#this line always cracks me up every time i remember it

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 4)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 3900+

A/N Note: Only a few more chapters to go (I think, but we're both lost on how long this series will be.) Thank you guys for reading and as always, thank you for the love and support!

____________

Chapter 4:

Y/N's POV

It wasn’t him. It was 100% me. I did this to myself. I built a wall so quickly around him because I didn’t want to like the man behind my misery. 

My teammates knew enough about my backstory to think they had an idea of my reason for joining SHIELD: helping the little guy because, at one point, you were the little guy—the manipulated guy—the one who no one saved, so you had to save yourself—and now anyone else who can’t do it for themselves. 

Yet, there were so many other things I kept for myself, and things files couldn’t tell you. No files existed of them, and I’m glad because I didn’t want the pity. 

James Buchanan Barnes was the reason behind my abuse. Not personally, but my abuser was obsessed with his accomplishments under the German and Russian terrorist organizations and wanted to make a female, more skilled, discrete, and sleeker version of the Winter Soldier. 

Who fucking didn’t, right? God, every goddamn evil bastard on this godforsaken shit show of a planet wants to remake something that was a once in a lifetime kind of thing and crack more than a few eggs to get to that point. Selfish asshole…

Being constantly compared to him and then beaten for not hitting the unreachable mark of the man I was ‘of no comparison to’ after years of trying to hit that standard, and then being asked to be on a team with him? A lot of emotions hit me like a train when I got that news. 

Will I amount to being the trained spy and agent I am for Shield with him by my side? Will he make me look like a completely pointless addition to the team? After five years of already working with the Avengers and then learning who the Winter Solider was? Steve’s best friend and probably the only person he could relate to in their journey? All the way to having to work with him… The change-up was instantaneous, where I would have begged for baby steps. 

Then again, when has the world made it easy for me?

So yes. I was an ass and kept him further than arm's length away to stay safe from learning that he was a good guy when I wasn’t ready to like him yet. I had a lot of trauma I never thought I’d have to work through with the infamous man himself, and that irritation and annoyance just continued when he finally matched my energy, and we never strayed from that relationship until… now.

And here he was, genuinely asking what HE did wrong when I was the reason for our enemies’ plot line. 

“Bucky, I don’t think I can talk about this right now,” I breathed out slowly, feeling the tears prick in my eyes.

It had been a minute since I cried and felt this vulnerable, and I couldn’t seem to stop it. I think subconsciously, I didn’t want to stop it, but my mind was begging my body to hold out until he was out of the room. 

“Y/N, if I did something to you, I didn’t realize-” 

“You wouldn’t have known,” I whisper, not trusting my voice to stay steady, but also not wanting to put anymore of the blame on him from here on out. 

He wasn’t a bad guy.

He had proved himself time and time again to be a really good guy. Even when he broke and decided he hated me back, he still had his moments when he put it aside and showed chivalry. I admired him for it even when I ignored the admiration. 

Makes it hard to fully hate a guy who made sure ladies weren’t opening any doors for themselves. Or a man who remembered Morgan’s birthday and bought her an ice cream cake before stealing Steve’s shield to sled down a hill her dad told her not to. Or a man you treat like absolute shit 99% of the time, and he still checks on you when you have nightmares, and he grabs water and an ice pack and helps you even out your breathing before waiting for you to go back to sleep. 

I didn’t ask him for the help, and he never mentioned the handful of times he fell into the routine of soothing me back to sleep. Never brought it up, never made me feel like I owed him, and never hinted at remembering such kindness. 

But now?

“You wouldn’t have known why it started this way to begin with. And you likely won’t,” I sigh, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth before turning around; a lot more put together, even if it was just a mask I had learned to put on most of my life. 

“I don’t understand,” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at my disposition. 

“I don’t expect you to, but maybe we should go to sleep and talk about it later. It’s getting late, and you have to go to your ‘job’ tomorrow,” I say with hand quotes. “We have to keep the ruse going.” 

“A few hours of sleep doesn’t affect me,” Bucky shook his head, and I could see him itching to put his hands back on me, but he held back. “Please. I need to know what the hell I did.” 

“Again, Bucky,” I say sternly this time, all emotion I’m struggling to keep at bay shoved down. “You are not at fault, and tomorrow I’ll talk to you, but for now, I need to sleep on it.”

He read my face for lies, and I kept it neutral. I wasn’t going to break here. Now was not the time. I needed space to think about how I was going to approach this after so long of avoiding it and being put on the spot wasn’t going to work for me. 

“Ok,” he said, softer than I think I ever heard him talk. His eyes were soft and sensitive, and I didn’t know how I felt about it…

He turned and walked out of my room, gently shutting the door behind him and turning off the overhead light he had originally flashed on. 

I didn’t instantly head straight to bed. I stared at the doorway in the dark, seeing the faint silhouette of the barrier between us. He was still on the other side, and I could hear his heart rate higher than normal.

This was affecting him more than I thought it would. Why was he so worried about what I thought of him? He didn’t seem bothered by my disinterest in the past. Or at least I didn’t figure he did. 

____________________

When I woke up, Bucky was already gone. His truck, normally in the driveway, was missing, and I knew he had taken off for our mission report. 

Thankful, I took the time to make my coffee, sit on the front porch, and watch the neighborhood take on its morning routine. 

People were on runs with their family dogs, moms were doing their morning walks with strollers, some neighbors were out already tending to their gardens, and everything suburban seemed to be on track. 

Towards the end of my cup, I notice Ms. Bauer coming back from her jog she must have taken earlier than the others. 

“Oh, hello, neighbor!” she shouted when she spotted me, uniformly checking our house like her head was on a swivel if she heard a pen drop in it. 

Still in her jog, she sashayed over to my lawn, and I mumbled, “Here we go,” smiling at her as she followed the sidewalk to our steps. 

“How are you doing today, Bethanne?” I grin standing from my patio chair and going down the steps to meet her at the bottom of the flight. “Is there a run club I didn’t know about? You’re the 10th person I’ve seen getting a head start on their steps for the day.” 

She laughed and waved a hand at me before taking an earbud out, pausing her music on her watch, and placing her hands on her hips as she looked up at me. 

“There is actually a mommy and me walking club on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Depending on the weather, of course, but who knows,” she grinned up at me. “Maybe you can be joining it sooner than you thought.”

“Maybe not as soon as you think,” I laughed, holding my mug tighter with both hands so I wouldn’t strangle her instead and leaning on the banister. “We wanted at least a year in the house by ourselves before we add another set of feet to the chaos,” I scrunch my nose and add, “but I’m excited for the day Beau and I have a mini-version of us running around here.” 

“Speaking of Beau,” she grins, looking to the driveway. “Where is he today? He’s usually home with you most of the time, right?”

“Oh, it was time for him to get back to work. He took off for a few weeks to get moved in and spend time with me before we had to get back to the real world,” I answer as planned. 

“That’s right. I think I remember you guys talking about that at the first block party,” she nodded, watching me carefully for slip-ups. “Can you believe it’s only been two weeks of you guys here? I feel like you two have been a part of the community for at least a year.” 

“You’re sweet,” I gush convincingly and look out to the neighborhood for effect. “You guys have really taken us in as your family, and you don’t know how much I appreciate it. We appreciate it,” I correct and look off in the distance like I’m thinking of my sweet, doting husband when, in reality, I was thinking of the day this mission was over and I could carry on with my normal life. “I don’t think I’ve mentioned this. Beau isn’t one to really talk about it, but his family life wasn’t the best. They’ve practically been strangers since he turned 18.” 

“Oh, is that so?” she inched up, feeding on the new (fake) information. 

I nod. “When we started dating, my family took him in as his own- well, I only had my dad around for most of my life, but they got along really well. He passed three years ago,” I give a tight-lipped look as I look down at my feet in sadness. “They developed a bond, which wasn’t hard considering who my dad was. He was the best, though we might be biased in thinking that. Taught Beau how to do a lot of things dads are supposed to teach their sons. Well,” I sniffle for added effect. “Anyway, we’re kinda on our own now. No extended family we’re close with, and with my dad’s passing, it’s really just us. So when I say we’re grateful for y’all’s hospitality, I mean it.”

She seemed to buy it, as much as an undercover convict could, and smiled kindly up at me before placing a hand on my arm. 

“Of course, sweetheart. We’re just lucky you two are some of the good ones. You’d be surprised who’s come in and hasn’t made the cut. Lawns in disarray, unfriendly attitudes, and you know the list,” she winks and rolls her shoulders back before stretching in her spot. “Speaking of being lovely neighbors, how would you and Beau feel about a dinner at our house? Reggie and I have been talking about having you over for quite some time now, and I think we can finally host.” Before I could ask, she stopped me and explained. “Kitchen renovation. It was and still is a pain in my ass, but it should be doable for a small dinner.”

“That sounds lovely,” I beam as much as I could act. It was the perfect next step, and the bait had been taken, but a part of me wanted to settle things with Bucky in our personal dispute before we put on our masks for the two main perpetrators. “Let me check with him and see what his schedule will look like now. He’s getting some new orders today, and some things are changing in the company. We’ll know more tonight. But we will for sure make it work.” 

___________

After Bethanne told me some useless neighborhood gossip, she excused herself, and I went back inside to get ready for the day and consider how I would approach Bucky on our issue. 

I knew it was time to be truthful, even if I dreaded it. Bucky had proven time and time again that he wasn’t the enemy, and I needed to deal with my issues. I was tired of wasting energy on hatred and anger, and these last two weeks proved that Bucky wasn’t the one who should have been receiving the blunt force end of my trauma. 

I had until four in the evening to come up with an idea of how I wanted to go about it, but I had stress cleaned instead and couldn’t come up with a non-terrifying way to approach this life-changing conversation.

Finally, I found it best we get dinner in the town over (as not to have any peaking eyes or eavesdropping ears as we dive into my life story I hadn’t indulged to near anyone before), and I would talk to Bucky there. However, plans changed when Bucky came home. 

From my spot in the kitchen, I heard him shout in his domesticated voice across the street, “No, that sounds perfect! We’d love to!” The door opened just as he finished his sentence, and his voice became clearer. 

I moved around the island and slowly walked toward the door to get a view of who he was talking to, and I noticed Bethanne at her mailbox waving to Bucky. 

I furrowed my eyebrows at the obvious commitment he put us in, and after he waved back, he shut the door behind him, looking at me, and dropped the act quickly. 

“What did you just agree to?” I asked, nodding my head behind him. 

He looked me up and down, and I almost forgot I had picked a new, semi-fancier sundress for our “surprise anniversary dinner” (at least the front I was trying to put on for getting out of town without too much suspicion).

(Make whatever color you please or change it in your mind if you want! I'm choosing to pick it as a darker red.)

“You look nice,” he says as his eyes trail back up to my own, and I swear I see him take a gulp. 

“What did you agree to?” I asked again, focused more on what he had decided for us regarding Bethanne. 

His previous shocked face faded away, and he rolled his eyes slightly before throwing his work bag to the side.

“Bethanne invited us to dinner. I said yes because we need to build a relationship with them,” he replied stoically, as if my question was dumb and pointless. 

I just stared at him and let my “personal vendetta” look rest on my face. He studied me and had the decency to shrink ever so slightly. 

“What?”

“What happened to discussing things first?” I said in an eerily calm voice. 

“I didn’t think accepting dinner at a home we’ve been trying to get inside of for the last two weeks is something we’d have to discuss.” And now he straightens up, throwing his empty arms to the side. 

A few seconds later, I yelled, “You dipshit!” in a muffled grunt, keeping my voice down as much as I could handle and balling my fists in anger. 

His eyebrows shoot up and he huffs with his chest puffed out as he marches to me. I see the intent in his eyes, and I start walking away towards the opposite room closest, needing a minute not to lose my shit, and if I have to look into his stupid azure eyes like he wants to read everything passing through my mind, I’ll break.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he growls, and I shoot him a look over my shoulder as I shift my pace and head down the hallway to the bedrooms. “Y/N, stop being a stubborn ass and-”

“Unless you want a heel thrown at your head, and you’re welcome for being civil about this, I suggest you leave me alone,” I shout behind me, turn sharply to the left, and go to my room. 

“I don’t even know what THIS is! You looked at me like you wanted to kill me when I walked in, and I haven’t even talked to you today besides updates about work,” he said just as I slammed the door in his face. “Oh, real mature. Shut the door like an adolescent. Wait, I forgot. You are one…” He mumbles the last part and I hear him lean on the door.

Instantly, I whip the door open, and he doesn’t have time to predict his next move. He falls flat on his back on the wood floors of my room, only padded by a thin oriental rug I made Tony buy me. 

He’s winded from the fall and clutches his chest as I bend down next to him and say, “I said. Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone.” I stare at him for a second, solidifying my threat. I stand to walk out and only give him a glance as I pass the doorway. 

_____________

Bucky’s POV:

I left her the fuck alone. 

I may have been royally pissed (that is a blatant ass understatement), but something about the look in Y/N’s eyes told me not to push unless I wanted to wake up with my head no longer attached to my body. 

I was too scared to leave her room in fear I’d run into her when she wasn’t ready and risk taking the chances of the guillotine earlier, so I sat on her bed and tried to rack my brain to where I slipped up to cause whatever the hell I walked in to…

I knew almost instantly and realized what a stupid, simple mistake it was. Bethanne asking me to dinner set her off, I knew. But her comment about talking with each other before making decisions told me my mistake. 

Something happened I didn’t know of, and I may have just fucked whatever it was up. As for what it is? No goddamn clue. But using context clues and just basic reading of the body language, Y/N had already made a plan, and I threw it out the window, likely.

I heard footsteps before I could think further, and Y/N appeared in the doorway, taking a deep breath. She would have convinced me she was going to be civil if it wasn’t for her history, but I was excited to see which lane she chose. 

“One thing before I bite my tongue,” she says in almost a whisper, like she’s trying to keep her frustrations at bay. “You make me want to shave my head like Britney Spears in 2007 75% of the time. This moment was almost a tipping point for that kind of outcome..” She lets out a long breath like she passed the test of keeping it together. 

Surprisingly a lot more tame than I was expecting. 

“Glad you got that out of your system. Now, please tell me what the hell happened?” I asked, keeping my guard up in case she resorted to her typical insults and fury. 

“Oh, now you want to communicate,” she mocks and walks to the bed, harshly sitting next to me but leaving a copious amount of space between us. 

I let it slide because I know she’s fighting bigger demons, like the urge to insult me, until I personally dig my own grave and say goodbye to my cruel reality. 

“Bethanne was goading us,” she answers, thankfully getting right to the point. “Something about her proposition seemed off, and I wanted to clear some things up with you before we jumped on the offer.”

I nodded my head, seeing that my instantaneous reply wasn’t thought out. That was on me, yes, but she also reacted extremely dramatically, expressing an odd feeling about the interaction instead of hard proof. 

“What did she ask, and what was off about it?” I question, trying to stay mission based because something seemed off still.

“It wasn’t what it was but how she was asking. Something in her tone and the way she was looking at our house and me. Like she was trying to take in detail after detail up close. Checking for cracks in the foundation,” she answers and turns to me just slightly. “She also said her kitchen was under renovation, and something felt off about it.” 

“The vibes about our neighbor getting a kitchen renovation made you knock the wind out of me when you opened your door?” I said before I could think, but I didn’t budge, my furrowed eyebrows aimed at her. 

She matches my glare and turns her body fully to me. 

“It seemed like an excuse,” she answers slowly. 

“To what? Host a dinner? That’s kind of the opposite effect. Who would want to host a dinner when you have kitchen renovations? It means they trust us if they’re willing to let us see a house that’s not perfect like the front they put on.” 

‘That’s what you get from it, but I think they just planted a little seed of their own.” 

“What do you even mean?”

“Kitchen Reno? That’s an excuse to say, ‘Oh, Charlotte, I can’t cook the chicken pot pie I was going to make for you two because our new oven hasn’t been delivered and installed yet. You know? Because we have the kitchen under renovation? I completely forgot,’” She acted in a convincing Bethanne impersonation and then quickly turned back to serious. 

“You got that from a kitchen reno comment?” I deadpanned after a minute. 

“I got that from understanding women masterminds who know how to manipulate a situation. I am that woman, so I think I can read them pretty well,” she says confidently back. 

Touché.

“And what if you’re wrong?” Her bitchface grew at my question. 

“First off, I’m not. Second off, even if I was wrong, we are supposed to consult each other about accepting invitations into the house of our suspect enemies,” she ran a hand through her hair, which I notice now looks styled differently. Did she curl it or have it blown out? And yes, I know what a blowout is. I have women friends and coworkers.

Yeah… I was in the wrong here, and that’s on me. I wasn’t thinking. I also had a long day snooping around for more information about this whole operation, but it isn’t necessarily an excuse… It’s not like  I haven’t worked on a case like this in the past. I mean, minus being fictitiously married to a coworker. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, and she gives me a weird look. “What?”

“I wasn’t expecting an apology,” she says, standing slowly and straightening her dress. 

“I know when to accept I made a mistake,” I shrug and stand as well. 

She studies my face like there's a retort that’s going to follow, but I just stare at her silently, communicating that I’m set on my apology. 

“Ok…” she drags out, watching me as she steps toward the door. “Well, I guess we need to get ready for tonight. Considering we have dinner. With our neighbors. And we need to set up bugs if possible.”

“Guess so,” I nod, crossing my arms. 

She stops suddenly and looks at me with a look of realization. “You’re in my room.” She steps to the side, leaving room for me to leave, and avoids eye contact. 

She’s still acting weird, but I need to change and get my head in the game for tonight, so I walk out with a subtle head nod as I leave.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​���​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series:

@jackiehollanderr @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @theroyalmanatee @wintrsoldrluvr @alexakeyloveloki @learisa @bxckybxrnes24 @lillianacristina @selella @heletsmelovehim

#bucky barnes x avenger reader insert #bucky barnes x reader insert #bucky barnes mini series #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x avenger reader #justkending #marvel #marvel mini series #bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes

[peribytes]

girl

what if i told you

you could fly right now. with the convenient magical gem power called shapeshifting.

#su jasper #this line always cracks me up every time i remember it #maybe i'm taking it too literally. which may very well be the case. but like girl just fly. you can do that

[headspace-hotel]

Nature is healing.

I burned the Meadow a couple weeks ago. At first it looked like nothing but charred ashes and dirt, with a few scorched green patches, and I was afraid I'd done something terrible. But then the sprouts emerged. Tender new leaves swarming the soil.

My brother and I were outside after dark the other day, to see if any lightning bugs would emerge yet. We had been working on digging the pond. That old soggy spot in the middle of the yard that we called "poor drainage," that always splattered mud over our legs when we ran across it as children—it isn't a failed lawn, and it never was.

Oh, we tried to fill in the mud puddles, even rented heavy machinery and graded the whole thing out, but the little wetland still remembered. God bless those indomitable puddles and wetlands and weeds, that in spite of our efforts to flatten out the differences that make each square meter of land unique from another, still declare themselves over and over to be what they are.

So we've been digging a hole. A wide, shallow hole, with an island in the middle.

And steadily, I've been transplanting in vegetation. At school there is a soggy field that sadly is mowed like any old field. The only pools where a frog could lay eggs are tire ruts. From this field I dig up big clumps of rushes and sedges, and nobody pays me any mind when I smuggle them home.

I pulled a little stick of shrubby willow from some cracked pavement near a creek, and planted it nearby. From a ditch on the side of the road beside a corn field, I dug up cattail rhizomes. Everywhere, tiny bits of wilderness, holding on.

I gathered up rotting logs small enough to carry and made a log pile beside the pond. At another corner is a rock pile. I planted some old branches upright in the ground to make a good place for birds and dragonflies to perch.

And there are so many birds! Mourning doves, robins, cardinals and grackles come here in much bigger numbers, and many, many finches and sparrows. I always hear woodpeckers, even a Pileated Woodpecker here and there. A pair of bluebirds lives here. There are three tree swallows, a barn swallow also, tons of chickadees, and there's always six or seven blue jays screaming and making a commotion. And the goldfinches! Yesterday I watched three brilliant yellow males frolic among the tall dandelions. They would hover above the grass and then drop down. One landed on a dandelion stem and it flopped over. There are several bright orange birds too. I think a couple of them are orioles, but there's definitely also a Summer Tanager. There's a pair of Canada Geese that always fly by overhead around the same time in the evening. It's like their daily commute.

The other day, as I watched, I saw a Cooper's Hawk swoop down and carry off a robin. This was horrifying news for the robin individually, but great news for the ecosystem. The food chain can support more links now.

There are two garter snakes instead of one, both of them fat from being good at snaking. I wonder if there will be babies?

But the biggest change this year is the bugs. It's too early for the lightning bugs, but all the same the yard is full of life.

It's like remembering something I didn't know I forgot. Oh. This is how it's supposed to be. I can't glance in any direction without seeing the movement of bugs. Fat crickets and earwigs scuttle underneath my rock piles, wasps flit about and visit the pond's shore, an unbelievable variety of flies and bees visit the flowers, millipedes and centipedes hide under the logs. Butterflies, moths, and beetles big and small are everywhere.

I can't even describe it in terms of individual encounters; they're just everywhere, hopping and fluttering away with every step. There are so many kinds of ants. I sometimes stare really closely at the ground to watch the activities of the ants. Sometimes they are in long lines, with two lanes of ants going back and forth, touching antennae whenever two ants traveling in opposite directions meet. Sometimes I see ants fighting each other, as though ant war is happening. Sometimes the ants are carrying the curled-up bodies of dead ants—their fallen comrades?

My neighbor gave me all of their fallen leaves (twelve bags!) and it turns out that piling leaves on top of a rock and log pile in a wet area summons an unbelievable amount of snails.

I always heard of snails as pests, but I have learned better. Snails move calcium through the food chain. Birds eat snails and use the calcium in their shells to make egg shells. In this way, snails lead to baby birds. I never would have known this if I hadn't set out to learn about snails.

In the golden hour of evening, bugs drift across the sky like golden motes of dust, whirling and dancing together in the grand dramas of their tiny lives. I think about how complicated their worlds are. After interacting with bees and wasps so much for so long, I'm amazed by how intelligent and polite they are. Bumble bees will hover in front of me, swaying side to side, or circle slowly around me several times, clearly perceiving some kind of information...but what? It seems like bees and wasps can figure out if you are a threat, or if you are peaceful, and act accordingly.

I came to a realization about wasps: when they dart at your head so you hear them buzzing close by your ears, they're announcing their presence. The proper response is to freeze and duck down a bit. It seems like wasps can recognize if you're being polite; for what it's worth, I've never been stung by a wasp.

