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navybrat817 · 1 month ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 27

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 26 | Series Masterlist | Part 28

Chapter Word Count: Almost 4k

Chapter Summary: An idea comes to you regarding part of your future and Bucky has a few choice words for your parents.

Chapter Warnings: Confrontation, bonding of sorts, inner turmoil, world building, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: I don't know what happened to the original post. Let's try this again! More Hold You Tight, and thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 and @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought it would feel strange with Curtis hanging out in the kitchen while you baked the brownies, but it wasn’t as bad as you thought, and it was something you’d have to get used to since he would be around you going forward. He didn’t try to fill the silence with small talk unless you asked him a question, likely trying to remain in the “shadows”. You did wonder what was on his mind since he mentioned being trapped, but it wasn’t any of your business. He was your bodyguard but that didn’t mean he’d be your friend.

“Smells delicious,” he said, standing when you took them out of the oven.

“Don’t worry. I won't burn myself,” you said, nodding for him to sit back down. “And thanks. I hope you like them.”

“I'm sure I will.”

Ray walked into the kitchen the moment you set the brownies out to cool off and looked between you and Curtis who settled back in his chair. “A treat for breakfast?” he guessed.

“A treat for Curtis,” you said, making your bodyguard smile a little.

Ray blinked hard and slow. “I see,” he said, pushing his glasses up. Did that upset him?

“Well, that batch is for Curtis. You have first dibs on the other batch,” you clarified.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” The blonde raised an eyebrow. “And what about the boss?”

“He’s third. He knows what he did,” you said unapologetically. They were your brownies. You could do what you wanted with them.

Curtis hid a smile before Ray asked, “And how are you feeling?”

You put your hands on the counter and shrugged. “Hard to say since I’m seeing my parents today and still dealing with…”

“Everything,” Ray finished for you.

You nodded. “I appreciate you asking.” It felt like you hadn’t talked to him in days and you admittedly missed it. Like Curtis, keeping you safe wasn’t a bore or chore in his eyes. He believed you were brave and part of you was starting to believe it, too.

“We’re all glad you're safe now,” he softly said.

“Careful there. You might be showing emotion,” Curtis said, earning him a glare from his colleague.

“Where’s Bucky?” you asked.

“He sulked for a minute when you kicked him out of the kitchen,” he said, making Curtis snort. Again, Bucky knew what he did. “But he’s in his office. Called Steve and Natalia. He also got an update on Lois.”

“How is she?” you asked, hoping that things were still looking up.

“She’s recovering well,” he assured you. You were glad to hear that. “From what we know, she’s stubborn and strong and it’ll take time, but she’ll be fine.”

You let out a breath. “I really need to see her, and I need to talk to Natasha,” you said. A woman you could hopefully help heal and move forward and a woman who was going to help you in some capacity. Both receiving and paying it forward. As that thought settled in your mind, an idea washed over you, making you stand up straighter and look at Ray again.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I have a thought,” you answered, trying not to get too excited. “I need to talk to Bucky.”

Curtis jumped from his chair when you walked out without another word, his footsteps behind you nearly silent. He really was going to be a good bodyguard for you. Ray followed, too, likely curious about why you rushed out so quickly.

Bucky looked up from his desk when you walked into the office, a smile on his face when he stood up. “Brownies ready?” he asked, holding his hand up to keep Curtis and Ray from walking in.

“Yeah, but that’s not what I came in here for,” you said, taking a seat on the sofa. Bucky immediately went to join you. “I have a bit of a crazy idea and I wanted to get your opinion on it.”

“You want my opinion?” The subtle shift in his posture showed he was touched. “And I’m the crazy one, Kotyonok, so nothing you could say would ever sound crazy to me.”

You didn’t dispute that he was crazy. “So, you know how one of the things that attracted you to me was helping your mom and my generally kind nature?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“And you helped Natasha however long ago so she could give the women who work at her hotel a better life, right?” you continued. You remembered Natasha telling you if it wasn't for Bucky she wouldn't be where she was.

“Yes, I did,” he confirmed, not elaborating on how or why.

“What if I do something kind of like that? What if I try to help other women who have…” You swallowed and tried to find the right words, suddenly nervous to ask for his opinion. “Been through stuff, like Lois or me.”

He tilted his head. “You want to help women who have been hurt in some capacity?”

“Yeah. Assault. Abuse. Trauma,” you said. You thought of your own situation, not just Clark's attack, but Bucky systemically making his way into your life. He wasn't out to harm you, but some stalkers did try to harm their victims. “And it's not like I’d have to quit being a florist. I just… I don't know. I want to do something.”

It could've been a means to take back some more control of your life. Being by Bucky’s side, you didn’t want to lose who you were in your core and wanted to continue putting good back into the world. Perhaps you wanted to pay it forward even more since others didn't have the kind of money and protection you now had.

“It’s stupid, isn't it?” you asked when he stayed quiet.

You were a florist. Yes, you volunteered when you could and wanted to help people, but it wasn’t your area of expertise. An endeavor like that was out of your depth, wasn't it?

Bucky framed your face, his eyes flashing with a mixture of pride and fury. “Don't you ever say an idea of yours is stupid. I won't stand for that,” he said, his gaze softening considerably. “Especially since that’s a great idea.”

You studied him, looking for any sign that he was joking. He wasn’t. “Really?” you asked in a small voice.

He kissed the tip of your nose with a smile. “Really. Money won’t be an issue. We can sketch out a plan and figure out what exactly you want to focus on, start local and small. Or you can sketch out the plan and I’ll give input if you seek it out,” he said, a hint of his businessman tone coming out. “If this is really something you want, we’ll make it happen.”

“So, just like that?” you asked. He was really supporting this?

“Of course. It’s admirable that you continue to look out for others and I’m going to support whatever you want to do,” he said.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You didn’t want to admit how nice it felt that he was backing this up, especially when you had no set plan yet.

“It also means a lot that you asked for my opinion.”

“Well, we have to talk through these things. It’s what couples do,” you said.

His smile was brighter than the light in the room. “So, you really see us as a couple now.”

“I guess so,” you said. What choice did you have?

He sighed before he kissed your lips, featherlight and full of promise. “You won’t regret it,” he whispered, suddenly standing and helping you to your feet, too. “You’re still in your robe.”

“I’ve been in the kitchen this whole time,” you reminded him, your mind going back to Curtis and wondering more about his past.

Bucky checked his watch. “Why don’t you get ready for lunch? I think Curtis and Ray have seen you in your robe enough for one day,” he tried to tease while his eyes stayed on his watch.

“And what about the day I’m walking around in nothing but my underwear?” you blurted out without meaning to.

Darkness crossed Bucky’s eyes, but it was more lust than rage when he put his hands on your hips. “I’d hate to have to hurt my own men, but I do love the thought of you walking around our home so… freely.”

“I’ll bet you do,” you whispered, knowing he’d probably chase you around or drag you to bed if he had the chance. “But for now, yes, I should get dressed.”

“Don’t want to keep your parents waiting,” he said, letting you pull away to get ready. “I hope I make a lasting impression.”

You shivered, wondering just what kind of impression he wanted to make. “I’m sure you will.”

Curtis leaned against the wall outside of the office while Ray stood on the other side. “You want to help others, huh?” your bodyguard asked.

You stopped to face him. “Yeah, I do.”

Curtis didn’t say anything else, but he looked impressed. So did Ray. You didn’t have time to dwell on that. You had to get ready for a lunch that you didn’t want to go to.

But your whole life as of late had been a series of events you had to participate in without much of a choice, so what was one more?

Bucky held your hand the entire drive to the restaurant and didn’t force you to talk, which you appreciated since your stomach was in knots. You found yourself playing with the diamond necklace, which he had put around your neck before you left. Your mom would no doubt stare at it or make a comment since you had never had such a nice piece of jewelry. Was this going to be a disaster or were you overthinking it?

“We’ll get through this quickly,” Bucky told you once the car stopped, his lips brushing the top of your hand. “Long enough for me to meet them and send them on their way.”

The knot in your stomach tightened more. How exactly was he going to send them on their way? “And after that?”

“Whatever you want,” he promised, helping you out of the car.

You didn’t pay much attention as you were escorted to the private table, but you knew Ray and Curtis weren’t far behind. The place was bright and airy, but sophisticated. It would've been a nice place to go on a date. Would this lunch sour that idea?

“I’m here,” Bucky whispered, pulling out your chair for you.

Considering the way he burst into your life you never expected to lean on him for anything. You had since your attack and now this, looking to him for support without meaning to. You even asked for his opinion on your idea to help other women, which you did seek out. Who were you becoming?

“Why do I care so much about what they think?” you asked when he sat down beside you.

“Because they’re your parents and it’s natural,” he replied, taking your hand under the table. “But you don’t need them.”

You were about to argue that you did need them before you caught them in your line of sight, your back rigid as they moved closer. They didn’t look overjoyed to see you, which broke your heart a bit. Bucky squeezed your hand before you realized you had squeezed his hand first. This was going to be a long lunch.

“It’s good to see you,” your dad said when Bucky released your hand only to pull your chair back to help you stand. “And you must be-”

“Bucky, her boyfriend. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, shaking his hand and smirking when your dad winced and turning a critical eye on your mom. Neither of them hugged you before they took their seats and you quickly sat back down to hide your embarrassment. “You two raised quite the woman,” he added, daring them to say something.

“Thank you,” your mom said, looking over the menu.

“Since the menu seems to be more important than greeting your daughter, please, pick whatever you want,” Bucky smiled like a wolf getting ready to strike while you gaped at him. “I spare no expense when it comes to her and her… loved ones. Just look at her necklace. I purchased it for our first date.”

Your mom’s mouth fell open and you felt a bit of satisfaction when your dad squirmed in his seat. Did that make you a bad person? “I’m sorry. I meant nothing by it.” Your mom cleared her throat. “We’re thrilled to see you. It’s just with our accounts being frozen…”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” you filled in the blanks. You were used to it.

“Yes, I’m sorry about your accounts,” Bucky said without sounding sorry at all and pretended to look over his menu. “Interesting how you always think of others first even when you have a lot on your mind, Kotyonok,” he said loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Makes me wonder what that came from.”

Your mom’s mouth didn’t drop again, but you heard her sharp inhale on her next breath and your dad squirmed again. They weren’t used to subtle insults like that, especially from someone who had just met them. But as Bucky took your hand, you very much felt like his queen and he was defending you as such.

“Aren’t you going to compliment her necklace?” Bucky asked, turning his head to smile at you. “It’s as beautiful as she is.”

Your face felt hot when your parents stared and admired the diamonds. “They don’t have to say anything,” you mumbled.

“But I don’t understand. What kind of parents don’t compliment their child, especially when they haven’t seen them in some time?” he asked. Once again, it was loud enough for them to hear. He was digging the knife in and twisting it in the most passive aggressive way.

“It’s beautiful,” your mom said enviously, avoiding looking at Bucky.

“Thanks,” he said, flagging the server down and putting a hand to his chest. “Like I said, whatever you want. It’s on me.”

You picked a light meal, knowing there was a high chance you couldn’t stomach something heavy. Your mom chose the highest priced meal, which Bucky merely smiled expectantly. Your dad had the good sense to not do the same. It would’ve been nice if they asked how you were or gave some sort of indication that they cared.

“How did you two meet?” your dad asked to break the tension, which only made you nervous all over again.

“My club, and I very much fell for her first,” Bucky answered easily and leaned over to kiss your temple. “I knew she was the one the moment I laid eyes on her.”

“Club?” your mom questioned. “Since when do you go to clubs?”

“It was for Addison’s bachelorette party,” your boyfriend answered for you, smiling again. “You know Addison, don’t you? I would hope so. She’s practically family to her.”

You took a sip of your water and said nothing as your parents looked more uncomfortable with each passing second. The air was awkward to say the least. Bucky, on the other hand, looked over the moon one second and ready to kill the next. It had to be giving your parents whiplash.

“She’s a good friend,” your mom said, her smile shaky. “How’s the shop?” she asked, changing the subject.

“The shop’s great,” you said and found yourself smiling since you did love the place and your job. “Mrs. Crandle is still a great boss and-”

“And you’re still just a florist,” she cut you off dismissively with a shake of her head, wiping your smile away. “You could’ve been so much more.”

Your eyes glossed over, but you held your head high. “There’s nothing wrong with me being a florist, and I am more.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Ease up,” your dad whispered to your mom, shocking you both. Since when was he not on her side? Or was it because Bucky glared at them?

“Just a florist.” The man beside you chuckled, a dark and empty sound. “Tell them about the idea you told me about earlier today.”

The knot filled your stomach so much that you feared you’d get sick. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you said, not wanting to hear what they had to say since they never backed you up on anything.

“But it’s a great idea,” he assured you, giving your parents a smile. “Wait until you hear it.”

Your dad leaned forward and appeared interested. Was it for show? “What is it?”

Bucky nodded, encouraging you to speak up. “I went through something recently,” you said carefully, not wanting to blurt it out. “And it made me realize I want to help others and build a support system for women who have been through things.”

Your parents looked at each other as you held your breath. “That sounds ambitious,” your dad said just as carefully as you. “I realize you have good intentions, but…”

“You can’t just up and decide you want to run a charity,” your mom said, laughing and tapping her finger on the table when Bucky gripped his water glass. “You need more than just good intentions. You need experience and funding, which you have none of.”

You sighed. It was exactly what you expected. They wanted you to be more, but offered no encouragement when you tried.

“Aren’t you even going to ask what I went through?” you asked, your voice thick with emotion. For the first time, your mom looked worried. “Someone-”

“They don’t deserve to know.” Bucky took a sip before he gently set the glass down, making you eye him warily. He looked like he was ready to explode. “She isn’t just deciding, by the way. She has volunteer experience and she’s going to formulate a plan. And what she may lack in other ‘experiences’, she has passion, heart, and drive. It’s a shame you're too blind to see that.”

Your mom shrank back in her seat, looking as small as you felt. “I didn’t mean-”

“And as far as funding, I’ll be helping her with that since I don't expect either of you to lend her a thing. She has her own money, too. You just didn't know it,” he explained, bitterly laughing again at their shocked expressions. “Jesus Christ. You’re her parents. You should be proud of her. She’s loved by everyone she meets and she has thrived without your support.” He let that hang in the air before he continued. “She has more character in her finger than you two have in your entire body and I will back her up on anything and everything she needs because I believe in her.”

You placed a hand on Bucky’s thigh to ground him, your eyes welling with tears again. You were torn between not wanting him to cause a scene and for him to keep speaking because it just felt nice to hear. It felt pathetic and empowering, a strange combination.

“I just wanted you to support and love me,” you whispered, your chest aching at finally saying the words. “Why didn't you?”

Why did it hurt so much that you didn't have the love you needed?

Your dad leaned back like you slapped him while your mom didn't move. “We did and do love you,” he swore, looking to his wife for help when Bucky scoffed in disbelief. “Tell her.”

He shouldn't have to tell her that.

“We just wanted you to have direction,” your mom said, flinching when Bucky leaned forward with one elbow on the table. She couldn't even say she loved you.

“She has always had direction. You just never bothered to look where she was going,” he said, his voice soft and dangerous. “Though I guess your lack of support helped build her into the woman I love, so I almost wonder if I should thank you for not being who she needed.”

“I’m not going to sit here and let you continue to insult us,” your dad said since your mom was rendered speechless for once.

You almost warned your dad that Bucky wasn't the kind of man to mouth off to, but didn't.

“You know, I think I know now why you wanted to become a florist,” Bucky said as if he didn’t hear him. “You’re surrounded by warmth and brightness and you get to watch things bloom and grow and thrive because you never had that.”

You blinked away your tears. Bucky saw what they didn’t. You didn’t have to point it out.

“We do love our daughter, even if we didn't show it in the best way,” your dad argued, trying to take your hand across the table, but Bucky pulled you back. It was another brick added to the wall to keep people he didn’t want near you out.

“You didn’t love her enough and you never will.” He took his wallet out and threw some money on the table, more than enough to cover the meals that hadn’t yet arrived at the table. “Thank God I love her enough for all of us and I always will.”

Your mom sniffled. You hardly ever saw her cry. “I…” She trailed off when your boyfriend tossed more money on the table.

“That should cover the rest of your time here in the city. Take it. Or don’t. But I’m not going to sit here and play nice with people who make my future wife feel low about herself.” He pushed himself up and let your parents see just how large and imposing he was. “Just leave her alone the way you always have.”

They were good at leaving you alone.

“Please,” your dad begged, making you pause. “We’re sorry.”

“Empty apologies mean nothing,” Bucky said, his eyes narrowed. “Oh, and as it stands, I don’t want you at our wedding, but maybe your loving daughter will change my mind.”

“Wedding?!” your mom exclaimed.

“Yes, she’s going to be my wife and have a wonderful life with me.” He smiled when you didn't disagree. “Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

Bucky helped you up from the table and led you away, not even letting you look back when you heard your mom choke on a sob. They didn’t chase after you. They never would.

Your steps felt heavy. Your head spun. It was a relief that they knew how you felt in some capacity, but you didn't feel much better. Why not?

“They’re the past and I’m your present and future,” your boyfriend whispered, slipping an arm around you when you bit your lip. “I’m the family you need.”

“Thank you for sticking up for me,” you said, making him preen.

“I’ll always defend and stick up for you,” he promised, his grip possessive. “And I'm proud of you.”

What was there to be proud of? No, you wouldn't think like that. You were a good person, and a survivor. Your parents and their lack of support and care wouldn't take that from you.

“But I didn’t even get to tell them what happened.” What if they had wanted to help? They weren’t loving, but you were still their daughter and your mom had looked worried for a second.

“You don’t need them. Not when you have me,” he said, leaving no room to argue when he nodded to Ray and Curtis who hovered nearby. “And I won't let them hurt you ever again.”

You should’ve known lunch with your parents meant Bucky would close the door. You would have no choice but to move forward. And you didn't know what that meant except that you were now one step closer to being entirely his.

This chapter took a lot out of me! As a mom who wants to show nothing but love and support to my babies (and protect them), I want to wrap Kotyonok in a huge hug. Where do we think they'll go from here? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 5 months ago

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apologizing with a kiss - Joel Miller

900 Followers Milestone Celebration - kissing prompts

bio : This story is part of the 900 Followers Milestone Celebration - kissing prompts.

person ordering: @underneath-the-sky-again

warnings : a little bit of angst, fluff, kissing, some bad words, blood

[my masterlist]

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

You kicked open the bathroom door and ran inside. Rushing to take off your jacket and shirt, you managed to throw a few other things on the ground, but you didn't have time to think about it. When you finally got out of your clothes, you glanced at your shoulder.

It didn't look good. A large shard of glass had pierced the layer of clothing and dug into your arm, leaving an ugly bleeding wound. Blood was dripping down your arm to your fingertips and dripping onto the tiles.

With your free hand, you turned on the tap and wet a cloth to wash everything. You had to quickly dress it before...

"Baby? Are you home?"

"Fuck!" you hissed to yourself. Joel was supposed to be with Tommy, but he must have changed his plans since he showed up at home at this hour. It was already dark outside, but it wasn't that late.

"Baby?" a familiar voice sounded at the door and you heard a quiet knock "Is everything okay? I thought someone was running up the stairs."

"Yeah! I'm okay." you lied, quickly glancing at the cloth that was dirty with your blood "I'll take a quick shower and I'll be right back."

"You were gone longer than you said, I was starting to worry." Joel fell silent after a moment "Is there...blood on the floor? Baby?"

"It's nothing, Joel. I just..."

The door opened before you could say anything else. Joel was looking at you, frowning. He was wearing a white T-shirt and sweatpants, he must have never left the house and had just holed himself up in his workshop.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, approaching and carefully taking your arm in his hands, he looked closely at the wound "You couldn't have done that on patrol, right? Where were you?"

You couldn't lie, not to Joel. Even though you had already lied to him, saying that you were going on a regular patrol instead of a friend. You took a deep breath.

"I was at that old shopping mall. I had to do something..."

"Have you lost your mind?" Joel hissed angrily "I told you not to go there alone."

"Peter was with me. Nothing happened to us! It is just a scratch." You replied quickly "I bumped into a glass case and..."

"Come with me."

Without a word, you and Joel went back to the bedroom and sat on the bed. After a few moments, he appeared with a first aid kit and started professionally dressing your wound. Still silent, still angry. You felt the emotions radiating from him, but you hadn't done anything wrong. You wanted to help and...

"Ouch!" you hissed when he put an alcohol swab on your wound "That hurts."

Still silence. You gritted your teeth and decided not to show that you were in pain. It wasn't until Joel tied the bandage and the dressing was ready that you dared to speak.

"I had to go there. I know I hid it from you and I'm sure it seems stupid..."

He put the first aid kit down and looked at you. “Why did you lie to me?” he asked. Damn, you would rather have him yell at you than look at you with such disappointment.

But you knew what you did was right and if it weren't for the accident, Joel would never have found out and you could have done something for him. The little lie was necessary.

"Because you would never have let me go there alone." you finally blurted out "And I wanted to do something for you!"

"Oh!" Joel raised his eyebrows ironically "Did you want to get yourself killed or something? Especially for me?"

"No!" you snorted "I wanted to find this for you."

You pulled a small package out of your back pocket and tossed it onto his lap. He looked at it in shock. Dark eyes widened in surprise.

"You said you needed new guitar strings. And I saw this music store in the mall and thought... I wanted to do something for you, Joel! If it weren't for that stupid display case..."

Your words seemed to finally reach him, because he turned the package over in his large hands, and then looked back at you.

"I'm sorry, I was..." Joel began, not even knowing what words should leave his mouth, he was too surprised.

"I wanted to do something for you, because you're always thinking about me and Ellie. I really didn't want to lie. I just didn't tell you exactly where I was going... You'd say it wasn't necessary, that you didn't need those strings, but in reality you'd give a lot to have them. So I went there and..."

