OR -

Stiles accidentallygets bitten, and everything goes to hell.

~~

***SharingFood by aussiebee:

“Sharing foodwith another human being is an intimate act that should not be indulged inlightly.” ― M.F.K. Fisher

Or

Derek is pretty muchabsorbed into the Stilinski family, one meal at a time.

~~

Derek Hale’s No-Good, Very BadDay by Mackem:

Derek hides from his day.

~~

***Start Small, Like Oak Treesby SmallBirds:

The months following Allison’s death havepassed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem tolose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts.Eventually, he thinks, he’ll just fade away. He isn’t sure anyone would notice.Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Haleattempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory theworld doesn’t seem so awful.He’s not sure what he’d been expecting when he eventuallyconvinces Derek to move into the Stilinski’s spare bedroom, but a newfoundpassion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn’t it.

~~

A Quiet Night (Not in theCards) by Delightful_I_Am:

“Derek fucking Hale!”

The shout rang through the bar and for a long moment nobodymoved. It was like something out of a movie. Everything just stopped; the musiccut off; one of the servers had frozen mid-pour. Grady would have laughed if heweren’t holding his breath. The kid straightened his shirt, a glimpse ofstomach showing the curling edges of a tattoo on his hip, and strode towardwhere Hale was sitting in the dark corner. As one, every supe in the placeturned to see Hale’s reaction; the last person to try to confront Hale in herehad left with a broken hand and a whispered threat that the next time Halewould rip their throat out. With his teeth.Unsurprisingly, Hale’s face was set in its usual glower, although it seemed abit softer around the eyes. It took Grady a second to realise Hale knew the kid.

~~

The blood blooms clean in you,ruby by m_leigh:

“You don’tremember, anymore, where exactly you were when you found out that she was dead.You remember almost everything else about her dying, though.”

Stiles Stilinski hasalways been the person who will do what other people don’t want to. It’s hard,though, when your friends keep trying to protect you. Post-S2.

~~

***Tide pullsfrom the moon by paintedrecs:

When Derek leftBeacon Hills, finally ripping the tether free and remembering how to breathe,how to live again, it was Stiles who came after him. Stiles, who showed up athis door with blazing eyes, looking like he wanted to punch him in the face,but wrapping his arms around him instead, making him grunt in surprise at theraw strength of his embrace.

“You asshole,”Stiles said, slapping him heartily on the back as he extricated himself, hisvoice rough under his bright smile. “You couldn’t have made yourself harder tofind, could you?”

~~

Homing Mechanisms by SmallBirds:

Magnetoreception:The sense which allows an organism to detect a magnetic field to perceivedirection, altitude or location. How birds find their way home.

–

Stiles returns toBeacon Hills after four years at Stanford, only to find out that Derek hasmoved back into town. He brings him a housewarming gift. Derek makes food.Things escalate from there.

~~

Parallax by uraneia:

Parallax: noun. Theeffect whereby the position or direction of an object appears to differ whenviewed from different positions, e.g., through the viewfinder and the lens of acamera.

With the pack (and Stiles) starting college, Derek is bored. Heneeds a hobby–or a job. Which is how he comes to model for Alpha Studios.

He just neverthought Stiles would end up working there too.

~~

Occam’s Razorby MissAnnThropic:

When Stiles goes to sleep, he’s ajunior in high school. He wakes up in a world where he’s twenty-four andmarried to Derek Hale. Stiles just can’t seem to catch a break.

Readalso: Stepping Off the Razor’sEdge which is a lot of healing for both our boys and beautiful.

~~

The Truth Is by BulletBlaze:

“Well, you should get going then-”“You could come around some time-”A pause.“Wait, what?”A blush bloomed across Derek’s cheeks, barely visible overthe top of his beard. He shrugged again.“If you wanted to. You could stop by while I’m fixing it up.Help me with some things. If you wanted to.”“You already said that,” Stiles, the idiot, mumbled indisbelief.Derek’s blush grew a shade darker.

