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shegetsburned · 6 months

Note

Uhm hi 👋🏻 could you please write something about Gojo, Nanami, Geto and Toji's reactions to their significant other's life being threatened? Like heartbreaking stuff that ends up well? 👉🏻👈🏻

LOSING YOU w. jujutsu kaisen men ˚ 𐙚 ⋆.

.angst/fluff.

• — ft. satoru gojo, kento nanami, suguru geto, toji fushiguro. took me ages to get to but i’m a sucker for angst, so i just had to do it. thanks for the request, luv! • — content. their reaction to your life being threatened. • — tw. mentions of death, violence, murder.

satoru gojo

₊˚⊹ ᰔ as soon as your name came out of yaga’s mouth, satoru wasted no time and vanished. he searched every place he knew, every corner and alley, in a matter of seconds. there was no coherent thought in his mind while he teleported. the only thing he could clearly see was you. that you were in danger and that you needed to be saved. that he couldn’t let you die and that he previously had so clearly promised that he’d never let anything happen to either you or him.

a liar, he thought he was. how could he have let this happen? what was the point of being the strongest sorcerer if he couldn’t even protect you. he really did believe nothing could happen to you if he was by your side. he’d murder anyone who’d ever try to harm you without even looking back. this time wouldn’t be any different.

he felt his heartbeat reach his ears when he finally felt you near an ally, back pressed against the wall. a hand on your chest, crimson blood dripping down your shirt. jerky breaths escaping your trembling lips. this curse had taken his sweet time with you. it wanted to feed and you were a tasty dinner. there were marks of struggle on your shredded clothes and bruised wrists.

nothing came out of satoru’s mouth when his eyes landed on you. he just couldn’t believe he had let this happen to you. his expression was stoic. when he slowly approached you the curse immediately felt it. the strongest sorcerer doesn’t let most curses escape from his grasp. but this one.. this one would inevitably suffer the most.

it wasn’t long before the curse felt his body being pushed against the wall in front of you. a yelp was heard when his skull hit the wall head-on. you could hear the bones crack and send shivers through your entire being. that’s when you realized your boyfriend had finally arrived. but when you lifted your head trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes he had already turned all his attention towards the threat.

you had never seen him like this. he was lifeless. his eyebrows were lowered and pulled closer together. you could’ve sworn his eyes bulged. he was enraged. he didn’t even bother to raise his arm towards the curse, he just advanced and slowly- very slowly crushed every little bone in the monster’s body.

you were out of breath but couldn’t shift your gaze from the horrible spectacle in front of you. the wall caved under the pressure as gojo used his infinity to create a space between him and the curse which only crushed it more. it was cruel. cruel but deserving considering the circumstances.

the curse’s body was retracting upon itself with no way out. a loud and piercing cry followed the sound of the wall being crushed under the weight of the infinity. the only thing you found the strength to mumble under your breath was your boyfriend’s name.

after a few seconds, black smoke emanated from the crushed bricked wall with no curses in sight. no remains, nothing. your heavy breath filled the air as satoru finally sighted. you could barely see his eyes when he turned to you, crouching down at your height.

his violence had surprised you, but you were so relieved. tears ran down your cheeks when you tried to speak. you tried to reach for satoru when he crouched but he was quicker and wrapped one arm around your back and another supporting the back of your head. he held you close and it made you feel at home. his scent and touch reassured you when you buried your head in his neck.

still silent, he held you tightly close to his chest. his hand threaded your hair, a slight pressure applied so he could make sure you were okay. you could feel all his anger slowly fade when you returned the gesture with one hand against his chest. your tears slowly fading as you felt the warmth of satoru around your body.

“satoru..”

he shushed you. always pulling you closer and closer to him. he wasn’t going to leave this time. he’d never let you endure something like this ever again.

“i’m right here. you’re safe. lend me your pain, baby. i’ll carry you the rest of the way.” he whispered into your ear, caressing your back so that you’d warm up to his touch. you could feel he was slowly coming back to being the satoru you knew.

you were safe in his arms but guilt still ran deep inside of him. he promised to take you to shoko as soon as possible, resting by your side until you were completely healthy. he also promised himself to assign you with an escort when he couldn’t be here to protect you.

satoru’s only concern was you and he’d never let anything get in the way of your well-being ever again. if he had to show every curse on this earth that he’d destroy them if they ever tried to get near you, he’d have no hesitation in doing so. you were safe. you knew it, now.

kento nanami

₊˚⊹ ᰔ you were the most important person for nanami. his one and only. his love, his soul, his heart. he would’ve resigned in an instant if you hadn’t begged him to keep his job as a sorcerer. but knowing his personal feelings about loss, you knew it’d break him if something came to happen to you. that is precisely why you always acted cautiously, never putting yourself in harm's way and living your life as safely as you could. unfortunately, this time, your efforts had been in vain.

when he saw you, helplessly struggling at the mercy of a first-grade curse wrapped around your throat, all he could think about was how much he regretted not having taken a safer job and bought you that house you both talked about so much on a beach in malaysia.

he knew he needed to act quickly or the curse would finish you off as easily as it had taken you hostage.

you wiggled your feet when it lifted you off the ground, hands desperately scratching and holding onto his grasp so he’d let go of his claws around your throat. you could feel kento’s eyes on you but couldn’t even dare to look at him or do anything else than push against the claws so they wouldn’t crush your neck further.

therefore, you couldn’t see him remove his tie, wrapping it tightly around his knuckles. he knew he couldn’t use a weapon, scared that the curse would use you as a shield. his fists were more precise and his sword wasn’t enough to unleash the rage he had built up inside.

he slowly made his way to the curse but, with every step, its hold crushed you more. you were so scared, almost out of breath with tears rolling down your cheeks. these cheeks kento had kissed so many times to take away your pain. you were hoping he’d do it once more.

once he realized that the threatening stance he was in only alarmed the curse, kento stood down, lowering his curse energy’s flow to an almost invisible state. he made himself look harmless in the face of the monster which slowly but surely helped you to breathe better.

you knew your husband. you had heard it several times from yuji and Ino and you also personally knew that he always handled things the right way. this is was kept you from breaking down and letting go of your almost meaningless fight against the curse’s strength. you had never doubted him and you wouldn’t now. he built his strength with yours. that’s what kento had told you the day he had asked for your hand.

his eyes were locked with your struggling gaze. despite him trying to contain himself, his veins stood out from how tightly he clenched his fists. he would’ve massacred the curse right here and now if it hadn’t cowardly taken you hostage. nanami might have seemed harmless in the moment but his anger was apparent.

without thinking much about it, he threw his sword aside, lifting his hands above to show complete surrender to the curse.

“let her go.”

the furious and deep voice of your husband made you whine, finally hearing a sign from him. unfortunately you could feel that the curse was still hesitating. the clinging of the sword on the ground had startled it which only showed kento how weak it really was. it also showed that it did not want to fight but preferred to flee.

this strange demeanor encouraged kento to step closer, hands still in the air, and that’s when he saw his opening. the curse was looking left and right to find an escape which diminished his attention and loosened his grip around your throat. it lasted just a few seconds but it was enough for you to breathe out his name.

“kento..”

that’s when he drew his fist and used all of his force and cursed energy to deliver a devastating blow right into the curse spirit’s face. it was sent flying several meters away after dropping you so kento could easily catch you and keep you from hitting the ground, arms wrapped around your body.

it only took one hit. one punch to obliterate half of the curse’s body in pieces. the shock had been so violent that your savior’s knuckles bled on your shirt through his yellow tie.

“mine.”

you could feel his heavy breath against your neck when he got on one knee, holding you against him, a hand carefully placed on your cheek. his thumb caressing your skin and whipping the single tear you shed.

“my love..”

kento’s expression had returned to the one you knew. the calm but stoic gaze he wore returned your breath to a normal pace. his arms pulled you always closer to him and he felt his sense come back when your fingers brushed the hand he had placed on your shoulder. you couldn’t talk or you’d burst into tears so you smiled in admiration.

he placed his warm lips upon your forehead and you could feel how scared he had been, maybe even more scared than you. his eyes were stuck on your finger, the one that wore his ring.

losing haibara had crushed his soul to tiny little pieces and you had been the one to delicately put them all back together with your innocent kindness and understanding. he’d be damned if he was to let something happen to the one who saved his heart.

this was the first and last time your life had been threatened, thanks to the careful supervision of kento but also his promise to quit his job and buy that house. he hadn’t realized how much he already had with you and would curse anybody who tried to take his happiness away from him ever again.

suguru geto

₊˚⊹ ᰔ you trusted him. you trusted that, if you were in pain, suguru would find ways to eradicate that pain. you trusted that if you showed any sign of distress, he’d be by your side helping you in any way he could. most importantly, you trusted that he’d protect you no matter the cost and no matter the consequences, because he was devoted to you. if there was something he’d burn the whole world for, it’d be you.

these men, these humans, these pathetic monkeys that had attacked you on your way home never knew what would come for them. you were beaten and almost lifeless when the men started searching for any kind of money or jewelry you had on your person. of course, you had resisted. that’s the only thing you could do, because you were so scared that if you had willingly complied to their demand they would’ve asked for more.

being helpless was scary. you thought it wouldn’t be so scary with suguru by your side, but right now you had never been more terrified. you also knew that your boyfriend would never forgive the men that harmed you, so the only thing you could do was wait. because you did not doubt him. you never doubted him. you knew he’d come for you.

when the men had finished checking your bags and any belongings you had on your person, one approached you, lifting your chin with a vulgar smile. you couldn’t even look at him in the eyes but hit bullseye when you spat directly in his face making him drop you in anger. he cursed under his breath before tightly grabbing you by the collar. a hand in the air so it’d land on your face.

with a weak and desperate groan you turned your face away but was surprised when the slap never landed.

when you reopened your eyes to look at your aggressor, he had his own hands wrapped his throat. it’s like he was struggling to breath, a firm pressure was crushing his neck as he tried to break free from this invisible hold.

when you realized what might be happening you tried to take a peak at the other men who were all struggling with the same problem. scratching and screaming at the invisible menace that were preventing them from breathing.

under the distressed shoutings, a cocky laugh attracted your gaze. when you turned to look at the source, your face lit up at the sight of suguru. but he didn’t look as relieved as you were. his laugh was dark, almost cynical. it was psychotic and displeased.

you had seen him despise simple-minded humans before but killing them was a different story. he wasn’t only taking their lives, he was torturing them. their necks were getting slowly squashed by the curses he had sent on them.

seeing you struggle to breath, helpless at the hand of those who had harmed an innocent girl like you. his girl. it had awaken another kind of hatred in him. a hatred that had been buried deep for so long.

suguru took one good look at you, searching for your eyes but you were incapable of keeping them open. you were just glad your boyfriend had arrived. you knew you were safe when you rested your eyes, a small smile of satisfaction drawn on your lips.

when he concentrated his gaze back on the man that had touched you, he crouched in front of him, getting to his level before taking over the curse and wrapping his hand around the stranger’s neck. tormenting him and taking the air away from him. suguru tightened his grip, his smile fading when he brought the man closer and closer towards death.

“so you think you can just harm her and get away with it?”

the man was hissing swears as small cries of help escaped his bloody lips. his face was swollen and breaking down under suguru’s hold and his watering eyes looked like they would pop out of their socket sooner or later. that’s how tight he held the man.

“pathetic.”

he fed on their cries. helplessly calling out for help, the men only fueled his rage with their insufferable sounds. the sorcerer remembered every time he had felt an ounce of empathy for these beings in the past and regretted every actions he had done to protect them when he saw your wounded state. what they had done was inexcusable and no amount of pain would be enough to atone for it.

after a while, resigned, your offender chocked out a weak apology. but as he did, all the bones in his body instantly broke under another a new kind of pressure coming from yet another curse suguru had unleashed upon him. so now he laid there, between your boyfriend’s compressed clutch. dead.

after a few seconds he dropped the body on the ground like garbage waste and walked to you, passing by the other men that were struggling to breath. he pushed the first one aside with his foot, throwing one on the ground, creating a path for him to walk to you.

“move. i’ve come to take what’s mine.”

on suguru’s command, two snaps followed when the curses broke the other men’s necks before they fell on the floor. three lifeless corpses were now scattered in front of both of you, and as soon as he made sure those stupide monkeys had payed for what they had done, he joined you.

when he leaned towards you, his hand grazed yours, wrapping it with his own in a warm grip. his eyes searched for yours, lifting your chin with his thumb before running it along your jaw, making comforting circles on your cheek.

“are you alright, my love? can you walk?”

suguru’s tone was calmer than before. his eyes never left yours when he wiped one of your tears. his comforting smile reassured you and you nodded at his question, holding onto his wrist when he helped you up, closing the distance between the two of you.

you could hear his calm heartbeat when you leaned against his chest, hiding between his arms and you wondered how he could be so tranquil after killing these men so easily. little did you know the only thing he felt was rage. he knew he was right to despise these inferior beings that had harmed the only important thing that mattered.

he could’ve burned the world for you.

toji fushiguro

₊˚⊹ ᰔ toji fushiguro was an asshole. a first-class asshole. you guys had slept together left and right and he always left first. you had no expectations regarding the man. no doubt that you were replaceable. he didn’t open up much and never talked about his work which didn’t alarm you much considering toji’s character.

basically, emotionally and personally speaking, you two weren’t close. that’s why, when two strangers raided your apartment, screaming fushiguro’s name in anger, you wondered why you had accepted to sleep with a man with a secret and violent past.

your furniture was on the floor and the men had destroyed most of your electronics so you had no way to call for help. one was guarding the door while the other took care of questioning you. it had something to do with a bet and broken promises. of course, money had to be involved, otherwise, why would they be threatening the girl he had slept with once or twice to know of his whereabouts?

tied to a chair, almost unconscious, he had been covering you with bruises and scratches using anything that he could find but you still gave him the same answer. you had no idea where toji was as he never kept contact with you. he was always the one that came to you. and if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t expect him to come save you anytime soon.

after a while, when the man realized he might not easily get an answer out of you, he reached in his back, pulling out a pistol from the edge of his pants. at the sight of the gun, your heart shattered. that was it for you, you thought. you couldn’t get out of this mess and you would die convinced toji was out there somewhere, probably getting rich and fucking naive girls like you.

you couldn’t even talk anymore, your head was hanging in front of you, blood dripping from your mouth to your thighs. you didn’t know if you’d last long, your vision was blurry and you felt yourself chasing the dark tunnel that clouded your eyesight.

you could hear faint words of command when your chin was lifted with the cold metallic canon of the pistol. the man had your life between his hands. you knew he’d pull the trigger if he eventually realized you couldn’t give him any information he needed. you knew he would kill you. it was so easy and you were pissing him off.

your eyes never left his nervous figure which only frustrated him more and, out of instinct, he slapped you with the handle of the pistol, almost knocking the air out of you. your jaw was broken and tears were flooding your eyes when the blow forced you to look away.

but as he pulled his arm up, preparing for another strike, he seemed to stop in his movement, startled by something behind him. sounds of struggles and a broken door were heard when he shifted his gaze entirely towards the front of your apartment. his accomplice had disappeared which alerted the man and made him call out to him.

several seconds and unanswered calls later, on his guard, the armed stranger decided to go take a look. as soon as he took a step towards the broken piece of wood that was left, a corpse dropped to his feet.

it was the other man, and he seemed to have been brutally murdered from the back, a hole at his heart’s level revealed the level of violence he had endured which left the man panicked and distressed. sweat was covering his forehead when he tried to peak out the door, fingers trembling against the handle and trigger.

unfortunately for him, a tall and broad shadow quickly covered him, before a shot came off. one single gunshot followed by a loud thud.

you could barely make up the identity of the person who had saved you with your weak sight, but his odour was enough for you to distinguish the man clearly. he always smelled the same.

toji was here. he was standing in the doorway, a tight grip around his gun and a grin covering his scarred lips. “can’t believe they send these weaklings to come after me.”

he carefully stepped between the cadavers, examining the poor state of your apartment and their lifeless bodies before his gaze shifted to you. a quick exchange was enough for you to sigh in relief and let yourself relax to an unconscious state.

despite himself, he did feel an ounce of guilt when he took a good look at you. his mistakes had almost gotten you killed. he couldn’t have imagined how he would’ve felt if he had arrived too late. the blood on your face, the broken jaw and the many scars were revealed by the moonlight passing through the door. the cold air misplaced your hair for toji to see tears strolling down your face.

his grin faded as he stood still in front of you and the mess he had made. his grip had loosened around the gun but he slowly moved the canon towards the second man he had killed. without hesitation, he emptied his clip through the culprit’s head, a look of contempt and disgust plastered on his face.