A warm hand closed over yours and squeezed it gently. You lifted your head, looking at Joel in surprise. He was smiling at you, there was no trace of his earlier anger.

“You’re going to have a heart attack one day, but… I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that,” he said, clearly moved. “I still think it was crazy and that you hurt yourself, but… Thank you.”

You smiled, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. "I didn't mean to lie to you, Joel. It wasn't even a lie."

"It was, but... It doesn't matter." he stroked your cheek, looking at you fondly. "I'm sorry, babe."

"I'm sorry too." you replied quietly.

He leaned down and his soft lips brushed yours, once, twice, three times...

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." you repeated quietly with each kiss.

"You're crazy, you know that?" he asked. You nodded without even opening your eyes.

"But will you kiss me again? I'd like to apologize to you some more."

“God, you’re lucky I love you,” Joel chuckled.

However, he granted your request. And even though you had a fresh bandage on your arm, you had completely forgotten about the pain.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #900 followers milestone celebration

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cillslover · 30 days ago

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Need You Now

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut!!, fluffy and loving, unprotected P in V, praising kink, mentions of PTSD (war), vulgar language, adult content, 18+

Summary: Thomas Shelby comes home overwhelmed and exhausted, needing the only person who truely calms his mind, y/n.

Word Count: 1,532

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“Need you y/n” Tommy says in his gravelly raspy voice leaning against the bedroom door frame, making you jump a little, startled from where you were standing re arranging decorations around the house, you always loved too decorate Arrow House for whatever season it was, it was one of your favourite things to do while Tommy was busy with his business work.

“Y/n please”

“What is it Thomas?” You ask placing the Christmas decoration you were holding down on the fireplace and walking over to him.

He looked so worn out and tired dark circles around his eyes. You reached up, massaging the back of his neck, edging closer to him. He kissed you, a very passionate one that too. You could feel how needy he was. Pulling away from the kiss you look at him, his lips slightly swollen,

“what’s the matter Tommy? Use your words” you pushed him down onto the bed, as you sit on his lap straddling his hips, your fingers gently combing through his hair.

“Just everything, so stressful…. I’ve missed you” he groaned, burring his head into the side of your neck, his hands roaming your body.

“Need you…to calm me down” he whispers “take care of me, love” he says exasperated

Tommy was a strong man, he never let his guard down with anyone, showing the world his rough exterior, always making sure people feared him, but with you he was all soft and emotional, he was at peace, smiles adorning his face, he let you see every vulnerable part of him. He never hid anything from you, there would be nights where he would break down in your arms, from a nightmare or a PTSD attack of when he was in France. But he’d never let the world see that side of him. It would ruin his image.

“Oh sweetheart,” you whispered placing a soft kiss on his forehead, “I’ll take care of you, my love” , stroking his sharp cheekbone, his bright blue eyes staring at you in awe.

He loved every part of you, you were the most beautiful thing in his eyes. He hummed as he placed soft kisses along your neck, giving you butterflies, as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of your top, you pulled it over your head. Luckily you weren’t wearing a bra today.

“Can I?” Tommy asks, cupping your breasts in his hands

“all yours”, letting out a shaky breath of pleasure, as his soft plump lips suck at your hard nipples.

Tommy’s eyes flutter close, a groan leaving his mouth, pleased with the feeling of your tit in his mouth, it was one of his favourite things. You just let out soft whimpers, grounding your cunt against his thigh, he flexes his thigh assisting in your pleasure. His mouth switches to the other one, using his fingers on the one that was just in his mouth, gently rolling your tit between his fingers.

“Oh Tommy…” you moaned as you slightly pushed his shoulders, pushing him down onto the bed gently.

You knew he needed soft gentle love tonight, you could tell he needed you to take control for once. It’s not like everyday that Tommy Shelby would let you just take control, these nights where rare and you’d always make sure to make the most of them, as Tommy usually loved to be the one in control in the bedroom.

You straddled his waist, feeling his hard cock press against your core, a soft groan leaving his mouth. Running your hands teasingly along his prominent abs. Tommy just laid there his eyes on you, thinking how lucky he was to have you as his own. You were breathtaking.

“Gonna make you feel better okay, love” you cooed, placing soft kisses down his abdomen

“gonna take care of my baby”, you gave him a sweet kiss on his lips your hands pulling his trousers down, throwing it on top of the rest of the clothes on the floor.

“Tell me how badly you need me, Thomas.”

His hips bucked up into your clothed cunt, a whine pathetically leaving his mouth,

“need you more than anything y/n… so badly”, he moaned as he watched you slip your underwear off, he thought you’d put him inside of you, but you thought better you slowly grind your glistening pussy on the head of his cock.

You decide to put on a little show for him, as you slightly spread your legs, collecting his precum on your fingers smearing it along your folds, moaning. His cock twitches a low groan leaving his mouth.

“please y/n…. Please fuckin hell… please let me be inside of you… please” he moans bucking his hips up trying to get some friction at least on his thick throbbing cock.

“You sound so pretty when you beg for me, Thomas” you say as you slowly sink down onto his cock, moaning at the feeling of how deep he is inside of you. He jerked, whimpering underneath you, needing some type of movement desperately, but you stay still smirking at his desperation.

“Oh my love, you want it that bad yeah?” You say in a teasing voice, leaning down and placing a kiss on his pretty lips, the palms of your hands planted firmly on his lower abdomen, as you raised your hips up and then sinking back down on him. Your tongue’s tying together as he groaned loudly into the kiss.

You lifted your body slightly up, so you could ride him better,

“tell me Thomas, tell me how good I’m makin you feel love” you moaned as your hips ground back and forth onto his hard cock, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone. Throwing your head back at the pleasure of his cock so deep inside you.

“So good… feels fuckin incredible y/n” he chokes out between moans, his hands firmly gripping your hips, Tommy was whimpering and moaning each time you moved your hips back and forth, you loved to hear him moan it was so cute the way his mouth would be slightly open his head thrown back into the pillows his eyes admiring your body, small moans leaving his pretty mouth.

“You look so pretty, so beautiful” he whines

You picked up your pace, moving your hips faster feeling his dick so deep inside you, hitting your G-spot several times

“I love you”. Tommy’s eyes roll into the back of his head, he completely is under your control, the way your sweet pussy squeezes around his thick cock was enough to make him loose his mind. So this, this was just making him go crazy. He whines reaching out for your hand. He loved to hold your hand while riding him, it was a sort of comfort for him.

“Doing so good for me, baby boy” you praised conceitedly, getting lost in your own pleasure.

Your free hand roamed up your body, teasing over your nipples, knowing how crazy it drives Thomas watching you please yourself.

Tommy watched you through hooded eyes, way too fucked out to even process saying anything. He should let you take control more often he thought to himself, as his hips bucked up into yours, whimpers and moans leaving his mouth, the neighbours could hear him from here, but none of you cared. His knuckles are going white from clutching your hand, his stomach sinking and rising at the pleasure, his head thrown back, sweat trickling down his forehead his hair all messed up.

“Gonna cum baby boy, I want you too cum with me okay, can you do that for me love?” You ask giving him the most seductive eyes

Tommy just nodded his eyes sparkling with pleasure. You sank down on him roughly a strangled cry leaving your mouth as you came on him, that was enough to send him over, his seed shooting up into you. His head thrown back into the pillows his jaw line sharp, his hand clutching yours, knuckles completely white, strangled moans of pleasure leaving his mouth his Adam’s apple bobbing, as his abs tighten, it’s the most sexiest beautiful sight you could ever witness Tommy completely coming undone before you, all thanks to you. Both of you writher in pleasure.

When you finally pulled off him, he let out a soft cry, hissing at the cold air on his fucked out cock. You laid beside him planting soft kisses all along his jaw line and throat, brushing the strands off hair off his sticky forehead.

“Tommy..” you whispered in his ear, propping yourself on your elbow by his head, he limply turned his head towards you, opening his delicate eyelids revealing those beautiful ocean blue orbs,

“I love you so much, you did so well for me love, I’m so proud of you”

“Mmm love you more” he whispered his eyes dropping heavy with sleep

“love you so much” he whisper nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck inhaling your sweet scent as he falls asleep and you smile planting a kiss on his head pulling the cover over you, holding him close. Knowing that only you have the privilege of seeing this side of Tommy.

_____________

Not edited I was in a rush 😭

#tommy shelby #fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fluff #cillian x fem!reader #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy #cillian fluff #cillian murphy smut

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realisticjupiter · 1 year ago

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haihaii!! your profile has been like.... THERAPY to me bc the aib fixation is back AND ITS STRONG ESPECIALLY TOWARDS CHISHIYA 💔💔💔 i love the way u write as well !!

so with this could i request a touch starved chishiya... like a chishiya that needs readers attention so bad but is too embarrassed to downright tell them "I WANT CUDDLES" or smth... still he does everything in his power to get readers attention atp the only thing left is to just BEG

also could i be 🎶 anon ? i picture myself being very active here from now on... have a nice day!!

Summary: Chishiya can't sleep without you.

Genre: Fluffy

Pairing: Chishiya x gn!reader

Warnings: None! :)

Word count: 784

a/n: Aghhhh i hope this is okay!!!!! That is actually so sweet of you, I'm so glad you've liked my account!!!<3 And ofc you can claim an emoji, hello 🎶!!

Chishiya tried everything to get you into bed with him. He tried seducing you, gaslighting you, and of course his manipulation tactics didn't work either.

All you were focused on was trying to fix the phone from last night's game. It was still on, so you thought it would be easier to get into before it powered off.

Every time he'd call your name, you'd brush him off. Mostly because he always used a certain tone of voice you've become far too familiar with when he tries to get what he wants.

All he wanted to do was kneel at your feet to tell you exactly what he wanted. To tell you he just wanted you to hold him, to tell you all he needed was your attention.

But he couldn't. He never has been able to ask for help, or ask for anything without feeling vulnerable for that matter. He was closed off, that's what people knew about him; that he didn't show those types of emotions in fear of being belittled.

Chishiya could feel his eyelids getting heavy and his eyes burning from keeping them open, but he knew no matter how hard he would toss and turn; he wouldn't be able to sleep without you.

It was pathetic, he'd admit that. It was a loop he found himself getting stuck into, and found there was no way out of it. He hid it pretty well, though. Through late nights where you'd fall asleep alone and wake up to him beside you. You truly had no idea he struggled so much.

He was so tired. He'd do anything if you'd just stop and sleep already.

And he found his last option, the one thing he dreaded the most.

"Y/n?" Chishiya whispered, his voice husky as he climbed out of bed and walked towards you with slow steps.

"What?" You hummed in response, never peeling your eyes away from the task at hand.

"Please," He spoke underneath his breath in an almost incoherent whisper as he stopped to stand beside the chair you sat in.

"I don't know what you want, Chishiya. No one is keeping you awake." You sighed, watching from the corner of your eye as he stood by your side, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

"You're keeping me awake." He murmured, watching your hands as they played around with the device's motherboard.

"How?" You said in defeat, finally turning your attention to him. You looked up at him with your hands thrown in your lap, clearly waiting for his response.

He let out a huff as he looked around the room; avoiding eye contact. When he finally looked at you, his eyes were soft and glassed over.

His next sentence was incoherent.

"What?"

[inaudible]

"Chishiya. Speak up, please." Your words were soft as you stood up from your seat, placing your hands on his upper arms.

"I can't sleep without you." He finally spoke, his words finally registering in your mind.

When he realized you had finally heard him, he felt like he could say anything. And with his new found confidence he continued to speak.

"Why is it so hard to ask you to touch me?" He breathed, letting his head fall onto your shoulder.

You smiled at his soft demeanour. You knew how hard it must've been for him to admit something so close to himself, especially since it was about you. You've found a new side of Chishiya you haven't seen before.

You brought a hand to comb through his hair as the other scratched up and down his bare back, "I'm sorry, Chishiya. I should've just read your mind." You whispered against his shoulder as you held him close to your body.

Your words were an obvious tease, trying to humor the situation at hand. Which did make Chishiya snicker.

"You should have. You've always been able to." He muttered, wrapping his arms lazily around you.

You smiled warmly as he spoke, pulling away to drag his hand towards the bed. You climbed in with him closely behind you. He waited for you to get comfortable, before he joined you under the covers to tangle his limbs with yours.

"I'm proud of you, Chishiya." Your sultry breath hit his forehead as you mumbled against his skin.

He stared down at the way your bodies fit together, processing your words with a smile he knew you couldn't see.

"Now go to sleep, 'm here." You spoke once more into his skin, kissing his forehead and massaging your fingers into his scalp.

His cold fingers danced around your bare skin, trying to bring himself impossibly closer to you before his body fell limp into a night's sleep.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

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angelx · 2 months ago

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do you think you can write something about soft bf katsuki who has a gf who's struggling with her mental health (PLEASE FOR BPD REPRESENTATION) and she also struggling with self harm??

need to see how he takes care of his beloved gf 😭😭🙏🙏

as a girlie with BPD, i thank you for requesting this, i feel seen too by writing this

cw: soft bf Katsuki x BPD!reader | tw: self-harm, emotional dysregulation, comfort, hurt/comfort, heavy on reassurance, safe ending

"Always you..."

It starts with silence. Not the peaceful kind. The kind that feels like your brain is underwater, everything too loud and too quiet at the same time.

You're curled up on the edge of the bed like you’re afraid of taking up space, wearing that hoodie Katsuki gave you—the one that smells like him, the one you stole off the floor because you needed something. Your sleeves are pulled down low over your hands, your fingers twitching at the hem like you're trying to keep yourself from doing something worse.

Katsuki sees you.

He's always watching, even when you don’t think he is.

He doesn’t barge in. Doesn’t shout. Doesn’t panic.

He just walks over and kneels in front of you like you’re holy, like you’re breakable but not broken.

“…Hey,” he says softly, like he’s scared of scaring you off. “Look at me.”

You don’t.

He reaches out carefully, fingers brushing over your wrist. His thumb grazes a fresh bandage—one you put on fast, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He did.

“Please don’t be mad,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I didn’t know what else to do, Katsuki, I just—my head—everything felt too much and then not enough and I thought if I could just feel something real—”

“Baby.”

His voice is gentle, but it grounds you like a thunderclap.

He cups your cheek and tilts your face toward him, just enough that you see the look in his eyes. No anger. No disappointment.

Just love. Raw and stubborn and aching.

“You don’t gotta do that to be or feel real,” he says. “You don’t gotta hurt yourself just ‘cause your brain’s being a bitch today.”

You hiccup a sob. “You’re gonna leave. I’m gonna push you too far one day and you’re gonna realize I’m too much.”

He frowns like you just said the dumbest shit he’s ever heard. “I already know how much you are. And I want all of you, dumbass.”

“I’m not lovable like this—”

“You are.” Katsuki says it with steel in his voice now, not because he’s mad, but because he wants to hammer it into your heart. “I don’t give a shit how bad it gets. You’re not your worst thoughts. You’re not your mood swings. You’re mine. And I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

You cry harder then, ugly and loud, because it’s too much. He’s too much.

He pulls you into his arms like he’s done it a thousand times and will do it a thousand more. Lets you cling. Lets you cry into his shoulder until your throat hurts. He rocks you a little, like it’s instinct. Like you’re something precious he has to protect from the world—and sometimes, from yourself.

“You know what we’re gonna do?” he murmurs into your hair. “We’re gonna breathe together. We’re gonna drink some water. I’m gonna help you clean up the sharp shit you hid under the sink. Then we’re gonna watch that dumbass comfort show you like until you fall asleep on me. And tomorrow? We’re gonna do it all again if we have to.”

“…Even if I spiral again?”

“Especially if you spiral again.”

Your voice cracks. “Why?”

Katsuki pulls back just enough to press his forehead to yours. His hand cradles the back of your head. His thumb brushes a tear off your cheek.

“‘Cause I fuckin’ love you,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “All of you. Even the parts you think make you unlovable. Especially those.”

check out my other works here!: MHA MASTERLIST

#bakugou katsuki #mha scenarios #mha headcanons #mha x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha angst #bnha scenarios #bnha bakugou #katsuki angst #bakugo angst

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ghostiesnightmare · 5 months ago

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Your writing is EVERYTHING - from the details to the plot, I cannot describe how you can do that !

Request ;Michael sparing your life when you do something that makes him curious and excited - like kneeling in front of him or something like that ! I writed something like this on another account, but you write so good you have to do something with this !

With blood, knife Play, choking, some very very brutal Mikey, Pain kink-

Sorry for my bad english, my first language is french 😘

Salvation

Pairing: Michael Myers x Female Reader Summary: You were never supposed to survive him. You could have fled and buried the haunting memory of that fateful night– yet something draws you back to the ruins of faith and blood. Back to a place where your fear turns into something more like devotion. TW: DARK content, heavy religious influences, dubcon, blood, gore, knifeplay, choking, foul language, BLASPHEMY, unprotected sex, rough sex, vivid descriptions of pain, power imbalance, abuse, and more. Read at your own risk Word Count: 8,081 MDNI-NSFW A/N: This fic is HEAVILY reliant on Christian influences, so please read at your own risk. I recommend listening to Christian Woman by Type O Negative, which I had on repeat while writing this fic. I really struggled with this one, ngl... enjoy!

-----

They say fear is the oldest and strongest emotion– primal and unrelenting.

It’s an instinct woven into every creature, the deciding factor between life and death. The fear of the unknown is the greatest thing of all, or so Lovecraft once claimed. Yet, something about the quote never sat right with you. Fear is a fleeting thing– it tends to lack depth. It’s a faceless ghost– the sensation of goosebumps prickling against skin, the jitter in your bones as you shiver from adrenaline.

But no matter how hard you tried to picture it, to show it, the emotion evaded you.

You groaned, fingers moving instinctively across the page of your sketchbook as you tried to capture the essence of the scene before you. The town square was buzzing with movement– costumed figures prowling through the streets, faces covered in an assortment of masks and bodies disfigured under layers of fabric.

Children clutched worn pillowcases, bounding from vendor to vendor in order to get their hands on a new sweet treat, parents following closely behind. Haddonfield’s annual Halloween Jamboree was nothing short of tradition, the mid-sized town throwing a lavish festival the Friday before the week of Halloween, something about being family friendly– as the mayor had said a few years back.

The event itself was always a hit, with college students flocking the scene from the nearby campus once the sun had fully set and the adults could come out and play. The festivities, as cheerful and decorative as they were, hid a much darker secret.

As Halloween approached, so did the threat of death.

As much as people tried to ignore it, no matter how close parents held their children, no matter the curfews or buddy systems– death always came to collect. A heavy exhale escaped you, thumb smudging the shadows of the sketched scene, darkening the edges– there, it almost looked real. Almost alive.

Gazing over the sketch of haunting figures parading down the sidewalk, something caught your eye. A frown caught on your lips, brows furrowing. Holding up the sketch to the darkened sky, you glanced upwards, comparing fiction from reality. A muddled shape etched into the background of the town square– had you meant to draw that?

A smudge… no, a figure, so faint it was nearly swallowed up by the charcoal shadows, standing just in front of the treeline– watching.

“You’re doing it again.” The sound nearly made you jump out of your skin. Whirling your head around, the sketchbook clattered onto the wooden bench, now forgotten. Tiffany leaned over your shoulder, brow cocked in amusement at your jumpy state. Rolling your eyes at her antics, you quickly scooped up the sketchbook, frustration bubbling in your stomach.

“Jesus Tiff, you scared the shit out of me–” Your gaze caught the shape of the charcoal pencil on the concrete, “–ugh, my pencil! You owe me a new one.” You huffed out, gingerly rolling the ruined utensil between your fingers. Tiffany mumbled out an apology while moving around the bench, the scent of cigarettes invading your nostrils as she collapsed next to you.

“Seriously babes, it’s almost Halloween– not some art critique.” Her nose scrunched at that, and you shoved her shoulder halfheartedly. She squealed at your assault, shoving you back before continuing. “...Can you put down the creepy sketches for one night? Jennifer and I skipped the callbacks afterparty to be here.” She pouted, those damn doe eyes burning into you, guilt gnawing in your stomach.

You sighed, tucking the sketchbook into your backpack. “I know, I know… I’m just–” “–Being a little weirdo like always?” Jennifer cut in, plopping into the open spot to your right on the bench. She grinned at you, pushing a beer bottle into your hand, the other gripped around another glass. You instantly took a swig, grimacing as the warm taste of stale beer invaded your senses.

“C’mon, this is like the last Friday we have together before rehearsals start! We have to do something fun.” She mused, Tiffany nodding along absentmindedly while she fiddled with her jeans. “This is fun!” you protested, but you couldn’t help but smile at them, knowing they had already won you over. Tiffany and Jennifer were your vices– they could convince you to do just about anything, no matter how much you disagreed with them. That’s what made your friendship so strong, they pushed you out of your comfort zone, and you kept them from going off the deep end.

Something about tonight, however, felt different.

The Halloween Jamboree was too loud, too bright, too crowded. The air buzzed with anticipation of an unnamed influence, something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight. Jennifer drained the last of her drink, tossing the bottle haphazardly behind her with a smirk. She straightened suddenly, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she looked you and Tiffany over.

“You know what we really need?” She questioned, and your stomach dropped a bit. The last time she uttered that phrase it resulted in you being banned from half the frats on campus after she stole the composite pictures from Lambda Chi Alpha. You chuckled slightly, the image of her drunkenly tackling a pledge like a linebacker with the picture cradled in her arms flashing in your mind.

Tiffany cocked a brow, apprehension coating her response, “What?” Jennifer flashed a wolfish grin, plucking the beer from your hand, ignoring your whines. She took a swig, contemplating her words before speaking, “–We need a real scare. I say we do something actually terrifying…”

She glanced at the costumed children in front of her, brows furrowing before she added, “-None of this kiddie haunted house bullshit.” Tiffany was instantly intrigued at the prospect, but you were less assured. “Like what?”, you questioned, yanking the beer bottle back into your hands and taking a sip.