~~

There’s a martyr in my bedtonight but it’s alright by crossroadwrite:

It’s a beautiful afternoon, and Derek is standing at a dusty gasstation, staring helplessly at the destroyed remains of the last thing hissister left him.

(OR: In which Derekexpects nothing from life, but with a little help from the Stilinskis getseverything.)

#ask arei #arei answers #vive-lanuit #arei reads too much #sterek fic recs

[darley1101]

Death & Decorum Part 1: She Wants Revenge

Welcome to Death and Decorum, a 6 part miniseries that I will be posting throughout the month of October. As the title suggests it is not a love story, but one of revenge. I have done some interesting research over the last day or so and will advise you that some of the deaths depicted in this story are rather interesting and based off actual deaths that occurred in Regency England. I am very well aware that this is not going to be everyone's cup of tea, which is why I will only be tagging people who requested to be tagged by liking, reblogging, or commenting on this story's coming soon post. If you would like to be added to the tag, or even taken off, let me know. Full credit for this idea goes to @choiceslife

Warning/Triggers: Vengeful killings, mention of poison, drowning, broken neck

Death and Decorum

Part One: She Wants Revenge

Dusk was starting to fall as an unmarked carriage rolled to a stop just outside a small, out of the way apothecary. “You know what to do,” the countess ordered in a cold, distant voice. The dark haired girl sitting across from her gave a curt nod, her brown eyes shamefully studying the floor. “This is for the goods,” she pressed a coin in the girl's hand. “And this,” she jingled a small, nondescript pouch, “is for you. Twelve pieces of silver. Rather fitting don't you think?” She let out a low, emotionless chuckle when the girl's cheeks blossomed with color.

“I'm no Judas,” the girl whispered, greedily snatching the purse from the countess' fingers. “The only reason I'm doing this is my family-”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Now, do be a dear and fetch me what I've asked.” Eyes the color of a winter sky right before a storm bore into the girl, reminding her that the countess was not one to be trifled with. “Don't dally. I still need to dress for dinner.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The girl gathered the dark skirt of her uniform and reluctantly climbed from the carriage. The Countess watched, a cold smile stretching across her berry stained lips, as the girl entered the shoppe. It hadn't taken much to turn the girl. Word of an ailing father and the promise of silver had been all it took. Judas. Briar. Both had sold their loyalty for twelve pieces of silver and both would have innocent blood on their hands.

It rained, which was only fitting since it matched the raw, coldness building inside Rebecca Young. The sharp, skin piercing drizzle that stabbed at the world, painting it a melancholy gray, also provided the perfect cover for the tears she was incapable of producing. It was a pity, really. She wanted so desperately to feel something other than the icy hatred that was starting to course through her veins. She wanted to be the sort of daughter that dropped to her knees beside the yawning hole where her father's coffin was being lowered, screaming against the injustice of his death. To give into such urges wouldn't be ladylike, so like the good little puppet she'd become she stood quietly between the caterwauling form of her dear, dear step-mother and the sniffling mouse who clung to the arm of the countess' stoic faced son. 'The evil trifecta,' Rebecca thought bitterly. The murderous widow putting on a marvelous show of grief, the tittering twit who was too busy gathering juicy tidbits to gossip about with her betters to realize she was naught but a pawn in game she couldn't possibly win, or the mindless drone who willingly did his mother's bidding no matter how heinous the request. If it were one of those Gothic novels that were so popular, there would be a tragic heroine desperately trying to escape their nefarious clutches. Perhaps that was Rebecca's role. The grieving bastard child, too concerned with whether or not she would be tossed on the streets to properly grief. 'Never,' she curled her lips in disdain, 'I will never accept that role.'