“tsk.. you just had to go and get yourself noticed, hm?” he said, now focused only on you.

thanks to toji, you were safe now. and you had silently thanked him for coming back for you.

carrying you bridal style as you laid there now unconscious but safe in his arms, he placed his thumb against your jaw, tilting your head to get a proper look at you. even now, you were so beautifully calm and your cheeks wore a pink tint, probably because of the cold, which only accentuated your beauty and innocence.

with a sigh, like it weighed on his conscience, toji murmured. “guess someone’s gonna have to take care of you, from now on.”

but the truth was far from what it appeared to be. saving you that night had just brought the man closer to the conclusion that he cherished you more than he thought he did. you weighed on his conscience like a guilty obsession which he could only nourish by spending more time by your side.

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steveseddie · 2 months

Text

i’ll save you a seat

steddie | rating: t | cw: none | wc: 3,5k | tags: eddie has a crush on steve, pining, eddie sits on steve’s lap as a joke, but steve turns the joke on him, twice

a/n: inspired by this post from @rogueddie (hi hello big fan of your headcanons)

click here to read on ao3

By the time Eddie comes back to the living room, carrying two bowls of popcorn, his friends have taken every available spot on the couch and on the floor.

It’s a full house tonight at the Harrington residence with El, Will and Jonathan visiting from California plus the local pipsqueaks, Wheeler, Buckley, Eddie and the host himself.

Eddie spots Steve on the couch and he marches over to him, ignoring the grunts and grumbles from the kids as he steps over them where they sit on the assortment of pillows and blankets laid on the floor. On his way over, Eddie hands one of the bowls to Mini Byers and the other one to El, knowing that out of everyone on the floor, they’re the most likely to actually share it. Meanwhile, Buckley and Jonathan are already holding their own bowl each, meant to be shared among the grown-ups piled on the couch.

Usually two bowls are enough, but given that there’s more of them tonight, Steve had to bring out two more JiffyPop and he asked Eddie to bring them back while he got everyone settled in the living room.

Which means it’s Steve’s fault that there’s no room left for Eddie to sit.

Okay. Maybe there’s actually room for him to sit. Maybe Eddie could take the free spot on one of the blankets right next to Max. Maybe he could steal one of the many pillows that Henderson is hoarding and comfortably enjoy the movie.

The thing is he doesn’t want to. He always sits next to Steve when there’s fewer of them and he’d hope tonight would be the same, but that spot is currently occupied by Buckley, who isn’t going to move no matter how nicely Eddie asks, and since Steve’s other side is squished against the arm of the couch to make enough room for four people to sit on the otherwise three-people couch, Eddie can’t ask him to scoot over.

And before Eddie sucks it up and sits on the floor, he’s going to whine about it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t save me a seat, Stevie,” Eddie pouts, standing between his legs.

Steve’s big Bambi eyes blink up at him. “I tried, Eds, but Robs threatened me so I would give her your spot.”

And oh- Eddie didn’t actually expect Steve to try and save him a seat, he was just messing with him. The fact that he apparently did makes Eddie’s stomach flutter.

Next to Steve, Robin smiles smugly at him.

“You’ve fought monsters from another dimension and you’re afraid of Birdie?” Eddie asks, huffing indignantly. Buckley flips him off.

“She threatened to bite me, man!”

Eddie tsks. “You survived several bites from hell bats, you could’ve let her bite you.”

“You let her bite you then!” Steve counters, lightly kicking Eddie’s leg.

“I don’t want to bite either of you,” Robin says, her nose scrunched up. “I want to watch the movie. Dustin, hit play,” she says, throwing a kernel at Henderson’s head, who grumbles and crawls over to the VHS. “Eddie, sit down,” she says, throwing one at him too.

Eddie gets an idea and he grins maliciously.

“As you wish, my lady,” he says with a flourish of his hand.

Then Eddie turns around and flops down on Steve’s lap.

Steve lets out a yelp. “Jesus, what are you doing?”

“Buckley said to sit down,” Eddie shrugs, glancing at Steve over his shoulder. “And since there’s no room, thanks to you, I’m taking the last available seat.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “My lap?” Eddie nods smugly. “Eddie, there’s plenty of room on the floor.”

“But this is more comfortable, Stevie.”

“For you, maybe,” Steve snorts, pinching Eddie’s side. “Your tailbone is digging into my leg, Munson.”

“Well, Harrington, this wouldn’t have happened if you’d save me a seat!”

“Shhhh!”

Eddie flips Buckley off for shushing them. She glares at him for bickering when the movie already started playing.

Okay. Maybe Steve was right to be afraid of her- she has a very mean glare.

“Fine,” Eddie concedes before Buckley actually bites him. He sighs dramatically, “I guess I’ll sit on the floor like a dog-”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally everyone else is sitting there and no one is complaining-”

Eddie ignores him. “And here I thought you liked me, Stevie, cared about me. I thought we were friends-” he says, clutching his chest.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters in exasperation.

But when Eddie tries to stand up, Steve’s hands grab his hips, pulling him back into his lap. He flails and almost topples over onto Robin and Steve’s grip on his hips tightens.

“Dude, stop moving.”

“I’m trying to get up!” Eddie says, throwing his arms up.

Steve sighs. “Just-” He trails off, instead manhandling Eddie until he’s properly sitting on his lap and not sliding off of it, and wrapping his arms around his waist, trapping Eddie against his chest.

Eddie lets out an entirely involuntary, undignified squawk. Blood starts rushing to his cheeks alarmingly fast. “Um, Steve, what are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable,” Steve says, his cheek squished against Eddie’s shoulder.

A nearly hysterical laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “Dude, I was fucking around, I can sit on the floor-”

“And spend the rest of the movie whining and pouting? No, thanks. Just don’t move too much, okay? Your ass is boney.”

Unable to help himself, Eddie gives a tee-hee giggle. “So many dirty jokes I could make.”

Steve squeezes his side. “Don’t-”

“Shhhhh!”

This time, it’s not just Buckley shutting them up, everyone else joins in.

“Just watch the movie, Eddie,” Steve whispers into his ear so he doesn’t disturb the others.

Eddie has to bite his bottom lip to keep quiet when he feels Steve’s warm breath tickling his neck. “Okay,” he says, his voice coming out a little squeaky.

But Steve doesn’t comment on it, simply tightens his arms around Eddie’s waist and leans back against the couch, bringing Eddie with him so they’re basically spooning.

Eddie nervously glances around the living room, but no one is paying attention to them. Well, no one except Robin, who’s staring at them, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Eddie ignores her and the knowing smile that stretches over her lips, trying to focus on the movie.

But try as he might, he can’t pay attention to it- not when he can feel Steve’s breath against his neck, his arms around his waist, his chin hooked on his shoulder and his solid body underneath him.

Being so close to Steve- on top of him, makes Eddie jittery and restless. But he can’t move, Steve told him not to, so he tries to sit still.

He lasts, approximately, five minutes.

Soon, he starts wringing his fingers together on his lap, playing with his rings.

Steve notices, and with a huff that sends shivers down Eddie’s spine when his breath tickles his neck, he grabs Eddie’s hands and traps them against his stomach.

Eddie’s eyes fall to their hands, and his breath catches in his throat at the way their fingers rest intertwined against his stomach. He can’t look away- not when Steve’s fingers start drawing patterns over his skin, tracing the veins in his wrists, playing with his rings, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

Eddie has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from squealing. It only gets harder to keep quiet when something funny happens on screen- not that Eddie knows what is going on at all- and Steve laughs right in Eddie’s ear, squeezing his middle.

This time Eddie does let out a squeak which he hopes passes off as a laugh.

It doesn’t.

“You okay?” Steve asks, and Eddie doesn’t know how he expects him to give a coherent answer when he can feel Steve’s nose poking his cheek.

Their faces are so close that if Eddie turned his head to the side his lips would brush against Steve’s, he would only need to lean in an inch or two and he’d be kissing him-

“Eds?”

“Mhm, I’m great, Stevie boy!” Eddie says with a slightly strangled voice, but it’s enough for Steve, who turns his attention back to the movie.

Eddie still has no idea of what’s going on, but he tries his damnedest to focus on that instead of focusing on all the ways Steve is touching him right now.

He didn’t plan for this- he just wanted to mess with Steve a little and now he’s the one being messed with.

Not that Steve knows what he’s doing. He would never fuck with Eddie like this if he knew about his big crush on him. He’s just oblivious- and incredibly touchy when it comes to Eddie.

Which makes the remaining forty minutes spent in Steve’s arms both Eddie’s personal heaven and his personal hell.

That’s why when the credits starts to roll, Eddie lets out a relieved sigh. He expects Steve to push him off right away, but he doesn’t, not even when little by little everyone starts to clear out. Buckley jumps to her feet and clumsily sprints towards the bathroom, the kids all rush to the kitchen to raid Steve’s pantry while ignoring his protests and Nancy and Jonathan start gathering the pillows and the blankets scattered on the floor.

Meanwhile, Steve squeezes Eddie’s side again and asks right into his ear-

“You’re spending the night, right, Eds?”

He knows Steve means to sleep. They talked about it when they realized that with Nancy and Jonathan both coming to movie night, Eddie wouldn’t need to drop the kids off afterwards so he could sleep over. It’s nothing new- they’ve been doing it for months. It’s just the way he’s asking right now, quietly and right into Eddie’s ear, his arms wrapped around Eddie’s middle- all of it makes Eddie’s stomach flutter wildly.

“Y-yeah, sure thing, Stevie.”

“Okay, good,” Steve says, giving Eddie’s waist one last squeeze before finally pushing him off him and onto the couch gently so he can deal with whatever mess the kids can be heard making in the kitchen.

Eddie slumps against the couch, sighing wistfully. Despite everything, he already misses the way Steve felt under him, how his arms felt around him, how his fingers felt playing with his own.

“You good, man?” Jonathan asks, pausing as he folds one of the blankets to raise an eyebrow at him.

Eddie gives him two thumbs up that Jonathan accepts with a nod before he goes back to the task at hand, chatting with Nancy about the movie. Eddie is lucky that they don’t ask for his opinion on it- he doesn’t know if he’d be able to lie convincingly.

Soon enough everyone is saying goodbye to Eddie and Steve before some of them climb into Nancy’s car and the rest do the same in Jonathan’s. They don’t question that Eddie is staying- the only one who acknowledges it is Robin, who gives Eddie that same knowing smile from before. And just like he did before, Eddie ignores it.

Once it’s just the two of them, Steve starts guiding them to his bedroom.

Eddie stopped sleeping in a guest room a long time ago after one night when a particularly awful nightmare had him knocking on Steve’s door and crawling into his bed.

The next day, they both admitted it was the best sleep they’d had in weeks.

The next time Eddie spent the night, Steve had led them both to his bedroom right away- just like every night after that.

“What did you think of the movie?” Steve asks, digging through his closet for sleeping clothes.

“Um,” Eddie starts, trying to remember at least one thing about the movie he can comment on but coming up blank. “I, uh, didn’t pay much attention to it.”

Oblivious to the reason why Eddie didn’t pay attention, Steve hums. “Not your thing, huh? Next movie night you can be the one to pick.” He turns around and tosses some clothes at Eddie, who fumbles to catch them- and fails. Steve sniggers at him before he starts looking for clothes for himself.

Eddie picks his up- a pair of Steve’s old basketball shorts and one of Eddie’s own band t-shirts that he must’ve left here at some point. Or Steve might’ve grabbed from his trailer. Beds aren’t the only thing they share these days.

“Will you save me a seat next movie night?”

Steve glances at Eddie over his shoulder, his lips tugging up into a smirk. “Maybe I’ll just have you sit on my lap again,” he says with a wink. Good lord.

Eddie makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat at the thought of another movie night spent on Steve’s lap. Then, before Steve can ask if he’s okay, he gestures to the bathroom and locks himself there to change.

When he comes back out, Steve is starfished on his bed, wearing his own pair of basketball shorts and an old swim meet shirt.

Eddie takes a moment to stare at him- the way the shorts ride up on his legs, the way his arms bulge even when he isn’t flexing them, the way his hair fans across his pillow.

Then he impulsively sprints towards the bed and launches himself on top of Steve.

He lets out a pained noise when Eddie lands on him, knocking the wind out of him, but his hands come up to grab Eddie’s arms, holding him in place and not letting him slide off him and onto the bed like he intended to.

“Seriously, dude?” Steve asks, slightly out of breath.

Eddie laughs into his shoulder. “Sorry, Stevie, I couldn’t help myself.”

Steve huffs. “I’m starting to think you like being on top of me.”

Eddie shrugs. “Actually, I usually picture you on top.”

Steve snorts out a startled sort of chuckle, eyebrows raised in amusement, and Eddie’s cheeks blaze red as he belatedly realizes what he just blurted out.

He doesn’t know what to do next. If he should play it off as a joke or climb off of Steve and run out of the house-

He thinks Steve is making the decision for him when he adjusts the grip he has on his arms. He thinks he’s about to shove Eddie off, tell him that it’s never gonna happen, Eds.

Eddie starts to push himself up, feeling embarrassed already-

But then Steve digs his fingers into his arms, and in one swift movement, he flips them over so it’s Eddie laying flat on his back on the bed with Steve hovering over him, smirking playfully. “Like this?”

Eddie blinks at him, waiting for his brain to restart after completely shutting down from how effortlessly Steve flipped them over.

“I- huh? Steve- what-”

“You said you like to picture me on top,” Steve says, shrugging casually. Their hips are pressed together and their faces are only inches apart- Eddie doesn’t understand how Steve can act casual about anything right now. “Personally, I don’t have a preference. I also liked being under you.”

Eddie splutters. “S- Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve asks innocently, tilting his head like a confused puppy. His hips shift and Eddie realizes just how thin the material of their shorts is. Jesus H. Christ.

“What the fuck?” Eddie mutters.

“What the fuck what?”

Steve can’t be this oblivious, for fuck’s sake.

Eddie covers his face with his hands, taking a deep breath. “Jesus fuck, okay. Steve, when I said- I didn’t mean it as a joke, okay? I didn’t mean to say it at all, but I- our crotches are basically pressed together right now and I can’t not say it. I have a fucking- honestly a fucking embarrassing crush on you so when I said I think about you on top of me, I meant it, and I meant it in like, a sexual way and a- a romantic way and I know you’re joking right now, but this- well, this is about to get reeeally awkward really fast if you don’t get off of me.”

Eddie peeks through his fingers and finds Steve biting his lower lip like he’s thinking something over.

“Do you want me to move?”

“Fuck, no,” Eddie admits with a sigh. “But Steve-”

“Eddie, hey,” Steve cuts in, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and trying to move his hand away from his face. “Look at me.”