As night falls, bats emerge and start looping and darting around in the sky above. If the yard seems full of bugs in the day, it is nothing compared to the night.

I'm aware that what I'm about to describe, to an entomophobe, sounds like a horror movie: when i walk to the back yard, the trees are audibly crackling and whirring with the activity of insects. Beetles hover among the branches of the trees. When we look up at the sky, moths of all sizes are flying hither and thither across it. A large, very striking white moth flies past low to the ground.

Last year, seeing a moth against the darkening sky was only occasional. Now there's so many of them.

I consider it in my mind:

When roads and houses are built and land is turned over to various human uses, potentially hundreds of native plant species are extirpated from that small area. But all of the Eastern USA has been heavily altered and destroyed.

Some plants come back easily, like wild blackberry, daisy fleabane, and common violets. But many of them do not. Some plants need fire to sprout, some need Bison or large birds to spread them, some need humans to harvest and care for them, some live in habitats that are frequently treated with contempt, some cannot bear to be grazed by cattle, some are suffocated beneath invasive Tall Fescue, Kentucky bluegrass, honeysuckle or Bradford pears, and some don't like being mowed or bushhogged.

Look at the landscape...hundreds and hundreds of acres of suburbs, pastures, corn fields, pavement, mowed verges and edges of roads.

Yes, you see milkweed now and then, a few plants on the edge of the road, but when you consider the total area of space covered by milkweed, it is so little it is nearly negligible. Imagine how many milkweed plants could grow in a single acre that was caretaken for their prosperity—enough to equal fifty roadsides put together!

Then I consider how many bugs are specialists, that can only feed upon a particular plant. Every kind of plant has its own bugs. When plant diversity is replaced by Plant Sameness, the bug population decreases dramatically.

Plant sameness has taken over the world, and the insect apocalypse is a result.

But in this one small spot, nature is healing...

#plants #native plants #native plant gardening #proplifting #sorta #save the bees

[ghoulphile]

wish you'd make me cry | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.3k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; rough, dom!cooper, frottage, sitting missionary, dirty talk, degradation kink, pet names, teasing, dacryphilia, bareback, drug/chem use (jet), shotgunning, high sex ➥ summary | "You’re such a needy fucking brat." :3c ➥ notes | drabble (that's no longer a drabble lol) request for @tearueful, thank you bby!! this one really got away from me... i had to stop myself from writing lol. un-beta'd atm. masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

Setting up camp for the night in an abandoned warehouse, you and Cooper wait out a radstorm that blows in off the horizon. Because while he loves sitting outside with a smoke, soaking in the rads until he’s buzzing with frenetic energy, you don’t feel like hunting down RadAway tomorrow.

It’s quiet apart from the distant sound of super mutants and ferals roaming the city, the sporadic roar of thunder, and rain tinging off the sheet metal roof. There’s still hours left until daylight, and it doesn’t seem like the volatile weather will break soon.

Unfortunately, you’ve read all the Grognak comics you could get your grubby hands on three times over, and there’s not much else to pass the time besides scuff your boot along the concrete floor, and pluck at a stray thread hanging off your tattered sleeping bag.

Meanwhile, Cooper lounges on his side, unbothered. His hand - bare for once - props up his head, the unscarred skin of a commandeered digit stark against angry rad burns and ropey scars. Between the knuckles of his other hand, he rolls a vial of chem over and over in a mesmerizing flick of deft fingers.

A lantern sputters between you as the old battery struggles to keep it lit. Its jaundiced glow banishes the thick darkness; a fuzzy halo of light that elongates shadows and deepens the cuts of his face.

You kiss your teeth, and say, “Hey, you got any more Jet?”

Lazy eyes slide towards you. A hairless brow quirks. “And if I did,” he asks, the vial pausing between his fingers, “why you wanna know?”

“Dunno, I’m bored… wanna get high?”

“Well, shit,” he whistles, bares his teeth. A low, crackling laugh rumbles from his chest. “Why the fuck didn’t you ask sooner.”

You shrug and crack a knuckle.

To be honest, the idea hadn’t occurred to you at first. Now that it has, anticipation curls low in your belly. Not only has it been a long, long time since you last got high (the sensation a hazy, half-remembered dream of fuzzy warmth and whirling thoughts), you know Cooper always carries a top-notch stash.

The little chem fiend, you think fondly.

“So,” you prompt. “Wanna get high together or what?”

“Sure as shit, darlin’. Let’s party.”

He settles against the pockmarked wall beside you with a soft grunt, the grit of concrete digging into his back. Thigh to thigh, his body is a rad warm line of heat. A bloom of suffocating heat in the otherwise biting chill of a wasteland night. Gunpowder and smoke tickle your nose when he leans over to rifle through his bag, leather creaking.

Muted, mellow; everything fades into a silent companionship as you pass the red inhaler between you. With every puff, whorls of smoke curl from your mouths until a murky gray cloud hovers in the air; defining the edges of your crafted universe.

The acrid vapor of chem burns its way through your lungs and into your bloodstream. A bitter taste coats your fattened tongue, lips tingling as your palm smothers little coughs. A flood of static rushes down your nerve endings, sends your head spinning.

As your vision blurs, the tension leeches from rounded shoulders with a bone weary sigh. And with every slow clicking blink, colors spark to life in a distorted kaleidoscope. Head lolling to the side, you watch through heavy eyes as Cooper rattles the inhaler and takes a shallow hit.

When he exhales, little tendrils of smoke caress the plains of his cheek. Dance along the hollow nasal ridge. “Almost out.” He grunts, your fingers brushing when he passes the cartridge back. “Go on, now. Finish it.”

The kind gesture (for him) touches you.

Then a faraway thought flutters.

Snags - settles into a nebulous desire.

And before you can second guess yourself, a rumble of thunder shakes the building. Wipes away the last of your common sense, and reservations. After all, why not? He was nice enough to share. You can too.

To his credit, Cooper doesn’t startle when you slink into his lap - not that you expect him to, even without being chem-addled. He tracks your movements from beneath a heavy brow bone, the dark Nuka Cola of his eyes glittering like shattered glass in the wane light.

“Heh, this that kinda party then, darlin’?” he asks once you settle, your thighs draped over his hips and your ass flush with his crotch. “‘Cuz you’ll be wanting ta extricate yourself if it ain’t.”

—Before I do it for you.

Humming, you dip forward until your breasts brush over the wide expanse of his chest. Interest flickers to life behind your navel; cinders cracking and popping along your spine. While you’d never considered Cooper a sexual availability beforehand (what with his never-ending search for family), the laden weight of his gaze as it pauses on your chin before dropping lower sings through your blood.

Kickstarts your heart into a galloping stutter that thuds against your ribcage as longing hooks behind your navel, tugs sudden and sharp. The world spins.

Maybe, you think, peering at him from beneath the fan of your lashes. Maybe…

“Pervert,” you murmur, biting down on a small smile.

The knife-sharp smirk falls from his lips faster than a comedown from Psycho when your fingertips ghost over the curve of his jaw, turning his head towards you. Like this, you share breath, the scant space between you thrumming with energy.

So close you can see flecks of gold in the amber whiskey of his eyes.

Your forehead brushes over his; the rough drag of gnarled skin sending a shiver through your limbs. “Let’s share the last hit. S’only fair.”

Pausing, he considers you for several long moments.

His gaze bounces from yours to the playful curve of your mouth and back. A small eternity passes like this. And then - when you’re about to crawl away to lick your wounded pride - the most imperceptible of nods grants his assent.

There’s a hiss of aerosol, a lung burning inhale, and then you’re exhaling into the open gash of his mouth.

Wisps of smoke dance off your tongue onto his, the bow of your lips glancing off the swell of his top lip as you squirm closer. You feed him chem in a slow, steady stream until all the air has left you.

He groans - a wounded, low-throated sound.

Your eyes flutter open to find him already staring, his iris a thin ring around the Blackhole of his wide blown pupils. Hooded, hungry: a caged predator. You lick your lips, and in doing so, flick your tongue over his.

Your stomach swoops, “I --”

“You’re such a needy fuckin’ brat, y’know that, sweetheart?”

Whether it was an apology or some other retort stuck to the back of your teeth like hard candy, you’ll never know because in the next moment a rough hand knocks the Jet out of your hand. The inhaler cracks against the concrete with a plastic smack before skidding off into the darkness.

A burning palm curls around your wrist, calloused fingers digging into your fluttering pulse point. “Hey — hngg!”

He yanks you close, and you taste the violence in his kiss.

Harsh lips map out the softness of yours as teeth pinch and roll until your mouth is a swollen mess of tender flesh and smeared spit. Keeping up with the frenzied scrape of his tongue and the deep pulls of his kisses is like trying to weather a hurricane or fight off a Yao Guai with a single bullet.

“W-Wait,” you gasp, fingers twined through the lapels of his duster. “I don’t --”

“Shut up,” Cooper growls, worrying the swell of your bottom lip until a bead of blood bubbles to the surface. He sucks it away with a stifled moan, his hips kicking up against the plush of your ass.

“Shut the fuck up right now. You know what you was doing - trying ta act innocent when you’ve been gaggin’ for it.”

Flustered, you pull back, “No, that’s not true!”

It’s hard to keep your balance with chem pumping through your veins, and you sway to the side. The only thing keeping you upright is the bruising grip Cooper has on your wrist. “I haven’t been — you’re wr-rong.”

He spits out a mean spirited chuckle. “If that’s what you need ta tell yourself, sweetheart.” A critical eye drags down the pathetic sight you make, crumbled as you are in his lap. “But I know the truth. I felt you looking - pantin’ after me like a bitch in heat.”

“...”

Panic grips you by the throat, your pulse thundering against the thumb he strokes along the curve of your shoulder. You should’ve known better.

Of course, he’d notice.

He was The Ghoul after all - best bounty hunter from this coast to the next. It was his job to perceive everything around him, sus out friend from foe.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

What else can you say?

He brought you along (for whatever reason, fuck if you know why), and you’ve caused nothing but trouble every step of the way. It’s a wasteland miracle he hasn’t kicked your ass and left you bleeding in the dirt by now.

I have to fix this. Whatever it takes.

“I ain’t wanting you sorry.”

Gulping, you will away the sting of tears, and say, “Please, don’t kick me out.”

“Y’know, sometimes I think it’s a miracle you survived this long at all.”

“You don’t have to be so rude about it…” 

“Listen good and well, sugar,” he says with a roll of his eyes, that tender hand brushing over your neck turning into a collar as he drags you close. His lips whisper over yours with every word. “I didn’t go through all of this bullshit just ta get rid of you. Now--”

Hips rut up into you, dragging the firm line of his growing erection along the soft globes of your ass. “Stop teasin’ and make yourself useful,” he says. “Or you will be sorry.”

Everything after that flicks in and out of focus like a zoetrope: the burning clasp of hands, the slick glide of hungry mouths, the frantic rock of your hips as you both chase after dry friction with a desperation that borders on madness.

Your hands don’t know where to settle, fluttering from the nape of his neck to the breadth of his shoulders to the rippling muscle of his stomach as he rocks into you. Bites at any exposed skin that he can until his teeth leave marks you’ll carry for days.

All the while the hard edges of his body crash into your softness like waves against an eroding shore. Liquid fire blazes in your belly like a raging wildfire, scorching you from the inside out until you’re dumb and dripping.

The chem snaking through your body enhances the littlest of sensations until you feel like one giant exposed nerve. Slick drenched and sweaty, you moan weakly and rest your forehead against his cheek.

“Please,” you slur, thighs trembling where they squeeze at his live-wire hips. “S’not enough - need more. Wanna cum. Please, please, please. Make me cum.”

Cooper bites out a curse, his fingers biting into the fat of your ass. “Yeah, s’that right, sweetheart - d’you think you deserve it for bein’ such a lil brat?”

“Yes, yes, please, I’ll do anything. Just - hhahh, fuck!”

The fabric of your panties clings to your folds, and your pants chafe.

Your clit throbs with every thud of your heartbeat, every firm grind of his cock and low husk of his voice. Want him seated so deep inside you choke - your poor pussy struggling to take his cock as he rides you so hard you cry.

“Anything?” he asks with a breathless chuckle.

The devilish gleam of his eyes rattles your bones, shivers of electric anticipation fizzing through your veins like Quantum.

“Well, shit. Don’t come cryin’ ta me when you regret it. Now, take off those fucking pants and ride my cock like a good girl.”

And when he bullies his way inside, those thick ridges dragging along gummy walls, you almost swallow your tongue. He’s so big - the biggest you’ve ever had.

Every inch is a struggle, a victory. He’s not patient, he’s not kind. You don’t want it any other way, spread so wide your pussy flutters pathetically, trying to push him out.

Then the fat head grazes past the rough patch of your g-spot, sliding home to kiss your cervix. Your knees lock around his ribs, your head tossing back as a high-pitched whine punches its way out of your throat.

“A-Ah! I can’t — oh shit — you’re so,” you babble. “Too much!”

An ache spears deep, roots behind your navel.

“Heh, you asked for it, sweetheart. Look at me.” A scarred thumb wicks away a tear as you peel your eyes open with a sniffle. “That’s it. Shit, you look s’pretty when you cry.”

He licks his skin clean, uses his wet thumb to reach between you and roll the pad over your abused clit. You jump, sliding up on his shaft only for gravity to drag you back down with a solid smack of skin, your limbs jello soft.

The motion slams him deeper and slick drips from you in a sticky gush to soak his balls. You cry out, reedy thin.

Cooper grunts, warns, “You keep doing that and we’re not stoppin’ til you’re dripping cum.”

Though the thick haze of chem and syrupy sweet pleasure, you cobble together a grin and lick your way into his mouth. Tangle your tongues and suck as your hips arch into his. “Please, ruin me,” you breathe.

A possessive greed glints at you from the depths of his hangman eyes.

“Don’t go sayin’ I didn’t warn you, sweetheart,” he promises.

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout smut #fallout fanfic

[justporo]

The whisky neat and the strawberries sweet

“Then make me, my love,” Astarion answered, not missing a beat. “Come and get it,” he finished and slowly placed the last strawberry between his lips, grinning. His fangs were bared, contrasting against the deep red of the last piece of fruit.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Let's try again shall we? Tumblr ate this the first time. I listened to "Too Sweet" by Hozier too often and it caused this. What was only supposed to be a drabble turned into a whole thing... I hope you enjoy!

Gif by @cheekylittlepupp (pls follow them!)