Squaring her slender shoulders, Rebecca raised her chin a notch, her thick sooty lashes lowering over her light brown eyes while she forced herself to focus on the words coming out of the vicars mouth rather than comparing her life to the plot of tragic tale. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” The words struck a familiar chord, one buried deep beneath the gentile facade she'd carefully cultivated to please a grandmother whose love only extended as far as Rebecca's ability to procure a suitable match. For the last month she had stumbled through her own valley of death, letting the nobility slaughter any trace of the village girl that had arrived at Edgewater with a naive excitement shining in her eyes. There had been no comfort, no rod or staff to protect her, while she struggled to win the approval of a father whose life had been stolen by his inconsolable widow. Turning her head slightly, several strands of dark hair sticking to her cheek, Rebecca pierced her step-mother with a venomous look. 'From here on out I shall fear no evil,' she silently hissed, 'and you shall cower before me as I will become Edgewater's very own shadow of death. Vengeance shall have a name and that name shall be Rebecca.'

.“...and said, naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked I shall return thither; the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away...”

Rebecca pursed her lips into a tight, grayish blue tinged pucker to keep from yelling. 'Liar! Filthy, filthy liar!' The Lord had given Father life, had blessed Rebecca with his affections for three glorious weeks, but the Almighty surely hadn't taken him away. His life had been stolen, wrung from his body with a poison served up by a 'loving' wife. Rebecca would give the Countess her due; she'd chosen carefully, selecting a poison that mimicked the dreaded yellow fever. 'And now she plays the part of grieving widow', Rebecca internally sneered. 'She's allowed her desperation to turn her into a novel cliché, a desperate villianess willing to sacrifice the innocent in her quest to hold on to something that was never meant to be hers.' The greatest tragedy, was Rebecca would have cared for her like a mother had the viper but shown her an ounce of affection. Instead, the countess had let her own diabolical nature twist even the smallest kindness into a sinister ploy.

“We know not why these tragedies occur.”

The lie slid easily off the tongue of the vicar. If not for the man's love of his own voice, the burial would have already concluded, father planted in the ground. Instead, the vicar continued to spoon feed deceitful words of comfort that allowed the countess to continue her theatrical display, while Rebecca could practically feel the black crepe dress her grandmother insisted she wear starting to melt. The light weight silk wasn't meant for such dampness, nor were the jet embellished slippers she wore beneath it. Not that the countess cared. She had ignored propriety by wearing a rich velvet gown designed to show case her bosom, which heaved mightily with each over exaggerated sob, and hugged her other physical assets. It was humiliating. Bad enough she was going to get away with murdering father but had she not class? Could she not at least put on a good performance and appropriately dress the part? Rebecca's fingers twisted in the delicate lawn handkerchief her grandmother had insisted she openly carry. Appearances, even in death, must be upheld. 'Unless you're the countess, then you ignore propriety in favor of dressing like some Drury lane doxy. It's alright of course, she's a grieving widow.'

“Can you believe her, that dress is absolutely scandalous,” someone behind them whispered. “I'm surprised the Dowager allowed her out in such a dress.”

“It's bait for the next one, no doubt,” another whispered. “I heard the Earl left everything to his bastard.”

Sucking in her cheeks, Rebecca bit down on the delicate flesh. The sharp pain and the coppery taste of blood were a perfect distraction from the drawing room gossip that was starting to seep into the memorial. Turning on them, demanding that they show some respect, would shift the focus off her step mother and onto herself. Aside from the one painfully true smear about her birth, the gossip was centered on the countess and Rebecca would like to keep it that way.

“Worry about her dress all you like, my concerns lie in whether or not she's contagious. If what I've heard is true, she spent every moment in his sick room. Mark my words, we'll be burying her next.”

The truth burned on Rebecca's tongue, begging to be released. She held it in, knowing her words would fall on deaf ears. With the exception of her grandmother, the rest of the world believed that her father truly had somehow contracted and succumbed to the yellow fever. And while it was doubtful that the countess had spent more than a passing moment by her ailing husband's side, that wasn't what society believed. Poor, devoted countess. Twas a pity that poison wasn't contagious. 'It could be,' a voice whispered in her ear. 'No one would question it. They're already suspecting it. Why not give them what they want?'