Jennifer shrugged, but Tiffany’s eyes gleamed– an idea popping into her head and she grabbed your shoulder. “I mean… There is that old church just outside of town.” She mused, Jennifer quickly taking the bait. “That’s perfect! You’re a genius, Tiff.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. The church.

You had heard the rumors, the stories. Some said it had been abandoned for decades after the fire ravaged the building, leaving the charred remains scattered along the forest floor to rot. Others said it never had been abandoned, the decaying steeple housing something much more sinister.

Whispers of the couple that was brutally murdered earlier this year quickly fluttered through your mind, their warped corpses draped over the altar. “Demon worshipers”, the sheriff had said, but you weren’t so sure. The church was your secret– having been obsessed with the dark ruins that seemed to swallow you up every time you walked through the doors. You had sketched it from memory countless times, the skeletal archways and dusty pews burned into your brain.

Something about it always called to you.

Jennifer’s grin only widened, and you fought to keep your expression neutral. “What do you think, scaredy cat?” She mocked, the beer turning sour in your mouth at the taunt. “–Think you can handle it?” You swallowed thickly, debating saying something. You wanted to say no, the idea of having your friends trample around your safe space making your stomach churn. ‘It’s not safe’, you wanted to plead, ‘–it’s dangerous’.

Instead, you found yourself pulling your backpack over your shoulders. “Let’s go.” You mumbled, causing an excited squeal to erupt from your friends, who were hot on your heel. You quickly finished the beer, tossing it into a stray trash can as you passed, a heavy sigh building in the back of your throat.

Three girls exploring a haunted church a few nights before Halloween… what’s the worst that could happen?

The church was always grim at night.

Like an icon to broken faith, it loomed over the treeline– the charred steeple cutting through the horizon like a knife. The rusted iron gate stood ajar, the hinge groaning as you pushed it further open, like a mouth leading into darkness. The wind howled in the distance, whipping through the shattered windows– making the building sound as if it were breathing.

You shivered against the cold, braving onwards. Leaves crunched under your boots as you walked, Tiffany and Jennifer following closely behind. Weaving through the asymmetrical headstones of the cemetery, you paused at the entrance of the church, Tiffany tripping over her feet as she glanced upwards. The wood of the heavy doors had deteriorated over time, moss and mushrooms sprouting from the ground upwards.

You leaned against the heavy door, pushing one open with a grunt. The wood gave way, the rusty hinges screaming as you opened the door. Stepping inside, the three of you gaped upwards, taking in your surroundings.

“I need a cigarette.” Jennifer mumbled, eyes trailing the stained glass depicting different saints and angels. The moonlight streamed through the gaping holes in the ceiling– the rafters in various stages of decay as your eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Sidestepping a fallen pew, you made your way forwards, navigating through the familiar maze of stone and wood.

The air was thick with rot and dust, hanging heavy around you like a weighted blanket. Your hand traced the ornate carvings of a confessional booth, the wood now splintered and covered in graffiti. A place once considered to be holy– now desolate and abandoned. Jennifer rammed into the overturned pew, obscenities flying from her mouth.

Ushering the duo over, you pulled them to the back of the church, the cracked marble of the altar glowing faintly under the moonlight. The air stilled here, a chill seeping into your bones as you stared forward. Tiffany straightened, swallowing thickly. “Is... is that where–?”

You nodded, the gruesome crime scene photos from the newspaper flashing in your mind. Jennifer, ever fearless, moved forward. Brushing her hand against the altar, she hopped up, legs swinging as she sat on the resting place of two unfortunate souls. Your stomach boiled at the disrespect, but you held your tongue. “Ya know…” She started, fishing out a cigarette from her pocket. Lighting it, she took a drag before continuing. “Some say they saw the devil before they died. That’s why the police never found their killer.” Tiffany shuddered at the statement, eyes catching a drop of dried blood hidden underneath the altar.

You rolled your eyes.

“Their friends were drunk. I mean…” You gestured around yourself to the decaying church, “-Who else comes to a church to play the Ouija board? They were seeing things.” Jennifer pushed off of the altar, heels clicking against the dusty floor as she took another drag. She exhaled, blowing the smoke into your face– your eyes stinging as a cough ripped from your throat.

You snatched the cigarette from her fingers, anger building.

“Whether you believe in it or not, go smoke outside. You’re being rude.” Jennifer’s brows furrowed, an angry pout building on her lips as she glowered at you. “Jeez, someone’s got their panties in a twist tonight.” She huffed out, taking the butt of the cigarette from your hands and moving towards the front door. “I’ll be a minute…” She called over her shoulder, eyes meeting yours with a twinge of irritation. “–Don’t wait up.” Her footsteps retreated outside, and

Tiffany sank into a wooden pew– trying to steel her nerves. Your fingers twitched, itching for your sketchbook. You wanted to capture the essence of the church, something about it so harrowing it stayed with you every time you left. The cracked altar, the rusted candelabras, the splintered organ shoved into the corner– it whispered to you, begging you to explore, to dive into the depths.

You glanced at the altar once more, trying to imagine the final moments of those who came before you.

The hiss of spray cans against stone, the clink of beer bottles and the smell of cigarette smoke. The whispers to a wooden board, the shrieks of excitement as the planchette moved. An unexpected visitor– a struggle, a piercing shout– then nothing. Was the violence in a place deemed sacred the reason for your obsession? Or was it something darker, a force calling you from the bowels of the church?

Did they pray to a god they didn't believe in as they were slaughtered, or did they know that they were forsaken? Your mind spun with the possibilities, fingers burning to sketch the outline of the saints etched into the wall. They had to have seen, they had to have known, yet nothing saved them… why?

A gurgled scream tore through the stale air, causing your spine to stiffen.

Your head whirled, eyes meeting the frantic Tiffany, who shot out of the pew. You both turned towards the noise, fear settling in the pit of your stomach. Jennifer. Your throat dried, heart pounding in your chest as you called out– a piece of you begging, pleading for a response. Nothing. The silence seemed to swallow you whole, your feet anchoring you in place. God, that scream– the sound seared into your brain as you gaped at the door.

Tiffany bolted towards the front door, feet skittering across the assortment of debris littering the floor. Your brain yelled at you to move, to run and follow Tiffany, but you were frozen in place. Stumbling forward, she reached the expanse of the open door, darting out momentarily. Your heart leaped within your chest, mouth opening to speak– but any semblance of words died on your tongue. You looked upwards. The iconography of forgotten saints glaring down at you in the haze of night, solemn faces weathered by time.

Is this how it felt to feel the wrath of God?

Tiffany rushed back inside, slamming the wooden door with a force so strong it made the church tremble. Deathly pale, she stumbled over the debris, collapsing in a heap a few feet from the doors. The smell of vomit filled the air, and you flinched. The sight of her– broken, trembling, driven half mad– snapped you from your trance. You whispered across the darkness, arms beckoning her towards you, but she remained rooted in place.

“What… What did you see?!” Tiffany choked on a sob, breath hitching. Snot ran down her face, and she whipped her face with her damp sleeve. “Tiffany–” Your voice hardened, urgency rising like bile in your throat. “–Where is Jennifer?” At the mention of her name, Tiffany went rigid. She shook her head violently, as if the words themselves would summon something terrible.

“She’s…”, Her fingers dug into the floorboards, clawing for something solid. “Oh god– she’s dead.”

The words hung in the air– and a piece of you begged that it was some kind of joke. But nothing about the trembling girl in front of you seemed staged, it was all terrifyingly real. You swallowed hard, straining your ears for any sound of movement. Adrenaline began to flood your senses, your heart feeling like it was going to burst from your chest.

The church was quiet– too quiet– the only sound coming from the wind whipping through the rafters.

The heavy door shuddered slightly as it was pushed open once more, the shriek of the hinges catching your attention. The open doorway was a gateway to the void, no matter how hard you squinted darkness met your vision. Hope rose within your chest, pushing your shaking legs forward– one step, two. Maybe Jennifer had gotten hurt, maybe Tiffany saw the blood and panicked, maybe– just maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

A shadow passed through the threshold of the doorway, thick and oppressive.

Tiffany let out a pitiful whimper, shrinking further into the floor, refusing to look behind her and into the doorway. You squinted against the darkness, trying to make out the shape you swore you saw move into the entrance of the church.

The stale air in the church thickened, and you swallowed dryly, eyes tracing the doorway. A stream of moonlight broke through the battered steeple, cutting through the darkness– and then you saw him. That godforsaken pale mask you had only heard of in ghost stories, those hollow eyes that burned into your skull. Like death itself, the boogeyman of Haddonfield had come to pay his due.

Michael Myers.

A part of you knew, deep down that Jennifer wasn’t coming back. Whatever had made her scream had already decided her fate, and even worse– you were next.

The church seemed to tighten around you, the air growing suffocatingly thick. Your knees locked in place, fear crackling through your veins. You should have known better, that there was no salvation in a house of God– not here, not tonight. Michael stepped further into the church, breaching the line of sanctuary, and you knew– no prayer would save you now.

Tiffany tried to run, she really did– but nothing could keep her foot from catching on the edge of an upturned rock. She stumbled, a frantic yelp ripping from her throat as her twisted limb crumbled beneath her. Her fingers clawed at the floor, desperately trying to drag herself from the shadow looming over her. Gasping for air, she outstretched a hand– praying, begging for salvation.

Like a lamb sent to slaughter.

Your mouth went dry at the absolute irony of it all– hunted down in a revered sanctuary. Mentally you screamed at your legs to move, to give out, to do anything other than stand there and gape like a deer caught in headlights, but your feet remained rooted to the floor.

“God, please help me–” Tiffany sputtered out, calling out your name like a lifeline, tears streaming down her face as she writhed like an overturned bug. “... I don’t want to die–”. The pitiful words pounded in your skull, yet you couldn’t tear yourself away from the scene. Michael refused to stop, hand gripping the back of her hair and pulling her head upwards off the floor. Her eyes met yours, and the blood drained from your face.

The saints loomed overhead, their engraved expressions frozen in silent judgement, empty eyes watching, waiting. Their lips did not move to save her– for she was already damned.

The knife came down in a single, unceremonious slice, severing the fragile skin of her throat. Her prayer gurgled on her tongue, blood spilling over her hands as she clawed at her throat. Tiffany convulsed, her eyes bulging from her skull as she choked on her own blood before deteriorating to the dusty floor.

Silence fell over the church once more, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your knees buckled beneath your weight, a dull pain stabbing into you as you collapsed. The stone needled through the denim of your jeans, and your hands trembled, barely supporting you. Michael moved onwards, a shadow cast by the hand of God– silent, inevitable.

His gaze burned into you, scorching your flesh as you stared, unable to look away. The sickening dribble of blood, a calculated step, two. And then– slowly– you lowered your head. Your fingers curled into fists as your head dipped, breaths coming out in frantic huffs as you knelt, body possessed by something ancient, something primal.

His overwhelming presence bore down on you, the outline of his boots barely visible under the curtain of hair pooling from your head, obstructing your view. Another deep sigh came from Michael– your judge, jury, and executioner– the knife, your penance, gripped tightly in his fist.

“Please,” the word slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself, voice hoarse, resolve shattered.

You couldn’t decipher what you were pleading for… the finality of your punishment– or deliverance? Your prayer echoed around the space, the weight of his gaze bearing down against you. The church walls stood, unmoving. The saints did not weep– the grounds did not split, swallowing you up into the depths of hell– just silence.

You remained frozen, head bowed to the floor like a deranged sign of reverence. You didn’t dare to raise your gaze, not when you could feel him standing over you, his presence practically suffocating. Michael did not move, motionless above you. You could have sworn you heard him breathing– slow, steady, somehow human– but everything else surrounding him embodied the unnatural. The moment seemed to stretch into eternity, time itself faltering around him, heavy and stifling.

Then, footsteps– slow and calculated.

You squeezed your eyes shut as they receded, the jostling slam of the wooden door swallowing his form into the night. The cold rushed through your lungs as you gasped for air, shuddering as you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. Just as soon as he appeared, he was gone. For the first time since his untimely appearance, you forced your body to move– hands flattening against the floor as you shakily pushed yourself upwards.

Blood coated the soles of your boots as you stumbled towards the entrance of the church, and you forced yourself to look. Tiffany’s motionless body lay mere inches from your laces, lifeless eyes staring blankly at the vaulted ceiling– eerily mirroring the saints glaring down at you.

You knew Jennifer wasn’t going to be any better, another lost soul put in the wrong place, wrong time. Your fingers dug into the splintered wood of the door, and you pulled the door open, the frigid nighttime air biting into your skin.

They were dead, but you– you were alive. Your stomach lurched, a strangled sob ripping from your throat as you dry heaved against the doorway. Your body shivered, wracked with fear, with grief, and something much worse.

Something that burned in your chest like shame– something that felt like gratitude.

The funeral was a blur.

Jennifer’s family was a wreck, her mother sobbing openly as they lowered the casket into the ground. She clawed at the wooden box as if to drag her daughter back into the light– to life. Tiffany’s parents were more solemn, her father silently watching the scene unravel as he held his wife to his chest.

There’s a saying you read in a book once, that parents only feel true sorrow when they bury their children within their lifetime. Seeing it all now, however, the saying was all the more horrific. You stood at the back of the service, nails digging into the palms of your hands– leaving crescents in their wake. The questions from the officers interrogating you just days before still swirled in your head, voices muffled against the sobs of the funeral party.

We just wanted to explore, you had said. They ran– but I don’t know why I didn’t, too. You expected disbelief, the fragmented pieces of information you remembered painting a picture of the boogeyman you were sure had been blamed for many other crimes. In the end, the weight of two bodies– killed days before Halloween– seemed to be enough evidence that mirrored your claims.

You didn’t cry– you couldn’t, not when you had survived.

The guilt gnawed at you, clawing through your ribcage to the point where you felt like you couldn’t breathe. It was immeasurable, but there was something else growing within you– something darker. Michael had spared you, not due to mercy or luck, but from something you couldn’t quite place. He had watched you– stood over you with your life practically balanced between his fingers– and he walked away.

Your mind couldn’t let it go, replaying the moments like a broken record, trying but failing to analyze what could have been your saving grace.

You had stopped sleeping since that night.

Every time you closed your eyes, he would be there, towering over you– a silent threat. You dreamed of him, not as the brutal murderer that ripped the life from your friends, but as something far from human. He was always there, lurking in the back of your mind like a shadow. Throughout the restless nights, you would toss and turn, the events of that forsaken night playing in an endless loop.

The church. The knife. The screams. But most importantly, the haunting silence that followed.

The air always felt heavy during the night, as if you were being watched– the hair on the back of your neck standing straight up as you tried to force your bloodshot eyes shut. You tried everything to relieve the stress: chamomile tea, lavender lotion, weighted blankets, a noise machine. Yet the sweet solace of sleep never came, the only semblance of rest coming from the daydreams that followed your every waking moment.

You became withdrawn from school, the days bleeding together after the funeral into a mess of smeared memories. Your classmates assumed you were grieving the loss of your friends, the trauma uprooting your life in a way that left you… different. If only they knew the truth, the nightmares plaguing you at night, the guilt of it all, weighing down on you like a wet blanket.

He consumed your life, from the moment you dragged yourself out of bed to the second you shut your eyes. It was as if you missed him– the thought alone made you feel sick. But it was there, those dark thoughts crawling within your chest, feelings you could only describe as a fucked up gratitude. Michael had spared you, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions.

And no matter how hard you tried to push the feelings down and snuff out the curiosity, you wanted to find out why.

The darkness manifested itself within your work. At first, you didn’t even notice– mindless doodles on your notes as the professor lectured in class, sketches charcoaled in your notebook during the nights you dreaded sleep. Somehow, he always managed to take form.

The curve of the blade of the knife, the angle of his shoulders, the hollow outline of his mask.

As your mind wandered, the page would fill with details you only could have imagined– the sharp curve of a nose, a widow’s peak of dark hair, steely eyes. Fingers would haphazardly turn the page, having a mind of their own as you zoned out. One page, then two, then three. By the time you looked down, snapping out of your haze, the paper was riddled with him.

Your paintings began to darken– landscapes draped with shadows, an outline of a figure in the distance at the focal point. Images of the icons within the church became anything but saintly– empty sockets sunken into withered heads, the sight ghastly morbid. Clay sculptures related to broken bodies filled with deep slashes, hands outstretched for any semblance of mercy.

During class critiques, even your professors noted the sudden change in your content– casting worried looks your way as their eyes scanned your work. “This feels… heavy. Haunted, almost.” You brushed the comments off, lying through gritted teeth. Some bullshit excuse on the study of trauma– yet you knew that it was further than the truth.

But when you returned to your room, you found it transformed into a gallery of him. The paintings, the sketches, the sculptures burning holes within you– calling to you, taunting you. He was everywhere, like a stain you couldn’t scrub away. And although you hated to admit it, a part of you knew you couldn’t if you tried.

You started to confess.

Not to a priest or a therapist– but to your bathroom mirror, the warped reflection in the glass being your only comfort. Your fingers would trace the cool surface, hushed whispers filling the dim space. “I should have died–”, breath fogging up the glass as your dark confession echoed against the tiled walls. Voice shaking, you added: “... with them.” They were sane, choosing to scream and run in order to try and beat death.

But you, you had knelt– and for that, you lived.

Your nails dug into your palms so hard it drew blood, the dull needling through your skin in a way that made your head spin– the pain buzzing through you like a draw of a cigarette. You barely recognized the individual that stared back at you: skin flushed, hairline beaded with sweat, hands clammy. But the most unnerving was the look in your bloodshot eyes, swimming with a darkness you couldn’t quite place.

It was wrong– falling into the abyss of sin, playing back the memories of that night with an almost obsessive admiration.

You should have moved on by now, gone to therapy, maybe started medication and begun to pick up the shattered pieces of your life. Instead, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, chanting your own damnation like a prayer– fingers subconsciously tracing the shape of his mask against the glass. Images of you on your knees in the church flickered through your mind, and your chest tightened with something far more sinister than fear.

Something worse… something reverent.

You could still feel the weight of his gaze when he towered over you, encompassing you so thoroughly you could feel it in your soul. Tearing your gaze away from the mirror, the damp skin of your forehead pressed against the cool glass for comfort, mantras swirling in your head like a broken record player.

There is no salvation in a house of God.

You flicked your gaze to the bathroom door, an idea seeming a little too much like temptation sprouting within your mind. Maybe– just maybe– if not salvation, there was clarity found only in the place you had sunk to your knees all those nights ago. Pushing yourself away from the mirror, determination began to stir within your gut. You had to go back– to see.

You couldn’t run away from your demons, you had to confront them. Slipping into the night air, a chill settled within your bones, an unknown force spreading goosebumps across your skin. As you trudged through the dark, you thought back to the pivotal moment: the scrape of the stone against your knees, the sound of his ragged breaths, the crushing tension crackling in the air like wildfire. It had felt– holy, the sensation gnawing at your stomach, clawing into your throat in a way that made you question your own sanity.

No… not holy. But something dangerously close.

The church loomed over you, eerily identical to that night.

A sleeping beast– the rusted gate resembling a gaping mouth to the pits of hell, inviting you inside. You stepped through the threshold, the crunch of gravel the only noise as you approached the heavy doors. A part of you cursed your actions, the idea of coming back being nothing short than madness. You were chasing answers that were ghosts, fueled by trauma and grief– not by reasoning.

And yet, you pushed onwards, hands steeled against the heavy wood. In your peripheral a small pool of dried blood painted the stone walls of the church, hosting the last moments of your friend’s life. You refused to look, swallowing thickly as you finally pushed the door open. The church welcomed you with open arms, the pull so heavy you felt as if you were possessed.

Moonlight crept through the open ceiling, casting the interior in a ghostly haze. The church seemed frozen in time since your last visit– the cracked marble altar glaring back at you in an almost inviting manner. Your knees ache at the memory of kneeling there, a subconscious feeling of guilt burning against your throat, pulse quickening as you retraced your steps. Approaching the back of the church, the familiar scent of dust and rotting wood filled your nostrils– along with the undertone of something metallic.

Your jaw clenched at that, eyes wandering to the broken pew that resulted in Tiffany’s death. The stale air suddenly shifted, and then you felt it– the weight of a presence behind you. Your breath caught in your throat, yet you refused to turn, already knowing the source.

His boots scraped against the uneven stone, measured, calculated.

The sound sent an electric current down your spine, causing you to stiffen beneath his gaze, eyes trained forwards towards the altar. A small part of you had imagined this moment, the possibility of returning to the scene fueled by the same darkness invading your artwork, your life.

But the reality of him standing there, mere feet away from you was too much, consuming you whole. Your fingers twitched at your sides, forcing your body to move, to look– and there he was. Michael Myers stood behind the last row of pews, the moonlight casting his shadow across the church like death, untouched by time.

The mask that plagued your dreams caught the light, its hollow eyes drinking in your frozen form, the call of the void. The knife was gripped loosely in his hand, dangling at his side– a stark reminder of his sins. You should be terrified, but for reasons you couldn’t even begin to explain, you weren’t. Something buzzed against your skin like an unspoken prayer, and you found yourself speaking before you could stop yourself.

“I… I knew you would come back.”

Michael’s head tilted ever so slightly, silent at your words. He never spoke, you knew that much, but you felt his response– the action in itself almost mocking you. You could feel him, his presence so thick with tension it coiled around you like a snake, poised and ready to strike.

You swallowed thickly, body betraying you as your knees buckled under his gaze, and before you could stop yourself, you were sinking to the floor. The cool stone dug into your knees, the familiar sensation almost comforting against your skin. A trembling breath escaped you as you knelt before him, unable to do anything but watch.

Michael took a step forward, then another– the air thinning as he approached, boots halting inches from your knees. You craned your neck upwards, stomach churning as you gaped at the silent killer. He was so close you could feel his warmth, the scent of metal and something much more primal seeping into your senses. Your lips parted, but any semblance of begging died on your tongue.