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, porn with feelings, blood drinking, vaginal sex, creampie, foodplay, aftercare Wordcount: 4,7k Song: Too Sweet - Hozier

~~~

You didn't really know how you always ended up in positions like this one.

But by all the gods, you for sure didn't mind that you did.

Comfortable. You were comfortable in the way you sat on Astarion's lap, straddling him, clad in nothing but a sheer nightgown. The fabric huddled along your body, leaving very little to the imagination. From the clearly visible stiff peaks of your breasts it flowed down in soft lines to where it cascaded into a bunched up mess around your eagerly and widely spread legs.

Astarion in his usual camp outfit, albeit with his shirt possibly open wider than usual, was much more clothed still. But he surely seemed comfortable too.

And if his promising smirk and playfully raised eyebrow as he looked at you wasn't proof enough? Then maybe the way he was pleasantly, almost achingly hard and pressed directly against your heated, throbbing core between your legs was.

And yet you weren't even primarily engaging In anything overtly lewd, at least this far. The two of you were simply talking. Astarion was having a glass of neat whisky while you were indulging in a bowl of perfectly sweet strawberries.

You talked about every- and anything, whatever came to each of your minds. While Astarion kept sipping on the liquor out of his fancy crystal glass and you popped deliciously sweet fruit into your mouth.

Or, occasionally bucking your hips to get a little rise out of the other - a gasp, a groan, a telltale involuntary twitch - or a bottom lip caught on a fang with crimson eyes shortly rolling back into the skull and then a blissful smile.

The two of you played that little game. Trying to get the better of the other, all while trying to maintain a somewhat civil conversation.

As civil as any conversation could be when your slick cunt was pressed against your vampire’s dick. And you could barely keep yourself from rubbing yourself against him until you would either see stars explode before your eyes - or Astarion would remember he was a predator after all.

Either end was equally titillating in your eyes.

This little back and forth went on until you eventually proverbially poked the vampire a little too hard. You ground yourself against him as he was just answering a question you had asked him a moment ago, about what his favourite places around Baldur’s Gate were. The snap of your hips was so forceful, your by now obscenely slick core rubbed against Astarion’s hardened length in an almost painful way. You made yourself moan from the friction rolling through you, coiling in your stomach.

The vampire groaned loudly, almost a growl and mid-word, head falling back. He grabbed the wooden armrest with the hand not currently holding liquor filled crystal, until his knuckles showed white even through his already pale skin. It was almost a wonder the wood didn’t crack.

His length throbbed violently. Your clit eagerly echoed it.

You bit your lip as you focused on the feeling, a lewd, wishful sigh left you. The tension was oh so delicious.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Astarion almost hissed at you, a bit breathless. His head had snapped back, staring at you from deep under his drawn together brows.  “Because if you are, you are not being very subtle about it, love.”

His tone was slightly angry and a little high-pitched. He was immediately trying to walk it off but you had obviously irked him. But he was merely teasing you. You saw the way the corners of his mouth twitched unwillingly as he took another swig of whisky. And if his attempts at deflections wouldn’t have told you the truth, something else you clearly felt yearning for more of that friction, would have surely done the trick.

You grinned at him with fiendish delight as Astarion tried to somewhat awkwardly rearrange himself in his seat. But with you pressing yourself against him he hadn’t really any room to wriggle.

His ruby eyes narrowed at you as your grin grew broader. Oh, how you enjoyed being on top of things for once - quite literally so.

“Also it is very rude to interrupt someone like thi-” Astarion tried to utter in an offended tone. But interrupted himself once more with a groan when you rolled your hips against him once more. Even more forceful than before.

Astarion’s moan almost became a whimper this time. Long slender fingers darted over and now gripped onto your naked thigh. Not pulling you closer - for now - but also definitely not pushing you off. Astarion’s cock helplessly and desperately jerked from the friction where it was nestled between your legs.

It was a piece of work to keep yourself from huffing and moaning as you were continuously trying to push Astarion into the deep end without being dragged under as well.

The vampire’s head lolled back again for a moment. Then it rolled back around, his expression a challenge now. The vampire licked over his lips lasciviously: eyes glittering like garnets and fangs shining like ivory as he observed you. Precious in any kind of way.

Playtime was over now. Time to face the consequences.

“You vicious little vixen,” Astarion whispered, fingers digging into your flesh until the twinge of it had you throw your head back this time and gasp. The way your back thereby arched drew your vampire’s attention to the way your breasts were now perfectly presented to him. To either behold them like a connoisseur would an impactful piece of art or to devour them like a doomed man would his last meal.

The pale elf’s equally pale eyebrow twitched - as did your clit still drawing pleasure from his fingertips almost clawing into your thigh. If only… a little more…

Quick flicks of the vampire’s skilled tongue over the sensitive buds at the crest of your breasts made either of them perk up even more. Until your nightgown was dangling off them even more, creating soft lines draping down, surely drawing the observer’s eye to them and your now heaving breasts, heavy from lust.

Your hands immediately went to cup Astarion’s head, cradling it as his tongue swirled around the tip of your tits, not even bothered by the thin fabric between you and him. The way your hips started moving came naturally. Just like how you bowed your back even more for your lover. You closed your eyes, easily getting lost in the sensation.

Then, suddenly, sharp teeth dug into your breast, lips shortly closing down around the hardened nipple.

“Oww,” you yelped and immediately resorted to slapping Astarion’s arm in response, pushing him away. Your head snapped back to stare at him.

The vampire just laughed haughtily as he withdrew again, leaning back. He licked just a drop of blood of his lips as he did so.

When you looked down your own body you saw twin pricks that had pierced through the translucent fabric. And beneath it a tiny trickle of blood running down your chest.

In your moment of inattentiveness Astarion had shifted slightly in his seat: now sitting with his legs spread even further, the bulge between them so painfully obvious and palpable for either of you. He was leaning back, arms draped over the backrest. In one hand he was still holding the whisky glass and idly swirling it around while holding it by its rim.

By default your legs were also spread even further now, making it hard to move. And suddenly you were the one feeling a little caught. Good for you, you had found quite the pleasure in being caught by the vampire time and again.

Although that certainly didn’t stop you from leaning forward as much as possible and catching the pale elf’s chin between your fingers, trying to stare him down.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to bite someone without asking?”

Astarion pouted. “Can you really blame me for not being able to resist, darling? It was… low hanging fruit after all,” he mused with a grin.

Your eyes narrowed - considering if you should be insulted by that or not.

Astarion eyed the lonely drop of blood he left behind slowly rounding the curve of your boobs. He angled his head observing its journey. A single strand of white hair fell into the vampire’s face as he was entranced - by your tits and the trickle of your fine red alike. 

Lost in thought and the view he lifted the crystal to his lips again. As if unconsciously trying to substitute for what he obviously craved much more than liquor right this moment.

The whisky would have to do.

But before he could take a sip, your fingers wrapped around his and wrung the glass out of them. Inattentiveness really made either of you prone to be taken advantage of. But not to either of your damage.

Before Astarion could protest you took a generous swig of his liquor and slightly shuddered as it burned down your throat. You licked your lips with a grin as you felt the burn leave behind a delicious warmth.

The pale elf’s mouth fell open slightly, eyebrows jumping up. His eyes darkened and twinkled at you as if asking you how you even dared and simultaneously promising you he’d get you back for that one - in that kind of way that would leave you desperately begging for more.

It made your lower body clench as another kind of heat washed through your body. Adding to the throbbing sensation between your legs, lashing it on.

And yet the most you had done was sit there.

Closing your eyes, you tried to regain just a fraction of composure. You had been doing so good in your little game of teasing. How did this godsdamned vampire hold that much power over you that he almost broke you with barely more than a glance?

Astarion in the meantime smiled in content as he took note of how you had to consciously concentrate to keep your wits about you. And also he had located the rest of your strawberries still sitting in the bowl on a small table next to the chair you were both wrapped up on.

Your head snapped back as you felt the vampire’s weight slightly shift below you. With his roguishly quick reflexes you only just saw how your lover had started chewing something. Then he was popping another strawberry into his mouth. And another-

“Hey,” you wailed at him as your eyes darted to the little bowl that was now almost yawningly empty. “Hey stop, that’s the last one!” you continued, grabbing for Astarion’s wrist with your free hand as he was about to devour the last piece of your sweet treat.

“Then make me, my love,” Astarion answered, not missing a beat. “Come and get it,” he finished and slowly placed the last strawberry between his lips, grinning. His fangs were bared, contrasting against the deep red of the last piece of fruit.

His hands wandered to either of your thighs, pushing into them and pulling you closer to him at the same time, spreading your legs even more for him. With your hand not holding the crystal glass you grabbed for his shoulder to try and keep your balance.

Lightning jolts shot through your body at the sight of your lover. Finding their target in between your legs. Making you involuntarily rub yourself against Astarion’s hard dick again, still comfortably pressed there. Trying to keep the electric energy going. Hoping to turn it into a constant current.

Heat was pooling everywhere in your body now at the promise Astarion’s eyes made you.

He didn’t need to be able to speak to lure you to him. Astarion leaned in a little closer, the delicate lines around his mouth deepening when his smile grew predatory. And you leaned to him, your cheeks and whole body flushed, keen to accept what he offered: the lamb willingly falling for the wolf.

But then an idea flashed through you. Acting quickly, so you wouldn’t second guess yourself, you took a small sip of whisky, keeping it in your mouth.

The vampire’s eyes sparked at you, immediately catching onto your plan. A small strained gasp worked its way around the strawberry still in between his teeth to get past his lips. The fangs dug into the flesh of the fruit ever so slightly at the strained sound. And at your core you felt his dick twitch once more.

You were both in for a treat.

With a chuckle and the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one holding power you leaned in to kiss your vampire. You slowly wrapped your mouth around the strawberry, lips brushing Astarion’s like a feather in passing - all while your gaze burned into his.

The fruit was crushed between your mouths in an instance. Its red, wet juice ran over both your chins, leaving trails that almost looked like freshly spilled blood. The flesh of the sweet treat was quickly torn and devoured between pointy fangs and more sharp teeth as your mouths worked impatiently to get around it. To get to each other - to the real treat.

The whisky had immediately spilled over your lips, down your chin. Only a few drops had actually made it to Astarion’s lips. But it was enough. The rest he could easily taste directly on your lips and tongue, in your mouth. His tongue made sure to get every last bit of it as it slipped between your lips.

The vampire tensed beneath you, his length somehow hardening more, as you melted into him while kissing him; moulding yourself to him as you slowly felt yourself get lost.

Tart sweetness mixed with smoky burning as did tongues and teeth. Remains of strawberry and whisky were already staining your faces and throats, even clothes.

One of Astarion’s hands moved from your legs to the nape of your neck as your mouths moved against each other. He pulled you closer, trying to taste more of you as you let it happen with a yearning moan.

His other hand moved to yours still clenching the crystal glass in its fingers and swiftly took it away, placing it down to free you from it. And when you were, your hands immediately grabbed the vampire’s face. You let your fingertips stroke along his pointy ears, wandering into his curls, deepening the kiss even more. Closing your eyes as Astarion’s rolled into the back of his head.

His other hand sneakily went to your ass and with a gentle push made you grind against him once more. And then again, until you took up the rhythm on your own. All while you kept kissing, now exchanging moans, gasps and other lewd sounds spilling from your lips. Passing them back and forth between you.

And when only traces of strawberry and whisky remained on your tongues, you broke away from each other. You were both panting and worked up to the point where it had become almost painful.

You stared into each other’s eyes that were void of anything playful now. The need in them was real.

Your hands cradled your lover’s face as his gaze was almost glassed over - from lust. Different from other times where his eyes had betrayed to you that he was a thousand planes of existence away.

But now he was here with you, almost violently so. The only thing Astarion was dreaming of was you and how your body seemed made to be squeezed against his. And the electricity between you was so strong you knew lightning would inevitably strike both of you.

The fruit had left Astarion messy, red stains smeared all around his chin and throat. You were used to the sight by now although it usually were less tame things than strawberry that left him in disarray. And as the yearning inside you reached a boiling point you felt the urgent desire to offer your vampire the real thing. Turning him into a whole mess in the process - in every kind of way possible.

You bowed down to him, seeing his eyes sharpen at you closing in. And nothing but a hair breadth away from his lips you stilled, reining in your boundless desire for Astarion.

“I need you, Astarion,” you whispered to him, your quivering lips brushing his as you spoke. Your breath caressed his face making his eyes lose focus as they rolled widly once more at your confession and your closeness alike. “And I want you.”

“Incidentally,” he murmured, voice raspy and promising, reminiscent of strawberries mixed with whisky, “I want you too, my heart.” His hands on your behind, fingers spread wide, squeezed hard. “And I need you even more.”

And so you let the reins slip from your hands. Your lips crushed with his again as four hands were busy to grab hold and get rid of what was still in the way.

Astarion fumbled with your already ruined nightgown. Trying to pull it up but getting distracted by how soft your skin felt along his fingertips or how your curves shifted lazily with the roll of your hips or how your fingers felt beneath the hem of his shirt.

After a few unsuccessful tries his already short tempered patience got the better of him. He just clawed at the damned fabric and tore it apart, tossed it away with a growl, breaking your passionate kiss shortly.

His short-circuit action shortly took your breath away as you felt the garment ripped off your body.

You stared at him, now fully bared before him. Crimson predator eyes took you in and couldn’t stay harsh at your softness. The moment drew out as he lovingly gazed upon you and you used it to let your hand flutter to the top of your breasts then along the curves of them, drawing a line with your fingertips. Astarion watched carefully, an almost unwilling gasp escaping him.

Then another roll of your hips, rubbing yourself against him with a moan. You threw your back into an arch, repeating the motion more vigorously, grinding yourself against Astarion’s still fully clothed but not less needy body. His pants were already a mess, you knew, caused by your slickness and his yearning cock alike.

Astarion kept eagerly staring at you as you worked yourself against him. His long fingers wandered over creamy soft thighs, wrapped almost fully around your delicate waist and then up your sides, sliding over your back as you threw yourself into them. You were melting for him while you felt the tension inside you grow. And your lover kept observing you, how your body moved like light waves hitting a sunbathed beach. His lips curled up further into a sinful grin as he felt you come closer to the peak: the shift of your hips becoming more ragged, your breaths heavy and raw.

Meanwhile your hands toyed with the hem of his already wide open shirt, tugging on the strings, wandering beneath the hem, caressing his chest as he had become almost a statue beneath you. But his stillness only betrayed that tension within him grew as well.

But then you wanted more. Without halting the movements of your body against his you urged him to draw his shirt over his head. And when he enthusiastically obliged you immediately thanked him by pressing your soft, warm tits against him.

Astarion couldn’t remain still anymore. Eyes glossed over again as he delighted in your body dragging against his naked, smooth skin now. Your hands were in his hair. And as if you weren’t already treating him enough you let your head loll back and dragged the vampire’s already parted lips to where they could immediately pick up the rhythm of your racing heart.

His fangs pressed cooly against your skin making you shudder from the sensation. Gasps filled the air. You felt Astarion’s lips press a kiss to your exposed throat. And a moment later the sharp pain of his fangs breaking your skin made left you breathless and made claw your hands into his curls.

He drank from you and you stilled. You needed to feel how with every swallow he took of you, his dick moved in unison.

And it made you both yearn to finally feel it in an even more intimate way.

Your fingers moved to unlace Astarion’s pants, making quick work of it. The sensation of his erection being freed and immediately being caressed by your deft hands made the vampire quiver. His focus was shortly broken and you felt some hot blood run down your throat. But who could blame him when you began stroking his aching cock like this. You saw how wetly his length was already glistening and felt how generous amounts of precum spread all over it beneath your hands. He really did need you.

Astarion groaned as he tried to pull himself together, licking up the spilled blood. But two different beasts were battling within him right this moment, each eager to get their fill. And both needed to be sated.

“Darling,” Astarion murmured against your throat, “you’re killing me for good.” His hands were on your ass now, squeezing it with spread fingers and urging you to move up on him.

You kept working his cock harder and you pressed yourself up on his lap slightly, obeying his silent plea.

“Good,” you replied, catching his eyes for a moment as his lips still remained lightly on your throat. “I hope it’s a pleasant way to go.”

And Astarion groaned, confirming it.

With your fingers still wrapped around his length you positioned him against your obscenely wet core. You moved your hips, making his head drag along your hot, slick folds, but not allowing him to enter you just yet.

You did it once, twice, feeling your clit and his cock in your hands throb each time. Then Astarion had enough of you teasing him. With his hands firmly holding onto your ass he pushed you down on him until he was buried inside of you to the hilt.

He began fucking you while you still tried to get used to the sensation.

Astarion started a relentless rhythm, aiding you riding him by dragging up your hips and letting them slam into him with his hands digging into your ass. All while he thrust up into you, hitting deep every single time. He praised you, whipping you on with words almost as sweet as strawberries. And the burning warmth inside you was even greater and more deliciously numbing than a sip of neat whisky.

Oh, this wouldn’t take long. The long, lascivious build-up had made sure of that.

You felt the waves grow higher while your moans grew increasingly unhinged. Already you were bracing yourself to be dragged under as you felt Astarion’s sweet nothings dissolve into senseless groans of pleasure.

But then suddenly, you felt Astarion’s hot mouth wrap around your hard nipple again - the one he had teased before. While your orgasm was already on the horizon and rushing towards you quickly, you felt another sting of pain as the vampire’s fangs broke the sensitive skin of your breast a second time.

In the meantime, a hand had wandered up your back and you felt how Astarion wrapped strands of your hair around his fingers before starting to tug on them.

He began eagerly sucking on your boob, striving to get more of the aphrodisiac that was your blood. Meanwhile his skilled tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, swirling around it.

He kept pulling on your hair, having you bow back while riding him and Astarion kept drinking from you.

The continuous jolts this sensation sent through your already helplessly writhing body pushed you even beyond what you had expected.

With Astarion’s mouth closed around your tit and his dick hitting you particularly hard and deep you dissipated fully in his hands. The vampire pushed you far further over the edge than you'd ever thought possible.

As if drifting out of your body for a while as your orgasm shook through you violently, your core clenched around the vampire buried as deep inside of you as anyone ever was.

With an obscenely wet sound he had to let go of your nipple as Astarion came just as forcefully, balls tightening before he spilled inside of you. Your bodies worked eagerly - clenching, jerking, giving, taking - to make the most out of it.

The room was filled with nothing but your ragged breaths as you both rode out the waves of your orgasm.

After, you collapsed on Astarion's lap who held you so carefully as if suddenly he felt you'd shatter under his touch. Your arms felt weak now as you wrapped them around your vampire, your legs started to tremble from the almost impossible tension they had endured before.

Your lover only carefully moved you to withdraw from you as he softened. He kept showering you with small kisses and soft reassuring mumbles while he gave you all the time you needed to safely come down from your high.

It took a long while until you were sure you were fully inside yourself again.

“I love you, Astarion,” was the sole thing you trusted your voice to utter because Astarion kept uttering sweet nothings into your ear. His hands were rubbing a comforting rhythm over your back, your chests pressed together, sticky from sweat. Your forehead was leaning on his shoulders, eyes closed.

The vampire softly laughed and patted your back: “I love you too, Tav.”

“Come on, darling, let’s get you cleaned up and into something warm,” he whispered after a few more heartbeats of comfortable, exhausted silence into your ear.

You lifted your head slowly from his shoulder, took one look at how blood was practically smeared all over Astarion’s face and only snorted. But the vampire took it only with another chuckle and began to rise with you in his arms.

He carefully sat you down on the nearby bed, quickly grabbed a cloth and warm water and cleaned you softly. Astarion took special care of where he’d bitten you, spending extra time cleaning the small bite wounds - pressing a kiss on them after.

Slowly you began talking again while Astarion took care of you and you regained your wits but felt exhaustion and blood loss catch up with you.

Astarion continued to carefully pamper you, washing every part of your body with the cloth, almost massaging you. Then quickly cleaning himself up while you were taken over by a big yawn. You were ready to sink back onto the bed and be wrapped up in your lover’s arms as you would slip into your dreams.

“You owe me a new nightgown, Astarion,” you uttered between yawns trying to stay upright - at least until your vampire was finished with the aftermath of your little evening adventure.

The vampire pointedly lifted an eyebrow at you: “But why wear a nightgown if you could just sleep naked?”

You had no power anymore to argue. So you used your remaining energy to stare angrily at your vampire until he stood up with a smirk and returned with his discarded shirt in hand.

“Alright, my dear, I’ll get you a new one,” he promised with a wink. “But for now this will have to do, I fear. I hope you can overlook it was previously owned by me, darling,” Astarion mused and handed you the shirt which you quickly threw over your head. It smelled of his usual scent: rosemary, bergamot - and whisky. Your eyes darted to where the crystal glass with the rest of Astarion’s drink had been forgotten and smiled. Then you drew a deep breath in, closing your eyes. With this you could do.

You clambered further onto the bed then, making yourself cosy as Astarion undressed to climb into bed with you

“You also owe me some strawberries,” you continued as you stretched out your arms towards your lover who you felt was taking too long to join you.

Astarion snorted as he climbed towards you and wrapped you into his arms.

“You’re awfully demanding, darling, you know that? What about my wasted drink?” he replied with a smirk in his voice as you had already closed your eyes, feeling his comforting presence wrapped around you.

“Hm yes, you can get yourself new whisky too,” you mumbled and were already drifting off to sleep.

“Alright then, my sweet,” Astarion answered as he heard your breath deepen already. “A nightgown, whisky, strawberries and whatever else your heart desires, my darling Tav.”

~~~ If you enjoyed this you can support me by reblogging this! You can also support me on Kofi (pinned post on my profile)! ~~~ Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06 @marina-and-the-memes @somewhatclear @miss-rebel-without-applause

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 #astarion bg3 #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion x mc

[3minsover]

20 year old, unlucky-in-love best friends steddie, who make a drunken pact to get married if they’re still single at 30. they don’t bring it up again, but steve has to stand by as eddie gets proposed to, having been hopelessly in love with him for the last 10 years.

it happens in front of everyone, and the first person eddie looks to is steve. he sees the way steve’s face just crumples. it’s then that he knows. he can’t say yes, not when there’s a chance.

so he asks his boyfriend if they can talk about it later, and heads straight to the bathroom, fixing steve with a Look as he goes. eddie hopes, fucking prays that steve will follow him. it’s minutes before there’s a quiet knock on the door.

“eddie? hey man, you okay in there?”

“steve? can- uh, can you come in here? i’m not like, shitting or anything.”

slowly, the door opens, and eddie rubs at his runny nose with the back of his hand. why is he crying? he has nothing to cry about. he’s supposed to be happy.

“eddie? are you okay?”

“uh, hah- no, actually. i’m pretty fucked up.” steve steps a little further into the bathroom shoves his hands into his pockets, and his cheeks are all pink and his eyes are shining.

“what happened?” steve asks quietly. and what’s eddie supposed to say? that he heard the words ‘will you marry me?’ and all he could picture was steve asking? “talk to me?”

“i can’t- it’s not, it’s not fair. i shouldn’t-”

“eddie.” steve grabs eddie’s wrists and shakes him a little, catches his attention. “what happened?”

“i couldn’t- he asked- and i just- i couldn’t, because he isn’t-” and eddie’s trying to make sense, but he’s shaking, he can’t meet steve’s eye.

“isn’t what?” steve asks, searching eddie’s eyes in such hopeful desperation it threatens to crack eddie’s heart in two. eddie finds himself speaking before he’s thought it through.

“isn’t you,” eddie sighs. “he isn’t you.”

steve blinks, dumbfounded, and his mouth falls open.

“what are you…what do you..?” and it’s out there now. eddie’s shown his hand, might as well keep flipping cards.

“he isn’t you, steve. never could be. all i could- i just wished it was- was you. okay? i always wanted it to be you.” steve’s eyes drop closed, and he presses his lips together.

“don’t. don’t do this now.” steve looks up again, eyes shining with unshed tears. “not after all this time.”

“steve…”

“i have spent- the last ten years- hoping that you’d see me. i’ve been here. why now?” eddie shifts his hands, takes hold of steve’s own in a grip that’s far surer than he has any right to.

“because you’ve been here. i didn’t let myself believe that you’d- that you’d want me, and i tried to, shit, like, move on or whatever. but i can’t, stevie.”

"eddie. please. don’t play with me.”

“i’m not. i mean it. and i know i missed my chance, and it’s too late-”

“i didn’t forget,” steve cuts in, “i didn’t forget what you said. hoped you’d remember.” eddie studies steve’s downtrodden expression, and he wants to smooth every crinkle and line from his pretty face. “i held onto it. just in case. i’d- shit, eddie, i’d marry you in a heartbeat if i could.”

it doesn’t make any sense, but it’s what steve said. eddie releases one of steve’s hands, brushes the backs of his fingers over steve’s cheek.

“you would?”

“wanted to for- for as long as i can remember. wanted you. and i shouldn’t.”

“shouldn’t? i just ran away from my own proposal because i couldn’t face the fact that he’s not you. let’s not talk about ‘shouldn’t’, huh?” steve laughs, and it’s the sweetest sound eddie’s ever heard. it sets something alight in his chest.

“okay. so, what now?” steve asks, fingers curling around eddie’s wrist a little more firmly. eddie smiles, a little mischief slipping into his voice as he speaks.

“you wanna go to vegas?”

#steddie #fanfic #3minsover #steve harrington x eddie munson #originally posted on twitter

[oreosmama]

Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: I pity the fools who ignore this a/n bc WARNING, these are hcs without those stupid bullet points bc I have suddenly emotionally decided that they fucking suck. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy the light angst, for all those survivors who are still vibing in this fandom. Enjoy!

Word count: 1968

Tooru Oikawa:

“I’m totally and completely over you.”

That’s how the message starts. 

Part of you wonders if you missed something, or accidentally skipped ahead. It’s so immediate, like Oikawa could barely wait for the beep before tearing into you. Like he needed to spit poison the second he had the chance. 

And it’s one of those biting remarks that he wants to let fester—for a while, evidently; he doesn’t say anything else for another five minutes. 

All that follows is a loud thud, like he’s thrown the phone away from him. And then footsteps, like he’s pacing, pacing, pacing back and forth, trying to think of more scathing words by burning holes into his carpet. 

You hit a point where you think you should delete the message, maybe try and not care about whatever else he may or may not say after waiting for so long. You nibble on your nails and tug at the snarls in your hair. You pick four pieces of lint off your sweatshirt and seventeen more off the blanket draped over your lap, and you know how many there are because you line them up and count them afterwards as you wait, anxious, listening to your ex-boyfriend’s panting. 

But a small rustle stirs at that five-minute mark, right against your ear. And a sniffle. 

“Fine.” Oikawa’s voice cracks. “You win.” 

You suck in a breath. 

“What do you wanna hear? That I miss you?” He sniffles again, then scoffs bitterly. “That I miss you so fucking much I can’t sleep at night? That my bed is so fucking cold now I can’t even stomach sleeping in it? That every girl I see I automatically compare to you because I have to—I just fucking have to, all because she’s not you. And it makes me sick.”

His chuckle is sour and crackles harshly into your eardrum. “Am I stroking your ego enough, sweetheart? Because you win. You fucking win.

“I want you back.” 

He sighs, and it sounds like he’s rubbing his forehead. 

“I need you back.” 

More beats pass in the silence. More sniffles, too, but stretched out, like he’s trying to steady his breathing. 

You don’t think it’s helping him any. As you wipe the cuffs of your sweatshirt underneath your eyes, his voice returns, thoroughly raw and wounded. It squeaks out of him, barely above a whisper. His voice is so loud and tender, like he’s cradling the phone against his cheek. 

Your hand against his warm cheek, curled over that pink skin, fingertips inches away from brushing through those soft strands, wiping tears. That’s what you wish it was. 

“I didn’t know…” 

A shaky breath. You hold yours in return. 

“I didn’t know anything could hurt this bad.”

He swallows thickly. 

“Those last few moments after you left—I thought that would be the worst of it. When you just walked out. And I keep seeing you do it, over and over and over, in my head like I can’t help but torture myself with it.

“I never knew it would get so much fucking worse.”

He whimpers a little, and your heart constricts unbearably. You tear at the damn thing buried underneath your sweatshirt, massaging the skin like it can soothe that phantom ache. 

Oikawa must hate you. Maybe he hates you like you hate him: not because of the breakup, but because you can go for weeks without seeing him, holding him, kissing him, and everything still hurts like that last time. 

“Thing is, I could’ve sworn you weren’t always in my life. It’s been two years. Only two years. And yet I can’t remember a damn thing before us. It feels like it was always us. Some fog, and then you, and then everything afterwards. Everything that was us.”

“And I hate that we had it so good, YN. I really do. Because missing you has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The frustration in his voice is familiar, a sickening sense of deja vu around it, and you latch a hand over your mouth at how vividly the image comes to you: Oikawa tearing his fingers through his hair, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed and shiny. Like when he lost a game, but different somehow. 

Like this was something he didn’t even know he could lose.

He’s crumbling in a way he doesn’t know how to stop. That ugly part about having something wonderful and new—the moment it’s gone, what the hell are you supposed to do then?

“I just—Goddamnit, I can’t stand how badly it hurts anymore. I can’t,” he cries, desperate and aching, like his hand is fisting at his heart. You can hear the breath hitching in his throat, the hiccuping breaths after his sobs. You can hear every tear, feel it against your own cheeks, a soreness building at the front of your skull. 

Too many tears. Your body is screaming at you, too many fucking tears. 

But it’s him and he was yours and you were his. 

Were. 

You were his. 

You had no idea how much that single thought could make your entire chest throb. 

Oikawa inhales, and it makes your heart race against the thick wall caging it in, squeezing against it. 

“I need to see you.” 

He says the thought like it’s just slapped him across the face. 

“I need to go see you, I—I have to.” 

He mumbles to himself unsteadily, like he’s rocking back and forth. Debating, really, what he’s supposed to do, if he should do it at all, if it’s right after everything.

You should probably think he’s wrong.

You probably shouldn’t be curled over your phone, eyes wide, mouth open, not making a fucking peep. Waiting to hear what he’s going to do. 

Maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t be telling yourself that as the voicemail counts down to its final seconds, if he decides he’s not going to go to you, that you’ll definitely be going to him.

“I can’t just sit here. I can’t stay in here, without you. This isn’t right, I—”

Your breath hitches when you hear the frantic jingle of keys. 

Then the sound of a door slamming. 

His footsteps racing down his apartment’s stairwell.

A car engine revving. 

“I need to see you.” 

And the voicemail ends. 

_________________________

Satori Tendou: 

The message begins with a scoff of utter disbelief. 

“Is that what we’re doing now?”

He pauses, almost like he thinks you’re going to respond. 

“Heard from someone that I suddenly have syphilis. Yesterday, I had herpes though, so I guess I’m gonna have a tough week.”