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#choices desire and decorum #desire and decorum mc #darley1101 writes

[allaboardthemetro-blog]

Entering the Final Act || Akira || ATTN: All Passengers

His smirk grew slowly as everyone reacted.  He was glad to see Airi put the knife down; getting stabbed would really put a damper in this moment he was savoring.  The anger, the fire everyone was spitting out… He’d even gotten Billy to snap. And here he’d thought the guy was too foolhardy to actually crack.  This was beautiful, honestly. If only there were more people to see it.

Would applauding a little overdo it?  It would probably overdo it. Still, it wasn’t like he was going to be regularly interacting with these people after this.  Just some things for the police, maybe a little for HPA, and then home free. And jegus, the urge to clap was just too strong right now.

So, he did it.  He brought his hands together, his slow claps echoing throughout the trial room.  Congratulations, everyone, you found the mastermind. You found the one who put you on this train and didn’t stop until the station of living hell.  Bask in your glory.

Here he was, and he was about to talk your goddamn ears off.

“So, why’d I do it?”

“I’m sure you’ve all been waiting long enough for some sort of answer.  You’ve watched your classmates die around you, send some of them to their deaths by your own hand, and for what?  Why would anyone want to do this? And especially to us, just innocent little HPA students?”

He cracked his knuckles and took a deep breath.  “Well! You’ve heard of the Reserve Course, right?  I’d hope you would have, given that I’ve been here this whole time.  So I’m not going to explain it for you if you don’t. Too bad.

“What you might not know is what sort of treatment the Reserve Course students get.  Long story short, we’re like the red-headed stepchildren of the establishment. Even though we pay the outrageous tuition that funds the whole place, we’re treated like substandard by pretty much everyone on campus.  We’re students, but we don’t get to use any of the fancy equipment our money pays for, we don’t get the benefit of ‘guaranteed success upon graduation,’ and we don’t get any goddamn respect.

“And it’s not even like we all wanted to be here!  Sometimes, it’s just your parents assuming oh he must want to go!  Let’s uproot him from his friends and isolate him with the person he’s known since forever and see how they improve, hm?  Oh, this is gonna be great…”

He paused for a few seconds, then cleared his throat.  “But I digress. Anyway…

“The one thing I despise most about HPA?  It gives kids false hope. They sell this narrative about talent, how if you work hard enough, even you, you pathetic little Reserve Courses, you too can join us in the Talent Course!  The goddamn Land of Milk and Honey. It's all bullshit.  Like, seriously, that's not cynicism, that's just reality.  You come from all over the world, have experiences all over the world.  Talia’s from Australia, at least, and this is just a sample group. There's so many more.  There's no way any average Reserve Course student would be able to replicate that sort of world experience and recognition.  No matter how much they want it, no matter how determined they are, no matter how much money their parents funnel into them. But the academy puts this shitty idea in their head, that maybe if they work hard enough, they’ll be able to compete with these ridiculously lucky people who had all the right opportunities!

“And some people actually believe it.  That if they can run a kickass newspaper on campus, they're sure to become a Talent Student, the SHSL Reporter.  But they can't. There's no way that can compare to someone else who's had better opportunities. It'll get overlooked, in spite of all the effort she pours into it.  They just won't care.”

He paused again, but for less time than before.  After a deep breath, he balled his hands into fists, thrust them down at his sides, and continued.

“So, pretty damn clear I hate this place.  But, I'm not alone. Far from it! In fact,there's more than one organization that'd love to see this academy go down in flames.  One particular organization -- though I'm not going to name them, I'm sure they don't want the authorities on their tail -- had the perfect idea to do it.  Create a scandal so devastating, something that would be such a blemish on the academy, they just couldn't stay open. And it should be pretty obvious to you what this scandal is: the mutual killing game.

“So, they have the plan, and they have the means!  There's just one thing they don't have -- an in. They have no way to get in and legitimately gather some HPA students for this, without the academy getting suspicious.”  At this, he chuckled. “That's where I came in. What better place to find a like-minded individual than on the internet? They find me, a genuine student, and with pretty good standing thanks to the student-run paper I'm part of, the Reserve Hope Shimbun.  I have the connections, they have everything else they need, it's a perfect match.