With another sigh, Eddie complies, lowering his hands and looking at Steve.

“There you are,” Steve says, his eyes softening when they meet Eddie’s.

“Steve-”

“I’m not joking,” Steve tells him. “I like you too, Eddie. Romantically, sexually, all of it.”

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. He blinks at Steve. “But- but you’re- you’re straight.”

“I’m not actually,” Steve snorts. When Eddie just stares at him, mouth agape, he sighs. “Eds, I let you sit on my lap for two hours, I basically spooned you.” He looks down between them and looks back at Eddie with a raised eyebrow. “I’m literally straddling you right now-”

“I’m aware,” Eddie mutters, his voice coming out slightly strangled.

Steve ignores him. “And I really really like you, so- definitely not straight.”

Eddie lays there in silence for a few seconds as he tries to wrap his head around the fact that not only is Steve Harrington into guys, he’s into Eddie.

“Holy shit,” he says finally and then, “why- why didn’t you say anything? You had to know I like you back.”

Steve gives a half shrug. “I thought I’d ease you into it first-”

“Ease me into it?” Eddie’s voice is about an octave too high. “You call this easing me into it? I think my brain melted out of my ears when you flipped us over like that!”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “Well, you sat on top of me first! I was just taking a page out of your own book-”

“What book? There’s no book! I was just joking, you were the one who trapped me there!”

“Well, when the guy you’ve had a crush on for months sits on your lap you don’t let him go,” Steve admits, shyly ducking his head.

Eddie gulps. “Months?”

“Yeah, Eddie, months,” Steve admits, his fingers absently playing with Eddie’s hair where it fans across the bed.

“Holy shit.”

“You’re just gonna keep saying that?” Steve asks with a sheepish grin.

“What do you want me to say?” He’ll say anything Steve wants him to just to keep them both like this.

Steve’s eyes dart down to Eddie’s mouth. “Nothing, actually,” he says, licking his lips. “I want you to kiss me.”

Holy shit, Eddie thinks to himself, and then without another thought, he surges up, looping his arms around Steve’s shoulders as he all but mashes their lips together.

Steve hums into Eddie’s mouth and melts into him, kissing Eddie back. He lowers his arms, holding himself up with one elbow, using his other hand to cup Eddie’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. His lips move against Eddie’s so tenderly and slowly that it makes his stomach fill with butterflies.

Then Steve tongues gently at Eddie’s bottom lip and the butterflies explode.

Eddie immediately parts his mouth, giving Steve permission, and his eyes nearly roll back when Steve slips his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. Eddie cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, giving it a soft pull, causing Steve to make this punched-out groaning sound. Chasing that sound with his tongue, Eddie carefully explores every inch of Steve’s mouth.

Eventually, Steve starts to slow down the kiss, but Eddie doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to breathe, he just wants to kiss him, but he can’t do anything when Steve leans back and out of reach, the lower part of his body trapping him against the bed.

Unless-

Eddie grabs Steve’s arms and tries to flip them the way Steve did earlier but, while he made it look easy and effortless, Eddie can’t find enough leverage to budge Steve and he flops back down.

“Motherfucker,” Eddie huffs. “How did you make it seem so easy?”

“It is easy,” Steve says with a grin. “You’re just not strong enough, baby.”

Eddie squeals at the pet name- and then squeals again when Steve successfully flips them over again so that Eddie is straddling him.

He grins up at Eddie, that lopsided boyish grin that drives Eddie crazy and that it’s only worse now that Steve’s lips are red and slick with spit. “How’s that?”

“Hot. Christ, that’s fucking hot,” Eddie says with a breathless chuckle.

“So, that’s a yes to being on top?” Steve asks with a raised eyebrow, his hands grabbing Eddie’s hips like they did back on the couch. Only this time Eddie isn’t planning on getting off of him any time soon. Preferably never.

“Sweetheart, that’s a yes to absolutely anything ever.”

Steve bites his lip, then he asks softly, “What if I ask you to be my boyfriend?”

Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “You-you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Pretty fucking badly actually,” Steve shyly admits.

Eddie whimpers softly. “Holy shit,” he mutters. Then he swoops down and gives Steve a kiss that he hopes translates to fucking shit yes!

By the way Steve laughs delightedly against Eddie’s lips, he thinks he gets the message across.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #will i ever get tired of writing gay disaster eddie? not a chance #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes

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heartpascal · 1 year

Text

you’ll find the key

▹ — joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: part five of if the door wasn’t shut — after feeling hopeless, you decide it’s time to heal

▹ — a/n: guys, i apologise for the wait! usually it doesn’t take me so long to write but this was a bit of a struggle!! i hope it lives up to any expectations :( i love you guys sm <3 pls leave ur thoughts + feedback and if u would like to see anything else in this series !!!

▹ — warnings: bad mental health, arguments, like two much needed hugs, so many apologies (my brain is failing so please tell me if there’s anything i’m missing!!!)

▹ — general taglist: @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @erensloveinterest @dazedshoon @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @sleepygraves @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @ilybbg @rvjaa @oliest19xx @pedropepsi @sunflowersdrop @truthfuleeyours

masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

check out howl’s song associations!

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It was still storming outside.

Snow was coming down in heavy bouts, swirling all over the place with the force of the wind, and it was almost a goddamn blizzard. The ground was covered in it, and if it weren’t for the people already out in the streets, using shovels to dig away the snow in front of doorways, you were sure everyone would’ve gotten snowed in.

Not that you were going anywhere, anyway.

You hadn’t left Jesse’s side since you had gotten back to Jackson, after Tommy had a talk with you. They told you he was going to be absolutely fine, that all he needed was rest and to keep the wound clean. You still worried about him.

Part of you, despite knowing that what happened wasn’t your fault, still felt guilty. Out of the two of you, you were the more experienced one, and you should’ve known better, right? Should’ve caught wind that something wasn’t quite right sooner? You should’ve done something, protected him better, maybe?

You didn’t know exactly what you could’ve done differently, and you tried not to think of the possibilities, because the last thing you needed was to drown in guilt when you already felt bad enough.

Tommy’s chat with you hadn’t helped, either, and you know it was only because he cares, but it still hurt. The way he had looked at you, so angry, and scolded you for going back out there, for going after Joel when you and Jesse had barely made it out yourselves. He had called you irresponsible, which you would’ve argued against, if you hadn’t felt so guilty over the events of the day, if you hadn’t been worrying about Jesse.

You didn’t want to think about him being right, about how you could’ve gotten Jesse killed today, or yourself, god — Joel could’ve died, trying to save you. But was that really your fault? You wondered if everyone blamed you for Jesse getting hurt, as much as you blamed yourself.

“Are you really brooding, right now?” Jesse croaked, startling you from where you stood at the window beside his bed, staring out at the swirling snow. You turned to him, seeing his raised eyebrows, and felt almost thankful about the annoyance that arose when he looked smug, like he was right. “Unbelievable!”

“I’m not brooding, you asshole.” You murmured, unconvincingly. Jesse grinned, shaking his head at your denial.

“Oh, you so are.”

“I should’ve let them finish the job.” You responded flatly, breaking into a smile when Jesse laughed. The quiet lingered for a moment, both of your smiles slowly falling as the weight of everything that happened registered between you. “I’m sorry.”

Jesse’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, his fingers picking at the edge of the blanket settled over him. “For what? Saving my life?”

“No, Jesse, I should’ve never put us in that situation. Especially after Pete left. I know better.” You replied, stepping towards the guy who had quickly become your best friend. You shook your head, eyes flickering around the room, until they settled on him. “Tommy took me off patrols, anyway, so.”

“What?” Jesse questioned, mouth hanging open. “Why?”

You stared at him, blinking in your confusion, and you tilted his head back to check his eyes were focused, that he wasn’t concussed, or something.

“Do you not remember what happened?”

“I remember just fine, thank you.” He responded, eyebrows creased as your hand left his forehead. Both of you wore incredibly confused expressions, neither knowing what the miscommunication between you could be. “Why would Tommy take you off patrols?”

“Jesse, you could’ve died.” You said, watching his face for the reaction, as if the information was new to him.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t your fault! You’re the one who saved me, who got me out. I don’t understand.” Jesse said, voice raising as he got slightly heated. He lowered his voice when he sat up, and pulled at his stitches, hissing in pain.

“No, I got us into it, and I was lucky to get us out.” You told him, as if it was a confession, and you frowned. You didn’t want to think about what could have happened to Joel, didn’t want to say that for once, the world had been on your side, letting you get him out, too. You didn’t voice it, but you don’t know what you would’ve done with yourself if he had died, trying to save you.

Jesse shifted, voicing your name, but you stopped him, smiling tightly in his direction. “It’s fine, Jesse. It’s for the better. Besides, means I’ve got more time to do my pottering.” You teased, though the words didn’t quite reach the way your teasing usually sounded. “Anyway, Dina showed up.”

“What? Why? Did she actually?” Jesse asked, his eyebrows raised as he looked to you with suspicion, like you were about to be making fun of him.

“‘Course she did. Whole town knows what happened, and she was worried about you.” You said with a grin that didn’t meet your eyes.

“The whole town?” He questioned, shutting his eyes and dropping his head back with a groan when you nodded your confirmation. “My family are so going to kill me, aren’t they?”

With a laugh, you reached forward to mess up his hair, “Oh, Jesse, you sweet thing. We’ve already devised a plan on how we’re going to do it.”

He slapped your hand away, glaring, but a smile pulled at his lips. He knew it wasn’t true, knew you were just entertaining his dramatics. What he didn’t know, was that his family had already been in, had already scolded you for getting their golden boy into trouble.

You moved back to the window, seeing a man across the road had given up on shovelling the heavy snow away from his door. Something heavy had settled on your chest, and you took a deep breath to try and get some oxygen past it. You didn’t blame Jesse’s family for what they had said to you — if you had been in their position, you probably would’ve been the same. They hadn’t quite approved of you, anyway, so you didn’t take it too personally. You were more than aware of everything you had done wrong.

Somebody cleared their throat in the doorway to the room, and you turned away from the window to see Joel stood there. He nodded his greeting to Jesse, a tight smile on his face.

“C’mon, kiddo, Tommy wants you to head back to the shop.” Joel said, repressing the sigh that wanted to leave his chest when you only nodded, stepping away from the window with a final glance outside.

“Well,” You said to Jesse, trying to muster up your best smile, “Duty calls, I guess. Feel better soon, okay?”

He called your name when you walked away, passing Joel as he stood beside the door, but you ignored it, feeling that weight grow heavier. Joel followed after you, a frown on his face.

You knew the route out already, and figured Joel was just the messenger, but he followed along, a few steps behind you as he limped on his injured leg. The wind was harsh when you opened the door, and you shivered when snow was immediately blown in your face. You lingered in the doorway, both hesitant to go out into the awful conditions, and feeling bad for leaving Joel hurrying on his bad leg.

Joel didn’t say it, but you knew he was here because Tommy didn’t want to see you. You couldn’t say you were surprised — not after just how angry Tommy had gotten. His face had been red, the steam pouring from his ears practically melting the snow around him, and it was the first time he had ever yelled at you.

“You doing okay?” Joel asked, hesitantly, as he paused in the doorway beside you, watching you as you wrapped your coat tighter around you. He knew that nothing was fixed, not even close, but there was something.

“I’m fine, Joel.” You replied, and he could hear the exhaustion in your voice, the way it pulled on your words. It was easier to hear than it was to see, but he just caught the slump to your shoulders, the way you held your eyes shut for a moment, before going to brave the snow.

He walked beside you as you headed towards the ceramics shop, your pace a touch slower than usual. You shoved your hands in your pockets, eyebrows creasing when you realised you must’ve taken your gloves off at some point. You tried not to sigh when you realised that they were probably lost, and just decided to chalk it up to another disappointment in an incredibly frustrating day.

When you arrived at the ceramics shop, it was a mission to get through all the snow that had started blocking the door. You would probably be snowed in, by nightfall. Joel helped you get rid of as much of it as possible, his gloved hands doing most of the work after your bare ones become too numb to continue.

You opened the door, feeling heavier than you had in months, and left the door open as you moved to the back of the shop, turning on the heater that sat there. You let your hands linger in front of it, just gritting your teeth at the sting that followed from warming them too quickly.

Joel lingered in the doorway, frowning at you, and furrowed his eyebrows as he called your name, watching your turn to face him. “I’m sorry.”

You gaped at him, stunned.

“You should have gotten a choice. It wasn’t my place to decide that for you, or to leave without havin’ a conversation.” He continued on, his words jumbling the slightest bit. “I still think you stayin’ was the best thing for you, the safest thing, but for whatever it might be worth, I am sorry.”

When your silence lingered, Joel nodded tersely, and stepped away, smiling tightly as he left the shop, shutting the door behind him. You blinked at the closed door, unsure what to do, unsure if you should have said something. But even if you should’ve, what would you have said?

It wasn’t okay, not in the slightest, and everything around you seemed to be crumbling. Tommy wasn’t speaking to you and Maria would be more than upset with you, too. Jesse was in the infirmary, and that was on you. And even as you looked around the ceramics shop, all you saw was cracked paint on the walls, and dust that settled no matter how many times you wiped it away.

Hell, even the misshapen plates and bowls on the shelves just made your chest hurt. You didn’t feel any sort of pride for this place, anymore, and it was painful. It stung at the deepest parts of you, and you just settled down on the dirty floor in front of the heater, holding your head in your hands as you blinked back tears.

Why did you think you could do this?

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Initially, you didn’t intend on avoiding Jesse.

In fact, you had plans to go and visit him the day after everything went to shit. It was just that when you opened the shop door, the outside looked far too unfriendly, and you knew his family would be in his infirmary room.

Perhaps it was a cowardly move, staying at the shop, locking the door and pretending the outside world of Jackson didn’t exist. Really, you were going to go and see him the next day. Swore to yourself that you would. But when the next day came, you didn’t even attempt to unlock the door to leave, figuring that it would be best to just leave him and his family to it. Dina was probably with him, too, so your absence wouldn’t be felt all too much.

Each day you said you would go, started with you justifying your staying in the shop. It went the same way, waking up and thinking you should go and see him, but the moment you got into the front of the shop, you thought better of it.

You blamed it on everything but what it actually was. Whether that be the snow, the heater in the shop that broke, the concept of him having quality time with his family… you used it all to reassure yourself that he didn’t need you by his side.

Besides, you knew he wouldn’t be in the infirmary for long. And by the fifth day, there was a knock against the shop door, barely heard over the howling wind outside. You remained in the back room, telling yourself it was probably nothing important, and after the heater broke, you couldn’t afford to open the door, anyway.

Even with the door closed, your breath misted in front of your face, and you had to rub your hands together more than once to generate heat, especially considering you seemed to have misplaced your gloves.

On day six, you kept all the lights off, and didn’t bother to poke your head around the doorframe to see who was knocking at the front door. After a few moments of loud knocking, his voice called out your name, and you were sure he was likely squinting through the shop window, trying to catch sight of you.

You barely even noticed the way you held your breath so it wouldn’t cloud the air, and alert him to your presence. You pretended the harsh exhale after he left was just a sigh of exhaustion. In some ways, you guessed it was.

By day seven, he knew what you were doing.

“Open the door,” Jesse yelled, still knocking wildly against the wood, and you were sure he was peeking in the window, too. “I’ve been to Tommy’s, the dinner hall, the greenhouses, the stables, hell — I even went to Joel’s. I know you’re here, stop hiding.”

You stayed in the back room.

After a while — much longer than you expected, especially given the still-awful weather — Jesse gave up, leaving the door at last. You frowned at the empty can of food in front of you, chest aching from the cold and everything that had happened over the past few days.