A rustle like he’d shaking his head, like he can’t fucking believe it. 

“And sure, okay, I figured that’s fine. You can say all that shit, and it won’t really stick because everyone knows it was us and that it’s you and you’re hurt.”

He sighs. 

“But I saw it, sweetheart. I saw it.” The phone whines like he’s adjusting it against his face, and his voice is suddenly lower, darker. 

“You don’t get to have it both ways, you know. You can’t spread all that shit—all those rumors about how shitty everything was and how we didn’t have anything going for us—and then turn around two days later wearing my sweatshirt. And you don’t get to wear that necklace I gave you for our anniversary and then run away from me the second you see me. That’s just not fair—you’re not playing fair anymore.”

Something swishes around like loose clothing, and a large huff greets your ear from what must be Tendou collapsing into a seat. When his little sounds become quieter, that relentless humming and the excitable clicks of his tongue against his teeth, you figure he must have put the phone on speaker and balanced it on his knee like he always did. Mid-conversation with Ushiwaka, he always used to spin his phone with those long fingers, or bounce the damn thing up and down against his frantic leg. 

And the voicemail came through late last night, one of those dead hours where the only ones awake were Tendou, his scrambling thoughts, and the moths flitting back and forth outside his glowing window. He was always awake, always thinking, always doing something. 

When you’d first broken up, after one long, wrenching fight where you’d both lost your voices and the frustration welled so high you just couldn’t breathe anymore, you’d been thankful for the idea of sleeping soundly for the first time in months. 

You’d been wrong. You weren’t even sleeping anymore; just long, slow blinks where your phone screen would magically turn from 3:45 a.m. to 7:25 a.m., and in five minutes you’d have to get up and slug your way through another day. 

Tendou had been the same. Those naturally wide eyes sagged under the pressure, and the curve of his spine had deepened like he’d been hauling the lack of sleep everywhere he went. 

He must be sitting at his window now, at this moment in his message, pale skin aglow with wispy tendrils of moon. And he’s calling you. And he saw everything you’d done. 

“Not fair. Not fair at all,” he whines, teasing. Always, always teasing, and if you hadn’t heard the slight cripple in his voice on the last word, you’d have gone on thinking he viewed it as one big joke. 

You’re sure he heard the same thing you had—that he couldn’t keep acting like it was all fun and games. His usual, cat-like smile surely fell into a pert little frown, pale lips twisting like he’d sucked on a lemon. 

No fun, no fun, no fun, he must have been thinking. 

“Ya see, I thought we had a little deal,” Tendou drawls. “You’d talk smack and start dressing all pretty just to spite me, and then–and then I’d go ahead and delete all your pictures and put your name as ‘Bitch’ in my phone. And in, like, two weeks, we’d just be two ships, whoosh, whoosh, passing each other on the high seas of life, ya know?”

He breathes a ghost of a laugh. 

“But, sweetheart, you look like shit.” He chuckles for real this time, and it’s disgustingly hollow. “I’m not even kidding. Like someone ran you over three times every morning—it’s horrible, really.”

You curl into yourself even further, and you’re smiling, grinning, lips peeling with how much you’ve cried and how little water you’ve drank after. You hate him; God, you hate how he can make you laugh and cry at the same time. 

“But that’s okay, I’ll give you a pass just this once. I haven’t deleted your pictures yet, so I botched my end of the deal, too.” Tendou tsks his tongue. 

“I won’t go easy on you, though. Here–here, how’s about this: for every day you stop wearing my clothes—because they look horrible on you, sweetheart; really, you’re painful to watch—I’ll delete one of your pictures, eh? That means, in about–uhhdivideby365daysinayearignoringleapyearbullshit–ah, seven years, I’ll have held up my end. S’that good with you?”

You lean your head back, letting the tears flood your hair as he chuckles to himself. 

“Fuck it,” he says after a pause. Hopeless. Breathless. “Fuck it.” He must be gnawing on that pale lower lip, biting and nibbling until it bleeds. Because he lets something go to sigh again, and he must have smacked his head against the wall, and then you think he sniffled. 

“I still want you. I’ve always wanted you. And I’m tired of missing you and wanting you. Doing both hurts too much.”

Tendou soughs.

“So I’m still your Chicken Tendy, baby. Always. And I’ll be here when you're ready, syphilis and all.”

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyu x reader #satori x reader #oikawa tooru #tendou satori #satori tendou #tooru oikawa #haikyuu x reader angst #haikyuu headcanons

[lixiesfreckless]

Into It | b. c.

➸ synopsis: the california sunset looks pretty damn good when you're on the hood of Chan's car.

➸ starring: bang chan x female reader

➸ word count: 3k

➸ general content: best friend!chan, car sex, drunk sex, chan is lowkey obsessed with you, mutual pining, dirty talk

➸ warnings: lots of swearing, sexual content, alcohol consumption, mentions of california(LMAO east coast on top)

➸ rating: 18+ MA

➸ author’s note: another oldie but goodie! also I don't even bias chan but I literally went insane writing this so what does that mean-

♫ into it- chase atlantic

Far away.

You feel like your mind is so far away.

The engine roars in your ears as you and Chan zip around the outskirts of downtown Los Angeles, convertible top down to let the wind whip through the vehicle. 

Your hand dangles outside the car door, lazily twirling a half empty bottle of beer in your fingertips as you fully sink into the car seat. Your thoughts are fuzzy, his music is loud, and the breeze is enough to keep you from getting too hot. 

This is as close as you can get to bliss.

Palm trees lining the road, orange and magenta in the sky, hell— if heaven didn’t look like this, did you even want to go?

The car slows down enough for Chan to make a right turn, angling the two of you to a desert close to where they host raves and concerts every summer. By the time the current song stops playing, Chan is pulling the convertible off the road, driving over hardened clay and rocks until he’s about 50 yards away from the asphalt.

“Pass me one of those,” he says, putting the car in park and slumping into the seat. You reach down to the six pack of beer near your feet and pass one to him, bringing your own bottle up to your lips as he takes it.

The guy sticks the cap between his teeth, cracking it open with a sharp twist of his arm, and flicks the cap into the cup holder.

“That’s one way to crack open a cold one,” you chuckle, taking another swig.

“Too bad I’m not with the boys…” he sighs, narrowly dodging a swat from your hand as he laughs.

“Hush, I’m better than the boys.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, letting the troubles of the week dissolve under the tangy taste of the alcohol and the bass from the speakers.

You can’t remember exactly when you started spending your Friday nights like this, driving to random places in the passenger seat of Chan’s car. Usually you’d prefer to spend your nights indoors, but with him, it was never overwhelming. He was your weekly dose of adventure, and you became addicted easily.

But how could you not when he was so…Chan?

He always knew what songs to play, what you felt like talking about, what kind of view would cheer you up— he became someone that knew you better than your best friend, even.

And there was something so disarming about his vintage band tees, beat up converse, blond curls and dimples— especially his dimples. They were a weapon and he used them.

And they reappear right as you notice you’re staring at him. Serves you right for zoning out in his general direction.

“Something on your mind?” He chuckles, and you pop the passenger door open, shaking your head.

“Nope. Just need to stretch.”

You walk around to the front of the car, and the shell dips slightly once you perch on the hood.

This beer is defective, you decide. Alcohol is supposed to blur your thoughts, not sharpen them.

And yet all you can think about is the man moving to lean against the front of the car, standing just a foot away from you.

Your mind pretends not to notice the way Chan’s gaze lingers on your lips, almost glazing over every time you take a swig from the bottle in your hand. Your body however, burns. Reacts like water on hot oil. It feels like every cell is dancing in the remnants of the sunset when he looks at you. 

It might just be the alcohol though.

You lean back and lie on the hood of the car, using your hands as a makeshift pillow behind your head as you watch the sky turn an even deeper shade of pink. Chan takes one glance at you and takes a long sip of beer as he quickly looks away, pushing the sight of your shirt riding up your torso far back into his mind. The…things he could do there-

“Shit, how many of those have we gone through,” you mumble, lazily shifting your eyes up to the sky.

“Uh, four?” Chan glances back at you, mentally cursing at the way your face matches the sky above, dusted with pink. He doesn’t know it’s from you staring at his arm veins. “We have water in the back if you want some-”

“No, no I’m good.” Your voice sounds like honey to him; maybe he should pass the bottle back to you, just so you’ll stay quiet. “Just feeling more than a little buzzed.” 

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, and the huskiness in his voice practically pokes you in the side. “Now would be the best time to do something crazy then.”

“Something crazy?” You laugh out loud, then sit up slightly on the hood, leaning back on your elbows. “There’s nothing but desert for miles. What are we supposed to do-”

Your sentence stops dead in its tracks as your eyes meet with Chan’s, the heat rushing to your gut all at once as the wind blows his blond curls into his eyes. He doesn’t even hesitate this time; his eyes wander lower and lower on your face until they land on your bottom lip, trapped between your teeth. 

“God, why do you always do that…” he whispers, shifting his gaze back to the road.

…What? 

The wind whistles in your ears as you feel them growing hotter, unsure what to make of his sudden statement.

“Do…do what?” He looks back at you with tortured eyes, as if you’re the only water in the California desert.

“Bite your lip like that; it makes me think-” he stops and drains the rest of the bottle in his hand, then leaves it on the hood and shakes his head. “Never mind. I’m gonna turn the music up.”

Your eyes follow him as he trails along the side of the car, and you feel a certain window of opportunity beginning to close. Summoning most of your courage, you jump off the hood and walk up behind Chan, waiting for him to finish messing with the stereo before tapping him on the back.

“Yeah?” He turns around and barely has any time to think before you’re pressing on his shoulders, pulling him down slightly as you crash your lips onto his. He immediately catches your waist, letting out a surprised muffle that dissolves into a sigh as he pulls you against him.

You break apart after a moment, lips still tingly and buzzing with excitement, but you wonder if you’ve made the right decision as you look up at Chan, who still has his eyes closed.

“You’re drunk,” he whispers, finally looking down at you with a flushed face.

“Not drunk enough.” You twist the shoulder seams of his shirt between your fingers in consideration. “I’m sober enough to know that look. And if you don’t do something about it, then I-”

“You want me to do something about it?” He pulls your hips tight against his, and now that you’re leaning on him, you can feel the bass from the car reverberating through both of you. That combined with the buzz of the alcohol and his hands on your bare midriff nearly sends you over the edge, but you keep your composure.

And by that you mean you pounce on him— you love his voice, but you’re tired of talking about something you could be doing.

If you both were a little less tipsy, the kisses would probably be less frantic. But neither of you seem to care, hands grabbing at each other desperately as you search for better ways to pull each other closer.

“You have no idea,” he pants between kisses, “you have no fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted this.” You shudder into his lips, raking through his blond locks and tugging at the ends as Chan’s grip tightens on your hips. He takes a sharp inhale before picking you up, waiting for you to latch your legs around his torso before he slides his arms under your legs. As he walks around the car, you both never separate; you’re actually surprised when you feel the cool metal of the hood come into contact with the backs of your thighs.

He nestles himself between your legs, resting his hands on your thighs and tracing the distressed hem of your denim skirt as the bass of the song picks up. You’re lucky you’re on the hood and not the trunk; the subwoofers vibrating against you would have been too much for sure. 

He pulls away from your lips, dipping his head to catch his breath as he pants into the crook of your neck. To him, this is insane. He has you on the hood of his car. He has you on the hood of his car.

How is a man supposed to think straight in this situation? 

Meanwhile, his hot breath on your neck is driving you to the brink of insanity. Just a raise of your shoulder and he’d be kissing it. Shoot, he could make you crazy with his fingers just an inch higher too.

“Chan,” you whisper, not realizing how close your breathy voice was to his ear, and the last of his resolve practically evaporates off of him.

“Y/n…” his nose follows the curve of your neck as he makes his way up to your face, “tell me if I need to stop, I just…”

He hooks his hands around your knees and pulls, effectively pinning your hips together in a casual display of strength, and you gasp before he seizes your bottom lip between his, sucking and biting until a soft moan slips from your lips.

“Fuck, make that sound again,” he groans, hands sliding back up your thighs to the hem of your shirt. You relent, no longer keeping your sighs and sounds of pleasure to yourself as his hands slide under your crop top, around to your back.

He makes quick work of your bra, releasing the tension around your ribcage before sliding his thumbs along the underside of your breasts. Just thinking about all of the things he could do to you has both of you buzzing with anticipation, panting against each other’s mouths.

His thumb just barely grazes your nipple and you swear you see the world begin to tilt.

You don’t know what it is; normally a gesture that small wouldn’t elicit such a reaction out of you, but the alcohol in your veins and the bass under your thighs seem to bring every motion of his straight to your core. And usually you’d be embarrassed at how loud you are, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he continues just like that, both thumbs barely putting any pressure on the peaks under your shirt.

Your head lolls back slightly, and Chan wastes no time in licking a thin stripe up the column of your neck, stopping right at the shell of your ear.

“Ideally, I’d want to take my time with you, but right now…” his voice is thick with lust as he flicks both of your nipples, and you jolt forward. “I don’t think you’d want me to.”

“Chan, please,” you gasp out, wanting to press your thighs together, “get on with it already.”

He obliges you, hands sliding down to your skirt and then back up under it, looking for the edge of your panties. Once he has them, he pulls them down and over your Nike blazers, tossing them into the convertible onto the passenger seat.

He then reaches behind you, pushing two empty bottles off the car as he presses you flat against the hood. The sound of the bottles breaking against the rocky terrain is barely registered by you though, you’re more focused on Chan’s free hand snaking back up your skirt.

Curses slip out of his mouth once his thumb brushes across your clit; he’s more than shocked to feel just how soaked you are, but you shake your head vigorously, catching his attention.

“Skip it,” you say breathlessly, looking directly into his eyes. He understands instantly, coffee colored eyes practically turning coal black seeing your desperation.

The sky seems to swirl different shades of purple and pink as the wind feathers over your body, and just past the contrails in the sky, you can see the stars beginning to poke their faces into the rosy backdrop.

There is a very real possibility that you are dreaming all of this.

But the sound of his zipper being pulled down snaps your senses into focus, and the possibility of Chan fucking you under a sky like this seems more urgent.

The next minute flies by, and before you know it Chan is lining himself up at your entrance, checking that the condom is on properly before lifting your skirt to your hips.

His eyes flicker to yours momentarily, and you nod before relaxing fully, letting your head rest against the hood as he holds onto your hips tightly.

And then you instantly tense up once he starts pushing into you.

It’s almost embarrassing how easy it is for him to slide in without really touching you, but the hiss he draws between his teeth tells you he’s not really focusing on that.

You’re focusing on how you didn’t catch a glimpse of him before he put it in, and now your entire lower abdomen is tingling in excitement over just how much of him there is. Silly how you were trying to sober up for this moment, only for you to feel high all over again with him fully inside you.

“I- shit, okay wow,” he hisses, dragging himself out and back in slowly. “You’re so warm, god-”

You can’t even respond, you’re so occupied by the feeling of his ridges along your walls that your fingers are already looking for something to grab onto.

Somehow in the haze of it all, you still want to urge him deeper, so you wrap your legs around his waist and watch as he tilts his head back, eyes fluttering closed mid-thrust.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, picking up the pace and holding your hips tighter as you whine, feeling him finally start to brush one of your sensitive spots.

Chan cannot process the scene playing out in front of him. You’re draped over the hood of his car, taking what he’s giving you so easily, face flushed and hair falling over your face from the wind. Your shirt is halfway up your torso, but your skirt is up six inches too high, high enough to see where he's sheathing himself inside of you. He couldn’t make this up if he tried.

The pressure building inside of you jumps to the next level once his hand slides up your shirt again, gently rubbing circles over your nipple as opposed to the faster thrusts down below. Your back arches into his hand as you gasp, squeezing your thighs around him tighter as you do so.

“Chan,” you whine, scratching your nails against the car, and a few more curses tumble out of his mouth as he stares down at you. 

“You’re so good y/n,” he pants, snapping his hips against you now, “better than I- ah, I imagined.”

“You’ve thought about this before?” You’re cut off by another moan; it’s a miracle how you can even speak.

Chan doesn’t reply; instead, he hooks his hands under your knees and drops them on his shoulders, then scoops his hands back under your hips and pulls them to his with a quick snap.

“I’ve thought about this before,” he says with a wicked grin, hitting you at just the right angle to pull a sharp gasp out from your lips.

“Oh my god, there-” you moan breathlessly, pressing your hands flat onto the hood of the car as he pounds into you relentlessly.

The sky is spinning. Your heart is pounding. You wish you could focus on something, anything other than the spongy part of you that Chan is hitting to the beat of the song under you, just so you could last a little bit longer. 

But the sight of him with your legs around his neck, eyes closed with strands of gold wisping across his face, the look of pure ecstasy painted across his cheeks, ensures that you have close to three seconds before the knot in your stomach unravels.

“Shit, don’t stop,” you say as you feel yourself coming undone, back arching into your release which only makes Chan pound deeper, heightening the intensity tenfold.

He cries out once you clamp down around him, spitting out random strings of curses until he’s emptying his restraint into the condom, slowing down his thrusts as he finally opens his eyes again, locking gazes with you.

He looks nothing short of ethereal with the now purple backdrop of the sky, framing his blond locks with lilac clouds as he slowly pulls out of you, doing his best not to overstimulate you. You almost tell him not to; being that full was nice, something you’d probably never admit unless you were actually drunk.

“Wow,” you breathe out, watching him lower your legs down to the hood. “That was…”

“Crazy, I know,” he laughs, still trying to calm his breathing as he looks at you. “But you were amazing, holy shit-”

“…better than the boys?” You tease, smirking up at him. 

He gives you a knowing look, picking up on the funny way you worded the question. But instead of getting flustered, he leans over the hood, caging you against it with his arms.

“Hmm…I don’t know. I think I’d have to try this a couple of times before I can give you a definite answer.”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #skz #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fic #skz fic #skz smut #stray kids fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids smut #bang chan #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fanfic #chan x reader #chan smut #chan stray kids #chan skz

[mo-mode]

Back on my Screenwriter soap box while watching PJO: They should have bought a bunch of oil diffusers.

(Edit: This post was made before someone pointed out to me that I missed a key line of dialogue, but my points and theories still stand for the same reasons backing up my original post so I’m not changing anything. The dialogue I missed lets us know that Hermes told Percy the lotus was being pumped into the air off-screen. It’s also implies (? I’m still on the fence about this one?) that Hermes told him what day it is, but I missed these during my first three watches because of how quick and vague it was. Which actually kind of supports my point on why visual indicators are so important. Without these, it’s easy to miss key information. And remember, it’s a kid’s show. ANYWAY my conclusions haven’t changed, and I still believe these edits would work better than the quick line of dialogue so just keep this in mind. Thanks.)

(I’m not being nit-picky. I swear. Just hear me out.) So the weirdest thing to me in episode six was how Percy just…learned everything so quickly without any visual indicators? Like they know time passed because it’s dark outside, but how did he know it was Thursday? They know they were affected by the lotus flowers, but how does he know it was pumped into the air? This irked me because even if he’s smart enough to figure some of this out himself (which he is) we as the audience should still be able to follow his thought process instead of learning after the fact.

What if there were oil diffusers?

So imagine the trio walks into the Lotus, figures out this is like the Odyssey, and decides not to eat anything. They waltz in super confident that they cracked the code, but they were wrong. How do we know? Because the moment they enter the crowd, we get an establishing shot of a lotus-branded oil diffuser letting out steam.

Immediately, we as the audience realize their mistake, making it just that more tantalizing to watch. As the episode continues, we realize they’re everywhere. There’s a diffuser in the plants, on the counter, between the game tables, always right out of the corner of our eyes. They just keep churning out lotus-scented oil into the air, which we can infer because we’re smart. (Remember that.)

Now when Percy realizes what’s going on, we know HOW they’re doing it and HOW Percy knows without being told!! Because they were there the whole time.

Onto Thursday.

Consider: A watch.

What if Hermes has the only watch in the casino until the trio walks in with their own?

Let’s give Annabeth one of those cheap, funky watches that gives the time, day, month, year, etc. Something you get from a kids toy catalogue. It’s waterproof, glows in the dark, has an alarm or whatever. I feel like Annabeth would have one of those. (And honestly, she might already. I forgot.) The most important feature for us, though, is the day. It clearly tells us the day of the week.

It’s pretty easy to establish that Annabeth has the watch. Just do it the same way they establish the date: Percabeth arguing over it in the truck. Annabeth shows him the watch. Establishing shot of the watch’s face. That’s it. No bells or whistles necessary. Then when they get to the casino, Annabeth checks it one more time (without an establishing shot, she just does it casually) and they walk in.

(It’s so easy. I promise.)

While Grover is walking around alone, he tries to check the time and realizes there’s no clocks. (Which ngl is super common in casinos already, but it’s creepy nonetheless.) Yada yada, he gets sucked in by Augustus and that’s how he gets got.

Meanwhile, Percy and Annabeth keep meaning to check the time, but every time they do, someone tries to hand them an appetizer or a drink, which makes them forget OR Annabeth’s hubris keeps her from checking. (Percy: Time check? Annabeth: Its only been five minutes. We’re fine. We need to focus.)

And that brings us to Hermes. After their chat, yada yada, Annabeth “leaves” and Hermes gets all cryptic, then he makes a BIG show of checking his watch, and THAT’S when Percy realizes something’s wrong because oh no they haven’t checked the time. So he finds Annabeth, they see it’s dark outside, they check her watch, and it’s Thursday.

“But we didn’t eat anything!” Annabeth says. Percy looks at the diffusers by the entrance. It dawns on him. “They’re pumping it into the air.”

That’s how you VISUALLY SHOW US THINGS instead of Percy just figuring everything out off-camera and telling us!!!!

Now, you may be thinking “Oh but do they have the budget for that??” Do you know how cheap these props are? Just bulk buy like six oil diffusers, slap a homemade sticker of a lotus flower on them, and keep moving them into every shot. And they’re quiet!! They wouldn’t interfere with the sound, the steam is visible enough to be caught on camera without messing with the lighting, they actually look really cool in some lighting, and they fit the atmosphere of a hotel/casino!! Then the watch is like $15, fits with Annabeth’s character, and totally matches her outfit.

It’s CHEAP! It’s EASY! It DOESN’T CUT INTO THE RUN TIME! It’s AESTHETICALLY PLEASING! ANNABETH GETS A SICK WATCH!! NO DOWNSIDES!!!!

The biggest problem with this show isn’t how accurate it is to the book or how much money they have or that they’re “Disney-fying” it. The problem is they are TELLING US things instead of SHOWING us. And not to beat a dead horse because everyone’s heard of “Show Don’t Tell” but like??? This is exactly why everyone is taught this over and over again in school?? Because people still do it anyway all the time???