“So we make a deal.  As satisfying as it is to bring down the shitshow that is Hope’s Peak Academy, it's not something I do for nothing.  And I have this friend, you see -- the other founding member of the Reserve Hope Shimbun. She's a good girl, earnest, hard-working, and wants more than anything to be a reporter.  And for some stupid, bullshit reason…” He took a moment to glare out at the students in the trial room. “...she thinks she needs to go through HPA to do that. But now, that doesn't have to be the case.  Her getting a job as a reporter at a news station somewhere in Japan was one of my conditions. And since I've held up my end of the deal, they're legally bound to hold up theirs. She'll get what she's wanted all her life, and she won't have to stake everything on some shitty school that can't even protect its own students from themselves.

“As for me?  I want a life away from all of this.  From all this chaos, all this snubbing, all this talent.  After I get the fuck out of HPA, I’m angling for an average job.  That was the other part of my contract. I'd love a job as an accountant, but, y’know, I'm not picky.  Any sort of salaryman job’ll do. Then maybe I can pick up life where it left off. Move up on the corporate ladder, build a nice family, make a good life for myself.  I've got simple dreams, I'm not asking for much.

“As for you guys?  Heh. It's been pretty damn fun watching you all fall apart, and it's gonna be fun watching what happens next.  This organization I'm working for has their eggs in a lot of baskets, including the media. Useful for getting my friend that job, and useful for making sure Hope's Peak Academy burns.  Once we get out of here, just about every network is gonna wanna know the details.  What toils you went through, what depravity your captors subjected you to.  You'll never be able to get a moment's peace!  You'll never be allowed to forget what happened here.  And you'll never be able to say who did this to you.

“But, at least you'll be able to live your lives.  HPA won't be so lucky. They send their students off to see the headquarters of a newspaper, and then they do nothing when they're kidnapped along the way.  I really did take the time to schedule a field trip, by the way. I asked the faculty for permission, set up the outing with the newspaper itself, it all checked out on paper.  They had no idea it was just a front. Until we failed to show up, of course. Naturally, the organization in charge of this set up the train and the venue. They even set up the conductor!”

The mention of the conductor seemed to remind Akira why they had all gathered here in the first place.  With a peeved sigh, he looked away, then shrugged.

“Oh yeah.  Speaking of Jenova.  Guh, the fucking wimp.  Yeah, I killed him, you're welcome.  He was right, I was sort of planning to kill him, but not from the outset of all this.  He was doing fine at first, but...honestly, if you're going to start a dirty job, you finish the dirty job.  He was getting soft, wanted to wrap this up because ‘he couldn't take it.’”  He scoffed. “Couldn't take it… You do what you need to do. Beggars can't be choosers, he ought to have know that better than I did!

“So… Are we ready to wrap this up?  Ready to get back to the rest of our lives in the real world, for better or for worse?  Because I'm sure as hell ready to see what arises from all of this…”

#trial #akira #submission

[ghostlywritten]

I've Waited For Too Long II.

I

Jungkook was seated backstage in front of a TV, watching the live broadcast of MAMA 2015. He was actually supposed to get ready, but he was mesmerized by the performance of the two groups he was close to. More of he was mesmerized by a certain brown-haired Royalty member dancing amazingly to the beat. Though he wasn’t really fond of her and Zico moving so closely together…

“Jungkook, you need to get ready,” one of the staff members called.

“I will be right there,” he called back, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Jungkook-ssi.” Jimin walked up to him, already finished and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What are you staring at so intensel- Oh,” he caught himself as he looked up at the screen before he started smirking, “I see how it is.”

“Hm?” Jungkook hummed, though not really listening to his hyung.

“You are crushing on Nari now,” Jimin continued nevertheless, resting his hand on his chin thoughtfully, “Just right after she gave up on you-”

“Who said she gave up on me?!” Jungkook exclaimed, startling both him and Jimin. Jimin stared at him in disbelief. “Wooow. I was only joking, but you really are crushing on her?”

“No, pff. Of course not?” Jungkook denied, “Why would I-”

“Oh please, who are you trying to fool here?"Jimin cut him off, "You like her! Why do you keep denying it?”