Instead, you whispered a confession– one that would seal your fate.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” You don’t know the things you do to me. There was a pause, a shift in the air as Michael looked down at you– studying you. The cold metal of the knife brushed your cheek, yet you did not flinch, your body rooted in place, entranced. You felt chosen– a sacrificial lamb that should have died all those nights ago, but somehow didn’t. But now here you were, offering yourself to him willingly.

The knife nicked your cheek, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the sting, the blade glinting in the moonlight. Your heart hammered in your chest, threatening to crawl out of your throat. Would he end it now and finish what he started? Or– your eyes shifted from the blade to that unholy mask– would he let you live? The decision was his alone, his cross to bear. The knife inched closer, pressing into the cut so suddenly a whimper bubbled in your throat, leaving you waiting– wanting.

The knife never strikes.

Instead, it traces along your cheek, the tip ghosting along your jaw. Your breathing is shallow, uneven puffs filling the cool air as the metal pressed ever so slightly into your skin– a warning. You tilt your head upwards, bearing your throat to him– your offering. The action causes the tension in the air to snap, you feel it in the way the air becomes too heavy you feel as if you were suffocating.

Michael doesn’t speak– he doesn’t have to, you know what he wants, what he has always wanted, and what the devil inside of you wants too.

Forgive her, for she knows not what she does.

Heat pools like hellfire in your stomach, and your tongue darts oh so subtly to lick your chapped lip. He moves at that, inevitable. A hand wraps around your throat, pulling you upwards with strength that seems far from human. Your hands clench into fists at your sides, fighting the urge to struggle against the touch as your toes scrape against the stone, begging for leverage.

His fingers wrap around your neck so forcibly your jaw groans from the pressure, thumb pressing against your hammering pulsepoint– beating for him. Your pulse flutters against his skin, throat bobbing as you try to breathe. You should be struggling, should be fighting, but something about the way his hold makes you feel owned ignites fire across your skin.

His hold softens ever so slightly, and you greedily gulp in a breath, thighs clenching as something sinful churns in your gut.

He leans down, mask scraping against your forehead as you drown in his gaze. The light catches, and a ghostly blue devours you, your blood turning to ice at the sight. His breath comes out in ragged huffs, escaping through the holes in his mask– washing over you like a baptism.

You were drowning in him, but it was anything but holy; it was something much worse.

You don’t know who moves first. All you know is that one moment you are gasping for breath in his hold, and the next he has his fist wrapped in your hair, dragging you towards the altar. Your scalp screams for relief under his hold, your legs struggling to root yourself as you are all but practically thrown on the altar. The marble is cold against your back, sinking through the thin material of your top– but not as cold as his touch.

His hand wraps around your throat once more, holding you in place against the altar as goosebumps erupt across your skin. The knife trails down your chest– and before you can protest, the blade is cutting through your top, slicing the flimsy material into shreds. Your nipples harden against the frigid air, chest heaving as you look helplessly upwards.

The tip of the knife traces over your left breast, tapping slightly against your pebbled nipple, causing a shudder to rip down your spine. The knife trails to the valley of your breasts before halting at the flesh above your heart, digging into the skin slightly. You grit your teeth at the sensation, a droplet of crimson rising to the surface from his ministrations.

It was so wrong– knowing you were mere inches from death, yet the fire licking at your stomach left you spiraling towards sin.

You clenched subconsciously, skin feeling suddenly too hot as the knife retreats from your skin. Thrown to the side, the knife clatters loudly against the marble, Michael’s hand cupping the abused mound roughly. His thumb dips into the blood, smearing it against your skin– tainting you. The hand around your throat squeezes teasingly, and your hips buck ever so slightly at the sensation.

Your breath stutters as he paws at your breasts, rolling the sensitive flesh beneath his fingers. You shudder, a whine building in your throat from the pressure, tears pricking your eyes at the needling pain. You had never felt this way before– the pain coating your skin in a way that left your head spinning, thighs clenching around nothing as you squirmed against his touch.

His fingers brush down your naval, crudely unbuttoning your jeans before ripping them and your panties down your legs, leaving you naked against the marble. Your breath stutters, spine aching against the hard surface as Michael slots himself between your parted thighs.

Your body is an offering– a sacrifice for the taking as your sins are laid bare.

Michael’s fingers dig into the fat of your ass, hauling you closer to the edge of the altar, pressing your flesh against the scratchy denim of his jumpsuit. Your jaw trembles as your clit scrapes against the jumpsuit, sending overstimulating sparks up your spine. You jolt at the contact, Michael brazing onwards, groping, prodding at you like an unwrapped gift.

His fiery touch was anything but gentle, his calloused fingers digging so hard against your skin you moaned weakly, wincing at the realization that bruises would be left in their wake. Michael let out a huff, seemingly pleased with your body laid out before him, hand retreating from you to unbutton his jumpsuit. Still held in place, you squirmed slightly, back screaming as you moved against the unpolished marble, chafing your skin.

Every movement resulted in an intoxicating pain that sent you reeling, your penance.

The worn stained glass cast a kaleidoscope of colors on Michael’s mask, the saints above watching in silence. Do the saints weep at your sin? Do they turn away? Your thoughts are torn away when the tip of his cock brushes against your folds.

You panic, trying to push yourself upwards, babbling nonsense with his hand around your throat. You aren’t ready, you don’t think it will fit– but Michael is undeterred. Jutting his hips forwards, his cockhead dips between your folds, stretching you uncomfortably. You realize that it’s pointless to reason with the devil– if he wants something, he takes it.

Your insides are screaming as Michael pushes onwards, driving into you inch by inch. The tears fall at that, stinging as they mingle with the blood on your cheek. You feel as if you are being split in two, thighs clenching so hard you worry you’ll snap. Michael’s hips meet yours, and you swear you can feel him in your throat.

Leaving you with no room to adjust, Michael bottoms out, snapping his hips forward and starting a brutal pace. All you can do is take it, fingers reaching out to clutch at the fabric of his jumpsuit, the only thing grounding you as his hips stutter forward. You gasp, the stretch feeling as if you were burning from the inside out, tits bouncing as your back scraps against the altar.

You openly sob now, the pace too intense, too rough– so full you feel as if there is nothing left but him. The denim of the jumpsuit brushes your clit again, sending an electrical current across your skin, tearing a broken moan from your throat.

You were melting, skin so hot that you already feel as if you are in the pits of hell.

Michael grunts, cock plunging into your gummy walls with such force your head spins. The sounds of your staccato gasps echo in the church, accompanied by the lewd squelch of your pussy sucking him in. If you were a better woman, you would have felt shame, yet the only thing you could feel was the ache between your thighs.

With every thrust, the signing pain began to subside, turning into something so intense your mouth gapes. You suck in a shuddering breath, eyes rolling as his tip hits that oh so sensitive spongy spot, causing your toes to curl. The hand around your neck tightens, his grip unrelenting as you gasp for air.

God, it's too much– your head spiraling from the shards of pain shooting up your back from the friction– yet you couldn’t do anything else but moan. “Michael–”, his name is a breathless plea, a wicked prayer as his weight sinks into you. Your body arches beneath him, a sinner consumed by rapture. A sheen of sweat coated your skin, dripping down the valley of your breasts.

Michael’s hips rolled against you like a man driven mad– but you knew better, he was no man.

The hand wrapped around your throat in a vice-like grip released, hips abruptly leaving yours as he pulled out, causing your pussy to flutter around air. Fingers digging into the fat of your hips, you were flipped as if you weighed nothing, tits crushed against the cool marble as you were pushed face down onto the altar.

Your hair was quickly bundled around his fist, forcibly arching you against him as he realigned himself to your leaking hole– pushing himself back inside with ease. Your tongue lolled from your lips at the sudden shift in position, Michael’s cock delving even deeper within you.

Pain shot through your already tender scalp, white sparks flying across your vision as you stared into the abyss of night laid out above you. Stars poked through the gaping hole of the church ceiling, the heavens glaring down at your sin– mocking you.

Oh God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Your hips ground against the stone edge, your legs trembling under the weight of his brutal thrusts. You had long abandoned any semblance of sanity, openly weeping as you fell from grace, utterly corrupted by the way his hips rolled against your ass. You clawed at the altar-top, nails chipping from the force as Michael barred down fucking into you so roughly your breath caught in your lungs.

Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach, pussy fluttering as the tension built within you– a testament to your sin.

The action was anything but holy, the scent of sex practically dripping from your shaking form as you were bullied into from behind. The taste of metal invaded your mouth, teeth gnashing against the flesh of your cheek as a pitiful attempt to stifle your moans.

You were his offering– his to take, his to taint, and you were falling fast. Your stomach tightened, tension becoming unbearable as your spongy walls were all but abused. The knife was still there– lying beside your head, discarded as if it was no longer needed.

Then you realized– it wasn’t, he owned you now.

And with that, the heavens collided.

A scream tore from your throat as you came, relief flooding your body as your brain short-circuited, toes curling from the force. Michael fucked you through the orgasm, balls slapping against your clit in a way that left you in a sobbing, overstimulated mess. You clenched around him, his pace beginning to falter as Michael climbed towards his own release. Your knees gave out, your hair being the only anchor keeping you from collapsing.

Michael’s breaths came out in primal huffs, a low growl slipping as he came– thick ropes of cum filling you to the brim. You shuddered at the feeling, mind blank with nothing but the sensation of the shallow thrusts of Michael stilling against you, pushed to the hilt. You struggled to catch your breath, heart practically beating out of your chest as you went lip under his hold.

Michael pulled his softening cock from your folds, the sensation making you whine. Your lips fluttered at his retreat, cum spilling down your thighs as the void overtook you. Your hair was freed from his grasp, scalp tingling as you limply pressed your temple to the cool surface of the marble. His weight abruptly vanished, yet you were too fucked out to care.

For a moment, you didn’t dare move, skin damp with sweat– with sin.

Every inch of your skin burned, scrapes and bruises coating every surface, the corruption sinking into your soul. You were ruined– and yet you found yourself blindly reaching for him, fingers swiping air. Confusion wracked your form, and you weakly turned, fingers gripping the altar for support– but he was gone.

The ritual was complete, the offering devoured. You had given him everything: body, mind, soul– and now there was nothing left.

Your discarded clothes pooled at your feet, a soulless reminder of the events that had taken place. A raw, broken sound escaped your chest– a laugh bubbling past your sobs. This was your penance, your punishment for offering yourself so willingly to something that would destroy you.

Now, you were alone– utterly and completely at the mercy of God himself.

A shiver crawled down your spine at the thought, knowing he had left you once before, yet you had returned. So what was stopping you from doing it again? Your lips parted ever so slightly, a single prayer slipping past– not to God, but to him.

“Michael…” You knew there would be no response, only silence. But as you slowly gathered the ruined fabric at your feet, you knew deep down that he was listening. He was always listening. And now that you had offered yourself to him, he wouldn’t have to come for you; you would go to him.

Because there is no salvation in a house of God, only him– and he is the only one left to worship.

#horror smut #slasher smut #slasher x reader #slashers #reader insert #x reader #smut #x you smut #female reader #ghostiesnightmare #michael myers smut #michael myers x reader #michael myers #halloween franchise #halloween michael myers

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boorrger · 24 days ago

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‼️I want to say something abt Rumi❗❗

the fact that she didn't reach out to her childhood friends and never told them the truth abt who she was was wrong okay? it was wrong

BUT! I can understand why she did it.

I had a friend in the past that was almost exactly like her. she had problems she was dealing with, I knew it and I reached out multiple times but she didn't let me in. I got angry and I told her that "we're friends or not? I tell you everything, and you don't trust me"

"how can we be friends if we don't trust each other?"

Rumi grew up with the false knowing that she is a mistake. that she is a deffect. a bad demon that deserves to die if someone else learnt (her friends in the scenario) she wanted to reach out to her friends and we saw that, but she trusted Celine more bc she knew more abt demons and the Honmoon and thought that her friends wouldn't accept her bc they're hello?? demon huntersin her mind they could never understand. but they could and they showed it, they're her friends BEST FRIENDS they would never attack her and kill her, we know that but she didn't.

they proved that they wouldn't. Mira reached out multiple times and when Rumi lashed out to her on the train was a foul on her part. I got so mad. you can't just go and blame your best friend who is LITERALLY trying to help you and hit them with the "not everything is abt YOUR INSECURITIES" like BFR.

Again I'm not saying she was right in what she did, it was clearly wrong but I can understand WHY she did it. WHY she hid, WHY she stayed quiet. It's 2 completely different things.

Yes Celine played a huge part on her childhood but her friends were always there for her she should have opened up.

I'm making this post bc someone yesterday called me biased for simply understanding Rumi's emotions 😭😭 as if the evidence of why she did all this wasn't in the movie..

not everyone heals from trauma the same way as other ppl, some ppl heal faster, others need more time. She grew up thinking that she was a mistake and that she should never exist in the first place. People go through that sh*t every day. Just bc someone is an adult that doesn't mean that they had all their stuff figured out NO ONE DOES FULLY we learn every day.

what Zoey said when they found out it was like hearing myself ngl

(that's what comes with being ENFP I guess 😅)

#explorepage #fypシ #fy #kpop demon hunters #rumi #rumi kpdh #kdh #kpdh #huntrix #huntr/x #polytrix #opinion #rumi kpop demon hunters

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hersaga · 3 months ago

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No One Noticed

♥︎ Jung Wooyoung x F!Reader

“Come on, don’t leave me, it can’t be that easy, babe.”

♥︎ Synopsis: You were the first to notice how Wooyoung truly felt about himself. Once you did, he appreciated you so much more. You automatically became the emotional outlet he genuinely needed. To you, that meant you had to be prepared for any and everything. The night, Wooyoung came to your home in a panic you were glad you had prepared yourself.

♥︎ Genre: Fluff, Angst

♥︎ Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, depression

♥︎Divider credits to @kodaswrld

Hi guys, this will be my first offical story. I've been writing for a long time, but I've always been too scared to post. I just now finally got the confidence to share my work. I hope everyone enjoys reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for the support, and feel free to like and follow!!!!

When you first met Wooyoung, it was like the world had stopped. He was so sweet and so funny, he brought the absolute most joy to your life. You guys met through a mutual friend, Kang Yeosang. He was dying for the two of you to meet because he felt as if you were the same. You liked some of the same things, same places, so it wasn't so shocking that you clicked.

After a few months, you guys were starting to spend so much time together. When someone saw you, they automatically saw Wooyoung too. You guys were attached at the hip and everyone could see it. Even Yeosang felt as if he was being pushed aside, but he was glad it was easy for you to get along.

Maybe a year or so goes by and that's when you see something different in Wooyoung. You didn't know how to explain it at the time, but it was as if he had changed. He was still the happy Wooyoung you knew and loved but you could see the evident darkness in his eyes. They gave away so much it wasn't that hard to notice. You wanted to question if Yeosang knew about him having any kind of serious feelings. But going back and forth with yourself, you decided not to. They had been friends for years so you were pretty sure he would know something, right? Wrong.

Wooyoung hid his feelings quite well. He never wanted to bother people with his problems, so he never said anything. On the inside it was killing him but he never ever chose to show it. He felt as if it was better if it was just kept in the dark.

More time goes by, and you could no longer keep quiet about your suspicions. You were more than worried about Wooyoung. You grew up around a lot of people who suffered from depression, so you just wanted to be sure. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if something were to happen to him. Once you asked him about it, he didn't know how to react. He was a little shocked at the question because no one had ever asked. He thought no one noticed or even cared to notice.

It was a long night filled with tears and a lot of hugs. Wooyoung appreciated you so much more after the talk you had no idea. He now felt as if he could talk to someone, and he didn't have to go through it alone. You had no problem listening to his rants, or listening to him vent, you just wanted to be there for him as a whole.

You knew you were his outlet, so you had to prepare yourself for all the good and the bad.

Just like tonight...it was a cold and rainy night. You always enjoyed the rain, and no matter how late it was you enjoyed a hot cup of tea as well. Your day was filled with so much work, you just wanted to relax. You were off the next couple of days and you wanted to use those days to your advantage. It wasn't typical for you to get two off days in a row.

It was now reaching 12:01, but you didn't mind the time. You wanted to enjoy every moment of your relaxation regardless of the time.

Clicking through Netlix, you finally decided to rewatch It's Okay To Not Be Okay. The series always pulled you back for more, and you could now say it was one of your comfort shows. You started to watch the first episode, then the second, and then of course the third.

You were so wrapped up in the show, you didn't even hear the frantic knocking at your door. The knocking soon became louder, making you jump-splling some of the tea on your shirt. You had no clue who it could've been, especially at this time. Neither did you have a clue who would come all the way here in the pouring rain.

You paused the tv before you went to go see who it was. You were a little scared because usually everyone called before they came to your house. You set your mug on the kitchen counter, and then hesitantly opened the door. Once a soaking wet Wooyoung came into your view, all of your words were trapped in your throat. He's never just showed up to your house and that's when you became nervous.

"Oh my gosh Wooyoung!"

You could see that he looked troubled. He had this panic look on his face and he couldn't keep his arms still. You immediately took ahold one of his hands before pulling him into your home.

"Did you walk here?" You asked, "You know it's pouring out there, right?"

"I-I had to g-get to you. I was all alone at that house, and you know once I'm alone I start to think. I started to t-think so much that I wanted to do it. I wanted to do it Y/N!"

You jumped at the sudden yelling, not expecting him to. You knew what he was implying, and it tore you to pieces. You thought he was getting better, even though it wasn't much it was still something. He had talked about cutting only once to you. You never wanted to press the issue if there were more times, you didn't want to trigger him in any kind of way.

"Wooyoung, baby, you're going to have to breathe." You said calmly

His breathing was so short and labored, and you knew it wasn't going to help anything if you started to panic as well.

"I-I'm trying."

The scene in front of you was a little triggering since your little brother had panic attacks often. It took a lot to calm him down at first because none of your family knew what to do. You soon found the soothing sound of your voice could calm him down. Everything seemed so loud when he was having a panic attack, but your voice was like silk. It could calm hail in a storm if that was possible.

"Listen to my voice sweetheart." You said, "Only listen to my voice."

You saw how fast his chest rose up and down, quickly moving him to sit down. You totally forgot about him being soaking wet but that wasn't even the concern right now.

"I'm here with you Wooyoung, it's just me and you. Focus on your breathing, breathe in and out, but don't rush it or you'll go into panic again. I want you to slowly fill your lungs with as much air as you can, and then push it out slowly. Maybe even picture something calm like light wind blowing through a field of flowers."

Wooyoung always loved the sound of your voice. He followed your instructions closely, only listening to the sound of your voice. Instead of picturing a field of flowes, he pictured you. He pictured your smile, the sound of your laugh, your body, all he could see was you. You calmed his whole world, and that's why he appreciated you so much. You took the time to learn everything. You took the time to listen and respond with the proper advice. That's why he loved you so much, you cared and you noticed.

His breathing soon returned to normal, but once you guys finally made eye contact, he broke down. You brought him into the biggest hug, letting him get everything out. 'Better out than in' you would tell him. He clung to you for dear life because he felt as if you saved his. If he didn't think about you before he commited to such a big decision, he wouldn't be here.

"I'm sorry." He whispered

You shook your head, "Nonsense Woo."

He wiped his face, now feeling embarrassed he interrupted your night. You didn't mind any other time, and you definitely didn't care this time.

"C'mon." You said tapping his thigh, "Let's get you into some warm clothes and find you something to eat."

Wooyoung spent a lot of nights at your house so you had to make a lot of room for his stuff. Yeosang's stuff was also littered everywhere, making you question who's house it is.

You let him pick out his clothes, but he then turned to you timidly.

"C-Can I shower here?"

He reminded you of a child, one that needed permission for every normal thing like eating.

"Yes you can, and you can stay here too for however long. I don't want you going anywhere else until I know you're okay."

He nodded before walking to the bathroom. While he was in there, you decided to just put a couple pizzas in the oven. You didn't have a clue on what else he would want, plus this was simple.

You then decided to put something childish on the tv, hoping it would calm his mind down a little. You got a pair of glasses down from the cabinet, and an unopened bottle of wine. It maybe wasn't a good idea for him to drink, but you knew he would never pass up on one.

You waited patiently on the couch, not wanting to rush him. Even though you were patient, he didn't want to keep you waiting. He wanted to spend as much time with you tonight as possible.

He soon walked out of the bathroom, running his fingers through his freshly-washed hair. Wooyoung always looked so pretty to you, especially in his natural state. You could see that his hair was now long. Over the past couple months, he decided to just leave it alone and grow it. His hair was always styled a certain way so you could never really tell the length. You didn't really pay attention too much either.

"Disney Channel?" He asked with an eyebrow raised

You playfully rolled your eyes, "Don't act like you don't love watching all the old shows with me."

He let out a small laugh before the oven dinged.

"What are you making?"

"Pizza." You said, "Figured we could use something quick."

He nodded in agreement, not even remembering the last time he's had a slice of pizza. You cut both pizzas in eight before bringing both pans to the living room. Both of you knew you weren't going to eat it all, but no one felt like getting plates.

You both sat down on the floor and dug in.

As the seconds passed, Wooyoung began to think. Of course he appreciated you, but he appreciated Yeosang even more for introducing you two. He didn't know where he'd be if it wasn't for you. You were everything to him, but he had no clue if you felt the same. Sometimes you could be so hard to read. He never wanted to get the wrong idea for you simply being a friend, so he's never said anything.

"What's going on in that head of yours? Whatcha thinking about?" You asked breaking the silence

The voices on the tv were the only things you could hear. Wooyoung was a little nervous to talk, nervous to tell you how he actually felt about you. He wouldn't be able to deal if you rejected him...softly of course.

He then shrugged, "You."

"What about me?"

There was another fall of silence. You noticed Wooyoung was never the type of person to say how he felt all in one go. He actually thought before he spoke. He never wanted to say the wrong thing, especially not now.

"I don't know Y/N." He said, "It's hard to explain."

You chuckled lightly, "Remembered what I told you?"