There’s also something else I learned (or really just picked up) when I got my B.A. in Creative Writing: Good shows are predictable.

Whether it’s a case of the audience learning what’s going to happen before it happens or them watching the show again and realizing how obvious the answer was the whole time, audiences always want to feel smart. They want to interact with the material. If you don’t give them the opportunity to pick apart the mystery themselves by setting down clues, they’ll give up on interacting with the show and lose interest. That’s why you SHOW them things. There are several moments where this show is completely unpredictable, not because it’s complex but because it doesn’t let you predict it. That doesn’t make it bad—the comedy and character development is doing a great job of carrying the show’s weight so far. But it definitely doesn’t make the show good.

It’s like Rube Goldberg machines. Or dominoes! We don’t watch those crazy 1000+ domino videos so we can watch the last one fall. We watch it to see HOW they fall. Take one domino out, and it’s unsatisfactory. It doesn’t work anymore.

But some oil diffusers and a watch??? Little clues that make the realization that more visually appealing??? THAT’S SATISFYING

Anyway, these are just two things that could have been done, but weren’t. Most of the show is stellar. I think it just needs a little bit of editing here and there. I studied this for like years, and I needed to get this off my chest. That’s it.

Rick Riordan, if you ever see this, I am available for hire :) I would love to be a script doctor please please please please

#THIS IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME YOU DONT UNDERSTAND #I swear I can be so helpful Rick #hire me #i’m a screenwriter i promise i’m legit #btw this is NOT an opportunity to say you hate the show in the notes I will find you #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #percy jackson tv show #pjo spoilers #percy jackson the lightning thief #pjo series #screenwriting #grover underwood #annabeth chase #hermes

[just-jordie-things]

born to die - itadori yuji

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 8.7k warnings: canon-typical angst and talks of death summary: itadori's fate has been sealed, and he can't bear dragging anyone down with him. especially not her. more info: friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angsty confession rain scene, you're gonna eat it up

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[ feet don’t fail me now, take me to the finish line // oh my heart it breaks every step that i take, but i’m hoping that the gates they’ll tell me that you’re mine ]

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Itadori Yuji hasn’t always lived his life on borrowed time.  It used to be normal- as some called it.  He used to be just a boy, with an intrigue in the occult and semi-above average grades.  Back when things were normal he’d never thought much about girls or dating, not seriously anyways.  In the back of his mind he always figured the right person would come along at the right time, and he’d settle down when things worked out that way.

He didn’t know that the right time would cease to exist the moment he swallowed that finger.

At the sound of lightning cracking, Yuji flinches slightly, not having realized just how bad this storm had gotten since he’d stepped out of the dormitories to appreciate the rain.  He must’ve been out here for longer than he thought, but he hadn’t exactly been trying to keep track of time.  One thing led to another and he’d gotten lost in his thoughts, and…

“Megumi, what the hell is happening?”

Her shock was evident not only in the way she’d called out to her classmate and friend, but also in the speed at which she’d brought herself from one end of the corridor to the other.  It was almost as if she’d teleported there.  

At the time, Yuji thought maybe that was her special power.  If the grumpy dude had shadow animals, it wasn’t too outlandish to believe she could warp from one spot to another, right?

He’ll never forget the way she’d looked at him then.  For the first time.

Confusion and panic washed away for the briefest of moments, instead gazing upon him with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.  Yuji had confused it at first for recognition, thinking maybe they’d met before and he’d forgotten, but that wasn’t the case.

“Who is that?” 

“This is Itadori,” Fushiguro huffed, more annoyed by the introduction than anything.  “He’s the one with the finger” 

It wasn’t exactly the introduction Yuji would have wanted, but there was no changing that now.  Besides, as long as he was able to say that he met her, that he knew her, he’d consider that more than a blessing.  

(He always sort of had that soft way of speaking about her whenever she came up, whenever he brought her up.  His eyes would glaze over with that dreamy look and before he knew it his heart was getting fluttery and his face was getting warm)

A lot of that fateful night was a blur, especially the parts where his body no longer belonged to him, but when it came to her, it was like the images were crystal clear.  If there was a way for him to enter a memory and relive it- that’s how he’d describe the sensation.

“Is he still passed out?” A voice- Yuji couldn’t be sure if it was Fushiguro or his supposed mentor who’d shown up- asked, but it was fuzzy and distant.

“Seems so,” A gentler one replied.  This one was undoubtedly hers.  “Probably for the best that he rests” She added before he felt the faint touch of fingertips pushing the hair off his forehead.

“What do we do with him now?” It was obvious it was Fushiguro asking, and it was obvious that he was asking his mentor, but it wasn’t the older man who replied.

“We take him back with us,” She piped up, her voice holding a firmness that suggested she’d argue harder if she had to.  “Right?” 

The pause before an answer came was long, Yuji wasn’t sure if he had faded in and out of consciousness, or if the silence really did drag on for minutes.

He’d never told her that he’d heard that small bit of conversation, that he remembered the way her careful fingers had touched him with more compassion than he’d felt in a long time.  Yuji couldn’t decide if it was because he was a coward or if he simply wanted to keep hold of that precious memory all to himself.

Another roll of thunder rumbled through the sky.  Yuji lifted his head to try and make out the dark clouds among the night sky.  Without a flash of lightning it was difficult to make out, but he did always enjoy watching a good storm, even if the darkness made it difficult.

He’d surely been out here for a couple of hours at this point.  It was nearing midnight when he’d crept out of the dormitories to watch the rain, hoping for a peaceful moment.  It was peaceful, the storm, at least.  His mind had gotten foggy after spending too much time within it and he was starting to go down that path he hated.

What if I’d done things differently? Do I really deserve to still be here? How long until we find the last finger and the higher ups have me executed? 

It wasn’t your average person’s derailed anxiety.  In fact, all of the anxieties Yuji had ever faced before being introduced to jujutsu had faded away.  He’d have to think for a few minutes to recall the things that used to be on the forefront of his mind on sleepless nights.

He was certain none of them involved being executed, though.

It was only a matter of time, and he’d known that for a while.  He was quite sure he’d come to peace with it, too.  Or at least he almost had.  He was just wrapping his head around the idea of dying, but as long as he’d helped people before that time came, he could accept it.  He could die at peace knowing he’d done everything he could to fulfill his grandfather’s dying wish.

And then she came along and everything turned upside down- again, and not for the last time.

The relief between the group of four upon finding everyone alive and as well as they could be- not unscathed, but nothing that couldn’t be bandaged up- was quickly replaced by utter shock as they watched Sukuna’s mouth appear on the palm of Yuji’s hand.  There was no time to react before it was gobbling up the finger Megumi had obtained after a hard fought battle.

It’s suddenly so silent you could hear a pin drop from anywhere in these woods, everyone’s eyes focused on the skin that reappeared over the boy’s palm, each hoping their eyes had played tricks on them as the reality of the situation settles in.

Yuji wants to say something, in fact, he almost cracks a joke.  But the words are stuck in his throat and all he can do is flex his fingers into a fist a few times as he processes what just happened.

Another finger consumed is another finger closer to death.

“We won’t tell anyone about this,” She speaks first, gaze lingering on his hand for a moment longer before lifting to Yuji’s concerned expression.  She hesitates again, then turns to Megumi and Nobara.  “No one.  We keep this to ourselves” 

“Not even-?” 

“Not even Gojo-sensei” She cuts Megumi off before he could finish the question.

Nobara gave a solid nod in agreement right away.  She always trusted her say in anything, and would blindly follow her anywhere.  Megumi took a minute longer to catch up, but eventually agreed as well.  The idea of keeping such a massive secret hidden from Gojo unsettled him, but when he weighed out the other options, he didn’t like the idea of Yuji being any closer to death than he was before.

“Let’s get moving” Was all he said, but it was enough for his peers to know he was on board.  Nobara followed after him as he took off towards the direction they’d come hours ago.  Yuji hung back a few steps, not sure how to feel about everyone covering for him.

“(y/n),” 

He called her name softly, as he always did, but it was loud enough for her to perk up.  She sends him a small smile as she slows her own steps to walk beside him at his slower pace.

“I don’t want anyone getting in trouble for covering for-” 

“No one’s getting in trouble,” She assured him mid-sentence.  “And no one’s doing anything they don’t want to do.  It’s fine” 

She was always so sure of herself that it was endearing.  She was a natural leader, even when Megumi tried to form a plan, she had a way of rallying the small group up before any assignment.  Just last week Gojo made them stay behind after lessons to clean the classroom, and she’d found a way to make it into a competition that had them finished in under thirty minutes.  Yuji admired that about her.  Her spirit could be over exaggerated, but it was never phony.

Yuji was at a loss for words, leaving him stuck gaping at her like a fish, which was at least effective in making her laugh.

“You care so much for others- I really admire that about you, Yuji,” She spoke as if she could read his mind.  It had his chest buzzing in that familiar way she sparked.  She looked at him and it was like her eyes were made of the stars themselves.  “But you underestimate how much… others care for you too” 

He’ll never forget the way her cheeks had gone pink after the soft admission.

If the circumstances had been different, he’s sure he would have confessed to her right then and there.  If things were different he wouldn’t have been able to hold it back.  If it weren’t for his reality, he would have loved nothing more than to take her in his arms and tell her- well, everything, really.

It wasn’t like he was doing that great of a job keeping his heart in check.  His friends had noticed the way his demeanor changed as soon as she walked into the room.  Megumi may have wanted to ignore the subject just because that was his nature, but Nobara was happy to blurt it out one night when it was just the three of them.

“So when are you gonna address the whole (y/n) thing?” She’d barely looked up from where she was sitting on Megumi’s floor painting her nails.  Yuji had to do a double take just to make sure she was talking to him.

“... (y/n) thing?”

He’d acted like he didn’t have a clue what she was referencing, but truthfully, his heart was already racing.  He hadn’t been that obvious about it, had he?

“C’mon Nobara, he doesn’t want to talk about that yet, leave him be” Megumi had come to his defense, but only sort of, because now Yuji realized that they both knew about his hidden feelings.

Did he not hide them that well? 

“It’s been months!” Nobara barks back, ever so focused on the perfect coat of cherry red.  “He’s gotta be bursting to tell someone! Might as well be us” 

“This is why people don’t come to you with stuff” Megumi huffs.

“You got something you want to say then?” Nobara argues.

“No, I’m just saying-” 

“Then could you shush so Yuji could actually open up about his undying love?”

“Uh… heh…?” Yuji mumbled his confusion to himself, but it was enough to interrupt their bickering.  He glanced between the two with a lost look on his face, waiting for someone to better explain it to him.

“Yuji, if you need some advice on how to ask out (y/n), we’re here for you” Nobara says with complete seriousness.  He knows because she paused in her nail painting to stare him down while she said it.

He swallowed the lump in his throat- which he hadn’t been aware of until that very moment- and wildly looked between both of his friends.

Megumi, although slightly disinterested, seemed just as invested as Nobara in this offer.  Maybe he was just bored of reading, because he didn’t often follow along with Nobara’s antics unless there was something in it for him, but it was clear in his raised brows that he was waiting for Yuji to say something.

And that’s when the pinkette remembers-

“No way man!” He shouts defensively, standing suddenly from his spot on the floor.  “You’re like her best friend! You’re just gonna tell her everything I say!” 

Unceremoniously, Megumi points to himself like the statement confused him.

Nobara huffs and rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, you!” 

Yuji had his moments of airheadedness, but he wasn’t a complete idiot.  (y/n) and Megumi had known each other for a long time.  They’d trained together as sorcerers in their younger years and it wasn’t until recently that they even had other classmates.  Megumi wouldn’t openly call any of his classmates his friends- at least not until Yuji begged him to admit it- but it had been clear that the bond he’d formed with (y/n) before Yuji and Nobara’s arrival had been built on an unshakable foundation of trust and respect.

To Yuji, that made the pair best friends.  And best friends shared everything with each other.  Including secrets shared in confidence from other friends.

“So you admit there’s something to be told?” Nobara asks, raising a brow in curiosity.

“I didn’t say that!” 

“You sort of implied it” Megumi said.

“Well then I un-imply it!” 

“Not how that works” Nobara pipes back in.

Yuji groans, covering his burning face with his hands in the hopes that it helps to hide the giveaway that was his blushing face.  It was too late, of course his friends were perceptive enough to have already caught it.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t saying that I-” His stammering only seems to prove the claims made against him, but still, Yuji tries to find the words to explain himself.  Probably because there was no way to explain himself.  His feelings were made clear in his actions already.

“So you won’t mind if I set her up with the guy at the pastry shop we go to then?” Nobara asks, and before she’s completely finished talking, Yuji drops his hands, and his eyes are wide with panic.

“Guy? Pastries? Why? Does- does she talk to him a lot?” 

Nobara glances at Megumi, who’s finally cracked a smile as he scoffs and shakes his head.  He’s trying not to break out into laughter, but sometimes those two just made it too hard.

He wasn’t the kind of guy that shared other people’s secrets.  If Yuji needed (y/n) to know something, he’d tell her.  Tonight was the first night that he’d ever contemplated crossing that boundary.  Just so he could see the way she’d light up at the insinuation that the boy she loved could love her back.

It didn’t seem like the storm would let up anytime soon.  The rain was hitting the ground harder than ever.  If he were to step out from under the awning, he’d be soaked to the bone in just seconds.  Standing in the rain actually sounded sort of nice.  It might have been a relief, even for just a minute.  Or maybe a decent enough distraction from where his mind had wandered off to.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like to think about her.  Hell, so much of his time had been thinking about her that he was starting to go absolutely crazy.  Even if he knew how to stop, he probably wouldn’t have.  He definitely wouldn’t have.

The pipeline from having a crush to being full on crazy about someone was faster than he would have expected.  Yuji didn’t have an exact timeline, but he knew that it wasn’t long after meeting her that he was lost in his adoration for her.  Soft, warm, all consuming adoration.

“These are really good!” Her eyes were lit up and her mouth was full of food as she praised Yuji for the meal.  She was already reaching for another meatball before she’d swallowed the first one.  “Your grandpa gave you this recipe?” 

Megumi and Nobara, who were also knelt around the table, had given Yuji their compliments as well.  But the brightness on his face now outshined his reaction to their five star reviews.  With the wide grin splitting his face and wider eyes following her greedy movements to snatch another meatball.  Nothing zapped his heart with pure electricity like the way she did just by enjoying his food.

He’s nodding his head in a small, slow motion to her question.

“That’s amazing, I wish I knew how to make anything.  Especially something this good,” Her approval was laying itself on thick, but he knew that it was completely genuine.  “I’m honestly jealous, Yuji” 

He laughs, his face pink from the bashfulness.

“I’m glad you like them,” He says, keeping his gaze focused on the one meatball on his plate that he hadn’t even touched yet.  

He couldn’t bear to look over at Nobara, who was snickering through her full mouth.  Or Megumi, who was staring so blatantly between him and (y/n) that Yuji thought he might burn up completely if he met his eyes.

So he keeps his head down, for the love of all things good and sane, he kept his head down.

“Well… I’ll make if for you anytime you want” 

It takes a lot of courage for him to peek over at her from his peripheral, but it’s completely worth the trembling in his fingers.  She’s beaming at him, cheeks full, eyes bright, completely overcome by his generosity and sweetness.

Nobara had to lift her napkin to her face to keep herself from spitting out her food.  Megumi finally shifts his gaze to his food, hoping he’ll at least be able to keep it down with all the lovesick nonsense at the table.

Yuji would have to use both hands to count the amount of times he made those meatballs for her.  Both out of request, and by his own choice.  She definitely was treated to them the most, despite Nobara and Megumi also enjoying the recipe.

But Nobara and Megumi didn’t get them at two in the morning when they couldn’t sleep and wanted a snack.  Nobara and Megumi didn’t get them when they were sick in bed with the flu for a week.

And the two would tease him for it relentlessly.  Not only because the treatment was unfair- they wanted delicious meatballs too! But of course when they caught Yuji up at odd hours to make her favorite meal, they just couldn’t resist calling him out on it.

Yuji would fluster, but it would never matter once he finished his masterpiece and presented them to (y/n).  It was like the entire world would melt away when he was greeted with her pure delight for his food.  He wished he could learn to make something else to give her, but it had taken so long for him to learn this recipe from his grandpa, he worried he’d only mess up a new dish.

His throat starts to feel hot.  Was that tears?  It constricts until he can’t breathe without it burning, and even when he tries to swallow to relieve the throbbing sensation, it remains.  Was he going to cry over meatballs? 

(It wasn’t the meatballs) 

“I have a surprise for you students!” Gojo’s cheery voice wasn’t out of the ordinary, and neither was the little dance of excitement he did as he wheeled up a large box to present to the first and second years.

While no one held any interest, they all remained there, waiting for their eccentric mentor to get the display over with.  No one knew what to expect, but they figured it couldn’t have been important.

But then he steps aside and does a grand introduction, and even though he states Yuji’s name, it’s not until the boy is popping out like a jack-in-the-box that it really settles in for anyone that Itadori Yuji was there.  Alive.

No one moves.  No one even says anything.  Yuji’s grinning and holding his hands up in peace signs as he’s returned to his friends, but even his cheerfulness couldn’t penetrate the unsettled trance the first and second years seemed to be in.

“Uh- Gojo- sensei…?” Yuji glanced towards his teacher for some help, not having expected anything other than a warm welcome.  However, Gojo was also wincing as he took in his students’ faces.

The second years looked aghast.  With Maki’s entire face in a disgusted cringe, as if Yuji was brought back as a zombie.  All three of them seemed more shocked than relieved.

The first years also didn’t appear like they were struck with relief either.  Megumi and Nobara had gone so pale they looked like they could faint at any moment.  With Megumi’s eye twitching and Nobara’s nose wrinkling, they were certainly processing it slowly.

Then there was (y/n).

To this day Yuji couldn’t describe the way she looked at him.  He was certain she didn’t blink once.  Tucked behind Megumi as if his tall stature could protect her from the boy raised from the dead, she looks more small and fragile than he’s ever seen her before.  Her jaw wasn’t dropped like Maki’s, but her lips were parted, trying to form any word that comes to mind.  Nothing comes out.  Her eyebrows can’t stop pinching and relaxing.  Worst of all, the tears that were silently streaming down her face.

Maki was the first to bark out an insult at Gojo for his insensitive display.  Panda welcomes Itadori back as he and Inumaki follow after Maki to come up with a plan of attack before the Exchange Event begins.

Yuji awkwardly climbed out of the box he was still standing in, approaching his friends with a frown.

“I thought you guys would be more excited”

“You- you were dead, Itadori” Megumi’s the first to stutter over his quiet statement.  

Nobara’s chewing on her lip, but some of the color was returning to her face the longer he stood before her, and she was sure that he was going to disappear like a ghost again.

(y/n’s) left to stare with wide teary eyes, still half behind Megumi, still rendered speechless.  Yuji wonders if she even knows she’s crying.

“I’m… I’m glad you’re back.  We’re glad you’re back,” 

Megumi would love it if one of the girls would speak up.  But Nobara still looks like she might be sick, and he hasn’t found the courage to check on how (y/n’s) been taking the last few minutes.  He’s pretty sure she’s crying behind him and he didn’t know how to take that on.

“Just in time too, yeah?” He finishes with an awkward cough.  Yuji can barely manage a nod before Megumi leaves.

Nobara mutters something of a similar sentiment before she leaves as well.   It’s through a cough and a gag, but she tries, and Yuji appreciates it nonetheless.

With everyone else gone, and without Megumi to hide behind, (y/n) seems more exposed now.  Never before in Yuji’s presence had she wanted to shrink down into the earth, and she hates feeling that way now.

“Gojo thought that would be fun…” He starts to explain himself, his hand going over the back of his neck.  “I’m realizing now that it was probably… really stupid, huh- oof!” 

He didn’t get the chance to properly apologize before she crashed into him.  It’s so fast, almost a blur, that he nearly loses balance.  But her arms are wrapped around his middle so tight he thinks even if he had tripped up, she would’ve righted him with her strong hold with no issue.

“So stupid,” She repeats before pulling away, and finally wiping away the tears on her face with the back of her hands.  “You were dead Yuji, you can’t just- just pop out of a box and expect us to think that’s normal!” 

“I’m sorry,” He blurts out the apology before he can lose any more time.  “I’m really, really sorry, alright? I wish I could have told you guys sooner but Gojo-sensei… well, we thought it was right while I was training.  He was just trying to protect me” 

She nods in understanding, but it’s shaky, and it was clear that she was struggling to actually understand  the whole picture.  Yuji couldn’t be upset with her for processing it all slowly.  Hell, he wasn’t all too caught up himself.  He might’ve gotten ahead of himself a bit with the whole surprise reappearance.

“Look, I get it, I… do,” (y/n) sighs, blinking quickly to rid the last of the tears from her eyes.  It doesn’t quite work.  “Just don’t ever be that stupid again, alright?” 

He chuckles a bit, and for a moment it makes a smile crack on her lips too.  It’s wobbly, but it’s enough to warm his heart.

“I know that’s hard for you,” She teases weakly, before sniffling.  “But you’re gonna have to try, alright?” 

“Alright,” He’s still smiling, but it comes out so genuine it’s heavy.  “Promise, I won’t do anything that stupid again” 

Her wobbly smile stretches a little more, before a small laugh escapes her.

“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep” 

“I don’t” 

To his luck, he hadn’t done anything too stupid since his little ‘I’m still alive!’ bit.  Well, he was pretty sure, considering she had yet to give him that look she had that day.  Thank the gods too, because Yuji’s pretty sure if he ever had to see her cry like that again, he’d die on the spot.

Unfortunately, this means that Yuji learned that day that he couldn’t live with himself if he was the cause of her suffering.  Seeing her cry was hard enough, but knowing he was the sole reason for it? Even thinking about it now, his throat burned hotter.  His eyes did, too, but he was trying to ignore the blur that kept invading his vision for now.

What the hell was with his emotions tonight? He’d come out here to find some peace while storm watching, and instead he’s standing here reminding himself of everything he’d done wrong in his life.

Falling for someone despite knowing he wasn’t meant to walk this earth for much longer had to have been some twisted punishment for something wicked he’d done in a past life.  

Or was it punishment for carrying the most wicked thing within him now? 

Swallowing that first finger months ago on a whim to save a stranger’s life, was that the day that sealed his fate? 

Was he doomed from the start or doomed somewhere along the way?

Would he be able to live with himself, not for the evil residing inside of him, but knowing that one day he’d have to leave the people he’s grown to love more than anything in the world, and he’d leave them knowing that they wouldn’t see him go without fighting, kicking, screaming- 

Wait, did he just see something move?