You hadn’t left the shop in the past seven days, surviving off of the short supply of long-life food in the cupboards. But that was your last can of it. As much as you knew you would have to leave, have to go get some more food in order to survive, you still didn’t want to. You didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want them to see the shame that was so visible in the curve of your frown, the dip of your brows.

It made it easier to hide, knowing Jesse was the only person looking for you. There had been no sign of Tommy or Maria, which pained you, but didn’t surprise you. Part of you wondered if they’d ever speak to you again, but you didn’t want to linger on the question, too afraid of the answer.

It was day eight that you had no other choice — the temperatures were dropping even further, and with no heater it was becoming too cold for you to take. The need for heat and food led you to the dinner hall, which was surprisingly empty, and you settled at your usual table with a plate of cooked food, feeling the chill that had begun to settle in your bones fade.

Most people would be staying inside their homes, the cold too much to bear, so you were surprised when Ellie waltzed into the hall, eyes scanning the room as she made her way over to grab herself some food. You dipped your head when she began looking in your direction, and clutched at the fork in your hand, holding your breath.

“So you are alive.” Ellie drawled, settling down in the seat opposite you with her plate in front of her. “You know your friend has been coming ‘round for the past few days, won’t leave us alone.”

You shrugged, not knowing how to respond.

She sighed, poking at the food on her plate. “Thanks for going back for Joel, by the way.” She pretended not to see the way your head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed as you looked at her.

“I wouldn’t leave him to die out there,” You said, after a moment, the words hesitant as they left you. “Especially when he went to try and help me.”

Ellie nodded, shoving food into her mouth, and you quickly followed her action. The silence between the two of you stretched uncomfortably, and you hated how everything had changed. Why couldn’t they have just let you come with them? Why did they have to push you so far away?

“He’s a good guy,” Ellie said, a frown on her face. “He makes stupid decisions, but only because he cares about us.”

You looked at her, wondering when the two of you had grown up. You remember the jokes you had shared during your travels, the way she had been able to make you smile even when doing so seemed impossible. She had made life in the apocalypse almost bearable, and now here you were, sat at the same table, but miles apart.

“Maybe, but you were right about one thing. I don’t know what happened, so if you ever want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” You told her, instead of acknowledging her words about Joel. You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to think about any of it.

It would be painful, you were sure, to hear about everything they had experienced. You could guess that a lot of it wouldn’t be pleasant, and it would likely hurt to hear about all the things you had missed out on, all the things that maybe you could’ve protected them from. But you were willing. It wasn’t forgiveness, it wasn’t a ticket back to being in each other’s lives, but it was progress.

And progress was all that you could offer, so it would have to do.

“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” Ellie said, a tight smile on her face as she looked at you, her eyebrows slightly raised in surprise at your words.

You nodded, and the two of you ate in silence.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

After stocking up on some more long-lasting cans of food, you were prepared to hunker down in the shop for a while longer. You hadn’t been able to trade for another blanket like you had hoped, but you weren’t all too surprised. With the stormy weather, everybody wanted more warming supplies.

You had survived worse conditions, though, in worse places. One harsh winter in Jackson wouldn’t kill you, even if your heater was broken, and you still hadn’t found your gloves.

The shop door was locked once again, and you had taped the bottom of it to try and stop the cold draft from seeping into the room. You considered bunkering down in the back room, taping the door shut and staying in there with all the blankets and layers you had, but you thought better of it. You wanted to be able to hear the front door with ease, still on edge after the ambush with Jesse, especially considering the raiding attacks that had slowly begun to ease off.

Despite whatever had gone wrong, however angry Tommy may be, you knew he’d rely on you if the time came. You were sure of it. Everything the two of you had built couldn’t have been toppled by this one event, right?

Your gun was still laid by the shop door, and your ammo never left the jacket you always wore. Just in case. If anything were to go wrong, you wanted to be ready.

The call of your name shook you from your racing thoughts, the contemplation of everything that could happen pausing as your head snapped up. Maria’s voice was loud, and she hadn’t knocked. You didn’t have a surname — didn’t know whoever came before you long enough for them to tell you, didn’t know everyone who came after long enough for them to share their own. So she settled on your first name, yelling it loudly.

“Open the door!” Maria demanded once again, kicking the bottom of it with her foot. “Come on, open it. You’re not fooling anybody, and it’s freezing out here, little Troy can’t stay out here too long.”

With a sigh, you stood. She knew how to get to you — bringing baby Miller was a harsh plan, especially because it gave you no choice but to let her in. Not that it was much warmer in the shop than it was outside, but she didn’t know that.

You unlocked the door, pulling it open just to fit yourself into the crack of it. Facing Maria was terrifying, because you didn’t know what to expect. Even as she held on to baby Troy Miller, who was bundled up in more layers than you could count, she was totally unpredictable. She could be in a motherly mood, or that merciless Jackson council member.

“Hi,” You said, nervously. “What’re you doing here?”

She raised her eyebrows, stepping forward until you’d opened the door for her to step inside of the shop. Maria’s stern expression immediately fell, and you could feel nerves building in your stomach.

“Is your heating out?” She asked, turning on you suddenly, harshly. When you nodded meekly, she handed Troy over to you, not faltering even when you opened your mouth to voice your confusion.

He babbled at you, a toothy grin on his face, and you held on to him tighter. It hit you then, how much you actually cared about these people. Your brain short-circuited when you thought about something bad happening to this family, and it made you feel sick. Suddenly, you were regretting the meal you had eaten with Ellie.

“Well, I think Jeremy should be able to fix it up.” Maria sighed, standing from where she had crouched down to inspect your broken heater. “But he’s way busy with other heater issues. Come on, you’ll stay with us.”

“Maria.” You urged, repeating her name another time when she didn’t answer you, too busy thinking about options and solutions, as always. “I’m fine. Go home.”

She sighed heavily, turning to you with that stern look she’d been wearing since the moment you were left behind in Jackson. “I know you and Tommy are going through a rough time, but he loves you, and if he knew you’d been living here with no heat?” Maria shook her head with scoffed laughter, not reaching for Troy even as you offered to hand him back, instead moving to pack some of your clothes into a bag. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“It’s not my home, Maria,” You said softly, perhaps the softest she had ever heard you.

It was disquieting, at the least, for you to behave in such a way. Throughout the whole time Maria had known you, you had been sharp edges and bitten words, even when you had grown to care for them, that hadn’t changed all that much. It was a constant, your stubborn attitude and harsh nature, always slamming doors shut too hard, always charring food when you were unsupervised, because you’d turn the heat up too high. You were impatient, practical, realistic. You weren’t soft.

Maria’s face curved into a frown, and she stopped her presumptive actions in packing up some of your things. She looked at you, looked at the lines that were beginning to dig into your expression, looked at the way your shoulders slumped as you held on to her son.

“Maybe not,” Maria offered, and looked around at the shop that was not as pristine as the last time she had seen it, before looking back to you. “It could be, though.”

You shook your head, sighing but not finding any relief from the action, only feeling the same tightness to your chest. “I’m not a Miller.” You said, and it was true, because the space behind your name remained as empty as ever, that absence something you had felt your whole life.

“You’re as much a Miller as I am, as he is.” Maria reasoned, gesturing towards her son in your arms as she looked at you. She didn’t want to say too much, didn’t want to overwhelm you, but you had practically been adopted by the two Miller brothers. Two men who were so far from perfect, who made so many mistakes that they almost lost you, who cared too much. Hell, even if you weren’t consciously aware of it, you had adopted their mannerisms and tendencies.

It showed in the way you held Troy, the same stance that Tommy used. It showed in the frown on your lips, that looked far too much like Joel’s to be a coincidence. The furrow between your brows reflected Joel and Tommy’s own, a crevice built from worrying and frustration and anger. You reminded Maria too much of how Tommy had been when they first found him — eyes glassy, lost, and without purpose.

She had seen the change in you since you had been left in Jackson, so many ups and downs, but you had been doing better. And now, here you were, looking more lost than you ever had.

“That’s not true, Maria.” You replied, tense. It wasn’t true — Troy was a Miller by blood, and Maria was a Miller by marriage. Both choices that Tommy had made. It wasn’t the same for you, it couldn’t be. Tommy had never chosen you — Joel had dropped you in his lap before running away, and didn’t that make you the furthest thing from a Miller?

“It is true.” Maria refuted, stepping forward to hold a hand firmly against your face. “You’re a Miller, no doubt about it. Now come on, we’d better get going. Got a lot to talk about.”

She was finishing shoving your things inside of the backpack at her feet in a few moments, and was swinging it over her shoulder before you could protest, making her way out of the door. Holding her son, what choice did you have but to follow?

The two of you were silent on your journey to Rancher Street, and you felt the nerves bubbling up from your stomach, leaving an unpleasant tingling in the back of your throat. It was tense, though that could have been all from you. You were still holding Troy, having him half buried in your jacket to make sure he wouldn’t be cold, despite the fact your jacket wasn’t the warmest.

When you arrived to her house, Tommy wasn’t there. She didn’t say anything, so you didn’t mention it, much preferring to ignore the issues that would likely arrive whenever he returned. Instead, you settled Troy down, removing some of his layers at the rush of warm air that came the moment you stepped through the door.

Your hands were tingling, in a strange state between feeling and numb after the sudden temperature change. You settled them under your legs when you sat down on the couch, Troy at your side as Maria clambered about the kitchen, having already dropped your bag down beside the sofa.

When she came back, it was with a steaming mug that you recognised — one of your very own design. It was a dark green, close to black, and had your poor recreation of a bear on it. You remembered thinking it was going to come out brown, remembered the shock when it was green.

She handed it over, and you used the hand with slightly more feeling to take it from her, holding it close to your chin to allow the steam to flow over your features, warming your nose. “So,” Maria said, drawing your attention from where you’d been keeping an eye on Troy, keeping the hot mug away from him. “First, you and Tommy fight, and then you ignore your best friend?”

You stared at her, teeth clenched in shock, and recalled the way Ellie had mentioned the boy. Clearly, he was pestering everybody who knew you. Maria’s eyebrows raised, looking expectantly at you.

“‘M not ignoring anybody.” You murmured, voice catching in your throat as you spoke, and you took a sip of boiling hot tea to get rid of the lump that had formed. The burn soothed you, in a strange way, warming your insides the slightest bit as you breathed steam.

“Mhm, is that why he’s been ‘round here, bugging us ever since he got out of the damn infirmary?” Maria asked, expression tightening slightly as you winced, and knew she had got you.

You shook your head, moving your other hand from underneath your leg to cradle the mug in both palms, breathing a relieved breath at the warmth finally reaching your fingers. “Doesn’t know how to stop, does he?” You said, moving your eyes to the swirling drink in the mug, not looking up even as Maria hummed. “I’ll tell him to leave you be.”

“Ah, but that would require talking to him, which you clearly haven’t been doing.” She told you, a slight teasing lilt to her voice, to make it seem less serious than it truly was.

Maria remembered the night you and Tommy had arrived home, with you shoving at his shoulder whilst he laughed loudly, a bright teasing smile on his expression. It was probably the lightest she had ever seen the two of you, with Tommy not feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders for just a moment, and you smiling like you hadn’t faced unspeakable things. She remembered the way you had scrambled to correct Tommy’s statements, whacking a hand against his forearm when he interrupted you.

She remembered Troy waking up from where she hadn’t long settled him down, and remembered the way you had immediately gone to calm him down after hissing a “Look what you’ve done now!” at Tommy, who had only laughed.

Maria remembered the way her head had settled against her husband’s shoulder, exhausted to her very bones, motherhood feeling much harder than she remembered. Especially with her aged bones, keeping up with a baby was more difficult than she remembered. She didn’t want to think about what it would be like when he could actually run around. Maria had just been grateful to have you there, to be able to rest with Tommy, trusting you to look after her son.

You challenged her motherly instincts, sure, but Troy was on another level — it was a lot more to deal with when your child wasn’t basically self-sufficient.

“I’m going to,” You said, though there was doubt in your voice. “I am.” You repeated, as if that would solidify your statement, as if it would make it any more truthful.

“Listen,” Maria sighed, saying your name, and waiting for you to look up from your mug before she continued. “I know what happened on that patrol. I know. And it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, so why are you ignoring Jesse?”

You swallowed, scratching a fingernail over a small crumb of clay that hadn’t gotten smoothed down before being fired. “I just… I care about him, and he could’ve died, Maria. Tommy was right, I—I was irresponsible, and I could’ve gotten us both killed.”

Maria shook her head immediately, picking Troy up when he began to fuss, and she stopped you. “No, Tommy was speaking from a place of anger. Of fear. You did everything right.” She affirmed, staring intensely at you, as if daring you to argue against her. “Except, maybe, going after Joel, but I know why you did that. I get it. If I had been in your position, if it were my…— I would’ve done the same thing.”

“I just didn’t want him to die, because of me.” You said, voice quiet again, and Maria’s heart ached for you, something squeezing so tightly in her chest that it physically hurt. “I don’t want Tommy to hate me forever, either.” You added after a few quiet moments, eyes following a bubble around the edge of the mug.

“He doesn’t hate you, kid, not at all. He was scared, he didn’t want to lose you.” Maria reasoned, but you still didn’t feel better, not after just how angry he had gotten. Not after he had practically shoved you out of his sight, the moment he was done yelling, unable to even look at you. Not after he had sent Joel as a messenger, refusing to speak to you himself.

“Maybe,” You offered, because it was the best you could do. You couldn’t agree with her, couldn’t disagree, either. The only person who would actually be able to decide those things was Tommy — and he was nowhere to be found. “I’ll talk to Jesse.” You decided to say, in the end, hands gripping tighter on the mug. Just saying it aloud made it seem all the more real, and you regretted it a moment afterwards, thoughts stuck on what Jesse would say, what his family would say.

“Good.” Maria said, nodding at you, “He’s a good kid, he deserves to know his friend is still here.” She stood to her feet, heading to the kitchen with Troy in her arms, waiting for her to feed him.

Twenty minutes later, when Maria had gone upstairs to put Troy down for a nap, the front door banged open, a rush of cold air being let in.

“Maria!” Tommy yelled out, his voice panicked, and you could hear him shuffling through his bag in the still-open doorway. With furrowed brows, you placed the cold mug down on the floor beside the sofa, standing up and making your way to peek into the hallway. “Maria, you here?” He shouted again, more desperate this time, and when you finally saw him, you saw that he had snow still clinging to him, and he had brought clumps of it in on his boots, slowly melting puddles on their floor.

“Tommy?” You questioned quietly, both not wanting to speak to him, but also getting increasingly concerned by his behaviour. His head snapped up to you, and he blinked in surprise, his shoulders slumping and hands pausing in their rummaging.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy said, approaching you quickly and wrapping his arms around you tightly before you could get a word in. You blinked, shocked, and slowly wrapped your own arms around the man, who just held your head closer to him in return. “You scared the shit outta me.” He admitted, a slight tremor to his voice. He breathed out a heavy sigh, arms squeezing, and you wanted to look at him to express your confusion.

“Is everything okay?” Maria asked, a slight panic to her own voice, but she relaxed at the image before her. Tommy’s eyes opened as he rested his head on your own, and he looked to his wife as he nodded gently.

He moved away from you slightly, hands moving to hold your shoulders tightly, finally able to see your confused face. He sighed, his shoulders dropping like they had been holding the weight of the world. “I went to the shop, wanted to apologise. Couldn’t find you or your things, and it was freezing.” Tommy told you, his head dropping until his chin rested against his chest for a moment. “Thought you left.”

His arms pulled you back to his chest, and you didn’t resist him, though your heart was racing in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Maria frowned, “I didn’t know you were going. The heater’s broken, so I told her to stay with us.”