He nodded before sighing, "Even if you cant explain still try to find words that'll help the other person understand."

"Exactly, so try for me."

Trying to explain was always so much harder than already having an explanation. It stressed him in ways that was unexplainable, and that's why he hated it.

"Of course you know how much I appreciate you. You've helped me with so much, and you're always there for me. You listen to me, care for me, I don't know what I'd do without you."

You soon put your pizza down giving him your full attention.

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me Y/N. You noticed when no one else did, and that says a lot. That's when I realized you actually paid attention to me. You were so quick to open your door for me when you could've just slammed it in my face. I love you so much, and I know I wouldn't survive without you."

You sat there a little stunned before quickly taking a sip of your glass of wine. You had no clue what he was going to say, but you didn't expect him to say all of that.

"Too much?" He asked

You set the glass down before looking at him.

"W-Where is all of this coming from?"

He sighed, "The day I realized you were perfect for me was a few weeks after we met. It was too soon, so I knew not to say anything. I didn't want to make anything weird. The longer I knew you, the more time passed, my feelings only became stronger. I then thought it was just something stupid and I'd get over it. As you can see, I never did. Yeosang told me to just talk it out with you but I couldn't. I wanted to avoid the rejection."

It wasn't a funny matter, but you couldn't help but to smile. That smile soon turned into a laugh, making Wooyoung look at you weirdly. He didn't think any of this deserved to be laughed at.

"This is so funny Woo because I talked to Yeosang about this exact same thing. I thought you only saw me as a really good friend so I just left it alone."

It was hard for Yeosang to keep this information from the both of you. Two of his best friends liked each other and he couldn't say anything. He wanted you guys to just spit it out because it was killing him to see how you guys acted with each other, and only he knew the truth.

"No wonder he was being so weirdly calm when I talked to him." Wooyoung said

"That's Yeosang for you."

A couple glasses of wine later, and the two of you were a little tipsy. You guys talked more about how you felt, and how things were going to be moving forward. Wooyoung was glad he finally got everything off of his chest. He could now do everything he's always wanted to.

"I didn't think this night was going to end like this." You said

You and Wooyoung were now cuddled up in your bed. He insisted you guys slept together, you know-to get used to it. The two of you were facing each other. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, feeling he'd lose you if he was to let go. Your fingers found their way to his arms soon finding their way to his jawline, tracing it. His eyes never left you, soon falling to your lips. He's dreamed about tasting them, knowing they'd taste sweet due to the fruity chapstick you always wore.

"Where does it go from here?" You asked, "I don't want to ruin anything."

Wooyoung only shook his head before bringing you closer, "You could never ruin anything. I've been waiting for the moment you can finally be mine. I'm sorry about earlier, but I hope I made it up to you."

You could only laugh, "This your way of making it up to me?"

He shrugged, "We could do other things."

"Easy Mr. Jung."

He joined in on your laughing before a yawn escaped your mouth. Neither one of you knew what time it was coming to be, forgetting it was already passed late. Another yawn came, making Wooyoung let out one.

You guys knew you needed to sleep, you needed to prepare to tell Yeosang everything that happened.

Even though he hated it, he let your waist go. You palmed his right cheek before you pecked his lips twice.

"I know I never say it as much, but I love you too Wooyoung."

He chuckled before he pecked your lips once more, "Get some sleep sweetheart."

#ateez x you #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x female reader #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung x reader #angst #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #kpop imagines

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 year ago

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Chapter 23: Extreme Makeover Backyard Edition

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty three of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ because it handles some heavy subjects! Angst, Cursing, Nudity, Mentions of Abuse (sort of- it's more the reader being used without knowledge of it and I'm not sure what to call that), Numbness, Depression, Mental Health, Brief mentions of graphic death, Brief mentions of graphic torture, Mention of gore, Mention of death, Mentions of character going through some HEAVY EMOTIONS and INTERNAL TRAUMA, Fluff, Sexual References, Family Problems. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Reader POV

You fall on your hands and knees in the soft grass of Legend's front yard, falling from the sky like a comet as it's glow fades and burns for the last time before striking the earth. You don't remember how you left Stan's apartment, don't remember flying here, don't feel anything, not the humidity that comes with the rising sun, not the cold kiss of dew against your skin, all you feel is the cold creeping numbness that trickles through your veins.

The memories of what you did come in flashes, but they do nothing. They do not evoke remorse nor pain, they haunt you, but do not bring tears to your eyes.

You open and close your hands, letting the blades of grass crush beneath your fingertips, but you don’t completely comprehend where you are, or how the hell you got here. All you feel is weakness tugging at your every muscle, threatening to drag you under the rising tide. You felt electrified, but so tied at the same time, everything and nothing. What happened seemed centuries ago and also seconds ago.

There was no anger, no remorse, no pain, no horror, no shock, there was nothing, only the chill that clung to your skin on the warm summer morning. You could see Stan’s death in your mind, watch his body collapse in on itself under your power and yet it did nothing to you.

You're not sure of anything anymore. Who you are, who Rosemary is- everything you knew is gone and you're not sure what's left behind, not sure what will come crawling out of the shell you were now. You knew you should be afraid, but another voice in your ear whispered so should they.

Someone grabs you by the shoulders, hauls you up off the ground, raising your gaze from the wet grass.

Ben looks furious, mind you, he always seemed to be angry when it came to you. You wondered if that was because he loved you or if it was because the two of you were fated to kill each other one day.

Or maybe it's a healthy combination of both.

He's wearing his jeans again, his dark hair falling forward into his eyes that burn with the force of his rage, but as soon as he sees the dried blood coating your cheeks, hair, and body, you watch worry begin to spark behind his glowing green eyes.

You register that deep down his anger and worry comes from a place that he'd hidden from you for eighty years, his love for you, the love that he was no longer hiding. But the chill still rose in your chest like the first frost of winter.

"Fuck." Ben mutters, moving his hands along your body, boldly looking for injuries, but he doesn't find any. "What the fuck happened? Why did you leave?"

You don't answer him, instead you take in a shallow breath, filled with the smell of fresh cut grass and Ben's musk. You're trying to find your voice, but it's difficult for you.

"Y/n are you alright?" He asks it, firmly gripping you by the shoulders, trying to shake you back into reality. You can hear the way the anger in his voice has shifted to something else.

"It's not mine Ben." Your voice is no more than a whisper as you stare blankly at him.

"Whose is it?"

You can't answer him, the only thing in your mind is Stan's words to you, the secrets he kept for forty years coming to light, the terrible things that he and Vogelbaum did. You want to tell him, tell him about what you know, but you can't find the words, can't find the thoughts to follow them.

"Sweetheart?" Ben furrows his eyebrows together, tilting your face to look at him. His hand softly strokes against your cheeks not understanding why you’re acting like this. “Are you alright?”

His voices sound like you’re underwater, a murmur, a buzz, just a shadow of the deep rumble you love so much, the voice you thought you'd never hear every again.

Ben says your name again, with such urgency that it snaps you out of it for only a moment. The smoke clears, but what’s left barely has the strength to cling to him as you collapse into his chest. Your body shakes uncontrollably, tears soaking through his thin t-shirt, unable to do anything else, but clutch him tighter against you.

"He's our son Ben. They stole my-" You can't find the words, can't find your voice, it sounds hollow. "Stan he and Vogel-." But your voice breaks again and you shudder against Ben's chest, the numbness coming back to drag you under.

Ben doesn't hesitate, he picks you up as if you weigh nothing, tucking your head under his chin as he goes and turns back towards the house. You barely register his picking you up, can’t seem to focus on anything, breath coming in shallow gasps, body still shaking. Ben tightens his arms around you as if trying to comfort you as he walks through the front doors.

“Is she alright?” Rosemary’s voice is close, but you don't raise your head from Ben's body.

“Fuck, there’s so much blood.“ Hughie adds and you can imagine him standing beside her, his eyes wide.

Guess that means he survived Mindstorm.

Your only hope was that Lou was already in bed, that she wasn't watching Ben carry you soaked in blood through Legend's house.

“It’s not hers.” Ben replies gruffly, still moving towards the staircase. He wasn't stopping and you were thankful for that, you didn’t want to talk to anyone and didn’t want to have it out with Rosemary. You were so tired, tired of fighting and of trying. You didn’t want to yell at her, didn’t want her to yell at you, all you wanted was to slip deeper into the darkness.

"Shit, she's just as fucking unhinged as Soldier Boy is." Butcher mutters under his breath wherever it is he's standing.

“Wait mom talk to me-“ Rosemary tries again.

“No.” You murmur into Ben’s neck. Stan’s revelation rings in your ears once more, betrayal momentarily clawing its way from the pit before the cold feeling comes back to drag you under.

Because it felt like she had betrayed you. All these years you thought that Vought left the two of you alone, but no, it was a lie. And if she'd done that, what else had she done to ensure your freedom?

“Please-“ She sounds broken, and it strikes something inside, because she's never sounded like that before. Rosemary was strong, stronger than you ever were.

But then the word makes the memory of Stan’s body snapping and twisting beneath your control come roaring back, his pleas for the mercy he didn’t deserve exhaled on his dying breath, as you turned him into nothing more than a lump of flesh.

You gasp, another shudder shaking through your body and you don’t answer and don't raise your head.

"Wait Ben-" She says his name, but Ben doesn't stop.

"She doesn't want to talk right now." Ben's tone is controlled, but you can hear the trickle of his rage just on the edge of his inflection. "And I'm not going to make her." He continues walking down the stairs and Rosemary does not follow.

Ben doesn’t put you down on the bed, instead he takes you to the adjoining bathroom. It’s bigger than your bedroom back at your apartment with a walk in shower big enough for five people to stand in, a giant vanity with two sinks, a jacuzzi, and a bathtub big enough for three. Legend never spared any expense when it came to that sort of thing.

Ben slowly places you on the vanity but when he pulls back you grab the front of his shirt. “No.” You breathe suddenly terrified. The terror of Ben leaving cuts through it all, followed by a wave of horror and fear.

If he leaves they’ll come for me again. They’ll come take me or Lou.

You were afraid to be alone, didn’t want him to go, not after everything that happened.

“Shhh.” Ben soothes you, brushing your hair back, “It’s alright sweetheart I’m just getting a washcloth.”

You relent, hand unfurling from his shirt, and he comes back with it, wetting it with warm water before he begins to drag it over your face as gently as possible. His eyebrows are furrowed with concentration, but you don’t move, you only stare at a point over his left shoulder not really comprehending what’s happening.

What happened to Stan comes back in flashes, black and white photographs followed by the bits of conversation that unmade you, the revelations that would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Ben sighs. “Well. I don’t think this is helping at all.” He throws the washcloth into the sink and gently cups your chin, turning your gaze on him.

You blink a few times to focus your eyes.

“Look sweetheart I know you don’t want me to leave, but you gotta get in the shower. I can’t get it all with this washcloth and the last thing I want is to put you in bed covered in blood.” He searches your gaze trying to make you understand what he was asking but you don’t respond.

He leans his forehead against yours. “Honey please you gotta say something. You’re scaring me.” Ben’s eyes meet yours, wide and for the first time in years you see genuine fear.

You let out a shallow breath, but don’t say anything. You can’t find your voice. Instead you gently touch his chest just over his heart. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough for Ben.

Ben closes his eyes for a minute as if trying to make sense of it all. “Okay.” He breathes, opening his eyes again to look at you, care and concern charging the air between the two of you. “Can I take off your clothes?”

You nod once, eyes still focused on the white tiled wall behind him.

“Okay.” Ben gently pushes the leather jacket back from your body. It falls back on the counter in a bloody heap, staining the white countertops with flecks of dried reddish-black blood. “I need you to stand up for me sweetheart.” Ben says, holding you firmly by the waist and pulling you off the counter.

You stand there for a moment, unsteady on your feet, staring blankly ahead of you.

“Arms up.” Ben whispers.

You raise them above you head and Ben removes your shirt and bra before moving to your pants. “Hold on to me.” He places your arms around his shoulders as you step out of your shoes, pants, and panties.

If you’d been in your right mind maybe you would have worried about this moment, worried about Ben seeing you naked again after all these years. He’d only ever seen you the one time, but somewhere deep down registered that this was different. It wasn’t sexual. There weren't any expectations and there was nothing to be embarrassed about. This was Ben keeping his promise and taking care of you the way that he always had.

He steps over to the bathtub, running his hand under the stream of water to check the temperature.

"Come on.” Ben gently leads you over, your small hand in his and helps you step over the side of the tub and into the warm water.

Steam rises around your body, but the water feels lukewarm. Your gaze levels at the water that streams from the spout on the edge of the tub, not looking up at Ben as he switches the water to the handheld shower head.

"Tilt your head back for me honey." Ben murmurs, touching your chin with your free hand to tilt it back. "Eyes closed."

You do as he says and feel the water trickle through your hair and down your back, followed by the gentle scrub of Ben beginning to work shampoo through the strands. He works quietly, catching the suds that threaten to fall into your eyes. Your hands are folded in your lap, eyes still closed, feeling the steady way he cleans your hair and then your face.

As you sit there the memory of everything that happened with Stan begins to trickle in, causing an uncontrollable shudder to shake through your body. Ben's ministrations were doing little to make the cold feeling dissipate, if anything you could feel it sinking into your bones.

"It's alright sweetheart, I'm almost done." Ben says, and you feel his thumb stroke against your cheek for a moment before he continues to wash your hair.

"Sit here for a second. I'm going to go get you some clean clothes."

You open your eyes and watch him go. The water in the tub is red now, the last remnants of Stan's blood scrubbed clean from your body.

The fire would destroy any evidence that you'd been there and washing the clothes that you killed him in should take care of any other problems.

When you're dried off and in your own clothes, you stand in the bathroom and catch a glance of yourself in the mirror. You look hollow, broken, eyes miles away, skin a little paler than normal. You don't look like yourself, but you also don't feel like yourself.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Ben says and you feel him pick you up again, carrying you to the bed as if you weigh nothing.

You mechanically go through the motions of getting under the covers, pulling them up almost over your head as you curl in on yourself, making yourself as small as possible. You shut your eyes to try and make the images of what happened go away, but you can't fight the ebbing darkness that comes to welcome you home. It's familiar. The same one that you fell into when Ben broke your heart and you thought he died. The pit was opening beneath your feet once again, and you wondered if you'd be able to pull yourself out this time.

Ben changes into a pair of faded sweatpants, before he crawls into the bed behind you under the covers, putting his arm up over your waist to pull you into him. You turn in his arms so that you're chest to chest and can bury your face into his shirt, inhaling the familiar scent, trying to rid yourself of the images and of the things you learned a few hours ago.

"It's alright Sweetheart, I'm right here." You can feel the rumble of Ben's voice in the palms of your hands where they curl against his soft shirt. The weight of his arm over your waist is familiar as is the heat of his body, the warmth you expected to wipe away the cold feeling that crept along your spine drowning everything else out of your head.

It's quiet for a few moments. Ben's hand is gently trailing up and down your spine, but sleep is miles away for you.

"I'm trying real hard not to be mad at you Sweetheart, especially when you're like this but-" Ben sighs, rubbing his hand up and down your back. "You lied to me. What were you thinking going off alone and-" His tone has shifted into more of a growl, the one he gets when he's about to yell at you.

If he had yelled at you, you wouldn't have reacted, you were just so tired of everything, couldn't focus on anything.

Ben's body tenses. It was as If he was physically trying to hold himself back from being upset, but you couldn't answer him. It had seemed like a good idea when you went, seemed right, but now you weren't sure.

What you had learned changed you, and you weren't sure if you'd ever be able to go back to the way you were.

He's quiet for a minute, before finally he presses a kiss to your forehead, and you bury yourself further into his chest. "I love you." He murmurs. "I promise I'm not going to go anywhere."

But you barely hear him, the only thing you hear is the low buzz of fluorescent lights and Vogelbaum's voice telling his staff to keep you quiet.

Soldier Boy POV

He didn’t know what to do. In all the years he’d known you, Ben had never seen you like this. He’d seen you upset, angry, sad, but never this.

It had been three days since you came back covered in blood, three days of you laying in bed refusing to speak, curled up into his chest.

Ben had tried to get you to eat something, but when you wouldn’t do it by yourself he had to spoon feed it to you, as if you couldn’t remember how to eat.

It scared him.

Ben hadn’t ever felt fear like this before in his entire life, but now, seeing you so distant and cold, he was terrified. He worried that you’d never come back.

Mindstorm had told him the truth about Homelander and as angry as Ben was about that, he couldn’t understand how Homelander was also your son. He’d never heard you say anything about them taking something from you for genetic testing, never spoken about willingly giving up your genetic material.

So then how the fuck did they get it?

There was something sinister that danced on the edge of his mind, something that seemed too horrible to consider, something that meant that Ben had failed to protect you, had failed to keep the promise he made eighty years ago.

But deep down Ben wondered if it was true, because as much as he knew you hated killing people, this seemed different than you usual reaction.

He held you closer to him, curving his body around your back as you slept soundlessly. You were holding on to his hand while you did, fingers entwined with his, holding it against your chest while you found some peace.

Ben was honestly waiting for another nightmare. Each time you’d fallen asleep over the past three days you’d woken up gasping for air, shaking uncontrollably, with tears rolling down your cheeks. Ben did what he could, brought you into his lap and held you tight, reassuring you that it was okay, that it was only a dream.

He was trying not to be angry, but he was. He was furious when he got back to Legend’s two days ago and discovered that you were gone, that you’d left to go off and do God knows what with Homelander flying around. Rosemary refused to tell him where you were only told him that you left but that you’d be back. Ben hated that you made him wait around like a fucking woman waiting for her husband to come home.

He had intended on yelling at you, at making sure you knew how pissed off he was that you did the one thing he told you not to do, but then he saw you land in Legend’s front yard looking like you had taken a shower in someone’s blood and he couldn’t. Not when he feared that the blood was yours and not when he saw how broken you were.

Ben had loved you for a long time, understood you, saw how strong you were, saw that you always spoke your mind no matter what, and to see you like this was… petrifying. He didn’t know what had happened, didn’t understand how something you learned could effect you this much.

He too was still reeling from the revelation that Homelander was his son, felt an even greater sense of betrayal because Vought should have let him give the team to his son, pass it off like a king giving up his throne. And after the night that he had spent with you all those years ago, Ben was ready to give it up, to walk away and give you the life that you always wanted away from the spotlight.

Ben figured that Stan had told you Homelander was your son, and maybe that’s what this was. Ben had been dreading the conversation with you when he got back to Legends, the conversation in which he was going to have to tell you that Homelander was your son too. He didn’t want to hurt you all over again with news like that.

I guess I don’t have to.

Ben thinks to himself listening to the soft beat of your heart, pushing his face further into your hair where it hangs over your shoulders. But he's not sure that this is better.

When he wakes the bed is empty.

“Sweetheart?” Ben says looking around the bedroom. He strains his hearing to see if you’re in the bathroom or upstairs but he doesn’t hear you. Fear grips his heart.

Fuck. Where did she go?

Thunder shakes the house, rattling the windows as Ben looks around the room, brief flashes of lightning illuminates the vintage furniture, but you aren't sitting on anything. The sliding glass doors on the back wall of the bedroom are open, allowing rain to sweep through onto the carpets, water flooding towards your now cold side of the bed.

Shit.

Ben all but jumps out of the bed and rushes to the sliding glass doors, looking beyond into the darkness of Legend’s backyard. Lightning skates across the night flashing bright white, and catching where you stand in the grass. You’re looking up at the sky, soaked to the bone, but seemingly unnerved by the weather.

“Sweetheart?” Ben shouts over the sound of the thunder, but you don’t move. “Are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?”

“It’s not a nightmare.” You murmur into the storm, your eyes still focused on the sky, looking up at something that he can't see.

“What do you mean?” Ben gets closer to you, his feet sinking into the wet grass, rain saturating his clothes every second he stands out there with you. Ben was trying to understand, was trying his best to do what you needed, but he was worried that he was failing, that maybe he needed to take you to a hospital. He wasn't sure how to explain that to anyone if he did take you to one.

If anything he thought that you'd want to talk things out with Rosemary, but you hadn't wanted anything to do with her at all. That was the most surprising, that you didn't want to speak to her, didn't want her around. She had tried to come down to the bedroom, but you hadn't looked at her, you'd only clung tighter to Ben and said no. He wanted to know why, what Stan had told you to make you not want anything to do with her.

He was happy that Lou hadn't come down with her, he didn't want Lou to see you like this, didn't want it to haunt her the same way it was haunting him. He had heard Lou ask about you when he was laying in the basement beside you, and she had found him in the kitchen getting you something to eat and had hugged him tight and asked where you were. There were tears in her eyes when she did so and Ben told her that you weren't feeling well, but that he was taking care of you. There was a hand-drawn card on your bedside table from her filled with a picture of Lou holding out a bouquet of lavender to you that she asked him to give you.

“It really happened.” You close your eyes, head tilted up at the sky.

Lightning crackles across it, striking close to where you're standing, but you don't move an inch.

Ben stops mid-step. Your words sink into his soul, burn against his ribcage, anger surging up to replace the chill of the rain that clings to his skin. Because it meant he failed. It meant that the promise Ben made to you all those years ago was worthless, that he'd failed to protect you.

He thinks about all the time he wasted with other women, chasing after them, ignoring you. He thinks about all the moments he should have spent with you instead.

Maybe I would have figured it out if I wasn't so damn selfish. If I hadn't fucking cared about those stupid movies, or commercials, or the shitty interviews. I failed because I didn't put her first and I allowed this to happen.

“Stan told me.” You continue. "I wasn’t supposed to remember, but my mind knew. It was trying to tell me all these years but I just ignored it. Fucking pushed it away because I thought my mind was messed up from living this long. But it really happened."

“When?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that he said they did it when you were on location shooting a film. That they were too afraid to take me when you were still there.” You're still not quite looking at him.

Ben felt the words like a punch to the gut. Why did I ever shoot any of those stupid films? Why didn't I take her with me? Why didn't I make up some stupid reason why I needed her there with me? Why didn't I tell her sooner how much she meant to me?