Shaking his head of his self pitying thoughts, he blinked away the fog in his eyes and tried to focus on where he could’ve sworn he’d seen movement.  Sure enough seconds later his eyes were bulging out of his head and he was abandoning his safe and dry spot under the awning in order to take off towards the figure.

She’s half jogging, at such an awkward speed Yuji could only wonder if she wasn’t even rushing to get to a dry spot.  Maybe she’d indulged herself in the rain the same way he’d thought about doing earlier.  Either way he’s sprinting towards her and closing the distance in rapid time.

He’s surprised upon his approach when he hears her laughter.  Sweet and bubbly, as if being caught in the rain was the funniest thing in the world.  Even though it had to be intentional, didn’t it? At this hour? She had to have chosen to come outside- much less walk around the campus? 

“What are you doing out here?” He hollers over the loud rain once he reaches her.

(y/n) grins at him, and he swears even with the moon in hiding behind the storm clouds, it reflects it’s light onto her somehow anyways.  She’s already soaked through, the walk from the girls’ dorms to the boys’ isn’t a short one by design.  Even if she was doing a half-jog the whole way over.  Her body trembles like a leaf in the wind and Yuji tries to usher her back to where he was, but she seems to have no urgency about her at all.

“Aren’t you freezing? C’mon, you should get out of the-” 

“It’s alright!” She waves her hand around to dismiss Yuji’s worries.  “I wouldn’t have come out here if I was afraid of getting a little wet” 

(Yuji thinks this is why Megumi used to make fun of her for being a manic pixie dream girl.  He had yet to fully understand the term himself, but this painted a pretty clear picture.  He’ll have to ask Megumi about it later) 

“A little wet?” He chuckles, hoping that if he picks up his pace she will too, but she doesn’t.  “You’re soaked through” 

She just shrugs, and follows alongside him towards the boys’ dorms, where he had been sitting dry just moments ago.  That’s long gone now, his tee shirt and sweatpants felt heavy and cold as they clung to his skin.  His hair hangs almost in his eyes, raindrops dripping onto his eyelashes and making him rub his eyes from the irritation every few minutes.  

It wasn’t very pleasant at all.  He’s glad he didn’t step out into the rain earlier.  Without her company, it wouldn’t have been worth it.

“What’re you doing out here anyways?” He’s still yelling through the rain, but they’re almost to the peace and quiet of the awning now.  “It’s pretty late” 

“You’re up too,” She shoots back like it’s a scold, even though there’s still a grin on her face.  

He’s dying to know what has her so delighted even in these awful conditions.  He’s certain it’s nearing two in the morning- if not later- the storm was so awful they had to yell to hear one another, and now they were both soaked to the bone and shaking like dogs to try and preserve heat.  Honestly, everything about this present moment should suck.  But it simply doesn’t.

“Which I should’ve expected.  Once the storm really started I wanted to come see if you were watching it too.  I know you like that sort of thing” 

His heart does a stupid flutter at the simple fact about him she’d remembered.  It might have also had something to do with her coming all the way here.  In the rain.  In her pajamas.  Her cute hello kitty themed pajamas.

They finally reach the awning and (y/n) gets to work ringing out the hem of her tee shirt.  It’s useless, even with the shocking amount of rainwater splashing on the ground, but Yuji doesn’t comment on it.

“You could’ve just texted you know” He mumbles, hoping the dark would hide the heat that rushes to his face.  Although, it’s somewhat welcomed, as he’s still shivering a bit from being in the rain.

(y/n) looks up at him, stopping her movements to wrap her arms around herself instead.  She was still cold too, but she didn’t say anything about it, didn’t try to rush back to her dorm or anything of the sort.

“Well maybe I wanted to come and see you, too,” She suggests, her smile softening as she gazes up at him.

He laughs, bashfully hanging his head to bite back the smile that threatens to take over his whole face.  (y/n) laughs with him, solely for the fact that she’d gotten him to crack just a little bit.

It had been awhile since he’d acted himself around her.  Maybe only a few days, but there was a notable change.  He wanted to hang out less, was rushing out of class, and training on his own more often.  For someone as extroverted as Yuji, it was easy to notice.  It had been nagging at her for longer than she would’ve liked, but she didn’t work up the courage to address it until tonight.

“Yuji,” 

His name comes out in a soft whisper.  Had she spoken so low while they were still caught in the rain, he surely wouldn’t have heard it.  It hits him now with the force of a truck.  He can’t help but give her every ounce of his attention.

“I’ve been meaning to ask… are you alright?” 

The concern laced in her gentle voice has him worrying, too.  There was some sort of hypnosis involved whenever she spoke to him, as if she had the power to compel him to answer anything she asked.  It was a terrifying ability, however Yuji was convinced she didn’t know she possessed it, so theoretically he was safe.  For now.

When he doesn’t answer right away, (y/n) feels an overwhelming need to explain herself.

“You’ve just been a little distant and… and I want to make sure you’re doing okay.  It’s okay if you’re not, just…” She trails off for a moment, her eyes flickering between his as she tries to decode whatever heavy emotion is sitting behind them.  “Just know I’m here for you if you need to talk, or anything, alright?” 

“I know,” He nods back at her right away.  Of course he knew.  She was the most compassionate person he’d ever known.  Just being in her presence relaxed him to a dangerous state of relief.  That said, his heart was beating at odd intervals as she displayed this much concern over his well being.  “I’m okay, you don’t need to worry” 

He tries to convince her with a smile, but she must see through it, because she gives him a puzzled look as her gaze sweeps over him.  A beat passes before she takes a deep breath.

“Of course I need to,” It’s not intended for it to come out in a whisper, but it does anyways.  “I’ll…” She loses her voice again as her eyebrows pinch together.  

Yuji wonders if she doesn’t know what to say, or if she can’t say what she wants to.  Either way, he waits with as much patience as he can muster for her to finish.  

“I’ll always worry” 

When it finally comes out, (y/n) seals her lips together, pressing them just tight enough that she’s sure they won’t let anything slip that she isn’t prepared to say.  Although if the pounding heart in her chest has anything to do with it, it very well could all come tumbling out before she could stop herself.

The corners of Yuji’s mouth tilt into a frown as he stares back at her with his own concern.  This isn’t right, she shouldn’t be worrying about him.  The logical corner of his brain is raising red flags at alarming speeds.  He needs to find something to say to right this, before she could put too much of her worry in him.  He wasn’t worth worrying about, didn’t she see? He wouldn’t be here forever anyways, there were definitely more worthwhile things for her to focus on.

Instead, all that comes out is a quiet, “Why?” 

(y/n) blinks, as if not understanding what he means at first.  Her arms squeeze around herself a little tighter to preserve warmth, but really she’s only squishing the cold and soggy material of her pajama shirt against her stomach.

“Why?” She repeats in a soft huff, before shaking her head.  “You’ll never really get it, hm?” 

The tiniest of smiles forms on her lips as she looks up at him, gauging his reaction.  Just like before, he’s got that lost look on his face.  It’s cute, the little knot between his brows and the way his frown deepens but only makes his lip jut out in a pout.  One of these days she’ll tell him how adorable this look on him is, but right now she’s only seeking to help him understand the way she feels about him.

“Yuji, do you remember when we all thought you’d died, but then Gojo brought you back?”

“Of course” He answers her without hesitation.

“And I cried at you and made you promise not to do anything stupid like that again?” 

This time, Yuji nods his head back at her.

“I’d never seen you cry before” He mumbles.  Just like earlier, thinking about it makes his stomach squirm uncomfortably.

“Well, that was probably the thousandth time I’d cried over you,” She tells him, and his eyes go wide with alarm.  A short, humorless laugh escapes her as she shakes her head at him.  “Not because of anything you’d done,” She says quickly, already knowing there was going to be a misunderstanding.  “But… we thought you were dead for quite some time, and I… I didn’t know what to do with myself.  I’ve never felt like a larger failure as a sorcerer- as- as a person, when you died,” 

Yuji’s frown worsens.

“I mean I… I was a wreck, it was awful.  I could barely sleep, eat, train- I actually was denied assignments for a while.  Gojo thought I would be a liability.  I know he was just worried about me, but… what I’m trying to say is it was hard,” Her voice strains and she has to take a pause to even her breathing before her emotions could get on top of her.  “Really hard” She adds quietly.

“I… I didn’t realize it was like that,” Yuji mumbles, ducking his head to stare down at the ground.  How could he be so stupid? She’d suffered over him and shortly after coming back he’d started distancing himself without an explanation.  “I’m sorry, I feel so-” 

“No, don’t,” (y/n) steps forward, tilting her chin to catch his line of sight even when he tries to avoid her gaze.  “I don’t need you to apologize, you haven’t done anything wrong, not at all,” She even gives him a small smile to convince him.  It takes a minute for him to commit to looking back at her.  “Yuji, it’s quiet the opposite” 

“The opposite?” He repeats, and she nods her head.

Her nerves have her repeatedly pushing her wet strands of hair behind her ears, tucking the same strands over and over to make sure they couldn’t possibly fall out of place.  Even though with how wet they were they practically slicked back against her head.

“I’m trying to tell you that I care about you, idiot,” She breathes out the insult so softly, so lovingly that even though it’s nature is cruel, his heart accepts it as the most darling pet name anyone had ever called him.  “So I’m going to worry about you… because I’ve lost you before, and I don’t want to go through that again” 

It doesn’t dawn on him how much closer she’d gotten to him until he lifts his head and they’re almost nose to nose.  Her eyes don’t shy away from his once.  They’re soft, and full of his favorite constellations.  He melts little by little before her, until his muscles stop shivering.

“I don’t ever want to put you through that again,” 

He whispers it as if it’s the most hidden secret he could offer her.  With it, his hand reaches out towards her, his eyes landing on the smallest strand of wet hair that she’d missed in her rampant tucking.  It’s clung to her cheek from the rain.  But his movements still just before his fingers could graze over her skin.

“But…” 

He doesn’t have to say it.  They both know.  There’s no sense in speaking about the thing that they never talk about.  It was his burden to carry, wasn’t it?  It wasn’t fair to make anyone else carry the weight of his punishment.  Even if just for a moment.  Even if his back is tired and he longs to love her like a man with no worry about a scheduled death date creeping up on him.

Yuji swallows, hard, trying to keep the unspoken reality just that- unspoken.

But he can’t help but feel as though he owes her an explanation.

“But I’m afraid I’m going to,” His mouth feels dry as he finally tiptoes towards the subject.  (y/n’s) face falls.  “One day, you know I… I’ll be gone and- and I won’t be coming back again” 

As her eyes flicker between his, there’s the smallest of movement in her chin, and incidentally she feels his fingertips ghost over her cheek.  Her head tilts towards the warmth of his featherlight touch right away, leaning into it until the pads of his fingers are pressed into her soft cheekbone.

As Yuji tells himself to pull away and step back, he finds the rest of his hand following her movement, until his palm is fitted over her cheek, and the tip of his index finger is finally pushing that stray hair back behind her ear.

“Are you afraid of death?” Her question is murmured so softly it’s almost spoken right into his lips.

He shakes his head.

“No,” He answers quietly.  “No, I’m not afraid of death.  I’m afraid of… what gets left behind,” 

He’s never shared this with anyone before.  He’d been bottling up the nasty feelings that come with knowing you’ll be executed for so long that it felt criminal to admit them to her now.  Especially when she frowns up at him, and he can see the tears forming in her pretty eyes.

“I’m afraid that I’m going to hurt the people I care about because… because I cared about them” He admits.

When she blinks, a tear escapes, and makes a run for it down her cheek.

“Yuji…” She trails off, a small gasp interrupting her.  “You won’t hurt anyone,” She tells him, even as another tear follows suit.  Just as it slips past her cheekbone, Yuji’s thumb catches it, and he wipes it away without hesitation, determined to keep her from crying over him anymore than she already has.  “We’ll be okay” 

“I don’t want to keep making you cry” He sighs, and she reaches up to grab him by the wrist, squeezing onto it as she presses her cheek further into the palm of his hand.

“You’re not making me cry,” She assures him, a watery smile stretching over her lips.  “I’m crying because- because what I’m afraid of is that you’ll die not knowing how loved you were,” 

His frown finally softens, morphing into faint surprise.

“I would never forgive myself if I didn’t make sure that you know that, every single day, for as long as you live,” She’s stammering a little bit, but there’s a sudden rush that overwhelms her, making her want to spill it all out before it’s too late.  “I’ve never… I’ve never felt so moved by another person before I met you, Yuji,” She confesses.  “I was just… training to be my best every day just because I thought that’s what you do when you’re in my position but then… then you came along, seemingly out of nowhere, and you turned everything so upside down I could barely see what the right direction was,” 

She’s cut off by a giggle that escapes her, and it’s almost out of place, but her entire face brightens with it as she relives that first blossom of feeling he’d sparked in her.  She’d never be able to describe to him exactly what he’d done for her, he’d never understand the way he sparked a purpose in her so deep that it made her feel like she’d finally grown a soul, but she could try.

“Yuji, you gave me a reason to want to be a jujutsu sorcerer, you know?” And he doesn’t know, but she continues anyway.  “You made me not only want to be a better sorcerer, but a better person.  That’s why when you died I felt so pathetic, for not being able to do something, to help you,” She explained.  “You were so bright and- and eager to do the right thing even when it was hard, even though you have every reason to just- just do whatever you want, to leave if you wanted…” 

She gnaws on her lip for a moment as she processes it all herself.  Her heart felt heavy in her chest, but she felt a certain responsibility to tell him the full truth.

“But you didn’t… you… you stayed,” She mumbles.

At this point, Yuji’s too stunned to speak, so he just stood there, frozen, taking in every word she had to say.  He doesn’t want to interrupt her, but he’s also at such a loss for words nothing would come out if he tried.

“I’m trying to tell you I- that I lo-” 

“Don’t,” 

He shakes his head, his hand sliding lower over her cheek, thumb hovering just over her lips, ready to press down if his interruption wasn’t enough to keep her from finishing her confession.  But she does stop, and he watches closely to make sure she doesn’t try again, his thumb still hovering just over her quivering lips just in case.

“Don’t say that” He whispers, quieter than the rain around them.

With the hand she still has curled around his wrist, she pulls his hand away, dropping them at their sides.

“Why not?” Her brows pinch together, her heart aching with the weight of the words still stuck inside of her.

“Because, you…” He tries to give her a reason, but it’s not an easy feat.  It takes a few tries of him opening and closing his mouth before something actually comes out.  “Because you can’t” 

She doesn’t like that answer.  She frowns back at him.

“Yuji, you-” 

“Because if you say that, then when I’ll die, I’ll know it, and I’ll know that I’m letting you down again.  I’ll know that you’ll cry over me, and you’ll- you’ll hurt and I can’t- I’m selfish, alright? I can’t cause that, I don’t want that-” 

“Yuji,” She calls his name again, this time reaching for him with her trembling fingers, clutching at the front material of his shirt to grab his attention enough to cut him off.  “It’s far too late for that now,” She says it with a chuckle and a bittersweet smile forming on her face.  Her head tilts at him, just a short angle, but enough that it makes him feel weak in the knees.  “Don’t you think?” 

No, there’s still time to take this all back, there’s still time to fix this.  There’s still time for him to end whatever is happening now and forget that it ever happened.

The faint nod he gives is only received due to the movement of his wet hair.  He’s not sure why he’s agreeing with her, but the logical corner of his brain was being squandered by his body’s instant reaction to be honest with her, to comfort her, to make everything okay, anything to keep her from crying.

“Too late?” He echoes the words curiously.  

Her smile softens as she nods back at him again, her free hand touching his jaw, so lightly he wants nothing more than to grab her wrist and press her hand into his face until the warmth of her small palm against his jaw was the only thing that he could feel.

She nods back at him, her lips pursing towards the corner of her mouth as she fights the urge to grin back at him.

“Afraid so,” She murmurs back.

They share small smiles and warm cheeks for a moment, and (y/n) becomes a little more sure of herself as she lays her fingers against the length of his jaw.

“But either way, are you gonna let me fess up now?” She asks, and it seems she really was waiting for his approval.  “I walked all this way in the rain, you know-” 

“When you have my number” He reminds her, and she laughs again, quiet and sweet.

“I felt like the walk” 

“During a huge storm?”

“Needed the air” 

“You’re soaked to the bone, you’re still shivering” 

“And it’s so bad that I wanted to come ‘n see you?” 

“I’m in love with you,” 

The bantering ends there.  (y/n’s) eyes double in size, and her shaking fingers finally still against his skin.  There’s no doubt that she heard him, but with how frozen she is before him now it was as if he suddenly lost the ability to understand the language.

Yuji’s cradling her face again, his hands cupped under her jaw and his face so close she could almost tear up again.

“I’m so in love with you,” He says it again for good measure, or just because he couldn’t hold it back now that it was out there.  “I…” He shakes his head, a breathless laugh escaping him, before he can’t help but confess one more time.  “I love you” 

“I love you too” It comes out so fast, as if the blockage in her throat was suddenly removed.  It’s followed by the faintest of smiles at first, timid and sweet- it’s the most innocent he’s ever seen her look.  

(Compared to the twisted grins she’d wear on assignments and even while training on her own, at least)

The shy smile quickly spreads wider, until it’s a goofy and toothy grin.  She can’t contain the spurts of giggles that escape her, because it’s just all too cliche isn’t it? Getting caught in the rain, sharing confessions that might be better left unsaid- and yet they just couldn’t help themselves.

He’s laughing with her, quiet and soft, before his hands drop to her hips and wind around her waist, tugging her against him in a tight hug. 

The sticky wet clothes make them both chilly again, but no one seems to mind.  Not when she’s wrapping her arms around his neck so tight that their wet clothes are clinging together.  They hang on as tight as they can before the wet clothes become too much of a hindrance, and they have to peel apart.

“C’mon,” Yuji’s quick to sling his arm around her waist and pull her towards the door.  “Let’s get some dry clothes” 

She follows him in, keeping as close as she can and walking on the tips of her toes once they’re inside, just to be sure that they wouldn’t be heard.  Even though the thunder was still rolling outside, Megumi was a known light sleeper, and they wouldn’t put it past him to wake up at the slightest creak of a floorboard.

“And something to eat, too?” She whispers, peeking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Yuji nods, smiling back at her.  It was ridiculously late, they surely wouldn’t be getting enough sleep to be well rested tomorrow, but that was a problem for tomorrow.

“Anything in mind?” He asks as they creep their way through the halls.  The smile she gives him in return suggests that she already knew exactly what she wanted.  Yuji can’t say he’s surprised when she answers.

“Meatballs…?” 

And it might be a ridiculous ask- because it’s two in the morning and it’ll be at least an hour before they could actually eat the meatballs, but Yuji beams at the suggestion, and agrees to the request right away.

“It’s about time I teach you how to make them, anyways” He says softly.

“Yeah,” (y/n) agreed, whispering just as carefully.  “I’d like that a lot” 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ lost but now i am found // i can see that once i was blind // tryna take what i could get, scared that i couldn’t find all the answers honey ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

#itadori yuji x reader #itadori yuji #yuji itadori #yuji x reader #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji #itadori yuuji x reader #yuuji itadori #yuuji itadori x reader #yuuji x reader #itadori yuji imagine #itadori yuuji imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine

[beforeimdeceased]

CRYBABY - (E.W) PT5

pairing: mean/cruel ellie x sensitive/emotional reader.

synopsis: who the fuck is abby?

a/n: noo don’t do this ellie look at me :( this isn’t you 🥺 LMAO! what do you guys think is going to happened next omg…

if i told you that i hated you, would you go away?

masterlist.

you ubered yourself to another hotel and payed to stay there for the night. letting jesse and dina know, but ofcourse, not awarding ellie with that information. in truth, she was fucking sweating bullets. could barely sleep last night with you on her mind.

she’s mean, you know that. everybody does. she can be intense, brass, and brutally honest. but, the brutality had gone from drunk cursing out strangers to using you as a punching bag. you were far too sensitive for any of that shit. you overthink too much, cry too often. if she wasn’t going to change then this was your last straw.

as you wake up and ready yourself to gather your things, you notice a string of texts from ellie. all desperate and eager. nothing along the lines of “i’m sorry”. nothing close to an apology. she begged to see you before their last show in the state, knowing you’d be going back home after. and staying there.

you’d calmed down enough to know you could face her. collecting the things you’d brought with you and hyping yourself up in the mirror before leaving. “you got this. you’re not gonna cry today.”

when you arrived at your hotel room, the door was cracked open. you’d caught wind that dina and jesse had gone out for breakfast so it was just you and ellie.

sadly enough, when you opened the door, ellie looked like a wounded puppy. eyes glossy while her face is twisted into a frown. you cross your arms. “morning.”

she looks excited to see you, getting up from her seat on the couch to greet you. “morning, can we talk?”

your heart is pinging. you feel so many emotions for her, some you cannot name. you nod your head and walk over to where she’d been sitting, and take a seat. she trails behind you, placing herself just inches away.

“i’m sorry.” she starts, eyes sympathetically looking into your very own. when your gaze starts to falter she reaches out to hold your hands and catch your attention. “really truly. i’m sorry for everything. for the song, for calling you up onstage, for all the shitty things i do to you and say about you. for pissing you off so bad that you felt like punching me, because i know you’re nowhere near violent.” she takes a breath. “i’m really sorry.”

you sit with her apology, soaking it all in. you can tell it’s genuine because, as far as you’re concerned, she’s never apologized for anything and seriously meant it. but she means it now, with every beat of her heart.

“i hate that i ruined this trip for you. are you still coming to our last show? i’ll apologize publicly in front of all the cameras. i’ll tell them i lied about the song.”

“it’s okay ellie. calm down.” you’d never seen her this frantic. this weak. “i’m still coming to the show. thank you for apologizing.”

she takes a deep breath and leans back into the couch. “okay good. that’s great. again, i’m sorry.”

you nod along and stand up to grab some things from the bags you’d left. “i’ve gotta go meet dina and jesse for something, but i’ll see you there, okay?”

when you turn to look at her she’s blushing. what the hell is she doing blushing? when she see’s you notice it, she turns her head. “yeah yeah. you guys have fun. see you later.”

“she’s bringing abby! i’ve always wanted her to come to a show, i didn’t even know she was in the state.” dina rambles on at rehearsal.

“she drove up last night because she’s taking her home, remember?” jesse chimes up.

ellie’s heard the name abby a record 20 times in the last 5 minutes and it’s starting to play on loop in her head like a mantra. she didn’t care to find out who it was though, they had a show to rehearse for. and she was even more nervous about the public apology. what if you didn’t actually show? what if she really fucked up this time?