Tommy nodded again, his breath held in his chest as he let his heart rate calm down. You let him hold on to you until he was ready to let go, just keeping your face hidden in his shoulder as your arms wrapped loosely around him, fingers numb from the cold once again.

When he finally released you, you took a small step back, cheeks warm with remaining shame from your last conversation with the man. The rest of you, however, was freezing, especially since you had removed your multitude of layers in the warm house. Tommy frowned as you shivered, cursing under his breath as he turned to shut his front door, his frown deepening when he saw the water covering the hallway in front of the door.

He waved Maria away when she gave him a stern look, and she nodded once she saw his expression, smiling tightly at you before heading back upstairs to settle Troy back down, after he had been fussing from his father’s shouting.

Tommy turned to where you stood, hands wrung together to try and generate some more warmth between your digits. He sighed again, a seemingly very common thing for him at the moment, and he stood up straighter to talk to you.

“I’m sorry,” He told you, his voice reflecting his words in its apologetic tone. “I should never have spoken to you the way I did. Wasn’t fair of me to blame you for things that weren’t your fault. Or for me to judge you for doin’ exactly what I would’ve. What I should’ve.”

You stared at him, at the way his hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides, a slightly nervous habit, you had noticed.

“Tommy, you were right,” You responded, continuing on even as he shook his head, “I messed up, and I could’ve gotten Jesse, or Joel, or even myself killed.”

“No.” He said firmly, reaching out and holding onto your shoulders once again, his grip tight as if you might slip away. “I was wrong. You hear me? I should have been proud, proud that you were so brave, that you saved your friend and your— and Joel. I should have been proud that you made your way back, that you did it without some old shithead tellin’ you what to do.” He rambled on, shutting his eyes and looking almost regretful.

You ducked your head, feeling far too emotional, a lump formed in your throat at his words. Just somebody who you looked up to, who you trusted, telling you that you hadn’t done anything wrong… it was almost too much.

As many mixed feelings as you may have had over the whole situation, the most prevalent one was guilt. It had been surrounding you, weighing so heavily on you, hell, you didn’t even realise how much it had been pulling you down until Tommy came in, lifting it all off of your shoulders.

“You did good, kid.” He told you, squeezing your shoulders, and you hated the way your lip started trembling.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”

Tommy laughed, the sound watery and almost broken off, “You can cry as much as you want.” He pulled you in, feeling your arms squeeze around his middle as he held on to you so tightly, he was almost sure he’d never let go again.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Your closed fist was raised up to the door, a hair’s width away from making contact with it, but you had frozen. And it wasn’t because of the cold.

There was something that had settled heavily in your stomach, making your whole body feel heavy and slow. You felt, distantly, like you might throw up with the way it was sitting, but tried not to think on it too much. You were aware of the way your chest was rising and falling, almost too aware, and you tried to put it out of your mind as you attempted to steel yourself.

“You gonna knock, or are you just gonna keep standing there, looking stupid?” A voice asked from behind you, making you spin on your heels, fist pulled away from the door. You held a hand against your chest, breathing a heavy sigh as you saw the culprit of the scare.

“You’re an asshole.” You murmured, eyes studying your beaten up boots that were covered in melting snow. You looked up to him, and felt some relief when you saw Jesse crack a slight smile at your reaction. It faded far too quickly for your liking.

“So?” He prompted, eyebrows raising at you.

You frowned, repressing the urge to grumble at him, but you knew that he should’ve been the one angry at you. Hell, he probably was. “I just came to say… I’m sorry.”

“For…?”

“Are you kidding?” You asked, annoyed. But when his expression didn’t budge, you sighed through your nose. “Okay. I’m sorry for ignoring you after the infirmary, and I’m sorry you got put into the infirmary at all.” You said, looking back down the where the melting snow was seeping into the hole at the side of your boots. You should probably get new ones.

Jesse didn’t say anything for a moment, and you picked at your fingernails while you stared at the ground, your nerves sending your pulse into a fluttery mess.

Finally, you heard him snickering, and your head snapped up. “Well, I just can’t believe this. You, apologising?” You glared as his smile slowly grew, though you knew that the whole thing wasn’t quite solved, at least it was good to know that Jesse was still acting his usual asshole self with you. “Come on, you little asshole.” He said, gesturing for you to follow him. You did.

He glanced at you every so often, shaking his head at your stoic expression.

The two of you arrived at the dining hall soon enough, standing in the queues silently whilst waiting to collect food, until Jesse nudged you and led you over to the table you so often shared.

“You do realise I would never blame you for something that happened on patrol, right?” He asked, eyebrow raised as he awaited your response, shovelling food into his mouth as if he was starving. He reminded you an awful lot of Ellie, in that way. You wondered if they had met.

With a roll of your eyes, “Well, now, yeah. Do we have to talk about this? I said sorry, didn’t I?” You murmured the last part, shovelling your own food into your mouth, refraining from rolling your eyes again when Jesse snickered at you.

“How could I forget? You prefer to brood rather than talk about your feelings.” He responded.

“Okay, I don’t brood—”

“Yes, you do—”

“And do you enjoy talking about… feelings?” You said, ignoring his interruption. He stared at your raised eyebrows, the expectant look on your face.

“Sometimes, I do.”

“Maybe when it comes to—”

“Dina!” Jesse said in a high pitched tone, cutting you off and looking at you with widened eyes. You looked behind you, seeing the girl of the hour approaching your table, an amused look in her eye. She nudged you with a grin as she walked past, sitting on your left and smiling widely at Jesse’s surprised expression.

After settling down, she looked back up to meet Jesse’s eyes. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

You snorted out a laugh, not expecting to hear such an old expression coming from her — it sounded like something Joel might say. Jesse glared at you, unamused by the grin you and Dina shared.

“Yeah, Jesse.” You goaded, smiling at his indignant huff. “Not want to talk about feelings, anymore?” You asked. You leaned backwards as he swiped his arm out, trying to knock the cutlery from your hand as it was heading towards your mouth. Dina laughed at his failed attempt.

“So you two are talking again, then?” Dina said when her laughing faded, and you glared at the way Jesse grinned, unhappy with the fact he was telling her such things. You supposed that you couldn’t blame him — after all, you had spoken to Maria about it. It just so happened that Jesse was your only friend your actual age.

“Unfortunately.” You grumbled, eyes narrowed at the man.

“Unfortunately,” Jesse mocked, making a face at you. “Somebody finally came to their senses!” He said, after he was done poking at his food as he frowned at you.

“Somebody is having regrets about it.” You responded in turn, smiling sarcastically at him.

“Back to normal, then.” Dina concluded, smiling when the two of you nodded. She didn’t know you all too well, but from the time she had spent with you in Jesse’s infirmary room, she was a fan. You clearly cared about Jesse, way more than you would admit, and she could admire that.

You looked at Jesse, “Back to normal.” He echoed, smiling at you.

You pretended that the sigh you let out wasn’t one of relief.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“You should really clean this place up, you know.” Jesse commented as you unlocked the door to the pottery shop, his eyes scanning around the room, the chill to the air making him shove his hands in his pockets. He looked at the dust covering the surfaces you usually cut clay on and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, I’ve been a bit busy.” You replied, moving to the newly fixed heater that Tommy had brought over when he walked you back to the shop that very morning.

“Oh, yeah, avoiding me.” Jesse said, grinning mischievously when you shot him an annoyed look over your shoulder, focusing on turning the heater on, placing your freezing hands in front of it when it finally started shooting out some warmth. You sighed at the sting, just glad to feel your hands once again.

You sat down on a dusty stool, turning to Jesse when he sat down beside you, relishing in the heater that was finally working. “Okay, so maybe I’m not the best with… feelings.”

“No kidding,” Jesse snorted, his smile fading when you stared at him, deadpan. “Sorry, go on.”

“But I can say that I do care about you. Sometimes. When you don’t piss me off.” You told him, drawing in a shaky breath that filled your lungs with cold air. “I just… relationships are complicated, you know? And painful, a lot of the time. I didn’t wanna go through that again, I guess, but you’re persistent.”

Jesse smiled as you spoke, somewhat amused by your words, but even you could see the softness to it. The absence of that teasing edge his grin usually held. It was reassuring.

“If this is about Joel—” Jesse attempted, shutting his mouth when you cut him off.

“—It’s not about him.” You interrupted, quickly, the back of your neck feeling hot despite the heater being quite far from you. “Or maybe it is, I don’t know.” You added on, after thinking about it for a second. You generally tried not to think of Joel, or the whole situation with him and Ellie, but could it really have effected you that much? It’s not like Joel was the first person you had lost.

He was the first to walk away without a fight, though.

A small part of you fought that fact, because he came back. Did that not mean anything?

“Can I speak yet?” Jesse asked, a slight teasing lilt to his voice. It brought you out of your thoughts, and you smiled despite the topic at hand. With a nod from you, Jesse went on, “Thanks. I’m just saying, maybe Joel isn’t all that bad. I’m not defending what he did, but the guy clearly cares about you.”

“So I should just— just forgive him? For leaving me?” You asked, looking at Jesse as if he had all the answers.

“I don’t know, that’s up to you,” He said. “Maybe you don’t need to forgive him. Maybe it’s time to just… move on with your life. Forget about what he did, and focus on what he can do. You miss him, don’t you?”

You frowned, looking away from the intensity of Jesse’s gaze. The two of you were friends, yes, and he was the closest friend you’d ever had, maybe besides Ellie. But being so open, it was strange. Likely the effect of the apocalyptic world you lived in, and perhaps it was another difference between that world and the little safe haven of Jackson, Wyoming.

“‘Course I do. He and Tess… they were everything I had.” You replied, your eyebrows creasing at the thought of the woman, at the memory of your life in Boston QZ. It made you realise that it had been a while since Maria had cut your hair, and Tess would’ve chastised you for not reminding her to cut it if you had let it gotten this long in Boston.

It all felt so far away.

When you thought of Tess, your heart ached. Though, it wasn’t quite the same as it had been on your journey with Joel and Ellie. You felt her absence, maybe more than ever, but it wasn’t all bitter. You felt… appreciative of her. She may be gone, but at least you got to have her for a time.

You really wished that she could’ve seen this place, though. You often wondered if she would’ve liked pottery.

Joel would probably know.

“Tess may be gone, but Joel isn’t. Not anymore.” Jesse reminded you, hesitant in his words. You realised that you had never really told him, or anyone, about Tess.

“Y’know, if Tess were here, she’d probably tell me to get over myself,” You laughed at the thought, a sad, watery laugh, but Jesse smiled with you despite not knowing the woman. “She’d kick Joel’s ass, though.”

“Is that even possible? Joel’s like… badass, man.”

“Nobody was more badass than Tess. She was awesome. Used to boss Joel around, all the time, she ran half of the smuggling underground at Boston.” You smiled when Jesse raised his eyebrows, surprised. “And she used to cut my hair. Always told me it was better to keep my hair short, even though she had long hair.”

“Bit hypocritical, isn’t it?” Jesse asked, humour in his words.

You shrugged, “Think she was just trying to keep me safe, in her own way. Tess didn’t want to keep me, to start with. Joel convinced her.”

The more you thought about it, the more you realised that it really was because of Joel that you were allowed to stay with the two of them. You remember hearing them argue on a few occasions, something about a great family that Tess knew nearby. But Joel had never let you go too far.

He’d told you about Tess’s family, though it wasn’t really his place to do so. He had done it in an attempt to comfort you one night when you were young, after you had gotten upset at Tess disregarding you yet again. Joel had explained that she didn’t like getting attached to anybody, especially kids, after she lost her own child. He had told you that it was what they had bonded over, at the start.

“Sounds like this Joel guy really wanted you around, huh?” Jesse said teasingly, only grinning when you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Shut up, you asshole, when the hell did you get all wise?” You asked, glaring at him as he feigned an innocent look. You cracked first, smiling at his expression, feeling a softness to the grin as he matched it with one of his own.

“Distance makes the heart grow wiser, I guess.”

“It’s fonder, Jesse. It makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Shut up, I’m the wise one here.”

You looked at Jesse then, as the two of you shared a laugh, and you wondered if this is how friendship felt before the apocalypse, or if that warm feeling in your chest was exclusive to post-apocalyptic relationships.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“Didn’t think you’d be coming back here.” Joel commented gruffly as he made his way to the kitchen with a nervous energy about him.

“Me neither,” You said idly, watching him fumble around the kitchen. You wondered if it was just a Miller thing, being terrible in the kitchen. It certainly seemed like something Joel and Tommy had in common, but you hadn’t really thought about it when Joel had asked if you wanted some tea, in a bit of a panic at your presence.

He didn’t say anything in response to that, seemingly mulling your words over. Joel didn’t really know what to make of your presence, certainly not expecting to see you at his front door when he opened it.

“Oh, wait,” You said suddenly, causing him to look over to you in the doorway from where he had been about to put tea in the two mugs in front of him. You pulled your backpack around on your shoulder, digging through it for a moment before pulling out a bag. Joel’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked between you and the bag, waiting for an explanation. “Look.” You said, handing it over to him.

He took the bag, opening it up and unable to help the grin that broke onto his face at the sight of coffee beans, the scent of them immediately soothing some of the man’s tension.

“Where’d you get these?” Joel asked you, his voice lighter than you had heard it since Boston. The sound of it made you grin, despite everything.

“Found ‘em on a patrol, a while ago. Been hiding them from Tommy, so don’t tell him.” You responded, realising that this was probably the lightest conversation you and Joel had held for a very long time. How long had it been?

“Wouldn’t dream of it. He’s a thief, always has been.” Joel said, smiling. “Right, the tea.” He said after a moment, placing the bag of coffee beans beside the mugs he’d set out.

You snickered as you noticed the mugs, grinning as Joel turned to you in question. “Seems like Tommy’s not the only thief in the family.” You said, gesturing toward the white and orange mug he’d placed down, recognising it from the batch you’d given Tommy and Maria.

Joel, at least, had the decency to look slightly embarrassed about stealing the orange coloured owl mug you had made and gifted to his brother. Either that, or embarrassed about getting caught. It had slipped his mind, really, more of a habit to grab it out of the cupboard, considering it was the one he used all the time.

He opened his mouth to try and craft some sort of defence, but felt any words he might’ve had die on his tongue as he turned to you. Seeing you smiling, well, it wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You often smiled at Tommy and Maria when he caught sight of you with the two of them, hell, you smiled a lot around that friend of yours, Jesse. Joel even remembers the times you would smile back in Boston, even though life in the QZ was much harder than life in Jackson.

But it had been a long time since Joel had seen you smile in his presence.

Each time you and Joel interacted after he had left you behind, your face had a way of falling, of crumpling in on itself before it hardened, staring at him with an expression of stone.

It had his heart aching in his chest, finally seeing you smile around him. He hadn’t realised quite how much he had missed it.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, after he stayed silent for a moment too long, the smile on your face fading into something of confusion. Joel shook himself out of his melancholy thoughts, clearing his throat and offering up his best smile in return.

“Nothin’,” Joel answered. “Nothin’ at all.”

You let his response linger in the air between the two of you for a few moments, and it seemed that the both of you were thinking of how life used to be. You were a long way from Boston.

“I could’ve made you your own, y’know.” You said, after a the silence stretched on, reaching out and picking up the mug he had stolen, looking at all the imperfections that had seemed invisible, all that time ago when you had made it. You’d like to believe you were much better in your craft, now.

“I like this one, just fine.” Joel responded, plucking it from your hands with a raised eyebrow. You snickered at his actions, moving to look around the kitchen, missing the soft grin stretched over the man’s face.