“I’m not denying anything,” Jungkook mumbled, not really sounding convinced himself. Truth to be told he never knew why he didn’t reciprocate her feelings for him. She was cute after all…really cute…with her big doe eyes…He sighed, okay maybe he did kind of denied it. During the first times she started to pay attention to him and give him those hard cookies he really thought she was an obsessed freak. But he got used to it after a while, reluctantly accepting her baking goods. And these past years he even enjoyed the attention secretly even though he was still a little creeped out.

He never really realised how nice she was beneath his obsessed image of her. “Okay maybe I’m denying something…a bit. I don’t know.”

“Ha! I knew it!” Jimin jumped. “You like her! Tae, pay up!” he called out to his other dongsaeng. Taehyung wandered over with a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

“Jungkook likes Nari!” Jimin almost squealed.

V’s eyes widened. “What! Nooooooooooooo!”

“Haha, now you have to buy me food for a whole month!”

“Dammit,” he muttered.

Jungkook shook his head at his hyungs. How could they bet on something like that! And they were supposed to be older than him? Tch, no one would believe that. He looked up at the screen with a fleeting glance, thinking the performance was already over. It was almost, they had ended just right now. He froze as he saw Zico pull her closer, their chest practically glued together whilst the crowed erupted into even louder cheers. ‘What the hell?’ he thought, inspecting the awed expression on her face closely. She never looked at anyone like that except for him, so why now? 'Why is she looking at him like that?!’ he unconsciously clenched his fists.

“Guys, you have to get ready, you are on in fifteen,” a staff member called out again.

“Come on.” Jimin pushed Jungkook out of his seat. “Let’s go and greet the love of your life,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up.”

“Oooohhh he is blushing.”

They walked up to the edge of the stage just in time to see Block B and Royalty coming from underneath it. Well, except for two.

“Hey you were great out there!” Jimin cheered, high fiving each of them as they passed by him.

“Thanks Jiminie,” the eldest Royalty member chimed, squishing his cheeks.

“Yah, don’t treat me like a child, noona,” Jimin whined childishly.

“But you are a child to me, dongsaengie~.”

“Where is Nari?” Jungkook bluntly cut in when he couldn’t spot her himself.

“Huh? She should be coming out soon.” With that he was left alone with his eyes roaming around restlessly as the others continued their mindless chatter. 'Where is she?’

Meanwhile still under the stage

I grabbed his shoulders as he pushed me against the wall, grasping my hips with his big hands. Resisting the urge to moan I let him take the lead of this make out session. This was my first kiss after all so I had no idea what else to do. Shivers ran up and down my spine as he pulled my thigh up to him, caressing the skin with his thumbs.

Unfortunately I had to pull away for air at some point, but we stayed close, our foreheads touching and lips brushing ever so often. “Ji Ho…”

“Hm?” he hummed with his deep voice, still in daze.

“What are we doing?”

“I think it’s called 'making out’ what we were doing?” He grinned and I felt my cheeks grow warm as I snapped, “Shut up! I know that, of course!” Ji Ho laughed loudly at my embarrassement before he quietened down with a gentle smile. “I don’t know what we are doing. Do we have to name this anything, yet?”

I shrugged a little in disappointment, looking down. Pushing my face back up with his fingers he made me look back into his eyes, “I would love to ask you to be my girlfriend,” he said and the intense gaze made me believe it, “But we both know that your heart is still taken. And I don’t want to be your rebound.”

“You are not my rebound, Ji Ho!” I immediately protested and held his face in my palms, “And you will never be! I’m over Jungkook…really.” He smiled at me, however there was a tinge of sadness in it. He pulled back with an almost inaudible 'okay’ and I kept quiet as he stepped away, but smiled when he held his hand out to me. “We should go. The others will start to worry where we are.” He led me backstage whilst I looked down at our entwined hands, trying to get used to this foreign feeling. With Zico everything was a whirlwind. He would switch the conversation from one topic to another so quickly that you had a hard time to follow. Just like now, my brain was swimming in confusion, but I decided to trust him.