“alright guys enough chatter. let’s go over the chorus of ‘what you know’ one more time—“

but she’s stopped by dina whispering to jesse. “i think she might ask her out tonight.”

and jesse asks, “who?” and dina says your name and ellie feels like she’s about to fucking collapse. that all her limbs are going to fall off right then and there. that her head will pop off and roll offstage and onto to the ground. who the fuck is abby? who the fuck is abby? who the fuck is abby?

ellie finds out in the dressing room before the show. “abby! it’s so great to see you.” dina rushes over to give her a hug. jesse settles for a high five and ellie takes a handshake. “so you’re abby?”

“yeah, nice to meet you. i’ve heard so much about you.” abby smiles.

ellie’s cursing herself for any and everything she’s ever done in this moment. the blonde stood in front of her is buff as hell, something she can tell through the hoodie and sweats she was wearing. both being seattle revival merch.

“i can’t wait to see you guys perform.”

ellie ignores her. “where’s…?” she trails. searching behind the girl to see if you’d been hiding behind her big figure. “oh, she’s on her way. had to stop to use the bathroom.” abby responds, sensing you were who she’d been searching for.

ellie wondered if you and abby had started dating yet? who asked out who? how much did abby know about the two of you? was that any of her business? why did she show up now? why hadn’t she heard about her before? maybe she did and wasn’t paying attention? she never really listened to you anyway. not until recently. not until she’d made you cry. made you punch her in the fucking face.

ellie’s thoughts are cut loose when abby taps her on the shoulder. “can we talk?”

ellie nods, eager to do whatever this was going to be in private. “yo, i’ll be right back.” she calls to jesse and dina.

ellie leads her out of the dressing room and into a small area in the hallway that’s getting the least traffic. the second they get there, abby slaps ellie across the face. “don’t you ever fucking talk to her again.”

“who—“ ellie rubs the sore area turning red.

“oh don’t play stupid you know who—“

“no. who the fuck are you to tell me what i can and can’t do? you fucking bitch.”

and a fight ensues. an actual brawl in the hallway. ellie’s on top for a while getting some punches in until abby grabs at her shirt and pulls her to the ground. jabbing her in the stomach. ellie kicks her in the face. it’s almost cartoonish, how wrapped up and wound they are as they lay into each other. someone rushes to grab security but you make it there first. eyes widening as you approach. you call for jesse and dina, and when they recognize your voice it makes them both stop to look up. bloody. scratched up. with tomato red faces.

“what the fuck?”

#bunnie can speak? ☆ #ellie williams #・❥・ bun’s sweet ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #abby anderson #bun’s precious abby ✧.* #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x you #ellie fanfic #ellie x you #ellie williams fanfiction #williams ellie #ellie williams tlou #mean!ellie #ellie x reader #tlou headcanons #tlou fanfic #modern ellie #rockstar!ellie #beforeimdeceased #© abbysvictim

[assumptionprime]

My relationship with mirrors has been a real rollercoaster over the past year and half or so. Don't get me wrong, I can still absolutely rip my reflection to metaphorical shreds on a bad day. But more often I find myself passing by the mirror and liking what I see more than I ever have before.

We're in a better place now, me and reflective surfaces.

Twitter / Patreon / Instagram

(Description after the cut)

[image description: Comic, 12 panels. Panel 1: Pre-transition Robin looking in the mirror. Captions "I used to feel nothing when I looked in the mirror. Not good. Not Bad. Not even "fine" Panel 2: Past Robin's reflection, with no eyes, and cast in shadow. Captions "I was apathetic. I think I had to be." Panel 3: A large iceberg viewed from above and below the surface of an ocean. Above the water it is light blue and average-looking, hidden beneath the blue gives way to the alternating pink, white and blue of the trans pride flag. Captions "I think I had a feeling that if I thought about it too hard-- I would find a much deeper problem." The panel borders are cracked and broken. Panel 4:  A mirror with pre transition Robin after admitting to her own transness. She is gripping her head and shirt in distress, eyes wide at the sight of herself. Stubble dots her face and arms. Captions "When I inevitably did find that deeper problem-- Mirrors quickly became terrible for me. I knew that I didn't like myself. I knew why." Panel 5: Severly cracked panels holding bits of Robin, exaggerated in intensity, brows and hairline, nose and stubbled lip, stubble arms. Captions: "And I could see it-- in every inch-- of my reflection." Panel 6: Robin's fingers digging into a stubbled arm. Captions: "If I looked too long, I started to feel trapped in my skin." Fuzzy paint bordered panels, watercolors bleeding through the lines of the images. Panel 7: Female Robin, face indistinct, reaching toward the screen. Captions "Shortly after I started HRT, I had a dream that stuck with me. I looked in the mirror and saw myself as a woman. That part was hardly unique. I'd done that before. (Kind of a lot.)" Panel 8: Bottles of medication, labels indistinct and unreadable. Captions "But in those older dreams it was always that I woke up that way, or something magic had happened. In this dream, I know that this was because I had transitioned, and it had worked. Panel 9: Dream Robin smiling. Captions "I don't remember exactly what I looked like. But I do remember that in that moment, I was happy to see myself." Return to normal panel borders. Panel 10: Past Robin waking up in bed. Captions "At the time, it was just a nice little confirmation that I was on the right track. That, deep down, I truly did want to do this." Panel 11: Present Robin, over year into transition, looking toward the screen in surprise. Caption "The thing I somehow didn't expect was that only a year later-" Panel 12: Robin looking the mirror, smiling. Caption "I'd start having the same moment while I'm awake."]

#comic #art #transgender #trans #trans stuff #when will my reflection SHOWWWWWWW

[rookiesbookies]

Captain John MacTavish x His wife x Sergeant Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

I dont know how it would happen but i'm imagining sweet little Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish meeting Captain MacTavish and his wife. I guess this is me rewriting what happened bc Im made we’ll probably never see Neil as his boy again. 

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

Smut smut smut under the cut for my lovely mutual @shotmrmiller of my John and his wife meet sweet little Johnny au thing.

Also @glitterypirateduck this one is for you and #soapitup

“Bhean,” he whispers loudly, following it with squirrel noises, motioning for her to follow. She walks out of the recreational room. He nuzzled bis face into her neck, letting her know he was nervous about what he was going to say. “I'm getting serious deja vu.”

“Talk to me, Goose.” A shameless quote of their favorite date night movie from when they dated made his nervous face crack a smile.

“I have this crazy memory,” he mumbled into her neck, she always worried he’d hurt himself craning it down like that so often.

“What about, don’t leave me on cliff hangers, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Do you remember our first time together?”

“Skiing or fucking? Because I remember both very well.” He chuckled at her bringing up his failed skiing attempts from a vacation they went on.

“Making love, Bonnie.” He hummed, “would you believe me if I told ya it’s because I had done it before?”

“Considering baby you told me he’d call me mommy? Yes. Yes, I would.” She hummed. “You also found my clit really fast which makes that really reasonable in retrospect.”

“What if, like my future self taught me at that stage, we teach him how to make love to you so he can charm you with the monster.” It came out more as a question, making his nerves hammer against his chest. He was more than sure he beloved wife would say yes, but he didn’t want to risk making her uncomfortable or saying it wrong. 

“He does really want to impress me,” she mumbled. “Fine. But there’s ground rules.”

“Of course, Mo chridhe, anything.”

“Just the tip, you know how I am about hygiene. I don’t fully try young you to keep everything clean. He swears to secrecy and if I ever think for a second he mentions this im ending his blood line. And you stay with us. You are my husband after all, not the boy.” The Captain nodded with every word. He’d make sure. He knew the Sergeant would want no harm to come to his future wife, and the Captain didn’t need a scorched relationship.

“Thank you, Mo leannan, it’s what helped me keep up hope I could lock you down when I met you when I was his age.”

“So it was a memory and more than deja vu?” She asked with a raised brow.

The Captain just simply nodded, planting a kiss on her temple, “you’d tell me if you wanted to back out right? If it made you uncomfortable?”

“John.” She was serious, she never called him just ‘John’. “I expect the same from you. And you’d know I’d never keep that from you.”

She reached up to his face and gently rubbed it. He melted just a little bit into her touch. “I assume you don’t plan to do this on base?”

“No, but that’s the hard part.” “I’ll handle it, go tell the mini you,” she said softly, planting a kiss before walking away.

The Captain sighed and let his shoulders relax, he knew he was so lucky to have her. The sergeant was about to be the lucky one though.

He made his way down the hall and stole his past self from a conversation with Gaz. “My wife and I have decided to give you an opportunity to learn more about her.” He said in a low deep voice. “I will be teaching you about her body so you can please her but there are ground rules she set and a few of my own.” Once he covered his wife’s, he got on to his own, “do not bite her, dig your nails into her, or ignore me if I tell you to do something. No coming inside either and don’t try anything.” Sergeant Soap nodded along, “I’m not sure you’re actually listening, sergeant.” The Captain growled. Soap’s eyes went wide, “Captain me, sir, I prayed last night for an opportunity to feel her skin, honestly I was just expecting to be allowed to shake her hand.” The younger Soap grumbled, “believe me, I’m all ears.” “And none of that ‘I have a latex allergy so I can’t wear condoms’ crap. I know we don’t have that allergy. You will be wearing one.” “You’re so no’ fun,” Soap mumbled. “Fine.”

The Captain didn’t entirely know how he felt about the kid creaming his wife. Sure, it was him, but it was a younger, rowdier, dumber him and not his same body. Getting married meant he was the only one allowed to cream pie his wife, and yes, it is a version of him, it wouldn’t be the same as him doing it. Even if his wife is on birth control and enjoys them, he knows he’d get jealous, way too jealous. Besides it’s his job anyway, he signed a paper to be able to do it, and this kid version gets to just randomly do it.

“So when do I get to show mo bhean how a younger body is better to make love with?” Sergeant asked, patting his older self on the back. This made the Captain flip until the voice of an angel spoke up.

“Ya mean when you meet yer own damn wife. Ya wee-” the Captain’s rage was cut off. “Tomorrow night. I’ll be there ahead of schedule to prepare, my husband will drive you.” She said, walking past the two with effortless grace and a sway of her hips. She flicked a piece of hair back over her shoulder. 

The next 24 hours were full of different forms of tension for younger Soap. He was eager, so eager, almost too eager in the Captain’s eye. The Captain’s raging jealousy made him almost want to shut down the whole thing. 

When he loaded the sergeant and himself into the old truck he sighed. “Remember the rules?” “Of course.”

“Can’t believe you still own this truck.” “She’s carried me through a lot.” “When you meet YOUR wife, she’ll appreciate it. Square bodies are her favorites.”

The rest of the drive was small talk. The sergeant saw a notification appear on the Captain’s phone and snatched it up, since the captain was driving. He back read the short conversation from this morning between the Captain and his wife, who had been the notification. ‘Mo chridhe you better not warm yourself up on that clarty vibrator’

‘You expect him to be able to get me warmed up enough?’

‘Its a teaching experience, mo leannan’

‘I don’t want to make him wait too long, I remember how impatient you were <3’

“Does she think ima div?” Soap looked at the Captain and asked. “Reading my personal texts? Real professional, ya eejit.”

“Does she think I can’t make her feel good? Or make her feel like she’s on Eccie?”

“No, she just doesn’t want you to wait too long. She does this. I bought it for her first time I left on a long mission, now she uses it to take away the fun part of getting her warmed up.”

“So she thinks I'm a fandan.”

“Dinnae fash yersel.” The Captain sighed, “we’re here and the least ya can do is make her feel good as a thank you.”

When he dragged his younger self into the hotel room, it finally set in that he was going to be cucked. By a younger him. Fucking his wife.

He knocked on the door twice and it kind of felt like his wedding night all over again. There she stood in a silk robe, eyes only on him with a gentle and soft smile. It's a smile she only gave when she was nervous, he gave a similar smile back to let her know he felt the same. It was subtle, but he reminded him this was indeed his beautiful wife.

“Go strip in the bathroom and sit down in the chair when you’re done, we need to talk.” The Captain said sharply. 

“Aye aye Captain,” the sergeant mumbled, walking into the bathroom. 

The Captain’s hands immediately found his way to his wife’s hips. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked, holding her close with his mouth near her ear between kisses he placed in her hair.

“Of course,” she said softly into his chest.

“Do you need to back out? We can leave and forget all about this if you need.”

“Do you need me to want to back out?” She asked soft, turning her head to look up into his eyes.

“No, I don’t think so, mo bonnie lass.” He said, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Give me a safeword to give him and a safeword for emergencies.”

“Two levels of safe words?” 

“Just in case I don’t hear the first one, he’s kinda loud.” She giggled and placed a kiss on his neck.

“Bubbles for him and Soap for emergencies.”

“My old callsign?”

“I never call you anyway,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Can I undress you and keep that privilege to myself?” All he needed was the little nod she gave before he moved to untie the robe. 

The lace blue bra she had been taunting him with with the matching panties drove him crazy. She ran her hands up and around his chest as his opened the clasp with one motion and undid the hooks holding the straps over her shoulders so she didn't have to remove her hands from his torso.

He sunk down lower as he planted sloppy kisses down her body and removed her underwear. Lovely pacing a kiss at her lower lips before trailing bite marks backup as the Sergeant exited the bathroom.

“I thought you said I couldn’t bite!” He accused as he watched the Captain leave a hickey on his wife’s chest.

“YOU can’t, I can.” This made the younger Soap look offended. The Captain smirked at the Sergeant’s face. “My wife, remember. Not yours.”

His wife just ran her fingers through his slightly grown out mohawk, a means to sooth him. 

Captain MacTavish moved to his wife’s ear and whispered softly, “may I told yer hand through this, mo ghraidh?”

“Gu sìorraidh is gu bràth,” she said back, pointing to the tattoo on her collarbone. When Soap heard it he almost fainted.

“She knows the language?” Sergeant Johnny asked.

The Captain hummed, pulling his mouth away from the dark hickey he was leaving on her neck, “learned a little bit for me.”

The Captain gave his younger self a once over before landing a sarcastic remark as his eyes landed on the bush, “glad to know you haven’t started shaving yet.”

“You trim?”

“Occasionally,” the Captain pulled his waistband down a bit, nuzzling into his wife, “I wax for special occasions. Yer lucky I found one who doesn’t care.”

The Captain locked his fingers with his wife’s, gently herding her to the bed. He laid her down gently and got her into a good position, shoving a few of the lousy pillows under her waist to offer a better angle.

“How are you?” He asked softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. “Ready as I can be,” she said with a soft giggle, as he bent down to plant a kiss on her lips.

“Sergeant, come here.” The Captain commanded, pointing at the foot of the bed, his wife couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her as she dropped her hand over her face. The Captain moved his wife’s knees apart with his free hand, the other still lovingly holding her’s. Johnny got on his own knees as John commanded him as he spread his wife’s pussy lips apart with his fingers. “Ya see that?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, sir,” John corrected Johnny. He basically gave his younger self a tour of his wife’s softest pieces. Telling Johnny her favorite things that he does and what she reacts best to. Johnny was so enthralled with her body he could move his eyes anywhere else. Especially when John put his fingers inside and curled them suddenly making her gasp so Johnny knew how far in her g spot was. The way her body jolted and softly raised as the gasp left her lips was his new favorite thing. He was so jealous he didn’t have her yet. That she wasn’t his wife yet, that he didn’t have the liberty to mark her body yet. “Get to work,” the Captain said, patting Johnny. He didn’t need to say it twice because Johnny went right in.

The wife brought her free hand down to her mouth to hold in the gasps and moans as Johnny ate so eagerly. John was usually slow and sensual, to the messy and a vehement eating that was happening at her core was a much different sensation. John gently pulled her hand away.

“Checkin in with ya, are ya doing good?” he asked his lovely wife. Her eyes couldn’t focus, her mouth gaping and shutting. 

She gave a nod and a hum as her body started to clench as Johnny inserted fingers between her legs and curled, making her body lurch towards the sky and gasp. The Captain gently placed kisses on her face, her velvety cries just make Johnny want to do it again. “She’s even prettier from this view,” Johnny mumbled, spreading her apart with his fingers.

“She donnae like condoms but imma make ye wear one anyway,” Captain Mactavish told his younger self before placing a kiss to the forehead of his flushed wife, still coming down from her orgasm as her husband ran his fingers through her hair as her breathing slowed with her closed eyes. John threw the condom at Johnny, who quickly rolled it on before standing up. “Donnae force it in, go in slow.”

Johnny positioned himself, putting one of the lovely wife’s ankles to his shoulder before giving it a soft kiss. He didn’t dare pull her down the bed like he would have normally done, he walked on his knees to meet her. Hands sliding down her legs to lift her ass, one he saw as so perfect.

He slowly slid it in as John kissed his wife’s face, holding her hand. She was more than used to John’s dick by now, but she was far from used to Johnny’s pacing. So much energy and stamina, not to say John didn’t have it but John was definitely more about making love than he was about fucking or just having sex.

Once she started to grind her hips, Johnny’s face lit up and he immediately started a toe curly, back arching pace. His tip bullied her g spot, making her mouth fall open but no sound falling from her lips.

John cooed at her as Johnny bullied her soft parts, not caring about his own pleasure, solely the pleasure of this goddess in front of him. Once he was sure he had found the spot, Johnny folded her a bit more to hit it a bit deeper, making sure everything was dragging against her.

The only thing that left her were whines, she felt her melted brain might just spill out her ears as the white, staticy heat built up. 

A nice ring built up around Johnny’s cock as he began to roll his hips. Her pulsating cunt milked him so much he felt an almost numbness in his fingers as all he could do was hold her and roll his hips as she let out a broken moan and came. Her husband’s voice echoing around her head with praises and loving words.

It was down right impossible for Soap to not come from her body's pulsations so he did. He wished it hadn’t been into a condom but he was grateful he just got the chance.

John gave him a look and Johnny took it knowingly, going to get a warm and damp towel. He handed it to John who began to clean his wife up, nodding to Johnny to let him know he could leave. 

Johnny didn’t know it was so John could reclaim his wife with some slow sensual sex and lots of love bites.

John, unlike Johnny, was going to come inside. Johnny looked at the photo he had taken of himself with the wife of Captain John from the night prior, "I'm going to marry you. Yer the one I've been looking for."

#cod x reader #call of duty #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #captain mactavish #soapitup

[sweetiecutie]

Part four: outdoor sex~ 🩷 Kinktober Masterlist 🩷

Pairing: John MacTavish x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, outdoor sex, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, creampie, I have no idea abt Scottish English sorry (I have no idea abt any English actually)

It was no secret that Johnny was a horny motherfucker. No matter the time, day, weather or any other conditions - he always wanted to fuck. Of course, if you said no he’d grumble and back off, but it was hard resisting his shitty pickup lines and enticing eyes, always managing to lit a small spark of want within the pit of your stomach which very soon turned into a wildfire.

So when Johnny wrapped his strong meaty arm around your waist while you were out for a walk in the forest - you didn’t think much of it. My, my, you should’ve known better.

Now your chest was pressed against patchy bark of tall pine tree, your leggings pulled down hastily to your mid-thigh as John’s throbbing leaking cock was sheathed deep inside your cunny, calloused fingers digging into exposed skin of your hips, leaving pale marks there.

- Fuuuuck, this pussy sucks me right back in, - Johnny moaned, throwing his head back at the intensity of the feeling.

You couldn’t help but jolt from every single noise - a crack of a branch, sound of cool wind rustling leaves somewhere above. The thought of getting caught like this was straight down embarrassing, but also - exciting. You couldn’t suppress a small mewl as Johnny’s nimble fingers came downward to flick the nub of your clit, making your legs go weak - if it wasn’t for Scot’s strong hold on you - you’d be tumbling down onto the damp earth.

- Fuck, Johnny, getting close, - you whined, eyebrows furrowing as your hips snapped back repeatedly, fucking yourself back onto your man’s length.

- Gonna cum inside this pretty pussy, yeah? Don’t want to make a mess of you, do we? - Johnny rumbled, obviously pussydrunk. It only brought you closer to your high - realization of how much control you had over this man, how wrapped around your finger he was.

With a string of muffled profanities mixed with groans and sighs Johnny came, emptying his fertile load deep inside of your needy pussy. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, your walls clenching around him instinctively upon feeling his cum spill within.

You felt John’s clammy from sweat forehead resting against the side of your neck, heaving chest pressed against your back, keeping you close. You whined impatiently, wriggling your ass against Soap’s hips, making him groan from overstimulating. The hand on your clit resumed its movements and not long after you were shuddering and moaning, tight cunt spasming around Johnny’s softening cock, bringing him deeper into his bliss.

After a few minutes of silence you heard Johnny’s airy chuckle which vibrated through his chest and onto your back. - God, lass, yer gonna be the death of me, - he said, pulling out and fixing your panties back up in place as quickly as possible so that his cum won’t spill out of your fluttering cunt.

- It was your idea, remember? - you said, pulling your legging up and turning around, watching Johnny tuck himself back into his boxers and sport shorts, grinning all the while.

- An amazing one, isn’t it? - you just rolled your eyes, straightening up and cringing at the pain in your lower back from uncomfortable position.

- Yeah, sure. But you owe me a massage now, - you complained, feeling your boyfriend’s cum spill out of your pussy, dampening your already ruined panties even further.

- Of course, love, - Soap replied with a wide grin, hugging you with one arm, his brain already working on a plan of fucking you under the guise of “deeper relaxation”

#johnny soap mactavish #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish smut #john mactavish smut #call of duty smut #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty writing #cod #cod soap #cod x reader #cod mw #soap call of duty #soap cod #cod smut #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mw3 #task force 141

[wannab-urs]

Scandal

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Prompt: Forced Proximity + “You’re going to get us arrested” / “I always wanted to see you in handcuffs.”

Summary: You get locked in a closet with Dieter at the Oscars

Warnings: semi public smut; forced proximity; reader has hair that can have bobby pins in it, is able bodied, is wearing a dress, and is an actress; the barest hint of enemies to lovers, but not really. WC: 1.6k

A/N: Written for a Dieter Bravo Brainrot Server event. Thanks to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, @atinylittlepain, and @pr0ximamidnight for reading it for me <3

Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

You just need to take a breather, that’s all. The Oscars can be a lot for an actress with social anxiety – there’s a million directors, former costars, and producers all vying for a conversation with you, not to mention the cameras catching you from every angle. And to make matters worse, they’ve allowed paparazzi into the lobby this year. 

There’s a coat closet just down this hallway, if you can just remember which door it is. You walk down the ornate hallway and find a door cracked open just slightly, the smell of weed emanating from the gap. You push the door open and step in, closing it tightly behind you. And you should have known from the smell alone who you’d find on the other side. 