“God, you fixed that?” You asked suddenly, taking a wide step to look at the slight imperfection on the countertop, where you remember carving a deep gash in the material one night by shattering a particularly heavy plate upon the counter. You were almost sure it wasn’t fixable, that perhaps it could look better, but would always be extremely noticeable.

Joel nodded, back to his task of sorting out tea, but spoke when realising you were faced away from him. “Oh, yeah. Took me a couple tries, though.”

You hummed in response, going back to looking around the kitchen that you remembered so well. Most of the damage you had caused on the room had been fixed, which created a strange feeling in your chest, though you couldn’t tell quite what it was. Relief? Disappointment?

It wasn’t as hard to be in this house as you had expected it to be. You were awaiting that crushing feeling in your chest, that emptiness that left your ribs aching. Surprisingly, you felt… light, almost.

Joel didn’t know exactly what to expect.

On one hand, he wanted to feel hopeful, to belief that this would be the beginning of your relationship with him healing. But then on the other hand, he was reminded of just how much he had hurt you, of the tears that had spilled from your eyes when he had left you behind, the grit of your teeth when he had returned. He tried his best not to expect anything at all, to just remain… happy that you were here, in this moment.

Even if there were no other moments like this one.

He tried not to focus on how much that thought hurt.

“You and Ellie settled in, then?” You asked, trying to fill the silence in the room. There was also that part of you that wanted to know, that wanted to know everything.

Joel repressed the sigh that built in his chest. “Gettin’ there. She, uh, she’s had a tough time, but you know Ellie. She loves to be gettin’ into everybody’s business.” He refrained from looking in your direction when he asked you the same question. “You settled in alright here?” He wanted to add more on, but thought it best not to try his luck.

“I guess so.” You responded, thinking of how different your life was now, to how it was back in Boston, or even to how it was when you were on the road with Joel and Ellie. “It was… tough at first, but Tommy and Maria were good to me. And I got the shop, so.”

“And that boy?” Joel asked, trying to remain casual, though you heard the suspicion.

You smiled at his question, at the way he avoided looking at you. Back in Boston, when you had been much, much younger, Joel had tried to get the thought into your brain that boys were bad. He was protective of you, and distrustful towards the world. You couldn’t blame him.

“Jesse? He’s, uh, he’s my best friend.” You told the man, shaking your head at the way his shoulders relaxed the smallest bit. “He’s a good guy, you know. I care about him.”

As protective as Joel was, though he knew that he didnt really have any right to be, he couldn’t deny that it was nice that you had a friend your age. That you could count on someone, could trust someone, out of your immediate circle. He remembers that you had been lonely in the QZ, with only him and Tess for company, nobody your age that you could speak to or trust.

It had been a relief, almost, when you and Ellie had developed a friendship on the journey. Joel only hoped that the two of you could have that again.

“I’m happy for you, kiddo.” Joel responded, the nickname coming out almost like a reflex, like it was involuntary. It was what he had always called you, though, so you weren’t surprised.

“Jesse, uh— it was actually Jesse’s idea for me to come here.” You said, and Joel couldn’t deny the relief that spread through him when you didn’t immediately reject the nickname, or pull away at the sound of it.

Joel floundered for a moment, looking for something to say, eventually settling on uttering a quiet, “Sounds like a smart kid.”

You smiled, taking the mug off of Joel as he finally finished making the tea, avoiding your eyes. “I guess.” You replied, cradling the warm ceramic mug tightly in your hands. “Somehow, he seems to know what I need to hear, before even I know.” You said, humour coating your fond tone.

Joel smiled. “Sounds familiar. Tess was always like that, with me.”

It was one of the first times Joel had openly mentioned her name since she died. For some reason, it made your shoulders feel much lighter, like the burden of not being able to talk about her had been weighing you down.

“I miss her.” You confessed, looking for his reaction.

“I do, too, kiddo.” Joel admitted, his words softer than you had ever heard them. You thought about what it must’ve been like for him, to lose the companion he had held as close as he dared for close to two decades. You couldn’t imagine.

You hesitated, opening your mouth, before closing it again, only going ahead when Joel gave you a reassuring nod. “You knew her much better than I ever did.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you think you could… I don’t know, just— just tell me about her, one day?” You asked, the hope in your words making Joel’s heart ache.

“‘Course. I’ll tell you whatever you’d like to know.” Joel said, smiling gently at you, nodding his head towards the living room, a soft look on his face as he sat down beside you on the couch. “Ask away, kiddo.”

You were quiet for a moment, feeling lighter than you had possibly your whole life. “Do you think she’d like pottery?” You asked, sharing a knowing smile with Joel. He laughed at the concept, something so amusing about the idea of Tess Servopoulos, the renowned smuggling boss, sitting in your shop and making dinnerware.

“If it was with you, I reckon she’d have liked anything.” Joel responded, something truthful to his words.

You smiled, and asked more about her.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

if the door wasn’t shut taglist: @sleepylunarwolf @am-i-shit-or-am-i-the-shit @mandowhatnow @aphrcdites @doodlebob-mp3 @rrickgrrimes8 @nikt-wazny-y @fallenoutofrose @wrathofcats @kakimakiloh @pinkpurplepuffs @ameagrice @optimisticprime3 @httpjiikook @hnslchw @ioonatv @ackermanbitch @jay1bird23 @martinsmomo @brilliantopposite187 @calumhoodssidehoe @truthfuleeyours @code-roevember @cappucinolia @wrappedinfiction @angelmenace @your-shifting-gurl @gimalo135 @xaimary @v-linelicker @imonmykneessir @kayler-23 @dilfdemolisher @pedropascalslilbaby @rh1nestonecowg1rl @randomstory56 @ipadkidsworld @kobababysblog @wren-ly @morganfullaaa @theyoutubedork

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legally-allowed-to-slime · 10 months

Text

The last few people had logged off the server, leaving it in its burnt, damaged state.

She knew where Gem would be.

Cleo scaled up the ladder and clambered up to the rickety roof of Joel’s tower — where you could look out on the entire server.

Sure enough, Gem was perched on the railing, sitting on the edge with nothing to support her but the wind, staring in the direction of the Secret Keeper.

Cleo looked around at the short cobble walls. Grian had told her that he’d hid away here. Not a bad strategy, overall. You could shut yourself here and forget everywhere else existed.

“Hey, Cleo.”

“Am I that loud?” Cleo joked weakly.

“Who else?”

Cleo watched as the last remains of the green flesh flaked off Gem’s skin, leaving her regular human tones. “No more zombies now, then? Good job, anyway. Killing people left and right.”

“Not you, though.”

“Not me. Only way I’m going out is my way. I’d rather die on my own stupidity than someone else’s callousness.” Cleo allowed a hint of pride to enter her voice. “You were great zombies, though.”

“We weren’t zombies.” Gem turned and hopped down from the railing.

Cleo noticed that unlike the other zombies, or even Scott or Grian, Gem didn’t have a single scratch or injury, save one neat bandage that no doubt was due to Scar’s reckless arrows.

Which meant the blood splattering her face wasn’t her own. “What do you mean?”

“That’s not how zombies work. No offence, Cleo, but most zombies aren’t sentient.”

Cleo blinked. “No worries, I know they aren’t. I kill plenty of them at night.”

“So you should know how they work. They’re mindless. They lurch along, they kill without thinking, they probably bump into trees.”

Gem tilted her head. “They don’t set TNT traps, or betray their teammates, or ask for permission to kill their wife’s perceived murderer.”

Cleo’s mouth was dry. “So you’re saying…”

“I’m saying the apocalypse wasn’t zombies, Cleo. It was human.”

Horribly, incredibly human.

Cleo remembered when they were up on the tower, staring at the others down below, condemning them as monsters.

Somehow, it was better to think of them as a mindless horde and not people she’d been laughing and arguing with a session ago.

Gem was watching her. “You know I’m right. Look at Pearl. Was running from us, convinced we were infected or something but once she realised she had permission to kill, she went in. Even unleashed a warden, or two. That’s how quickly we switch.”

Ironically, Cleo realised, the roles had been swapped this session. The humans were chasing the zombie, but it hadn’t been any different.

“That’s not true,” Cleo said, “It’s not all bad. Did you know, Grian snuck down from this tower to check on his magma pet, and I was there too. And so was Etho. He didn’t kill us.”

Irritation flashed across Gem’s face. “He didn’t kill you? If he had, or, like, told us your location or something, we could’ve all just gone after Scott, and, and, the task would’ve succeeded…”

She trailed off, and looked at Cleo. “Is that the point you’re trying to make here?”

Cleo shrugged.

“Alright, I get it,” Gem grumbled, “No need to rub your holier-than-thou alliance and great morals in my face.”

“Well, no one asked you to put your task over your bandmates.”

Gem didn’t say anything to that.

“It’s not as if I’m exactly a paragon of morality either.” Cleo continued.

“I guess not.” Gem gave a short laugh. “Neither am I. You know, all the murder and stuff? I don’t feel bad! In fact, I feel great. I feel proud of myself for it.”

“…I feel you should be a little less bloodthirsty.”

Gem smiled at Cleo, an innocent, cheerful smile that would have been such if not for the circumstances. “Oh, no.”

Cleo was suddenly feeling very unsafe on the highest platform on the server. She wished Etho was here, or even Grian.

She knew Gem couldn’t take any lives, not now, not when the session was already over. But still…

Cleo raised her sword to stop the axe swing that came, but it was a feint, and her sword hit nothing.

Gem dramatically swung her axe back into her inventory.

“You really thought I would attack you?” Gem said.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t,” Cleo retorted curtly.

“That’s true,” Gem conceded. “But the curse is just so- it’s so freeing, Cleo? Can’t you see? You could do anything.”

“Uh- no thanks. Session’s over, anyway,” Cleo pointed out.

“That’s true. But I’m still kinda cursed, you know.”

In response, Cleo warily raised her sword. But all that Gem did was deliver a mock salute before logging off with a chirpy “See you next week!”

Cleo stood silently. There had been one zombie on the platform just now. Her.

And thinking about it, she wasn’t sure if there hadn’t been two.

#concept: gem is simply evil #god forbid women do anything #oh no this story turned into that are humans good/evil thing again #that’s great i don’t care #geminitay #zombiecleo #gem centric but i did put in some cleo stuff because etho sparing his allies was so woahwhaha #secret life fanfic #secret life #secret life smp #life series #trafficblr

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save-the-villainous-cat · 5 months

Text

The hero couldn’t believe their own exhaustion. Apparently, their limbs didn’t want to work and neither did their brain. Even though they had sort of expected this, there was enough energy left to recognise and frown at their nemesis.

“You’re here to kidnap me?” the hero asked. They looked down at the saved city, at the aftermath of the chaos.

Some streets and buildings were scathed but all together, the hero would’ve called this a good job with little casualties. They leaned back and let out a long overdue breath.

“Presumably.” The hero turned their head to glance at their nemesis. Every muscle hurt. Hell, muscles the hero didn’t even know they had hurt.

“Two months. I thought you were dead,” they said eventually and the words were heavy on their tongue. Sadly, they didn’t even have the energy left to be mad at their nemesis.

“I’m…” The villain stared at the ground. They still looked the same. Still the same scary villain that would break ankles and wrists to get what they want. And the hero supposed they were still the same pathetic hero that followed them around like a dog, trying to convince them to use their powers for the good. Even in death.

“You have to carry me if you want to kidnap me. I can’t really move.”

“Okay.” The villain approached them and picked them up immediately without any struggles. All the hero could do was whimper when the villain touched their sore muscles. The hero felt a little stupid in the villain’s arms but they didn’t really have a choice either when the villain walked towards their car.

“Where were you?” the hero asked quietly. Some questions they only dared to whisper.

“I was injured,” the villain explained.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me? What happened!?” Suddenly they panicked. The villain had been injured? Had licked their wounds in their lair alone? The hero wanted to be mad but above all, they were concerned.

“Yeah, I needed a new kidney and everything.”

“What?!” The hero’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“So you disappeared for two months instead?” the hero asked. By now, their voice was hoarse and their head unforgivingly heavy.

“…yeah.”

“Listen, I could’ve donated, I could’ve—”

“Do you think it’s smart for the two most powerful beings in the city to recover from surgery at the same time?” the villain asked. The hero hated that, they hated when they used logic against them. It didn’t change that they were pissed, in fact, it only added fuel to the fire.

“You could have at least told me.”

“So you’d worry and neglect your duties?” The villain shook their head. “I love this city. I want what’s best for it and while I was gone, you were the only one left who actually cared for it.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that? A fucking asshole,” the hero said. They were overwhelmed and confused, numb and aggressive. They hadn’t seen the villain in two months and now they were back with a stranger’s kidney inside them and their strong arms around the hero.

Had they made a mistake? Felt the hero closer to them than they actually were?

“Why are you hurt?” The hero closed their eyes and let out another long breath.

“I fought some machine. The blades were quick and the bullets even quicker so I had to be faster than that and now I am just…tired.” They leaned their head against the villain’s chest.

“No, I meant my recovery. You’re hurt because I left.”

“I’m mad that you didn’t tell me.”

“You’re disappointed that I didn’t ask you to donate your kidney,” the villain said. The hero swallowed. “Is there something more intimate than keeping your nemesis alive that way? You’re mad you got robbed of that.”

“Ugh you’re so full of shit.” And yet, the hero’s face was burning.

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe they wanted a connection to the villain that was deeper than “work.”

Whatever.

“I didn’t know you’d be this upset.” Either the hero imagined it or it was true; the villain pulled them closer.

“I am not…I tried reaching out but you were nowhere. Do you know how frustrating that was? As if you got killed and thrown into a ditch. I could barely concentrate on anything.”

“I didn’t know that. Maybe I mean more to you than I thought,” the villain said and the hero couldn’t believe how dense their villain could be. As structured and intelligent as they were, their social skills were an abnormality the hero usually knew how to handle.

But now, in their arms, they were grateful.

“Of course you do, dumbass.” The hero met their eyes and they felt at peace. Completely. Utterly.

How could they waste their life like this? Yearning without making a move? Never daring, always tip-toeing. To the point where they wished they had given them their kidney.

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” The villain didn’t joke. They didn’t wink. They rarely did any of that.

“Kidnap me faster, will you?”

“If you insist.”

Back at the lair, the villain allowed them to touch the fresh scar and the hero did. Over and over and over again.

#show me your teeth teeth teeth teeth #sry I love torturing my heroes #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

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mylifesjustacarousel · 1 month

Text

the sorcerer and the apprentice - foes to friends

pairing: james hook x gn!reader (requested)

summary: you hated no one more than james hook, but after an incident, you start to see him differently

type: angst, the tiniest hint of fluff at the end

CW: bullying

WC: 1.2k

prequel | part 2 | part 3 (requests are open!)

For as long as you could remember, you hated James Hook. From the second he showed his face on the Merlin Academy campus, being as snarky and bratty as ever, you despised him. Being the child of Merlin himself didn’t make it any easier either. The torment and teasing was nonstop, from him and the rest of the VKs.

But ever since you pulled that prank on Uliana a few weeks ago, you had seen very little of the VKs, Hook included. You weren’t too worried though. If you could take them once, you could take them again.

You were in the woods right outside of campus, your sword in hand. It was peaceful there at night, a great time and place to practice your technique. You were stood in front of a tree, swinging at it left and right, pretending to dodge attacks. It wasn’t as good as practicing with a partner, but practicing alone helped to clear your mind.

“Aren’t you missing something, darling? Like another person?” A voice called out. You froze in your place, turning your head to follow the direction of the voice.

Hook.

“Go away,” you spat, “Even if I did want another person here, or anywhere else, it certainly wouldn’t be you.” He snorted, “I told you, you can’t get rid of me that easily. You can’t just say a spell and make me go away.”