Ben remembered the first time you had the nightmare in front of him, he had just gotten back from shooting a film overseas, one that he could barely remember only that he literally had sand in every crevice of his body after each day of shooting. He remembered how happy he was to see you when you answered the door of your small apartment, how you smiled at him, but you seemed more tired than usual. Ben had missed you more than he knew, he had tried to call while he was away, but you hadn't picked up. He remember thinking that was odd. You always picked up the phone or at least always called him back, but you hadn't.

“They knew I’d say no. Knew that I wouldn’t want to raise a child under Vought’s watchful eye and instead of respecting that, they-" You stop mid sentence, your body has begun to glow bright purple, not just your eyes, there's a thin film of purple radiating out from your body, tracing your outline with a heavy hand, glowing brighter than the lightning that flashes across the sky. "Stan wasn't even ashamed. He was proud of what they made. Proud of what they did to our son."

As soon as you utter the word 'son', the ground begins to shake under Ben's feet, grass shreds in the air all around him, and the storm grows worse by the second. There's a terrible cracking sound and the trees on the edge of Legend's property snap, loosing their limbs to flashes of purple energy that wash away into the darkness with the force of your power.

Ben could feel the same power trying to push him back from you, push him inside the house, but he fought it, continuing to take more steps towards you.

“After all these years he wasn’t afraid of me. He was afraid that you would show up and make him pay.” Ben can see your body shake. “Everyone was always just afraid of you. All those years I worked so hard to make sure you didn’t kill anyone and for what? So they could take advantage of me?”

Your body begins to rise off the ground, glowing brighter and brighter. Until Ben almost has to look away, his body still being forced backwards. In all his years of watching you use your powers, he's never seen you do anything remotely like this. This didn't seem like just telekinesis and Ben wondered who else had killed you over the years, if it had happened before and you just hadn't cared to tell him, or if it had happened in the years he'd been away.

"Sweetheart please." Ben tries to say again, but it's swallowed up in the howling of the wind.

"All those years I gave Vought everything. I let them dress me, tell me what to say, inject me with that shit. I was everything they wanted me to be, and they used me just like I was a fucking doll for them to play with!" Ben can hear your teeth clenching together in rage, your powers spiking again so that now there is shredded earth, grass, and trees, whirling around the two of you swirling together in a vortex that flashes with purple energy. "But no more. They're all going to pay."

"Y/n-"

You were still rising off the ground getting further and further from Ben's reach and he was scared. He'd never seen you like this before, never seen you lose control or seen you this angry. Sure he pissed you off and you'd occasionally throw a couch around the room, but this was almost insane.

Fuck I should stop pissing her off.

Ben could feel his own rage surging in his chest when he understood exactly what Vought took away from you, when he understood exactly what Vogelbaum had done. But at the same time he was ashamed that he hadn't been there for you, that he hadn't been able to protect you from them, and that he hadn't known the first time you had that fucking nightmare and woke up screaming when he was in bed beside you.

"Sweetheart!" Ben finally shouts, grabbing your hand. As soon as his skin touches yours he feels like he's stuck his finger in an electrical socket, as if the energy from your body jumping into his is almost painful, but he doesn't let go. He couldn't lose you to this, whatever the hell this was, wouldn't allow himself to lose you again.

Your glowing purple eyes flick to his. "Are you going to tell me that I shouldn't do that?" Your voice is cold. "That my revenge isn't as important as yours?"

"No." Ben shakes his head. "It's important. It's justified. I hate that they did that to you, that I wasn't there to stop them. That I didn't understand until now."

"It's not your fault what happened to me." You shout back, eyes flashing bright purple. "This isn't about you. This isn't your fight!" The vortex swirls faster around the two of you now, blurring everything beyond. "This is about what I need to do!"

"Yes it is!" His hand tightens in yours. "It is my fight if it involves you. I love you and that's what it means. It means us working together-"

"I don't need you to protect me! I am strong enough to do this on my own. I am so sick of people underestimating me and what I can do."

"Y/n please, listen to me!" Ben pleads. He could feel you slipping away and it scared him more than anything he'd been through in his entire life. He wasn't afraid to admit that. The look on your face and the display of power was so different than the person he knew.

You watch him silently, body glowing brightly in the night, floating off the ground as you stare down at him.

"I don't want you to do this alone." Ben says. The storm was still raging, thunder shaking the ground, lightning surging all around him. "I'm asking you to let me help you. Please."

"What?"

"You say that I hide what I'm really feeling, but you do too. You still hide things away from me. You think that you have to be perfect, controlled, some version of yourself that has everything together all the time, but you don't." Ben gently tries to pull you down an inch from the sky. "You've done that since we were kids, always done what you think is expected of you. That's why you almost married that asshole, because you were afraid to just let it go. So I'm asking you to do that now, to let go of all of it, because I promise that I will be right here for through every step of it."

"But-"

"I know I made promises when you chose me, and I'm sorry I let you down, I'm sorry that I let this happen, that I wasn't able to protect you from them." Ben's voice breaks and for a moment he sees a flash of the two of you in your bedroom the night that he asked you to come with him, how young and innocent you were, how much you cared for him reflected in your eyes. "So I'm promising you this now. That I will protect you, that I won't let anything happen to you and that you never have to be alone ever again. Because I love you. So please, just let go and let me in.

The whirlwind slows around the two of you, still ripping up the ground and the grass in the backyard.

"I have to be in control." You say in almost whisper.

"Why?" Ben asks.

"Because if I'm not I don't know what will happen!" You snap. "Someone dies, or you leave again, or they come to take Rosie or Lou away and I can't-" You shake your head, the glow on your body fading for a moment. "I'm not strong enough-"

"Sweetheart, you don't have to be." Ben says, and this time he pulls you from the air so that your bare feet swish in the grass again. His hand falls under your chin to raise your face to his. "That's why I'm here. You don't have to do this alone anymore, you don't have to carry this all on your shoulders. I am here and I am not going anywhere."

"But-"

"Please. I'm asking you to give me your pain, your anger, your burdens, your sorrows. Give me all of you. It's not going to scare me away." Ben whispers, taking your face between his hands. "I know that in the past I haven't been as dependable, but nothing is going to scare me away. I love all of you, even the pieces of yourself you keep from me, that you think you have to, to keep me here with you."

Fuck I sound like a pussy, but it's true. She's all I have and all I've ever wanted. And why shouldn't I say this to her? It's what she says to me. It's what she tells me and I believe her. I believe her when she says that I can rely on her, that I don't have to be strong all the time, that I can break.

He searches your face, brushes his thumbs across your rain soaked cheeks. I just want her to know that she can too and trust that I'll be here for her.

The vortex stops, the pieces of earth, trees, and grass falling to earth, the purple fading from your eyes as they do. You're no longer glowing, no longer a beacon in the night, you're just you, the woman that Ben loves more than life itself, and the woman that he thought he would never have ever again.

"I love you too." You whisper leaning into him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to lean your forehead against his.

He can feel the curves of your body against him, your wet clothes sticking like a second skin, hair stuck to your head, but you're just as beautiful as you always have been. And Ben understands that this time, he's not going anywhere, that he's going to stay with you for the rest of his life, and nothing can keep him away.

Reader POV

"Mindstorm told me." Ben says dragging his hand up your arm. You were laying on his chest in the bedroom, hair still wet, but now wearing dry clothes.

The residual thrum from your use of power was still charging through your cells, but lessened. Honestly you didn't remember going outside, didn’t remember standing in the storm, didn't know how long you were out there before Ben came out.

You were glad he did. You weren't in your right mind when you were out there, and if he hadn't come out you were sure that you were going to charge Vought yourself, tear it down and send it to hell where it belonged. You still wanted to, but you wanted Ben to do it with you. He was right, you didn't have to do it alone, and you didn't want to.

You nestled further into him, remembering what he shouted outside, remember how he held your face with the storm raging around him. He looked so afraid. You had only seen him look scared a handful of times in your life, but out there in the storm was different. It shocked you back into reality, brought you back from the pit, made you feel like you again for the first time in days.

And what he said hauled you further out of the darkness. You had said it to him countless times since he came back, that he didn't have to hide away what he was feeling from you, but for him to say it to you meant that he was listening. To you, Ben saying that made all of this more real, that he really wanted every part of you, that he loved you as much as he said.

The storm still raged outside, thunder occasionally shaking the windows, and lightning flashing behind the closed curtains, but you stayed curled up against Ben. Your head was tucked under his chin, arm wrapped over his bare chest. He hadn't put a shirt back on after the two of you changed, but you weren't complaining about that, there wasn't anything to complain about when it came to that. He was just so wonderfully warm, that you didn’t think you would get used to it. You also hoped that you didn't turn radioactive because of him, but you being here with him, laying on his warm chest made it worth it.

"Did he know about what Vogelbaum did?" You whisper.

Ben's muscles tense beneath your body when you ask that question. You knew that it hurt him, that it made him feel like he'd failed to protect you, but you didn't blame him for that. Even if he had been around, you knew that Vogelbaum would have figured out a way to do it, to get around him. And you didn't like it when Ben felt like he failed, it made you think about all the terrible things that his father used to yell at him when he was a kid. Ben had told you bits and pieces, over the years, and it was enough to make you want to travel back in time and kill his father yourself.

Honestly, you thought about killing him all the time when you weren't a supe as well.

"No. He didn't know that. All he knew was that Homelander was our son." When Ben says the word son he hesitates as if it's difficult for him.

It was also difficult for you, understanding that you had another kid and one that you didn't have anything to do with for forty years was hard. You suddenly understood how Ben felt about Rosemary.

"I should have known." You mutter into his chest.

"What do you mean?"

You sigh loudly. "At the premiere, Vogelbaum was pushing for me to come to the lab, said he was working on raising the "next generation of heroes" or whatever. And then Stan tried to come by and get me to do the same thing after you died, but I broke his nose."

"I remember." Ben mutters.

"What do you mean you remember?" You sit up to stare at him.

Ben raises an eyebrow. "I might have been there with Countess, but do you really think I wasn't listening to everything that was happening around you? He was dancing with you, I was making sure that everything was okay." Ben clears his throat awkwardly. "I mean I know that there was a lot happening that night, but I still wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"I wasn't."

"Yeah I-um- I know." His eyes flick away in shame.

"Ben?"

"Yeah?" He murmurs.

You gently turn his face back to look at you, fingertips under his chin. His green eyes are downcast, brows furrowed, lips pulled down into a frown. You knew how much he was still beating himself up for everything that happened in the past, and it was difficult for you to pretend that you didn't still feel the sting. But you knew he wasn't going to do it again, you believed that.

"It's okay. We're starting over. Just you and me." You brush your thumb over his bearded cheek. "No one else. This time what we're doing, it's different, it all feels different. Don't you think so? I mean I still love you just as much as I always have, but I-" You could feel yourself blush just a little, you weren't sure if Ben could feel that too.

"I know. It does." Ben whispers gazing at you. His fingers push back the strands of your hair that have fallen forward into your face. The way he's looking at you is the same way he did the morning you woke up on his chest after you slept together for the firs time. "I love you too Sweetheart." His lips find yours, gently pulling you up further on his chest so he can kiss you deeply, show you how much you mean to him, and you can’t help but smile into his mouth, feeling warm and happy for the first time in ages. His love dragging you out of the darkness that loomed over you and consumed your heart when Stan told you the truth about Homelander's heritage.

You sit up, folding your legs beneath you, pulling Ben's right hand into your lap, gently tracing the lines with a finger tip, noting the rough callouses that he'd developed over the years. You weren't really sure what to say next.

Ben sits up so that he's leaning towards you. "Are you feeling better?"

"A little." You continue to trace the lines. His hands were so much bigger than yours, everything about Ben was big, but you liked his hands, mostly because how small yours were when you held his. "I think destroying Legend's backyard was just the right amount of therapy."

"That was a little much, but I'm glad you're feeling better. I was-" Ben swallows. "I was really worried about you."

"I know." You whisper. "It's never been that bad before. The last time I got close was-" You stop mid-sentence.

"Forty years ago?" Ben asks quietly.

You nod.

"I figured." Ben scoots closer towards you so that his thigh is brushing against yours. "I'm-"

"No." You squeeze his cheeks, eyes narrowing. "No more saying sorry. Not again."

"Okay." Ben's gaze is still apologetic. He waits for a minute, watching you in the silence. "What are we going to do about Homelander?"

"I don't know."

It was the truth, you had no idea what to do with your supposed son. You had seen the coldness in his eyes, heard about the horrible things that he was doing to other people, the horrible things he had threatened to do, and you'd seen the way he didn’t seem to care about human life.

Then again maybe I can't judge him, not after what I did to Stan. You think, your frown deepening. Stan deserved what I did to him and my only wish is that Vogelbaum somehow survived getting his head fucking blown off so I can make him pay.

"Do you think we should try to talk to him?" Ben asks.

"I don't think that's possible."

"Why not? He's our son, somewhere deep down he's got to be willing to do that." Ben's voice rumbles up through his chest. "Maybe they brainwashed him into the person we saw at Herogasm, maybe he's just being controlled and told what to do just like we were."

"I don't think that’s possible."

"Why not?" There's an urgency in his eyes that is unfamiliar to you, almost as if he's pleading for you to understand.

But why? Yes he's our son by blood but we don't know anything about him. We haven’t been in his life for forty years, we don't have any connections to him.

"You saw how he was at Herogasm. How he was almost happy to kill Butcher, how he was happy when he tried to kill you and me. I don't know what kind of person is okay with that. I mean you and I have killed people and we feel remorse after, or there's some kind of justification, but there was something in his eyes, it's almost not human. It's predatory, it's-" You shake your head trying to comprehend it. "I don't know what the fuck Vogelbaum did to him, but there's something inside Homelander that's not able to be saved."

"You don't know that."

"Ben, do you think that I want to believe that? To believe that our son is not a good person?" You drop his hand from your lap. "It's taking everything I am not to go to him, not to try and work this out. I keep trying to tell myself that maybe all he needs is family, but I don't know."

"My old man said that blood mattered. That it was the only thing that defined family-"

"Now you want to listen to your dad?" You sigh looking at Ben who is frowning at you. "We both know that he's not exactly the best role model."

"Well neither am I okay?" Ben snaps, his eyes flashing. "Maybe he just needed someone and there was no one there. I mean I wasn't there for Rosemary, but she had you and she turned out fine!"

"That's not your fault Ben. It's not your fault that you weren't there. You can't forget that they sent you to Russia to replace you with him."

"I'm not forgetting I'm just saying that they did the same fucking thing to me!"

Your next thought fizzes to a stop in your brain. What is he talking about?

"What are you talking about?" You try to reach for him, but he pulls back from your touch.

"They force fed him all that shit about what it was to be an American, they made him a supe, they brainwashed him with all my old fucking films." He spits. "But in the lab when we got the serum the first time, they did the same thing to me. They told me that I was going to be a god, that I was going to be the symbol that America needed to get through the war, that I was everything that would save America from destruction."

"Ben." You say again, this time taking his hands and he doesn't pull away. "Ben listen to me. You were older when you became a supe, we both were. You knew what reality was, you knew what the world was like when the scientists started spouting all their crap. You were old enough to understand. Homelander was raised in a lab, he didn't have a family, he didn't have friends. He was told that he was a god every day and he's not. He was raised to believe that he was something more than human, something unbeatable."

"But-"

"They told me that too." You push his hair back out of his eyes, trailing your fingers against his forehead. "That I was a god, that everyone would want me, would look at me and understand that I was beyond human. And at the beginning maybe I believed it for a few years, but that doesn't make him anything like you or like me. He's twisted, his mind is gone, any semblance of humanity he had has been warped away into something dark. He never had any light to begin with."

"You don't know that."

"I do. I can see it in his eyes. I saw it when I fought him at the Herogasm. There's nothing left to save. He's done terrible things."

"I have too." Ben mutters.

"No. You lost control, we all do. It's unrealistic to think that it won't happen, especially not for people like us who have lived this long, but him? He did those things of his own volition, because he believed that he should or maybe it was because he believed that no one could stop him." You cup his cheek, pulling his face forward into the space between the two of you. "The things you've done you feel remorse for. I was there for you every time you messed up. I saw what it did to you, saw how broken you were when you hurt someone."

"Because I'm a hero." Ben sighs.

"Messing up once or twice does not make you less of a hero Ben, it makes you human." You lean your forehead against his, cupping his cheeks with your palms, feeling the way his beard tickles against your skin. "But Homelander, I don't think that there's anything human left."

Ben's hand comes up to hold on to your left wrist. "Then what do we do?"

"I don't know." You sigh. "I wish I did. If you really want to try to talk to him, we can, but I don't think that it's a good idea."

"He's still our son."

"He's our blood, but I don't think that makes him our son." You murmur.

You really didn't know how to deal with any of this. You wanted to believe that there was some semblance of humanity left in Homelander, but you didn't think that there was. You hated that Ben believed that he was like his son. Maybe that was some weird misogynist thing and Ben kept thinking like father like son in his head, but there wasn't any way that Homelander could be anything like Ben. Ben wasn't around for him, wasn't in his life, but maybe.

Ben pulls you back down on his chest once more, and you nestle into him once more, your head directly over his heart, the warmth of his skin comforting against your cheek.

"I think Noir knew." You breathe, tracing your hand over Ben's right pec.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Stan kinda hinted that he did, said that Noir was obsessed with me after I saved his life-"

"When did you save his- oh." Ben sighs.

"I think I should have seen that coming, given how much he kept showing up to my sparring sessions, the interviews, even some of the commercial shoots I had he seemed to always be around." You frown with a sigh. "I can't believe that I didn't know he was stalking me."

"What?"

"Stan said he kept breaking in to my apartment when I wasn't there, that he stole my necklace, you know? The one my dad got me for my birthday-"

Ben sits back so he can look you in the eye. "You're shitting me right?"

"No. That's what Stan said." You shrug. "Might have been just Stan trying to take some of the heat off, but that's what he said."

"That piece of shit." Ben almost growls. You can see the flash of jealousy and possession in his eyes that makes your heart thud a little faster in your chest. He clears his throat. "You-um- you never liked him right?"

"What?"

"The two of you were never that close?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Well you did save his life."

"Ben I've saved plenty of people from your temper. But no, I never liked him that way. Irving was sweet, but he was always so eager to prove himself to Stan it was just sad."

"Good."

"Why?" You sit up further, smirking at him. "Does that make you jealous? For you to think that Noir and I were together?"

Ben's eyes darken. "Watch it Sweetheart."

"Watch what?" You bat your eyes innocently. "I'm just asking a simple question."

"You keep poking the bear and you're not gonna like what happens."

"Poking the bear?" You snort sitting up and poke him in the ribs. "Are you the bear in that scenario?" You poke him again with a wicked smirk.

"Yes."

"Hmm. Well I think you're all talk. Because I have definitely poked you several-"

You're on your back in a second with Ben hovering over you, his green eyes shining as he flashes a roughish grin at you. One of his hands is pressed into the pillow next to your head, the other is at your waist, slipping beneath your t-shirt to rub circles over your hip bone with his thumb. "You were saying?" His voice is the low rumble that makes it hard for you to think.

You clear your throat. "I was saying that," You thread your hands behind the back of his head, working your fingers into his hair. "You have nothing to be jealous about."

"Really?"

"Mhhmm." You smile sheepishly. "Because it's always been you. No one else. Not Howard, Not Noir, just you." His hair is soft between your fingertips, his gaze unbreakable.

Ben returns your smile and collapses on top of you. You gasp out a breath, in a loud 'oof' sound as he does. His arms go around your waist and he buries his head in your chest breathing deeply. "I like it when you say that." He murmurs, turning his head so he can look up at you from your chest, with a smile that catches you in your heart.

"I know." You continue to scratch your fingertips through his hair.

"Sweetheart?"

"Yeah?" You breathe as you close your eyes, comforted by the weight of his body on top of yours. It was familiar, almost like he was a weighted blanket that took all your anxiety away. You felt safe with his arms wrapped around your waist, as if no one could touch you. You needed that now, needed that after you learned that without Ben someone had taken you from your home.

"I know that I can't say that there hasn't been anyone else." He whispers. "But you're the only one who mattered. You're the only woman that I've ever loved, and I swear that as long as I live I'll never love anyone else. You are all I've ever wanted and everything I thought I'd never have."

"You have me Ben." You whisper, beginning to fall asleep. "You always have, you always will."

And with those words you drift into the first fulfilling sleep you'd had in days, wrapped in the warm cocoon of Ben's love, allowing it to send you under into oblivion.

A/N: I know this one was mostly fluff and talking, but I thought that the reader deserved that after everything with Stan, and also after she well -you know- made a tornado in Legend's backyard. We're going to pretend that no one else heard it. 😂

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know :)

And if you'd like to read something a little more bantery then try my series: Take A Chance On Me

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aritsukemo · 11 months ago

Text

What it's like with an Mitsuri Kanroji!partner | Akatsuki Members

Characters: Itachi Uchiha, Sasori, Hidan, and Konan

Warnings: Hidan. That said, vulgarity and threats ahead. Reader is heavily implied to be female/fem-bodied!

A/N: Been re-watching Naruto lately ( with my bsf who's watching Naruto for the first time ) and soon plan to rewatch Naruto Shippuden. ( Never finished it.. ) That said, I got the inspo to make this after Itachi and Kisame got introduced! This wasn't meant to exactly be romantic, but you can see these as whatever makes you comfortable! 🙈

Itachi Uchiha

↪ He found you odd, but in a good way.

↪ Being apart of the Akatsuki, he's met and collabrated with some of the most sick in the head and heartless people across the nations and he himself is far from a saint. That said, he was surprised, and quite suspicious, when he first met you.

↪ You were everything the Akatsuki wasn't; as bright and as cheery the sun with a transparent air of innocence to around you to boot.