Eventually we heard noises of our members’ chatter not far away and he glanced back, searching my face for something.

“What?” I asked him when he neither moved nor said anything. Ji Ho grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he held our hands up, tightening his grip around mine.

“Ready to make him jealous?” I nodded before I fully registered what he said. Wait, what?!

Backstage

'Where are they?’ Jungkook wondered, shuffling around the entrance Ji Ho and Nari should have come out of a long time ago. His head immediately snapped up as they finally appeared, his gaze though falling immediately on the hands that connected them.

“There you guys are!” Jimin called out and the others turned to see as well, “You took quite your time.” Nari chuckled awkwardly but Ji Ho only looked down at her with a dazed smile, causing Jungkook to almost snarl in annoyance. Who was he to look at her like that? Or rather, who gave him the permission to look at her at all? He had the sudden urge growing inside him to go up to them and yank their hands apart- Wait, what was going on with him? Where was this coming from all of a sudden? He swallowed, but found that he couldn’t as his throat was dry as a parchment when he watched the two talking, closely huddled together.

Throughout the next weeks he would watch from afar how they slowly blended into one person, glued to each other whenever he caught them somewhere. Zico even seemed to be there during every practice Royalty held and even stayed back with Nari whenever she wanted to train a little longer.

“Seriously, does he not have any practice to do himself?” Jungkook complained to his hyungs in their dorm as he reported back to them what he saw the two do today.

Namjoon sighed, “Jungkook, how long do we have to endure your 'Naco-reports’ before you get done with it?” Jungkook halted in his response, looking at his leader in confusion. “…Naco-reports?”

“Yeah Nari-Zico-reports.” Jungkook felt his nostrils flare as the anger boilt up inside him. “You gave them a ship name, hyung?! How could you? They are not even together!” It was quiet for a second as the others stared at him in shock.

“Woah, calm down there, maknae. That’s your elder you are talking to,” Suga chastised him, glancing up from his laptop for a second to send him a warning glare and Jungkook slumped down in defeat.

“I didn’t know it would bother you that much,” Namjoon mused, analysing his reaction more than being offended by it, “Do you like her or what?”

“No.”

“Yes, he does,” Taehyung corrected for him, sulkingly, “I have to buy Jimin food because of his stupid feelings,” he whined childishly.

Jin shook his head at the 4D alien before turning back to Jungkook, “Are you sure, you don’t feel anything for her? You’ve been stalking her for quite a while now. Which is really weird, because she used to be the one stalking you.”

“Yeah I would appreciate it if she stalked you again. Her cookies were a hit,” Hoseok chimed, throwing his arm over his maknae in order to cheer him up, but the youngest only chuckled sadly. “She doesn’t feel anything for me anymore.” And that sentence broke something inside him. He never thought the day she gave up on him would affect him this bad. He felt his stomach churning as he imagined her in Zico’s arms or anyone’s arms that weren’t his. Hoseok backed off him a little as he growled quietly to himself and looked at the others,

“Guys, either that sound was just Jungkook’s stomach stating  it’s hungry or we seriously need to solve this matter once and for all,” he stated, inching away from the dark atmosphere his dongsaeng was emitting.

“There is nothing we can do,” Jin explained.

“But hyung, the cookies!” Taehyung and Jimin complained, looking at him with begging eyes.

“I will make those cookies for you, but don’t do anything to Nari. She has been hurt enough.” At his words Jungkook felt his chest clench tightly, knowing full well that it was his fault. If only he had accepted all of her cookies without complain. If only he had accepted her requests to meet up with her. If only he hadn’t taken her presence for granted. Then he would have known how to truly appreciate her.

It was too late though. Or was it?

….

“But Jin-hyung, your cookies suck!”

III.

Help me Get Coffee Support?

#bts #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #kpop fanfiction #kpop angst #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #bts scenarios #bts v #taehyung #jimin #namjoon #yoongi #Jung HoSeok #kim seokjin #jungkook #jungkook x oc #blockb #zico