Before you even knew it, your feet were moving before your mind, your arms drawing up and swinging your sword at Hook. While your technique was a little off, he seemed to quickly get the message. His eyes widened, his body barely dodging the blade. “If you needed the practice, you could’ve just said so,” he winked, drawing his sword from his belt.

You grimaced, swinging at him again, “You make me sick, Hook.” He advanced forward, unknowingly backing you up against a tree. You panicked, trying to quickly think of something to get you out of this situation. He had you cornered. He held the blade of his sword to your chin, “You don’t even know me, darling.” you could feel every breath that he took with how close his chest was to yours. “So you can hate me, but remember who saved you when Uliana wanted to destroy you.”

He pulled his sword away, putting it back in its sheath before walking away from you. You stood there in disbelief as you watched him.

What just happened? you thought.

You walked towards the water, trying to calm yourself down. Leaning against a nearby tree, you took a deep breath. Peace at last…

“You!”

Whipping your head around, you were met with a sight that you did not want to see. The VKs were standing there, minus Hook. Uliana charged towards you, “You think you can humiliate me and get away with it? I’ll show you what happens to people who mess with me!”

Without missing a beat, you turned to try to run, only to run into the chests of Hades and Morgie. They had you cornered. One of Uliana’s tentacles shot out, wrapping around your ankle and lifting you up into the air. You panicked, yelling for help. But the woods were too far away for anyone on campus to actually be able to hear you. She laughed maniacally, dangling you over the water as you struggled.

“The little goody two shoes thought that they were going to get spared? Just because Hook let you go, doesn’t mean that I’m going to.”

You looked to the other three for help, hoping that any of them would show any signs of remorse. But they were all laughing, enjoying the fear on your face. “It’s a shame I had to get rid of Hook. He thought I should leave you alone, but I knew that nothing would fill me with more joy than doing this.”

Within seconds, you could feel nothing but coldness surrounding you. She had dropped you into the water below you. “I hope you can swim!” she called out, the VKs laughing and cheering her on as they left.

You panicked, flapping your arms as you tried to make your way back to land. The water stirred, a figure appearing in the water beside you. It could only be described as a giant eel. It’s snake like eyes locked on you, ready to pounce the moment it saw you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to remember a spell to get you out of this. But your mind drew a blank. There was nothing you could do to save yourself.

You heard the eel pounce, but you didn’t expect what came after. The sound of a sword being drawn, a loud scream, and the sound of the water becoming still. You slowly opened your eyes, looking for your hero.

Hook. Hook was standing there.

He threw his sword onto the ground, reaching his hand to help you out. You didn’t think twice before grabbing his hand, pulling yourself out of the water. Shivering, you pulled your soaking wet jacket tighter around your frame, trying to generate any sort of warm.

“Easy, easy,” Hook pulled his jacket off, draping it over your shoulders, “You’re lucky I was still around, you were almost fish food, darling.”

You glared at him, but you accepted his jacket. “Why’d you do that? Help me?” you mumbled, your eyes meeting his. For the first time ever, you saw sincereness in his eyes. It was strange and different. It’s like something in your brain just clicked.

“Like I said, you don’t know me,” he shrugged, “But, there’s something about you. You’re… different. A good different. You weren’t actually a goody two shoes, you’re actually pretty cool.” Hook rambled on, a light blush on his cheeks.

“Well… thank you,” you nodded. He gave you a nod back, standing up, “Just, uh, return the jacket whenever.”

“Aren’t you going to walk me back?” you asked, standing with him. His eyes widened, the blush on his face becoming a cherry red.

“I guess that would be the appropriate thing to do, yes.”

Hook walked you all the way back to your dorm room, his eyes on you the entire walk. You were silent the entire time, still trying to process what had happened. Hook helped you. You didn’t think it could ever happen, but you saw a change in him, and you were interested in taking a deeper dive… you couldn’t even believe that you were thinking these things. After all, you hated James Hook. Or at least you did.

“Well, this is me,” you slipped his jacket off, trying to hand it back to him. He refused, draping it over your shoulders again, “You still look cold, darling. I’ll get it back eventually. But, um, have a good night.” He patted your shoulder before turning to walk away.

He took a few steps before you called out to him. “Hey, James? You can come pick up your jacket tomorrow… and stay for a little bit, if you’d like?”

Hook couldn’t help but smile a bit. He turned to you, “Sounds like a plan, y/n. Don’t get into any more trouble between now and then, alright? I can only save you so many times.”

You rolled your eyes, a grin making way onto your face, “Goodnight, James.”

“Goodnight, darling.”

a/n: i truly didn’t think i would get so many requests for this series, or enough for this to even turn into a series. also, if there’s any confusion timeline wise, this takes place a few months before the original the sorcerer and the apprentice. if you have any requests at all, my ask box is open!

#_emily’s writing_#descendants #descendants the rise of red #descendants x reader #descendants the rise of red x reader #james hook #james hook x reader #young hook #young hook x reader #young james hook #young james hook x reader

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breadbrioche · 1 year

Text

apologies

so mun x reader

➳ summary: after telling mun to take better care of himself, he ends up taking care of you instead

➳ warnings: description of treating wounds, mention of guns/gunshot wounds, self deprecating thoughts, season 2 episode 3-4 spoilers

➳ word count: 1.5k

➳a/n: my offering to the tuc tumblr fandom haha fyi the reader is also a counter but was not with mun during the scenes mentioned

As you hunch over your desk, trying to get as close as you can to your mirror, you become aware of how pathetic your situation is. Blood soaked cotton balls litter the surface of your desk from your attempt to clean the injuries inflicted on you just hours ago, though you’re doing a pretty horrid job at it because every time an alcohol swab just even brushes against the open wound, you flinch away from your own hand and hiss at the pain.

You sigh regretfully, thinking about how you could’ve avoided all this, been fully healed and pain free hours ago, if you just didn’t cause such a scene earlier.

You bursted into the base, shoes slapping against the floor loudly as you made a beeline towards the table where all the counters were waiting to be healed by Ms Chu. Stopping right in front of Mun, who was looking worried at your apparent injuries, your scowl deepened as your gaze landed on his shoulder and the perfectly circular openings in it.

Frustrated and thinking of no other way to express this, you slapped your palm against the offending shoulder. Mun jerked back with a yelp and looked at you in disbelief.

“You’re an idiot, did you know that?” You began, not beating around the bush.

“Let me expla-“

“Explain what? That you let yourself get shot?” You cut him off quickly. “Us counters may be stronger than average humans but at the end of the day we’re still humans! And humans aren’t bulletproof like how you apparently like to think!”

Words were spilling out of your mouth without a second thought, your voice getting louder with every angry confession.

“Do you think of yourself as someone who can just die whenever they want? Evil spirits aside, did you even think about how your death would impact everyone!”

At this point, you couldn’t remember how the rest of the confrontation went down apart from that when you finally finished your rant he looked at you with an expression incomprehensible to you at the time - maybe he was shocked or mad or sad, either way you didn’t stick around long enough to find out as you finally gained back your sanity and dashed to hide in your room.

Maybe you’re the idiot, and not Mun.

He didn’t get shot for no good reason; he saved the chairman’s life! And you had a go at him for doing what was right. So on top of being a pathetic coward, you were also an idiot who blamed innocent people. What an amazing turn of events.

Before you could wallow in your pity for any longer, knocks on your door pull you out of your thoughts and make you turn towards it. You come eye to eye with So Mun, who’d left himself inside your room before you could even get up to open the door.

“Hey.” He begins awkwardly, probably trying to gauge your reactions to see if you were still angry at him. “You missed dinner.”

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realise” you say dumbly.

“I just wanted to let you know that I saved some food for you, its in the kitchen if you ever feel hungry”

You smile slightly; grateful for Mun’s thoughtfulness, even if after your tirade on him earlier.

“Thanks, Mun-ah. I’ll go eat in a sec once I’m done with all of-“ you gesture to the mess of medical supplies on your table “-this.”

Taking note of it, Mun frowns before approaching you and leaning down to assess your injuries. He immediately picks up an alcohol swab and gently cleans the cuts on your face. Instinctively, you jerk away from the sting but Mun keeps you still with a hand on your cheek.

“You know that Ms Chu can heal these for you.” He says gently, though the close proximity of your faces makes you hear it loud and clear.

“They’re not big… I don’t wanna be a bother for a few cuts here and there” you murmur in defense.

Mun’s hands pull away from your face for a moment to reach for a band-aid on your desk but you grab his wrist to stop him.

“I can treat myself, you don’t have to do it”

He huffs shortly before pulling out of your grasp and shaking his head stubbornly.

“I want to. Please?” He asks with a classic So Mun smile that makes it hard to remember why you were ever mad at him. You reluctantly nod, allowing Mun to put the bandage on your face.

It’s quiet as he repeats the process of cleaning and wrapping the rest of your wounds.

“Uh-“ You speak up suddenly, unable to handle the suffocating silence. He perks up and faces you fully, attentive.

“Sorry about what I said to you earlier…you did what you had to save the chairman and I blew up at you for no real reason but when I heard that you’d gotten shot, I guess I started spiralling and assumed the worse so…” you trail off and lower your head in shame, eyes focused on the scrapes on your knuckles that Mun is currently working on.

His hands clasp yours and intertwines your fingers together with his, then pulls you up to your feet which forces you to maintain eye contact with him. He’s smiling at you calmly, eyes creasing ever so slightly.

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly it’s okay.” he says in a reassuring voice. “I’m sure I worried all of you so I would’ve gotten an earful from someone eventually.”

You laugh slightly at his comment lightening your mood. Being around Mun is addictive - his warm presence pulls you in and his positivity infects you, putting a small smile on your face too.

Though, part of you couldn’t let go of your guilty thoughts and you still feel apprehensive. Mun must have sensed it because he squeezes your interlaced hands tight, stroking your hand with his thumb.

“You had every right to be mad at me. I don’t regret what I did but you're right about the fact that I didn’t think about how my actions would affect everyone else. So I guess that was pretty selfish of me.”

Mun rests his head down on your shoulder, face nuzzling into your neck slightly. His breath tickles your skin as he exhales which makes you squirm slightly.

“Could you forgive me?” He whispers into your ear.

Since he entered your room, all of his sweet actions were slowly piling up, making you feel flustered and heartbeat speed up, but this was the tipping point. You try to push away from Mun, feeling far too overwhelmed, but he effortlessly pulls you back in, his eyes twinkling.

“So~?” He insists you answer, dragging out the last syllable. You roll your eyes, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“Fine. I guess I could forgive you” you huff out. “But only because you’re annoying and you won’t stop until I do.”

Mun chuckles and brushes away hair hanging over your face to get a clear view of your reactions.

“You’re so cute.” he points out teasingly. He watches your nose shrivel when you scowl at him.

“And you are a little shit.”

“Hey! Is that any way to speak to your cool and amazing boyfriend who patched you up?” Mun grabs your bandaged hand and shakes it in front of your face to emphasize his point.

“I told you that you didn’t have to do it”

“And I told you that you should’ve seen Ms Chu!”

“It’s too late for that now anyways, she’s probably sleeping. I can just have it done tomorrow” you defend yourself.

“But knowing you, you’ll definitely forget!”

God, Mun could be so stubborn sometimes. You sigh before flopping onto your bed, bouncing slightly as the springs in the mattress resist against you.

“If you’re so bothered, maybe you should just sleep with me tonight so you can remind me in the morning.”

Mun gasps dramatically as if your suggestion was something obscene. You roll your eyes at his act, your point from earlier being proven - he is a little shit.

“You’re welcome to go back to your room then” you point out, gesturing to your door. Mun shoots you an offended look before pulling your blankets open to climb onto your bed quickly.

“I never said no!” He complains as he worms his way to get closer to you.

You shuffle about for a second before getting into a comfortable position, with your face pressed against Mun’s chest, head laying on one of his arms. A silence envelops the two of you again but it’s not the awkward tension from before.

This silence was cozy. Relaxing.

“Thank you, Mun-ah” you whispered, cuddling against him more. He pressed a kiss on the top of your head, silently answering you. Gently he stroked your hair, lulling you to sleep.

#the uncanny counter #the uncanny counter fic #so mun #uncanny counter #so mun x reader #the uncanny counter x reader #kdrama #kdrama fic #kdrama x reader #own works

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cinnajun · 1 year

Text

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: bro code | kgv

summary | it’s not exactly a good idea to date your best friend’s ex. and, as of right now, you’ve confirmed that the same sentiment applies to dating your best friend’s ex’s best friend, too.

genre | kim gyuvin x fem!reader, university!au, situationship

warnings | alcohol, breaking the bro code :/, i DONT ship ricky and hiyyih she is just a character.

wc | 1.9k

a/n: originally this was a “situationships with zb1” post but then i realized i just wanted to write this so here it is

ft kep1 hiyyih, youngeun, hikaru, people i made up

YOU HATE SHEN RICKY with your entire being. When you see him, your blood boils and steam comes out of your ears. When you hear his voice, your eardrums bleed and you get the worst migraine imaginable. When you hear about him, you complain for hours on end.

Once upon a time, you hated Kim Gyuvin too. He was guilty by association; if Ricky was that terrible to Hiyyih, there was no way Gyuvin wasn’t terrible either. You’d only met him once before Ricky and Hiyyih’s relationship took a turn for the worse—they’d been attempting to “merge friend groups,” in her words. He’d been awkward most of the time, cracking a joke or two when it seemed right and offering his two cents from time to time.

Back when Ricky wasn’t your mortal enemy, you felt many ways about Kim Gyuvin. He was tall and he was handsome, he was nice and you’d heard about how much he cared for Ricky and his other friends. The day before things went south, you’d nearly asked Hiyyih for his number.

Now, you wanted to hate him. You had to hate him.

You didn’t like admitting the fact that you didn’t hate him.

You don’t know how you got here. When you put your thinking cap on and consider what led to your fling with Kim Gyuvin, you can’t pinpoint an exact catalyst. Maybe it was the moment you met him, four months after Ricky and Hiyyih started dating. Maybe it was the moment you ran into him at a party drunk off your ass, and took all your anger towards Ricky out on him.

Maybe it was when he took you home and made sure you got there okay.

Whatever it was, now you were in possibly the worst position of your life. You’d run into the bathroom and locked the door, phone in one hand and a cup of water in the other. Your friend—perhaps an ex-friend, now—was banging on the door, demanding you come out and explain yourself.

For the past five months, you’ve done an outstanding job at sneaking around with Gyuvin. From getting caught in traffic from an accident when you really wanted Dominoes, to going to visit your parents, you had a mountain of excuses that all covered up every escapade you had. Both your friends and his were none the wiser to your schemes, and you’d been completely okay with that.

“I can’t believe you’re dating Kim Gyuvin!”

“I’m not dating Kim Gyuvin!” you yelled back, confident in your announcement because it wasn’t a lie. Sure, maybe you’d kissed him a few times or taken a couple of romantic walks with him, but you’d avoided ever defining your relationship in fear of this exact situation. And because of the raging guilt you both felt for having any feelings for the other.

Minju kept banging on the door and you hurriedly put your cup down on the bathroom counter, searching for your phone in your pockets. Once you found it, you opened your messages app with so much fervor that you could’ve set the screen on fire.

You scrolled through your messages, scanning over everyone who could possibly save you. Hiyyih probably wouldn’t talk to you for a week, but Youngeun and Hikaru wouldn’t drop you over this—hopefully. You sent them both a text, a hurried cry for help as Minju continued shaking the doorknob.

“Talk to me when you’re sober!” you called out, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub. Subconsciously, your knee began to bounce up and down, and you resisted the urge to chew your fingers off as you waited for Hikaru or Youngeun to reply.