↪ Everything about you from your smooth, clean, and supple skin to your wide, glossy smile told him that you had yet to see even the smallest slither of the terrors of this world..so why were you here before him squealing and blushing like a little kid?

↪ At first, he thought you were a spy like Orochimaru and were trying to steal information on the Akatsuki or get to him and his eyes, but it didn't take long for his suspicions to be dispelled.

↪ Your first mission together was a test. One that was to prove your loyalty and dependablity to the Akatsuki and during your entire walk, you talked. You never stopped and eagerly hopped to different topics and by the time you reached the village that hid away the Four-Tails, he had learned just about your entire life that you had left behind; how many siblings you had, your two bunnys and three cats you had as a child and their names, and your strange reason for becoming a rogue ninja; to find someone suitable to marry you.

↪ Futhermore, he was able to get the front row show of your abilities. Your Kekkei Genkai was nothing too eye-widening as it simply allowed you to manipulate metal, yet the way you went about using it was nothing he expected. Never did he think someone would use a Kekkei Genkai such as yours to manipulate a whip-like sword nor did he anticipate the utter destruction a weapon like that would cause.

↪ With all that said, your inexperience shone through here and there. You made simple, avoidable mistakes but your sheer power, flexibility—your flexibility especially—and your agility helped you escape majority of what would've been life-threatening injuries.

↪ Then again, you did tell him that you left your village on a whim and basically everything other than your Kekkei Genkai was self-crafted and taught..

↪ Anyways, after your mission was over and done with, you took him out to celebrate! ..And what I mean by that is that you took him to a run-down ramen shop in the middle of nowhere.

↪ It was then that he learned something new about you; that you held the appetite larger than the tailed beast you just killed. You were embarrassed about it, but seeing as Itachi didn't mind, you let yourself run wild and bought two or three ( or was it four? ) of every kind of dish the little shack had to offer! ( It was a rather humorous sight when your meals were set down and your food towered over your head and completely covered your face and body while as Itachi was able to hold his meal—a singlaur dango stick—in his hand )

↪ After that day, his suspicions were pretty much nonexistent. He also deduced that you wore every emotion of yours on your cloud patterned sleeves for the world to see and poured your golden soul onto everyone you met whether it be friend or foe. You were naively open about everything and overall just easy to read, not that he necessarily saw that as a bad thing.

↪ He eventually told you about his past. How he slaughtered his own people and even admitted the true reason behind it. That said, you were sullen for a while after that, having realized that your reason for becoming a dangerous criminal was rather silly and kind of disrespectful in certain ways. Itachi told you that your reason for walking down this path was just as serious/valid as his even if it's not filled with guts, blood, and pain. In a way, he felt like that made you even more fit for this path. ( Because who in their right mind decides to go rogue just to find someone that would be so insanely out of their mind and strong that they'd see you—who has the raw strength to potientally manhandle the nine tails itself and features flashier/brighter than it—as a normal woman?? )

↪ He quickly got used to your fangirling and rants about the others. Although some of them, including himself, he found odd to have you raving about like a lovesick, diehard fan, he took it as one of the many odd things that makes you the person you are. It does make him worry whenever you do it on the battlefield though. ( Times like those tend to end with him swooping you out of danger like some prince charming while gently scolding you which makes you even more flustered and squealy. )

↪ Most of the others view your partnership like a parent looking after their little kid because of how much more mature Itachi is compared to you and how much he ultimately looks after you despite the two of you being around the same age.

↪ Whenever you would throw off your cloak, revealing your embarrassingly revealing outfit underneath, he's quick to grab it—ready to drape it back over you whenever the fight is done and over with.

↪ Doesn't mind your touchiness! After a battle, no matter how simple or difficult, you had a tendency of running over and crashing into him, wrapping your arms around him and giving him a tight hug and he lets you without complaint. Sadly he never reciprocates it, simply patting your head or not touching you at all, deciding to ask you about your wellbeing instead.

↪ Overall, he respects you as a comrade and as a person in general. He commends your resilience and your determination, because never once has he ever met someone who treads a path such as this one do it with a genuine, beaming, sinless smile. Never once has he met someone in this profession shed tears for the ones they strike down and apologize to the cities they ruthlessly trample and mean it with their entire being. Never once has he met someone who's guilt for their actions were just as strong as their conviction..but he can understand it. He can sympathize with you. And he will, though, he wishes that you'll achieve your goal and leave this life behind before it breaks you down, taints your soul, and ultimately kills everything he admires about you.

Sasori ( of the Red Sand )

↪ He thought of you as a complete idiot.

↪ He honestly thought Pain was trying to play some elaborate prank on him at first, that's how much he couldn't believe it.

↪ You were..nothing the Akatsuki stood for and after the first conversation with you, ( that lasted ages by the way ) he went straight to Pain and questioned his decisions only for Pain to simply smirk and say with utmost confidence, "Just wait, you'll see her true worth in due time, Sasori. You simply have to be patient."

↪ And like the loyal dog he was, he did. Despite his impatience, he waited until your first mission was given and you two were sent to retrieve the One-Tail Beast.

↪ During your walk, you never stopped talking. You attempted to get to know your new partner, but as he was rather tight-lipped, the conversation became all about you. Your upbringing, your small, unknown clan, and even more unimportant things that he didn't care for like your siblings and their names, your pets, and your favorite sweets. That in itself was irritating, but what really got to him was how much of a klutz you were. You were rather animated and as you two passed various places to get to Sunagakure, you would often trip or slip, slowing your travels..

↪ There were various moments were he wanted to just impale you on Hiruko's tail and be done with you, but as Pain and his own curiosity insisted, he refrained and patiently awaited the time to witness your true power. And, when he was finally able to witness you completely in the zone, he was completely blown!

↪ He watched from afar, but he was able to see everything from the very moment you whipped out your peculiar sword to the moment you had the Kazekage in your grasp and were escaping.

↪ He was dumbfounded. Your power completely defied any kind of logic he once knew. Your Kekkei Genkai was nothing to gawk at, but the idea of using it to make and manipulate a flacid sword that can cut through and completely destroy even something like sand was as astonishing as it was illogical. He couldn't wrap his head around how it worked nor how you manage to wield such a high-maintenance weapon with such ease.

↪ He was also taken aback by your unique body composition. There was a moment where you miscalculated and were hit with a head on attacks from shinobi—many of which could exploded and should've completely obliterated you—but you came out of the attack completely fine and intact save for some burn marks.

↪ It was then that he was finally able to see what Pain saw in you. It was also the moment he saw you in a different light. He saw you as an actual comrade and not just some hinderance like Tobi.

↪ As you walked back together, Kankuro attacked you after having tailed you for some time. You were ready for the battle, as moved as you were by Kankuro's actions to save his little brother, but Sasori had other plans. Whether watching you fight had fired him up or there was some other reason, he told you to stand down but stay put as it was his turn to 'show off his art to you'.

↪ He went on to destroy Kankuro's puppets and immobilize him, feeling a sense of pride in the way you squealed and eagerly complimented him and his puppet.

↪ On the venture back to the hideout, he was much more open to conversation. After listening to your odd speech about how bad you felt about what you were doing, he asked about your view on what you believe is true art.

↪ "True art? Hm...well I suppose it'd be love!" And you went on to explain that whether platonic or romantic, you believed the art of love was the truest form of art there was as it was completely honest, showed a person's true character, and made people see others in a breathtaking light. That led to your confession behind your reason of joining the Akatsuki; to find someone who shared your views, someone who'd believed in love and all of its aspects and would accept someone as abnormal as you and take you as their bride.

↪ It was honestly laughable how stupid you sounded to him. Nevertheless, your acceptance of others views—no matter how illogical or flat out wrong they were—was something you two shared in common, and to that, he decided not to express his thoughts aloud for once.

↪ You didn't know Sasori for long as he died to the hands of that pink-haired kunoichi and his grandmother some time after you parted to fight the Nine-Tails Jinchuriki and his sensei, Kakashi Hatake, but even in that short of a time, you had left quite the impression on Sasori.

↪ You were immature, innocent, bubbly, and capable of sympathizing with the ones you brought misfortunate to. You were a complete enigma to him in many ways despite how willing you were to tell him everything he wished to know about you and, in a way, he liked that. It added to your charm, as dumb as that sounded coming from him.

↪ Huh, you truly were a work of art in your own right. It's a shame that he had to bite the bullet before you. He's sure that if it were the other way around and he was able to preserve your beauty in wood and silk and turn you into one of his puppets, you would've became his favorite work of art yet.

Hidan

↪ He found you hot as hell.

↪ He didn't care about anything regarding you, the only thing he could think in that moment was how you would look butt ass naked and bouncing on his—

↪ Anyways, he could care less for you pass that, but he was overjoyed that you two were partnered together because that meant he'd have the best view of your tits at all times. How Jashin has blessed him!

↪ Speaking of tits, that's the nickname he chose to refer to you as. It was fitting in his opinion since you always kept your cloak open and the outfit you had on under..well, let's just say that it left little to the imagination. ( Which he loves more than anything because, again, the view it gives him is fantastic! )

↪ On your first mission together, it was realized very quickly that you two were polar opposites and pretty much a complete mismatch for each other in both personality and fighting wise. For reference, Hidan was like a ruthless machine gun that only cared about the rush of the sight of his opponents blood filling his vision and you were like sunflower who brightened everyone day and shed it's petals for all but people like Hidan.

↪ Safe to say that you weren't a big fan of him. Nevertheless, Pain had paired you two together and you couldn't bring yourself to bother him over something like this. ( Especially not after how you embarrassed yourself the first couple times you talked to him! >.< )

↪ Despite your many differences, you did share your story with him as well as your reasons for joining the Akatsuki. And at the face of your heartfelt story, Hidan laughed in your face and insulted you, calling you every name in the book.

↪ He also didn't believe half of what you said. I mean..you? So strong that even the kage of your village couldn't take you? Oh, please! He's sure he can beat your ass in five seconds flat! ( And he stands by that even after watching you manhandle a tailed beast )

↪ He found your worrying annoying. Whenever he would perform rituals, you would whine about him stabbing himself, worried about both him and the soil beneath him that was being mercilessly soiled by his blood. In times like those, he'll yell at you to be quiet 'lest you want to face the wrath of Jashin and yada yada.

↪ Over time, Hidan became more manageable as a partner ( or maybe you simply got so used to him that meany became an incorrect word to describe him as when brought up in conversations ) and from the jump, he wasn't all bad. For example, he didn't care for your big appetite or bright appearance! ( Though, of course, his reasons behind not caring was as vulgar as ever )

↪ He also had moments that showed that he wasn't completely heartless. There was once a time where your opponents caught you off guard and you took a big attack head on. One would think Hidan would laugh at the sight or insult you for getting taken by surprise, but instead, panic coursed through his veins and he frantically called your name and even went as far as yanking you out of danger when the smoke cleared and he realized that the attack knocked you out.

↪ He has also attempted to recruit you to Jashin on occasion. When he first saw you in action, for example. You declined every time, telling him that you had no interest in becoming apart of a religion that would allow someone as cruel and as heartless as him to join. ( He berated you for that one by the way, even went as far as to attempt to slice your head off )

↪ Speaking of which, just because he finds you attractive does not save you from his short temper! He has attacked you on various occasions and once or twice during a battle and no amount of time together will make him like you nearly enough not to attempt to kill you when you even slightly tick him off.

↪ Overall, Hidan was a tough partner to deal with. Nevertheless, you found yourself shedding tears during your escape after finding out he, despite his immortality, died. You didn't hope that his soul would be carried onto the heavens. You didn't say, "Good riddance," and say rot in hell. You didn't even pray that he'd get reborn into this world as a better person. You simply cried. After all, as horrible of a person he was, you'd be lying if you were to say that your dear partner didn't leave little marks of fondness on your heart after a while.. ( And he was just starting to warm up to you too.. :( )

Konan

↪ She found you cute, but peculiar.

↪ You were the first person she ever recruited. When Tobi described you to her, she had some thoughts in mind in terms of the type of person you'd be. You were the princess of a clan unknown to the majority of the world. With that in mind, she thought you'd be rather down to earth, possibly a bit arrogant.

↪ It turns out she was way off. Firstly, you were much more..ebullient, than she expected. Not only that, but your appearance was much bolder than she anticipated..

↪ She wasn't expecting your eager acceptance either. While you did exchange blows initially, you immediately ceased your attacking once you heard more about the Akatsuki—specifically the part about having strong comrades.

↪ On the way back, she quickly realized how talkative you were. In the span of the day it took to get back to the hideout, she had learned virtually everything about you. Not only that, but you were unashamed in complimenting her appearance and jutsu. ( She did find it odd, though, that you grew all flustered when she politely returned the favor. )

↪ She didn't become your partner per say, but you did travel with her many times. Your unique fighting style and overall power and disposition earned you special tasks from Pain, and since the Akatsuki wasn't one to travel by themselves ( and with you two being the only females ), he sent Konan with you on those special missions.

↪ She wasn't one to become comfortable around those she wasn't especially close with, but you made it really hard not to. You were such a warm person that she naturally gravitated towards you which ultimately resulted in the two of you spending a lot time together.

↪ It was sometime during your first or second mission together that you confessed your reason behind joining. You had been feeling guilty after learning the overall goal of the Akatsuki and felt the need to apologize to Konan for joining with the sole intent on using the Akatsuki to lure in capable shinobi and rogues alike who would be crazy enough to take a woman like yourself as a bride.

↪ To your surprise, she didn't scold you nor did she laugh. She simply told you that she didn't mind your reason for joining as long as you would remain loyal to Pain and his ambitions.

↪ She found you rather silly for someone your age. Every once in a while, your mind would fill with these puerile thoughts and you'd go to the extremes acting on them.

↪ For example, there was a time where you grew weak for a while due to your attempts at hiding your appetite. You really liked Konan and thought she was cool ( Same with a lot of the others in the Akatsuki! ) and you feared that you'd put her off or that she'd consider you a risk factor or something and kick you out of the organization.

↪ Konan found out that your sudden lack of strength was due to starvation and when she confronted you about it, you tearfully confessed your fears to which she sighed. ( Because did you honestly think her or Pain would discard you over something like that? ) Not only did she not kick you, but she also took you out to eat, pushing you to order whatever and however much you'd like.

↪ Safe to say that she severely underestimated just how much you could eat. ( You had a mountain of giant bowls and plates that took up the whole entire table the two of you sat at )

↪ There was another time where you two were walking to your next mission and you were noticeably glum and silent the entire way there. She noticed that you refrained from your usual cheery rambling and during the entirety of your mission, you held this weird, scrunched expression.

↪ When questioned why after everything was over and done with, you told her the most surprising reason ever; that you were trying to seem mature and overall more like her.

↪ That was the first time you ever heard her laugh.

↪ She couldn't help it. The whole situation was incredulous to her. I mean, you want to be like her? She can maybe see your reason, but at the same time..why in the world would you do that?

↪ That said, she told you that she prefers you acting like your normal bilthesome self and was more fond of the sight of your face covered in a wide smile. She's flattered that you look up to her so much, but going so far wasn't necessary as it wasn't considered a bother or hindrance to her, Pain, or anyone else.

↪ She honestly did love how passionate you were about everything you did/believed in. Your emotional sensitivity to the people and things around you was something she admired and respected as she had overall grown to have a heart of stone over the years.

↪ She also found your unique fighting style beautiful and fitting for you. To her, it completely encapsulates your style and being, and she has mentally commended you on being able to take such a simple Kekkei Genkai such as Metal Manipulation and mold it into something like this; a weapon that no other could wield even if they had a similar power which is not an easy feat!

↪ When you're not on a mission, you two have spent time once or twice at a hot springs. Konan herself isn't one for such leisure activities, but she couldn't resist you whenever you asked. ( Plus, you managed to find one secluded that had zero knowledge on the Akatsuki and ultimately let you two in without batting an eye to your appearance ) She'll admit that it grew to be a seldom, but enjoyable pass time to partake in with you.

↪ Speaking of which, during one of those rare pass times, she saw the tattoo on your collarbone for the first time. She found it beautiful and when asked, you were more than happy to tell her all she wanted to know. ( Apparently the tattoo grants you unimaginable power and even amongst the people of your clan, it is rare to obtain. It comes with it's costs, but whether it was because of your sheer determination or some other reason, you were able to live long past the twenty-five age limit unlike the others who were granted it. )

↪ Slowly, she watched as her sunflower companion started to shrivel up. With each Akatsuki member that was killed off, you bawled your pretty little eyes out. The more it happened, the more it seem a piece of your heart cracked away. Thankfully, your rapturous personality didn't cease to exist, but Konan could see how each death that occured got to you little by little. She did her best to comfort you each time, but she could only grant you little relief.

↪ You did do something surprising, however, promising to her that you'd be her and Pain's knight and shining armor and keep them protected and alive. It was a tall order, but she humored you for the chance to see you revert back to normal.

↪ Alas, it seems that tall order was even taller in reality. Pain—or, I guess it would be better to call him by his actual name, Nagato—died, albeit of his own volition.

↪ Konan told you not to blame yourself, but you found yourself doing it anyway. Lately it seemed that all you've managed to do is get in the way and get others hurt trying to save you..and Konan could tell from a mile a day that you were thinking that.

↪ And so, after calling a truce with Naruto, she invited you to come with her back to Amegakure and work as her second in command which you ended up accepting, wanting to at least do the bare minimum of protecting her.

↪ During that small time of peace, it was nice. Amegakure saw you as the Angel's spear and praised your beauty and strength. Even then, your guilt didn't settle, if anything it ate away at you for relaxing/doing menial task while the others who passed fought long, hard battles and died fighting for what they stood for.

↪ In the end, you were finally given relief as you were soon killed by Tobi. You fought as best you could and lost half of your limbs doing your best to protect Konan and the secret of where Nagato's corpse's laid. You didn't want to go so soon, especially so quickly after the battle had begun, but your senses were dulling at a rapid rate and your blood was pooling out of you from various angles.

↪ Not everything was bad though. You died in the arms of the one who's comforted you the most throughout the years; Konan. And, even at that point, despite your uselessness, she smiled and thanked you for everything you had done and told you to rest.

↪ You didn't feel as though you deserved such kindness from her, but you didn't have the strength to fight her at that point and ended up passing away with tears rolling down your bloody, wet face..

↪ Konan loved everything about you. To her, you were the true angel, shielding everyone with your golden wings even when they began to wear down and tear. You were the light that illuminated the darkness that was the Akatsuki—her world—and she's forever grateful to fate that led you two together.

↪ You were pure—purer than the life you led. She hopes that in the next you'll have better, even if that meant she wouldn't be reborn alongside you to see it.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

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woncon · 11 months ago

Text

part three: sex on the beach

pairing: poly!stray kids x gn!reader

A day at the beach with your eight chaotic boyfriends.

genre: mini-series, fluff, suggestive, crack/humor, summer fic, established relationship, polyamory, a day on the beach

warnings: minho finally gets sex on the beach, making out as a problem-solving technique, more kisses, jeongin likes to ask questions today

word count: 5K

a/n: yay! it's done! thanks for @honeytwo for her committed work, and of course, thanks to all of you for reading this summer fic! <3

[part 1] / [part 2]

summer go loco / stray kids mlist

While you were sliding into the water, Hyunjin attacked Chan not far away.

"Ah! Hyunne, no!" spat the older man, gasping. "I'm drowning in your spaghetti hair!"

"Oh, no!" giggled Hyunjin as he swung away with his tines flapping like mops. "If you really want to drown, drown in my love for you!"

Chan made a suffering sound and hid his face in his palms.

"Chan is weak when it comes to compliments," Seungmin stated in a whisper, having been given the humble role of Jeongin's pusher. "He's weak at other times too. Like when I loaded his barbell. He couldn't lift it because he's old."

Jeongin couldn't take it anymore, he asked.

"Do you really have a granddaddy kink?"

"No, I just like to tease Chan. Who told you that?"

“Hyunjin.”

"I'm gonna fuck his gossipy ass."

"You'd have to get him to talk to you first, wouldn't you?"

As if sensing that the conversation was about him - and his butt - Hyunjin glanced towards them. He smiled affectionately at Jeongin, but looked gloomily at Seungmin, and then took his gaze away.

Jeongin patted Seungmin on the shoulder.

"Shall I throw you in the water?"

Jeongin immediately withdrew his hand. "Why?"

"Maybe that would cheer me up." Seungmin made a thoughtful, questioning face.

"I'd rather climb off the mat willingly then." Jeongin did so. When he felt safe, he added, "Asshole."

"Now I'm an asshole?" asked Seungmin, looking shocked. "I wasn't an asshole this morning. Then you called me a-"

"You didn't want to throw me in the water this morning to make yourself feel better." Jeongin was pushing the Monster can again. "Did you learn nothing from what happened between you and Hyunjin hyung?"

"You're right, Innie-ah. It was a stupid idea." He pushed the mattress in the boy's direction. "You can climb back in."

Jeongin grimaced.

"I don't trust you."

"At least let me make it up to you... with a kiss?"

"Isn't the point of atonement to get me something I want?" Jeongin lazily tossed the Monster can into the air, then caught it.

"You don't want my kiss, huh?" The other didn't answer that. Seungmin crept closer to him. "Am I really such a bad kisser that you'd rather throw yourself on the pebbles?" He made a curious face, showing no other emotion.

"It's not about that. I hate it when you come at me in groups."

"And now?" Seungmin bit his lip and swam even closer to him with the mattress like a cargo merman. "We're on our own. Just you and me. Do you want it now?"

Jeongin looked up at the clear blue sky as if the answer was written there.

"Maybe."

"Maybe? What does it take to get the answer to be yes?"

"Answer a simple question."

Seungmin nodded in agreement.

"Are you quite sure you're not interested in grandfathers?"

Seungmin laughed incredulously. And swimming just a short distance away from them was a grandmother and grandfather duo with two grandchildren.

"I swear to you. I like my own age group... And Chan hyung... Okay, maybe I'm interested. But only in Chan hyung."