None other than Dieter Bravo. 

“Shouldn’t have closed the door.” 

“And you shouldn’t be smoking in here. You’re stinking up everyone’s coats.”

“No, you really shouldn’t have closed the door. We’re locked in now.” 

“What?” Your voice hits a high frequency. You do not want to be locked in a closet with this particular former costar. You try the door anyway and find that he’s telling the truth. 

“I told you.” 

“Fuck, Dieter. You could have warned me!”

He chooses not to respond, taking another hit of his joint instead. He holds his hand out in offering, but you shake your head. Being high and trapped sounds like a recipe for paranoid disaster. 

You slump to the floor, pouting, but grateful they gave you a dress you can actually move around in this year. Dieter sits cross legged across the closet from you. There are coats lining either side of the walls. 

His usually fluffy curls are slicked back and styled to perfection. His nasty green bathrobe and pajama pants have been replaced by a billowing white shirt and fitted black pants. He’s even wearing real shoes. He looks… good. And he’s surprisingly clear eyed for someone smoking an entire joint. 

“You look nice,” Dieter comments. You look down at your dress – the color was chosen specifically to contrast well with your skin tone. The cut shows just enough bust and highlights your body shape. It’s a good dress. 

“Thanks, Dee. I was just thinking the same about you.”

“Oh were you now?” 

You roll your eyes. “Not like that, Dieter. You just clean up nice, is all.”

“I’m not um…” he trails off. 

“Not on coke anymore? I can tell.”

You and Dieter had worked on a project together a couple years ago. It was in the height of his coke addiction and working with him had been an absolute nightmare. He’d show up for work absolutely out of his mind, having screaming matches with the director, the producers, you. And that was if he showed up at all. The project had never even made it to production, leaving you worried your career was ruined. You fucking hated Dieter Bravo. 

But you could never deny how adorable he is. 

“Yeah. Cleaned up. Went to rehab. The whole shebang.”

“That’s good, Dee. Really.” 

You let your head fall back against the door, exposing the line of your throat to possibly the world's horniest man.

“You look really good in that dress.”

“I’m not going to have sex with you.”

You peek an eye open and see Dieter is already halfway across the floor, crawling to you on his hands and knees. He’s pouting at you. 

“What else do we have to do right now?”

You sigh and try the door one more time for good measure, reaching up behind you and tugging on the door handle. Still locked tight. Dieter grins and crawls even closer, settling between your thighs. He reaches out and strokes his thumb across your cheek. You can’t help but lean into it. 

“Always thought you were so beautiful.”

“Sure, Dee,” you scoff 

“I did. I do. Can I kiss you?” 

“Sure, Dee,” you whisper breathlessly. 

He presses his lips to yours gently at first. His lips are soft and plush against yours and you can’t help but deepen the kiss. You open your mouth and his tongue meets yours, hot and wet. Arousal sweeps through you and you bury your hands in his gorgeous curls, holding him against you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. You gasp, causing the kiss to break as your core comes into contact with the hard line of his cock in his trousers. 

“So fucking beautiful,” Dieter mutters into your throat, pressing kisses down into your cleavage. 

He lays you flat on the floor and scoots back, settling on his belly in between your thighs and rucking your dress up to your hips. 

“Dieter, you’re going to get us arrested for public indecency.”

“First of all, I’ve always wanted to see you in handcuffs,” he presses a kiss to your left thigh. “And secondly, I don’t see anyone here to catch us,” he kisses your right thigh, higher up this time. 

He hooks his thumb in the gusset of your panties, stroking your already soaked folds. You moan as quietly as you can. 

“So wet for me, already.” 

You groan as he pulls your panties to the side and buries his face in your cunt. There’s no build up, he eats you like he’s ravenous, like he hasn’t eaten in days. His curved nose grinds into your clit as he laps at your hole. His tongue plunges inside you over and over and you can already feel your core tightening. He slips two fingers in to replace his tongue, drawing circles on your clit with the point of it now. You cry out, much louder than you mean to be, than you need to be. His left hand comes up to cover your mouth, his face now hovering above yours as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. 

“Quiet now, love. Wouldn’t want to get arrested for public indecency.”

The bastard. He thrusts his fingers into you a few more times and you’re coming all over his hand. You bite down on his palm to keep from screaming. He draws his fingers out of you slowly and rights your panties for you. He sucks your come off his fingers like it’s cake batter, letting out a little moan of his own at the taste. 

The door handle jiggles and you both freeze. Just as the lock turns, Dieter grabs you and rolls you both under the lowest level of coats on the side of the closet. You’re on top of him, breathing heavily into his neck. Someone comes in, grabs their coat, and leaves the room, pulling the door closed behind them. 

Dieter goes to roll you both back out but you stop him. You press a kiss to his very exposed throat. 

“I love this shirt. Very Mr. Darcy.”

“It is romantic isn’t it?” 

You drag your lips down his throat to his chest, pressing a kiss to the lowest bit of exposed skin. Your hands find the clasp on his fancy black pants, but you can’t quite get them open.

“The one time you don’t wear easy access pants…” 

“Here, let me.”

You both fumble for a moment before the clasp finally comes open and his cock springs out. 

“No underwear?”

“The lines were showing too bad.”

“Mmhmm,” you quirk an eyebrow at him. 

You wrap his cock in your hand. It’s long, curved a little, and not terribly thick. 

“Pretty,” you mutter before taking the tip in your mouth. He gasps as you suck him down. You swirl your tongue around his head, then flatten it out and let him fill your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you suppress a cough, pushing him further down. His hands flutter into your hair as you start bobbing your head, sucking him down over and over again. He doesn’t push or pull you, simply rests his hands on the back of your head. 

You pull off him and lick a stripe up the seam of his balls as you stroke his cock. You suck one into your mouth, rolling it gently on your tongue, then switch to the other. 

“I’m gonna–”

You take his cock down your throat again, wanting to swallow his cum. You suck hard on the tip and then drop your lips down to the base as he comes in your mouth. His hips stutter beneath you and he groans. 

You let his softening cock fall out of your mouth and press a kiss to his hip bone. He strokes the back of your head reverently. 

“We should get cleaned up,” you whisper, your voice rough. 

Dieter sighs, but helps you get back to your feet. You take in his rumpled appearance and know you can’t look much better. His chest is covered in lipstick, as is his face. His hair is an absolute mess. His outfit is askew and wrinkled to hell. 

You help him fix his outfit, rub the lipstick off his skin, and finger comb his hair back into some semblance of a style. He pulls bobby pins out of your hair and stows them in his pockets, letting your hair down from the hours of work the stylist did. He smooths out your dress as best as he can. 

“We look…”

“Like we just fucked on the floor of a closet?”

“Yeah.”

He takes a bobby pin from his pocket and picks the lock on the door. 

“You could have done that the whole time?” 

Dieter doesn’t answer. He stands and takes your hand in his and pulls the door open. You’re immediately inundated with camera flashes. The paparazzi have found you. Your agent is going to kill you. 

“I fucking hate you,” you halfheartedly fuss at Dieter. This scandal will be fun to deal with... 

#Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo fics #Dieter Bravo fanfiction #Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo x you #The Bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo x f!reader

[ericsprincess]

wanna take a look inside you

nc-17, stalker!Jaemin, Jaemin/female reader, cunnilingus, crack

~~~

Your stalker really cares about you.

~~~

Why the fuck is it snowing again? Just why? you groan, as soon as you open your eyes and see all the fluffy snowflakes falling behind your window. 

You reluctantly roll out of your warm bed and start getting ready for the day. You should be rushing through your morning routine, since you have to get to work, but you’re almost deliberately slow. You’re just trying to delay the inevitable, which is having to shovel half a meter of snow out of your driveway and your car, and scrape off the ice from your car windows. You’re seriously considering calling in sick, just to not have to deal with standing outside in snow and fighting your flimsy plastic shovel and tiny ice scraper. 

You’re pouring yourself a cup of coffee when you stop at the sudden glimpse out of your kitchen window. What the hell. 

Your driveway is already nicely and precisely shoveled, with all the snow neatly piled up on one side. Not only that, your car is completely cleaned, covered with only a small layer of freshly fallen snow, indicating that whoever took mercy on you did it only a while ago. 

You sit down behind the table and absentmindedly scratch behind your dog's ears while chewing on toast. 

Maybe one of the neighbors did it? Or maybe there is some kind of a community service? Which is weird. You just moved into this area and by the looks of it you would expect to get your car stolen rather than cleaned. 

Hmm, you think. Maybe the neighborhood here isn’t that bad. 

(Narrator voice: It is actually that bad.)

~~~

Ironically, a few days later you do end up calling in sick. The cold winter weather got to you and after an evening of feeling like shit you woke up with fever, sore throat, and no will to live. 

You blindly feel around your bed to search for your phone, eventually finding it under your dog (Oof, move, you fat fuck), and call Jaemin from HR, in your office also known as Hot Jaemin from HR, to inform him that you’re taking a sick day. 

He picks up immediately after the first ring and with his completely pleasant, friendly, and only slightly creepy deep voice, he takes your note and wishes you to get well soon. He even asks if there are some work related heads up to pass to your coworkers, just like the nice and considerate guy he always is. If only every coworker was like Jaemin (nice, competent and hot), work would be much more bearable, you sigh. Sometimes he even sits down with you for lunch in the breakroom and offers you some home baked pastry while he talks about his cats. Really, just an overall nice guy. 

You finally hang up and burrow yourself back under the covers, when you notice the time on your phone. 6:58. Huh? I must be delirious, you think hazily, already drifting back to sleep. He’s not even supposed to be at work yet.  

~~~

When you finally emerge from your supposed delirium (also known as common flu) two days later, both of which you spent almost entirely just sleeping, you take a gloriously good hot shower and head to the kitchen, wondering what you will be able to scavenge from the fridge. 

Thankfully, it seems well stocked. So you quickly make a sandwich with some fresh ham and vegetables, scarf it down like a madwoman, after barely eating for two days and put the plate into the sink.

The dishes are also done. 

The house is actually pretty spotless, you squint as you look around. Even more than usual - no socks anywhere, no cups with forgotten tea. Dog looks fed and happy. 

The laundry machine beeps to announce that it’s finished. 

Wow, it must have been really bad, because I don’t remember doing any of that. Good job, sick me, you mentally pat yourself on your shoulder. 

~~~

You open the door to get out of your house for a nice walk and you stop dead in your tracks.

What the actual everloving fuck. 

Right in front of your doorstep there is a line of six mice, nicely ordered and completely dead, and you barely manage to prevent your dog from taking a good sniff. 

You retreat back to your house, pulling the dog with you and you lock all the locks on the door. 

You don’t even own a cat? 

~~~

You would swear the oil change light in your car was blinking for the past two months. Like, it had been mocking you and your procrastination. You felt bad about it, but ignored it, because who would want to deal with it unless you really have to? 

Well, it’s not blinking today. 

Which must mean only one thing - the light is broken now too. Which might also mean some electronic failure.

You frown. Karma for being lazy found you and there goes your free Saturday. 

And then it finds you again 2 hours later for being an idiot, when it turns out the oil does not need to be changed and the whole electronic system in your car is working alright. You made the mechanic check twice because you could swear you’re not making it all up, just to end up looking like a dumbass in front of the whole shop. 

You go home in shame and then you dig out the car manual you once threw into a cupboard and never read. 

~~~

Ugh, this guy again. You fight the urge to run, but he has already noticed you and you don’t want to look weak. Or afraid. But you are, a little. 

Walking on the same street, your creepy neighbor is approaching you from the opposite direction and you’re already bracing yourself. 

He never lets you go just with “Hello,” he always tries to flirt creepily and invite you for coffee, last time he even tried to grab your hand. You shudder at the memory. You hate these kinds of slimebags and their audacity. But you’re afraid he might snap if you really tell him off. 

So, you’re not sure what to do, you’re always just distantly polite and doing your best to not give him any signal that he might interpret as his attention being welcome. 

But you did start bringing pepper spray with you and going everywhere with your dog. Not like this fat fuck could ever protect your from anything, but still. For mental support. (But seriously, why is it getting so fat? You make a mental note to take him on longer walks, despite the shitty neighborhood.)

He’s getting closer and you’re already feeling the anxiety, when he swiftly crosses the road to get to the opposite side of the street. He walks faster. It’s like he’s avoiding you. Not only that, but he’s limping and his nose is bandaged as if it were broken. 

What could have happened to him? you wonder. Maybe he bothered the wrong girl and her boyfriend went to teach him to leave women alone, you chuckle. Who knows. 

~~~

You suddenly startle out of your sleep to the sound of breaking glass. It's a deep night but you are barely gathering your wits from being so crudely woken up, but you can hear a strange commotion from downstairs. 

Burglars, is your first thought. You’re shaking hard but you slowly and silently tiptoe to your closet to get a broom, the only weapon you can think of right now. A broom in one hand and your phone in the other, with the police dialed up, just waiting to press a call, you pad down the stairs to your living room where the sound came from. 

The lights are already on. And in there there is-

“Jaemin??? What are you doing here?” you scream. 

Right in the middle of your living room is Hot Jaemin from HR, disheveled and slightly out of breath, and just about to finish hog-tying a masked man. He pulls the rope tightly and kicks the man into the ribs for good measure. He stands up and turns to you with a bright and wide smile. 

“Y/N! Go to sleep, I got it!” he says happily and throws you a thumbs up. He ignores the question.

“B-But-” you take a step forward but Jaemin stops you. 

“Be careful, Y/N, there is glass. I threw a vase at him, that fucker really thought he can mess with me like that,” he snorts. “Just go back to sleep, I’ll clean it up and deal with this bag of dicks.” he urges you gently. 

“H-How are you going to deal with him?” you’re confused. Jaemin’s smile gets even wider. 

“I’ll deal with him, I have tools in my car. Don’t worry about it.” he brushes you off. 

“You know what, I’ll just call the police,” you wave your phone, barely out of shock from what just happened. 

“Okay,” Jaemin sighs with dramatic exasperation. “But it will take forever while you could have just left it to me and gone to sleep.”

You squint at him suspiciously and press the dial. 

~~~

“So, that would be all, Mrs. Y/L/N. We will contact you about the further proceedings,” the police officer clicks his pen off and gathers his papers. Your kitchen is still flashing red and blue from police cars parked outside. 

“Thank you, officer, I really appreciate it,” you beep back at him. This police thing turned out to be a lot more serious and lengthy than you expected.

“Don’t thank me, miss, you should thank your..uhhh…” he looks up at Jaemin, who is standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders. 

“Husband,” Jaemin offers, with his signature bright smile and you fight the urge to step on his foot. 

“Yeah, that. Anyways, if you have any questions, call us. Good night!” he salutes you with two fingers and brusquely walks out of your house. The cars leave one by one and then you’re alone. With Jaemin. 

You turn back to him. 

“I am not sure what to think about all of this, but thank you, I guess. But I have a lot of questions and I want answers to all of them,” you stick a finger right in the middle of his chest. 

“Okay, of course. Whatever you want, Y/N,” Jaemin offers. It’s the first time you see him look anything else but bright and cheerful. He looks almost unsure. 

“I’m now going to sleep and if I find out you’re still in this house, I’ll call the police again. On you.” you threaten. “You have 2 minutes to leave,” you add and pointedly look at the clock on your kitchen wall. 

“Oh, okay, let me just…” he gathers his rope that the cops left behind and his jacket and hurriedly slips on his shoes. He’s in the door in thirty seconds, waving at you. 

“See you at work!” he squeezes your hand briefly and runs out of your house. 

Why do I always attract these weirdos, you sigh and drag yourself upstairs to your bedroom. You fling yourself on the bed and you suddenly really feel how tired and exhausted you are from all the adrenaline. It would be really for the best to just sleep, you decide and crawl under the covers. 

But the sleep is not coming, you’re just thinking about everything that happened. You keep tossing and turning, ending up staring out into your bedroom window. 

Suddenly, a phone display lights up in the crown of a nearby tree. You decide to pointedly ignore it and you flip to the other side, turning your back to the window. You grab your dog, who’s been snoozing peacefully throughout the whole night and snuggle into his white fluffy fur to sleep. 

~~~

The next day at work you don’t waste any time. After throwing your bag at your desk you change direction right into the HR office. 

You don’t knock, just let yourself in, meeting Jaemin who is currently sitting behind his desk, unpacking his things for a day. He looks up at you, smiling. 

You cross your arms and point at the nametag on his desk that says “Na Jaemin, Head of HR” with your chin. 

“Ironic, huh?” 

“What’s ironic?” he straightens up, smile unwavering. 

“I can’t even report you, you asshole.” you frown. “And I don’t really want to go to the police because you did save my life.”

“Well that’s bad.“ he nods solemnly.

“It really is. So… Care to explain what you were doing at my house?” 

“Guarding you?” he answers like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wh-guarding?? From what?” you ask incredulously. Oh. “Okay don’t answer.” 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “You know that as a head of HR I have access to aaaaaaaaaalllll of your records, right?” he spins his pen between his fingers. “So I really couldn’t help but notice you moved into a really shitty location, Y/N. Really, there? I know how much you make, you don’t need to live there at all.”

“I’m saving money for my own house, okay?” you answer defensively. You couldn’t have possibly known it would be that bad. You thought that everyone was just exaggerating. “Why were you even keeping tabs on my address?” you ask him accusingly. 

Jaemin just keeps looking at you, smiling. It’s unnerving. Like a shark about to eat you, but with joy.

“...so you’re not gonna answer?” you frown. Of course. 

“I mean, isn’t that obvious?” he drawls, tilting his head as if he were mocking you. And you think it should be obvious, but at the same time, you never know what’s going on in Jaemin’s head. 

You sigh. “You know, next time JUST ASK ME OUT YOU MORON!” 

“Oh, yeah, I could have done that…” he startles with realization. “I guess I was too preoccupied.”

“With what? Figuring out my daily patterns? Putting a GPS tracker on my car?”

“How did you find that?” he asks surprisingly, pulling up his phone to check. 

You close your eyes and breathe deeply. Come on, you have dealt with worse. And he’s really hot *and* whipped, even though he has a particular way about it. And he saved your life. You could have a use for him. 

“Drive me home.”

“Sure,” he gets up immediately, picking up his jacket. 

“You’re not even gonna question me wanting to leave work just like that?” 

“Who do you think is processing your attendance records?” he winks at you and leads you out of his office to the parking lot with a hand on your waist 

~~~

“By the way, you didn’t answer.” you say while fighting with the seatbelt while Jaemin starts the car. “What were you doing at my house?”

“Uh. Is this now the time to tell you I’ve been sleeping in front of your bedroom door for the past few weeks?”

You can literally taste the headache coming. 

“I don’t think there is ever a good time for that.”

~~~

You open the door to your house and let both you and Jaemin in. Your dog comes running to welcome you and you’re not even surprised that it actually ignores you in favor of running into Jaemin,  who doesn’t wait to start playing with him, laughing and telling him what a good boy he is. 

More like a traitor. You frown at Jaemin pulling out a treat out of his jeans pocket and your dog chasing it hungrily as Jaemin teases him. Sold me for a piece of snack. 

“Let’s go upstairs before I change my mind.”

“Sure,” smiles Jaemin and stands up, suddenly taking a hold of you and picking you up over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. 

“Hey! Put me down!” you yell at him, grabbing his ass and squeezing it. “I will fucking bite you!”

“Leave that for later…” he drawls in his creepy flirty voice as he walks up the stairs. He takes you to your bedroom and gently lowers you down on your bed. 

You really like the view from under him. He leans down to kiss your neck.

“Hey Jaemin..” you begin. 

“Hmmm?” he mumbles, continuing to kiss and lick your neck while his hands are working on taking your clothes off. 

“While you were sleeping outside my bedroom…Heards anything weird?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Pretty sure I heard my name at least once,” he bites into your collarbone. He takes off your shirt and pinches off the hooks of your bra in a second and you help take it off you. 

“And you still didn’t think of asking me out?” you ask disbelievingly. He pulls back a little and you get distracted by his shoulders. You start unbuttoning his shirt, just to reveal his beautiful full chest and muscular arms. Nice.

“You said Doyoung’s name once too.” he shrugs. He doesn't really meet your eyes.

“Oh yeah, Doyoungie from accounting…Haven’t seen him in a while, I wonder how he's doing…”

“He asked for a transfer. Doesn’t matter. Let’s not talk about him,” says Jaemin once again back to his bright smile and leans down to you, now fully committed to undressing you as soon as possible. He pulls off your pants together with your panties and lets his shirt slide off his body as well. 

“What are you gonna do?” you ask, while he shifts down your body. You instinctively spread your legs.

“Apologize,” he says while looking into your eyes and straight up dives into your pussy. 

You can tell he’s really sorry. He’s putting all the enthusiasm into eating you out, trying really hard to figure out what makes you tick and then applying it tenfold. You can feel him smile the moment you start making sounds.

You can feel yourself being close to coming and you try to tell him by pulling his hair, but in the end it doesn’t matter. He knows it already and he continues to flick his tongue over your clit even as you come, holding you by your thighs firmly so you don’t move too much to slip out of his hold. Once your orgasm starts to fade, he eases up a little, switching to slower, gentle licks with flat tongue, while you catch your breath, but in a minute, he’s back at it, relentlessly stimulating you as if you didn’t even have a choice about whether you want another round or not. 

You can only applaud his skill and stamina and let him make you come, with absolutely no guidance, for the second time, barely a couple minutes after the first one. 

While you’re coming down from your orgasm, feeling all liquid and brainless, Jaemin disentangles himself from your legs and crawls up the bed to drag you into his arms.

You turn to kiss him when you realize he hasn’t even taken off his jeans yet. You slide your hand to rub over his hard cock a little and he sighs and nuzzles into your neck. “Do you want…” you start.

“No. I haven’t deserved it yet,” he breathes out. “I’m already close though…” He looks like he’s fighting himself on that.

“Oh really?” you grin, and rise up to look better at his flushed face. “Well then get back to work?” you pull him by his (insanely attractive) sex hair. He whines, you don’t know if it's from pain or arousal, but it doesn’t matter.

“I’m going to sit on your face now, okay?” you whisper to him. 

“Uhhhh uhhh,” he closes his eyes. 

“Great. If you come, this one doesn’t count,” you laugh, and swing one leg over his leg to kneel over him.

~~~

You’re lying in your bed, sweaty and tired and almost falling asleep in Jaemin arms, when you suddenly remember. 

“Hey, actually...what about the mice?” 

He turns and smiles at you with a full Cheshire cat smile. Way too many teeth.

"Well..."

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