"Last night for some reason you didn't mention how old he is... When you bit his abs... Several times. And everything."

Seungmin narrowed his eyes. "You said not to talk about last night."

Jeongin shrugged, a small smile hiding at the corner of his mouth.

"Give me my kiss."

"Did I also say you'd get it now?"

"I should have pushed you into the w-"

Jeongin grabbed the back of Seungmin's head, kissed him hard, then let go.

"Here's your kiss."

Then he swam away. Seungmin watched his receding figure. Two canoeists passed him, and even Chan was asking if he was okay when he regained consciousness. "Fuck," he muttered.

Jeongin was not even within earshot, but you and Felix immediately approached him. For the time being, it looked like he would be safe here. Felix had never kissed his face or cooed at him, and you had never cooed at him as often as Hyunjin or Changbin. He obviously didn't know what interesting things were happening while he was chilling with the others. He probably had no idea that there would be a lot of kissing in the middle of the lake. Nor did it occur to him that you were largely planning how to make it the most super day for him.

Right after you met him halfway, Hyunjin arrived in a breaststroke. With a devilish half-smile on his face, by the way. When he spoke, Jeongin's potential security was shattered.

"Innie-ah? Can I ask you something?" Hyunjin leaned his head on the boy's shoulder. "Please don't take off your shirt. If you do, I'll cum right here."

"Oh, my God." Jeongin massaged the bridge of his nose. "Can we please not talk about sex all the time? Just a little?"

"We're sexually frustrated adults. Most of us are half naked and flirting. What did you expect?" asked Felix.

Jeongin mumbled something under his breath.

"Oh, Innie," you clung to him affectionately. "Your poor innocent soul... and your poor feet."

"Stop that. I'm not a little child."

"But you are a baby. Our baby." You kissed him all over his cheekbone. Maybe all of you took it a little too seriously when you had the opportunity to bathe Jeongin in love.

"And you need to relax."

"I'm relaxed," he said, as he was like a log in your arms. Or a hot guy in the shape of a blown-up float.

"Come on!" Hyunjin poked his nose. That wasn't the switch on the slackness function, unfortunately. "Last time I saw you smile was when the fan was running."

"And when you groped me," you reported. "If that's what it takes to make you happy, I'm here."

Jeongin's Adam's apple did a wild dance.

"As I just alluded to, I don't want it to be all about sex."

"Sex? Who mentioned sex?" Hyunjin narrowed his eyes, then glanced over at your form. “Was it you?"

"I sure wasn't."

“Felix?”

"I don't even know what the word means."

"Get lost." Jeongin tried to shake you off, but you were like Chan in the morning. A real cuddly koala.

"Come on, Innie. You're living with Minho and you still think groping is exclusively sexual?" Felix ruffled the younger's hair. You were amazed at how eager Jeongin was to indulge in his touch, even while he was droning on and in the middle of a minor argument.

You recalled what you had said to Felix minutes earlier. Maybe there's someone who needs your kiss more than I do. Not exactly your kiss. More like something to cheer him up. When you're with him, he's usually happy.

He didn't need much convincing. He also wanted Jeongin to be happy on this sunny day with his wholesome partners.

"Whatever it is, I don't want to do it. And I don't want to hear about him or Chan's bite marks or Jisung's hip-"

"What was that?" interrupted Hyunjin.

"What was what?"

Your boyfriend grinned. "That's what you were doing with your hand," he pointed out the tiny, grabbing motion, "when you mentioned Sungie's hip."

"I'm sure I didn't," Jeongin denied.

"Three credible witnesses say so."

"Only two," you corrected Hyunjin, still clinging to Jeongin. "I haven't been sane since Lix's mouth touched me."

Felix caressed the back of your neck.

"Two witnesses then. The point is the same. You want all of this. Jisung, Chan, maybe everyone. You want it so bad you're about to explode. All this frustration is not good for you. Not for you, not for us. We're here to have fun, Innie. Why are you resisting?"

"What if he doesn't want to?"

"Who? Sungie? Pff." Hyunjin sneered. "He'd feel like heaven if you got close to him."

"Anyone would feel like that," you added.

"That's stupid."

"No. That's the truth," Felix assured him. He pressed a kiss to Jeongin's temple. "We're starving for you, baby."

"There's a difference between someone saying they want to kiss you and sitting on your lap and actually doing it. They're just words. And you're always messing with me and each other. When can I take it seriously?"

"Naive boy..." mumbled Felix. "We're not messing with you."

"Didn't you know? All offers are deathly serious," Hyunjin continued. "If you say yes, it's yours."

Jeongin really did stiffen in your arms this time. You were thinking of recalling in your mind all the offers he'd received in the last few days, maybe even specifically that day. It must have been quite a lot based on the fact that you had talked a lot about Jeongin, not only in person but virtually, and how much you adored him. You had your private fan club.

"Just think about it, okay?" Hyunjin pressed a soft kiss on the back of Jeongin's head.

You let go, so he could think about what was going on without any extra weight. You didn't expect him not to know the rules of the game. You all thought that he just liked to give you the unattainable, or that he just didn't desire your advances.

All of you swam back to the big mat like a couple of cooling fish, and got caught in the middle of a conversation.

"Your feet hurt, your back hurts," Minho listed to Jisung. "Doesn't your mouth get lonely, jagi? If so, I can help you with that, and I can take your mind off the other two. Just saying."

"Can we do it like they did?" He pointed in your and Felix’s direction.

"Oh, we can do better."

"Wanna bet?" Felix was really sexy as he challenged Minho. And Minho greeted him with a sexy smile. Jisung was sexy too, as he scratched his head and lay on the mattress like he was waiting for his dream make-out session. Everyone was sexy. You saw the world, or more accurately your boyfriends, through overly sexy lenses since Felix's mouth touched yours.

"Let’s bet."

After being flooded with mattress memories, you realized what was happening.

Oh my goodness, how many dishes you've washed and vacuumed dust bunnies for betting with Felix! If you were forced to bet, you'd bet with anyone else, even Hyunjin, who bets in vile values, just not Felix. The guy's a master, and you've learned that the hard way.

"Are you sure, hyung?" asked Hyunjin, putting the pink sunglasses back on, not just resting on the top of his head. "You already lost one today. You want to do two penalties in one day?"

"Don't worry about me, Hyunne. I'm unbeatable at kissing Sungie."

"You're not going to kiss Sungie this time," Felix indicated. "This time you're going to kiss like,” he said your name with an impish smile. “and me. Or so you want to. Can you do that?"

Minho licked his lips.

"What do you give when I do?"

"Okay, okay, stop it." Jeongin stepped between Minho, who was leaning against the mattress, and Felix. "What now? A summer mating battle? I don't know exactly what Felix and they did, but I'm sure it won't be repeated here."

"If you're playing Chan today, what will you give us to stop?" asked Jisung slyly, elbowing up. "Scrambled eggs for breakfast? A cuddle afternoon? Kisses?"

It was pretty clear that Chan was spoiling you.

"I can give kisses. To everyone," Jeongin said. He was tense, judging by the way he was playing with the squashed Monster box. 'First thing you'll do when you get out of here is throw away the metal and replace it with a hand. If you can't use your own, you can use someone else's. "Behind the willow tree on the beach."

Jeongin turned and headed for the stairs.

Silence. Even the seagull raiding the beach fell silent at Jeongin's offer. So did you. You restored Changbin's fallen chin, who then looked at you with sparkling eyes.

"Jeongin offered his mouth. All my dreams have come true."

"Wow," Jisung also acknowledged what had happened. "I need to get to shore as soon as possible. Can you push me out, jagi?"

"Sure," nodded Minho. He quickly forgot about the bet. "As fast as I can, no question."

"Let's go until he changes his mind," Felix nodded as well. "I'll go quickly and tell the others. Will you be alright?"

"Of course," you assured him. "I'll kiss Jeongin so hard that- Hey, Minho! Wait for me! I'm getting on!" The mattress was pushed that day, perhaps never before, with the vehemence that Minho and Changbin were pushing it.

It's a wonder they waited. Or maybe it was just a testament to how much they loved you that they were able to wait for you with the promise of an Innie kiss before them.

The willow tree Jeongin picked was huge. Chan could have fit twice its length behind it. It was shady and hidden from prying eyes. It was a feature that caught the eye of others, because in the grass was a suspicious resemblance to a used condom. Fortunately, when it was your turn to follow Minho and Changbin, you weren't concerned with what was down below.

Jeongin gently pushed you against the trunk of the tree. The rough surface peeked through your towel and pressed against your shoulder, but you didn't give a damn.

"Is that how you want it?" Jeongin hummed at your question. "With ants?"

The boy rested his hand next to your head. This gesture was cringe-worthy in many places. However, this time Jeongin did it. If he was going to do the same to Chan, you hoped the poor guy wouldn't get too dizzy.

"There are none. I just have questions."

"Questions? I thought you had kisses. For me."

"Just take a turn. Questions first, then kisses."

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"How would you like it? Slow and gentle, like Binnie hyung? Or hard, like Minho hyung? Shall I bite your mouth?"

Oh, fuck.

"Whatever. Just keep your mouth on mine." You traced your fingers over the carotid artery, one of his sensitive spots, and with the same vigor he sucked in air sharply, he leaned in to take your mouth.

It's an established fact that he's got you on the edge. And he kissed you fantastically, just the way you like it. You wouldn't have minded ants dropping on you.

Jeongin gasped out your name in a breathy whimper, eyes clouded with haze. He leaned away from you, when you were in the middle of working to rip off his soaked T-shirt.

"Sorry. I just thought you might catch a cold. Besides, Hyunjin's not here to come in his pants if he sees you half naked."

"Don't bet on it. I think he's always watching." Jeongin grabbed your wrist and untucked it from his shirt. Then he surprised you by reaching back to pull it off himself.

Before you could fall like wow, Innie had just grabbed his shirt off you, his palm sliding down your side and settling on your waist. He gently pulled you to him.

"Happy now?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

You touched his bicep. "May I?"

"You may."

You touched every nook and cranny of his exposed skin. Jeongin watched softly, then nuzzled into your neck.

"You're just like us," you said.

"The most you've ever seen me pinching cheeks is in your dreams," he immediately countered.

"You hunger for intimacy as much as we do. You're just as completely in love. That's what I meant. Am I wrong?"

"You like it when you're right, yes?"

"Who doesn't?"

Jeongin, a confident, grown man, stuck his tongue out at you. You, also an adult, and often recorded as Felix's baby, stuck yours out too and smiled. Of course, when Jeongin wanted to kiss you again, you didn't resist. You pulled him close to you and enjoyed that he wanted you.

Finally, you stumbled out from behind the willow tree with a happy grin. Although it would be more accurate to use the term, dizzy out. You sat down on the blanket opposite the water. Everything about you, even your soul, tingled at Jeongin's nearness. You spread his wet shirt on the grass to dry. Sometimes you tilted your head as if you were looking at a trophy. When someone came close enough to you, you'd show it off.

The next eager volunteer behind the tree was Hyunjin, who spent a few seconds blinking exclusively as Jeongin remained half naked.

"What? Did you cum in your pants?" The younger one leaned against the tree.

"D’you want me to?"

"I want your kiss. Or would you rather have mine?"

"Then I'll kiss you all over." As Hyunjin eagerly stepped closer, Jeongin stepped back.

"That's not a fundamental right, hyung. Especially not today."

"You want me to beg for it?"

"Would you?" Jeongin smiled devilishly. "Would you beg for my kiss?"

"You little demon..." Hyunjin held out his hand in fascination, but the other didn't even let it touch his shoulder.

"Maybe you should beg to touch me first."

Hyunjin licked his lips.

"Please, muse. Let me touch you. That's all I want. Please let me. I promise I'll treat you well, and you'll enjoy it too."

"Close your eyes, hyung, and wait."

Hyunjin obeyed.

From the looks of it, Jeongin had indeed decided to become Chan for a while, taking some of the conflict management upon himself, because while Hyunjin closed his eyes and his full lips were ready to kiss the hell out of Jeongin, Jeongin led Seungmin in on the other side of the willow tree. Then he made him face Hyunjin. Seungmin made a puzzled face, but Jeongin persuaded him with nods and various hand gestures urging him to get closer. Seungmin finally stepped in front of Hyunjin and kissed him. Hyunjin threw himself into his neck and was determined to swallow the boy he thought was Jeongin.

He didn't realize the folly until Seungmin moaned into his mouth. Then he pulled away, blinking round-eyed at Seungmin and at Jeongin, who stood a few steps away, smiling contentedly.

"I'm sorry, Hyunne." Seungmin turned the older man's face towards himself. "I'd be Innie for you, if that's what you want."

"Don't be stupid." Hyunjin frowned.

"But I am your stupid."

"Don't embarrass yourself in public, Minnie." Hyunjin pressed one last kiss to Seungmin's lips and held his cheek in the palm of his hand. "I've already forgiven you. I'll wash my hair again tomorrow."

"I'd be happy to help you."

"Will you also help me get Jeongin's promised kiss?"

Seungmin grinned. "Of course."

As soon as the last of the satisfied men came out from behind the willow tree, Hyunjin and Jeongin went upstairs to buy cocktails. They argued that it was for Minho's betting punishment. They said no more. Jisung and Seungmin badgered Minho to tell them the secret, then gave up and took revenge by laying down on top of him. Chan and Felix played Uno. Changbin lounged beside you, and you watched the swans with their chicks as they swam among the stones. There were no bird feeders in the area, so you could only watch them.

"When you kissed Felix, it was very hot," Changbin noted.

"And you're just saying that out of the blue?"

"I can't think of anything else since."

"You're cute." You took the opportunity to pinch his chubby cheeks. It was a good thing he was so muscular. His body was a great pillow and his face was chubby, really chewy. "Who did you imagine yourself to be?"

"Is that a serious question?" he got embarrassed almost immediately.

"Both, then."

"Of course, both. There is no other answer that is correct."

"Actually... there may be. If you imagine yourself as a third party."

Changbin moaned and leaned back on the grass. "Don't do this to me! The way you torture me is unhealthy."

You smiled and followed his example, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I didn't say think about it."

"It's like the purple elephant. Once you say it, there's nothing to do but think about it."

"I'm sorry." You planned to gently pat his stomach as a sign of regret, then somehow your hand stayed. It stayed there, like the thought in your head of how nice it would be to kiss Changbin.

As usual, you promised yourself that you would change your kissing habits and become more resistant to the stimulus. Like Minho, or even Jeongin. Of course, that was easier said and promised than done. Especially under the circumstances: you have Seo Changbin lying half-naked next to you, and he's practically pouting as he tells you how sexy you were kissing Felix.

You looked around. As time went on, there were fewer and fewer people on the beach. A couple of fishermen farther away, young people were picking their beaching supplies, and you overheard snippets of conversations in which participants planned to stay and watch the sunset. Families with young children had already left, probably for dinner. The youths were lost in their own world, the others were preparing for the sunset, and the fisher uncles were hopefully waiting for the catch, not how long you have to feel Changbin's chest to elicit a groan. Brilliant.

You took the towel off your shoulders, then spread it over your head.

"What are you up to?"

"Well, you don't have to just think about it." You snuggled closer to him on the blanket, one leg draped over his hip. His warm palm immediately found your thigh.

"Uno!" shouted Felix.

"Lix, if you win this round, can you come here?" you asked.

"Sure. I'm not giving Chan a chance to fight back like last time... And I won!"

While Felix carried himself over to your blankets, Changbin showered you with kisses. Slow, sweet kisses. First on the tip of your nose, then on your forehead, temple and cheek.

"You really are sweet," you smiled.

"I'm not sweet, just weak. Weak for and from love."

You stroked his cheek. You didn't exaggerate with your words. He nuzzled into your palm and continued to watch you lovingly. He deserved that kiss.

"Are you holding a secret council?" joined Felix under your towel. Luckily, it was big enough to fit all three of you underneath. He nestled himself next to Changbin, resting his chin on the boy's shoulder. "What is there to talk about?"

"We don't want to talk, do we, Binnie?" you caressed his mouth, and his lips parted instantly.

"Oh. So that's why you've been hiding."

"Poor thing couldn’t get our kiss out of his head."

Changbin nodded. Felix ran his fingers through the other's hair, playing gently with it. "Is that what you want, Binnie? That kiss?"

"Y-yes. I liked it a lot."

"You know we can't say no when you're so desperate," Felix whispered. He kissed the sensitive skin behind the boy's ear, then glanced at you. You understood what he wanted. You didn't hesitate any longer. You cupped Changbin's chin to stop him moving and leaned into his mouth. You didn't kiss him yet, just took his bottom lip between your teeth, like Felix did with you. Then you licked his lips. Changbin moaned and trembled. He threw himself after your mouth, and that was a good thing, because when Felix grabbed his pecs, you were lucky that your mouth absorbed the passionate sound Changbin made.

He probably would have given himself to you right there and then if you'd wanted all he had. He always loved to give.

He grabbed your thigh and refused to let go. You didn't want to go either. Felix covered Changbin's neck with kisses. It was the last thing you noticed before you fell into the act of kissing with one of your boyfriends again that day.

By the time Jeongin and Hyunjin returned with four cocktails, the three of you were hugging and panting with numb mouths. As the ice cubes clinked softly in the glasses and straws danced along the lemon rims as the two boys prepared the ground for punishment, Jisung grinned and leaned over Felix.

"I'll be next, okay?"

"I never thought you'd like it so much when I kiss our lovers."

"There's something special about it." Jisung sat down next to you. "Ultimately, I'm glad Innie didn't let us bet. Don't tell jagi, but I think we would have lost."

"I think he knows," Changbin said, glancing toward Minho. You lifted your head from his chest to take a look for yourself at the aforementioned. He watched your little grouping with a penetrating glance. He was so hot-

No. Pull yourself together. Your lips can't take any more kisses.

Instead, you looked towards Hyunjin and Jeongin, who were fiddling with the glasses and for some reason pulled out Felix's sleeping mask. Whatever they were up to, Seungmin was smiling contentedly beside them like he was having a great time. Chan was unaware that the punishment was happening now because he had fallen asleep after the Uno party. He still had the cards under his head, but no one had the heart to wake him up and you just let him sleep. On the other hand, you couldn't be sure he wouldn't object to what the bet winners were planning to do.

The rest of you were slowly gathering around the events. Hyunjin handed Minho the sleeping mask.

"Are you going to poison me?"

"Just a little."

Minho grimaced in displeasure.

"Let me remind you that you invented this punishment. Take it." Hyunjin patted Minho's cheek, then retreated. As soon as Minho had the mask on properly, Jeongin and Hyunjin began to cavort. Soon the four different cocktails had turned into one glass of disgusting-coloured, mixed-up mess, and another glass of a clearer colour.

"Open your mouth, hyung!" Jeongin approached with the first glass. He did not hand it to him, but carefully poured a sip into his mouth. Minho spat.

"What the fuck is this?"

"Cocktail." The boy ran the juice around the side of the glass. "Bottoms up!"

"I hate my bets," he sighed irritably.

Finally he drank every disgusting drop. You wouldn't have wanted to be in his shoes. The first glass was empty, the second came. Hyunjin held it up to Minho's mouth. After the first sip, the boy grunted and moaned.

"It's-it's delicious. What did you mix?"

"It's just plain sex on the beach. Jeongin told me how much you wanted it. Don't tell us we tortured you the whole time."

Minho drank that in with more enthusiasm. The last sip rolled down to his Adam's apple.

"That's your punishment." Hyunjin lapped up the tiny drop, happily swallowing it. "You have fulfilled it."

You congratulated him. Jeongin collected the glasses, Seungmin put the sleeping mask away. You helped gather Jisung's dry clothes, because he was getting cold, and accompanied him to the dressing rooms. Finally, once you were there, you went in with him. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Anyway... Get ready."

You hung your towel on the rack and turned to the boy with a questioning look. Jisung grinned, and that only made you more curious.

"Huh? What for?"

"I'm going to kiss you so hard you won't want to do anything else for hours."

"Now?"

"I wish, but right now we barely have minutes. Sometime when you're not expecting it." When did Jisung's hand come to your side? "I want to hear the sound you made from Felix's mouth."

"That sounds good." You took the opportunity to touch his hip. "Maybe I can get you to make the sounds you make when you kiss Minho."

"Deal."

Then you quickly got dressed, knowing that Jeongin was in the next stall and would quickly put a stop to any inappropriate action as Chan's responsible deputy.

You yourself shed the slightly damp swimsuit and took a dry seat on a less damp corner of the blanket. Behind you on the air-scoughing mattresses, Changbin issuing instructions. In front of you, the water, bridged orange by the light of the setting sun and the lapping sound of the waves as they crashed against the stones.

Jeongin settled down beside you. He leaned his head on your shoulder.

"Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "It was pretty good after all." He smiled broadly. Cheerfully, sincerely, and before the sunset. Your heart beating feverishly, pride embraced you. "I had a good time today."

"I'm glad." You tilted your own on top of his head, and together you watched the sun go down. A tiny sliver was still visible on the horizon when Minho held out his hand.

"Come on. The day is over. Let's go home."

"Let's go home," you nodded, letting him pull you up off the ground, and then Jeongin. The others competently packed up your stuff so you could be rascally donkeys again on the way back. Chan would have fit right in as a sleeping rascal donkey. Hyunjin assured him that he would drive and Chan should sleep peacefully in the car. Chan smiled gratefully at him. Then he tried to kick Seungmin in the butt, who said something about the need for elderly people to sleep. Seungmin laughed and ran forward, only to suffer a slap on the back of the head from Felix.

You had two bags slung over your shoulders when Minho slapped you on the ass with a snap.

"Hurry up, we're being eaten by mosquitoes!" he smirked.

You laughed in disbelief, then followed him down the path. In revenge, you stuck your hand in his back pocket and didn't take it out until you reached the car.

It was a hot day. Really hot. A real heatwave day, when everyone turns into a walking ice cream cone. But a really exciting, good day to spend with your boyfriends, swimming in your own chaos, and in the water.

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