“How could you do this, [First]?” a new voice rang out, and you shut your eyes, taking a deep breath.

You didn’t know what you had done wrong—well, you did, but there was no way it was wrong enough to warrant this. Had you begun talking to Gyuvin while Ricky and Hiyyih had been dating, would they still be treating you like this? You were unsure of the answer.

Nevertheless, you tried to convince yourself you didn’t regret your time spent with Gyuvin. He was kind, nicer than anyone you’d ever dated, and he seemed to care about you. He asked how your day was and listened intently as you described whatever you had done. He held you when you cried and shared in your joy when you were happy.

He was good to you. Was that such a crime?

Five minutes passed, and both Hikaru and Youngeun hadn’t replied. Minju and her friend, who you couldn’t identify from their voice alone, still screamed at you from outside the door. They’d stopped the banging, but every few seconds they’d jiggle the doorknob as if you’d unlock the door.

Desperation overtook you, and you felt as though you had no choice at this point. You were stuck in your mind, wondering why Hiyyih was letting people you barely knew harass you into explaining yourself for something that wasn’t any of their business.

So, in your panic, you called Gyuvin. You had his number memorized, mostly because you’d mutually agreed not to save each other into your phones to avoid any suspicion, so it took less than 5 seconds to have the dialtone filling your ear.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings and he answered, and you practically heard the smile in his voice. “My dearest, darling [First],” he said, a slight sing-song tone to his voice. “Whatever can I do for you?”

“Open the goddamn door!” Minju yelled, a lot louder than she’d been yelling before. She jiggled the doorknob again, and you flinched, letting out another big sigh.

“What’s going on?”

“Please come pick me up,” you said in a hushed tone, not wanting to explain everything over the phone. “I’ll text you my address. I’m desperate. Please.”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible. Are you at Hiyyih’s? I can be there in five.”

How he knew where Hiyyih lived, you didn’t know, but you were glad he did. “Yeah, I am. Please hurry. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“I’m on my way.”

You hung up the phone, not letting him say anything else. Minju and her accomplice kept banging on the door, but for a few moments, they stopped. You heard another voice in the hall, Yeseo’s, but struggled to make out what she was saying—something about how they could yell at you another time, and that Hiyyih needed their support.

You felt like a criminal. Maybe you deserve to feel like a criminal.

All you knew was that Gyuvin made you happy, and that, sometimes, maybe it was worth prioritizing your happiness over other people’s comfort. At the same time, you felt like your friends should always be more important than a boy, and that losing your years of friendship with them wasn’t worth a single man.

Minju and the anonymous ‘other’ were pulled away, leaving you to sit in silence. It was a loud and uncomfortable quiet, the type that assaulted your ears and your mind the longer you sat in it—you felt miserable. Everything about this was miserable.

Yesterday, you talked to Gyuvin about this exact situation. You’d been on the phone with him, twiddling your thumbs as you stared at your bedroom ceiling. “What do you think would happen?” you asked, counting the random divots above you. “If Ricky and Hiyyih found out.”

Gyuvin had groaned, and you listened to him turn over in his bed, which sounded like sheets crumpling and fabric moving. “I don’t even want to think about it. I think it would be worse for you.”

“Well, I guess they can’t find out about anything, because we aren’t anything,” you replied, the corner of your mouth twitching into a smile. “Technically. We just hang out from time to time.”

“Yeah, just friends. Nothing more. You’re like Eumppapa’s dog walker.”

How ironic your conversation had been. Your phone buzzed and you picked it up immediately, feeling a terrible sense of relief wash over you. Your knight in shining armor, simultaneously the big bad dragon, had come to rescue you from your tower.

You ripped the window open, cringing at the beeping sound that echoed through the house as a result. Hiyyih’s parent’s security system was a good thing most of the time, but, at times like this, it was a bad thing. Nevertheless, you continued your escape, hopping out of the bathroom window and running towards Gyuvin’s parked car.

By the time you made it to the correct side of the car, Hiyyih was already emerging onto the front lawn, yelling for you not to leave. You didn’t listen, ripping the passenger door open and climbing in. Gyuvin didn’t wait for you to put your seatbelt on, speeding off into the night.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you breathed out, panickedly putting on your seatbelt. “I promise. It was an accident. I got careless.”

“I don’t care about who knows and who doesn’t,” he said, glancing at you. He took your hand into his, resting it on the center console. “I care about what in the world was happening when you called. Why were they banging on the door? What in the world elicits that kind of reaction?”

“Sneaking around with the best friend of your best friend’s ex,” you sighed, looking out the window. “I just feel awful. I don’t know why. This is awful.”

Gyuvin stayed quiet for a moment, and you suddenly became aware of the quiet classical music coming from the radio. He must’ve been in the car with Zhang Hao before he came to rescue you—and the fact that you recognized that made you feel even more guilty.

“It’s the bro-code morality,” he finally answered, squeezing your hand. You looked over at him, somewhat confused. “You know. Not really the best etiquette to date your friend’s ex, and I guess it applies to your friend’s ex’s best friend, too. I feel it sometimes.”

“But I’m happy. And I think you’re happy. I don’t want to lose that.”

“I am happy, and you won’t. We’ll deal with it, the fallout and everything,” Gyuvin said. You were drowning in anxiety and wanted nothing more than to drown in your bed. “It’s Ricky’s fault for being a dickwad in the first place, not mine. And, if the time Hiyyih spent with him meant anything, she’ll at least know that I’m not a bad person.”

“I hope.”

You pulled up to a red light, and Gyuvin looked over at you. He looked tired, and you realized he was wearing his pajamas, meaning he’d probably gotten out of bed to come save you. That made you feel even more guilty and warm and fuzzy at the same time. “And we might need to stop avoiding the question we’ve been ignoring for nearly half a year.”

thank you for reading !

tags: @happysmileybee @wtfhyuck

#cinna.zb1 #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 fluff #zb1 imagines #zb1 scenarios #zb1 drabbles #gyuvin x reader #kim gyuvin x reader #gyuvin fluff #gyuvin oneshots #gyuvin imagines #gyuvin scenarios

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kenjakusbraincum · 1 year

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Reverence

Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis: Sukuna finds you clinging to life by a thread, trapped underneath the rubble of fallen buildings, after the final showdown. He saves you, deciding you’d make a good pet to keep him company at his lonely mansion. Word count: 8.9k Tags/warnings: Afab reader + gn language but the word ,whore’ is used, true form 2 dicks sukuna, dubcon, masturbation, fingering, penetrative sex, dacryphilia, size difference, biting, bruising, belly bulge, creampie Author’s note: First fic I’ve written in ages!! :> Feedback is very appreciated! This may be a part 1 depending on how inspired I get.

The razed city is quiet around him as he stands and scans the aftermath of his destruction. A moment of calmness after a catastrophe, similar to the rays of sun after a thunderstorm. But when he looks up into the sky, no sun shines down on him. The city is engulfed in dust, and beyond it, dark clouds gather above, weeping over the fate of the world that now lays in his four hands.

Everyone unfortunate enough to be close in the moments the battle went down is gone. Everyone who fought him has either died or escaped. He wasn’t a foolish man. He knew he would win, and once again on top of the world… what awaited him was loneliness and boredom. He let them escape. One day when they think they’ve grown strong enough to face him again, they will entertain him. But for now, they’re gone, and he’s bored.

Then there’s a rustle. Little rocks topple over each other in the ruins. You push them out of your way, crawling out from under blocks of concrete. Bloody, dusted, dirty… and still, he finds you beautiful. He follows you with sharp eyes. Under any other circumstance, you would’ve noticed you were being stared at. But now it’s different. Your vision is blurred by blood dripping from your forehead into your eyes, and every movement of your body hurts. You are dying, you know that. You just don’t want to die under a rock. If you’re going to die, let it at least be in the open. Let it be under the bright blue sky, under the sun, so you’re at peace. But when you turn around to lay a final look at what you wish for, you are met with a heavy gaze of four red eyes.

You’ve sparked his curiosity. A human who survived his divine chaos. A human he’s seen before, in passing, while possessing Yuji. His eyes always did linger on you, but he’s always had something more important to focus on. Now, you’ve fully got his attention.

The warmth of sunshine that you so badly wished for in your last moments welcomes you when you wake up. Reborn. You shuffle around in bed, letting out a strained noise. You look around to find you’re alone in the room. Your memories slowly come back to you as you sit up. Fighting alongside your friends. The falling building. Crawling out of it’s remains. The pain, god the pain. It’s all gone now. You look down on yourself, dressed in sleeping robes. Clean. Not a scar on your body. The light soreness you feel is probably from too much sleep. But despite the fact you’re healed, you feel uneasy. You search through your head for your last memory. The realization comes to you grounds you with it’s heaviness, and you feel like you’re sinking into the depths of the earth.

Your friends didn’t come back for you. They either died, or left you to die. But you ended up here instead. This was Sukuna’s home, unmistakably. Where else could you have ended up, after the last thing you saw was him? Who could’ve possibly rescued you from him? Who could rescue you now? Your fate was sealed the moment you were crushed under debris, but you were supposed to be dead. This was a change in plans. This was an impulsive decision, that someone is yet to see prove it’s worth. Or disappoint.

You understand immediately what position you were in. The situation is very clear. The entrance to the garden from your room is closed, undoubtedly to prevent you from running away. But truly, even if it was open, how far would you get before getting caught and inevitably punished? And where would you run? Where in this world, that now belongs to him, is it safe to hide, and how far away is that place? No, running away is impossible. In a way, the safest place from Sukuna was his home. Surely if he let you reside in it, that meant something. Fighting was another foolish option. You discarded it as soon as it crossed your mind. You don’t even have to instigate to know you’d lose. Everyone lost. You were no different, despite of your strength and potential. Besides, your gut told you that running and fighting wouldn’t end in simple terms such as being killed immediately. No, if he brought you here, there was no way he would just kill you. He likes to watch people suffer after all.

Your only option is to stay. You are grateful he gave you this time alone to come to terms with your fate. You understand that staying here, and staying unharmed, would mean compliance. Obedience. Something that went against your very essence as a person, and as a sorcerer. You laugh with unease. Just as you begin to imagine what your life will entail from now on, the door opens, and you’re met with a short white haired person. Sukuna’s minion. You recognize them from before.

‘’You’re awake.’’, they exclaim with no emotion. They look at you, but it feels like they’re looking straight through you.

,,I am.’’, you say after a moment. An attempt to break the discomfort.

,,I didn’t ask.’’, they shoot you with a stare, a warning.

,,S-sorry…’’, you correct yourself immediately, trying to cause as little problems as possible. It’s merely your first interaction in this estate, and you already find yourself backtracking. Giving in.

They let out a tiny tsk sound. ‘’What do you remember?’’, they ask. They sound completely uninterested, and their eyes are empty.

‘’Everything.’’, you reply sadly. It comes across as a smile.

‘’You don’t need catching up then.’’, they sigh, not considering that maybe you would like to be caught up as to where exactly you are right now, and how long have you been sleeping. ‘’My name is Uraume. I’m assigned to help you transition into this new environment.’’, a moment of silence, and they scan your face for a reaction. ‘’Master will see you. The ladies will come to prepare you and dress you up promptly.’’, another pause. Uraume lets you process the information. ‘’When you are around Master, you should act properly. Do not look up at him without permission. Do not speak unless spoken to. Do everything he says with as little delay as possible. He’s your Master now. Obey him and address him as such.’’

Silence drowns the room. The instructions strike a wave of fear and anxiety in you. What bothers you now is not whether or not you’ll be forced to do things you don’t want to, it’s will you be able to do everything right? Will you slip up, or forget an instruction? Will you embarrass yourself, or more importantly disappoint your master?

‘’Understood?’’, Uraume asks, clearly annoyed judging by their tone. You wonder if they’ve asked this twice but you haven’t heard the first time. You simply nod, and your head droops down. Uraume watches you. ‘’When you’re ready knock on the doors, the ladies will come in. Don’t take too long.’’, they say and turn back to the open door. ‘’I’ll see you later.’’

You sit with yourself and think about your future. Every passing second makes it more imminent and clear. Seeing as there’s no other option, you make peace with your future of servitude. You can only imagine what it entails. You’d be lucky if you were assigned with mopping floors or chopping human meat in the kitchen. Deep down you know that the job you’ll be assigned with is a much less dignifying one. You rationalize things in your head. Since there’s nothing else you can do, you might as well try your best to avoid problems by being good at what you’re tasked with. You sense that it will rid you of all your pride and personhood. Your innocence, that you’ve been saving your whole life for a moment that’s supposed to be special. It will be special, but not in the way you’ve always imagined. It will be ceremonial, a symbol of entering a new chapter in your life. You dread this. But, the alternative is death, or possibly worse. Between those two, you’ve already made your choice. You’re not going to die twice.

You will yourself to stand up and knock on the door. Get it over with as soon as possible, you think. Once the deed is done it will be easier. Two women open the doors and greet you with a deep bow. You’re confused as to what about your presence warrants an extraordinary show of respect. You guess that in the hierarchy of this estate you are above the measly servants. But just by a little bit.

The women guide you down a long hallway, into a bathhouse. They begin to undress you, and there’s not much you can do to protest. Not that you’d say no to a warm bath, but the discomfort is still there. You feel watched, violated, even when their touch is light, even gentle. The women sense this, and they incorporate asking questions into their routine, checking if you’re okay with this, that. It helps you relax, at least a little bit. Over the course of the next few hours you’re thoroughly bathed, shaved, and dried. By the end of it, you don’t mind the little spa treatment you got. It makes the situation seem a little less bad, if you pretend you don’t know why you were taken care of with such precise detail. They dress you up, wrapping you in expensive silk and comment on how beautiful you look.

It’s true, you look mesmerizing. Your skin glows under the dim lights. If it wasn’t for the sadness in your eyes… no one could tell that a day ago you were on the verge of death. Time came to thank your Master for gracefully giving you a second chance.

Uraume waits outside of the bathhouse. They eye you up and down, as if they’re checking if the women did a good job at making you look presentable. They nod and the women are discharged. ‘’Did you enjoy yourself?’’, Uraume makes small talk as they lead you back down the hallway. Nothing in their voice suggests they’re interested in your answer. Everything they do feels like they’re filling out a form.

You don’t know how to answer. ‘’Yes.’’, you answer. It’s not completely truthful, but your emotions are too complicated to explain. Especially since no one here cares about them anyways.

Uraume doesn’t look at you. ‘’Master knows when people lie to him.’’

You’re caught off guard. Are you that bad of a liar? Once again, your impulse to come clean wins over you, and you spew words. ‘’I didn’t mean to come off as ungrateful..’’, you say.

‘’You need to work on it more.’’, they say. You wonder if they could spare you at least one word of encouragement for trying. You wonder if something like that even crosses their mind. If they think about this at all. Or is this a routine they’re used to from before. ,,Master has been busy today. Try not to get on his nerves.’’, they add after a moment.

You stop in front of a huge, monumental door. Uraume faces you. They give you a long stare, fix your collar and tuck your hair behind your ears. Anxiety never left you, but now it’s drumming in your ear, overwhelming you. It feels like static in your whole body, rendering you weak. Your palms sweat and tears begin to pool in your eyes.

Uraume notices. You are their responsibility after all. Master won’t be happy with them if you come in crying and disheveled. They try to come up with something that would console you quickly. ‘’Don’t worry too much. Master wouldn’t go out of his way to heal you from imminent death just to kill you immediately after.’’, even they sound like they’re not sure what they said is completely true. Was Sukuna really above doing such a thing? Somehow the statement has an opposite of the intended effect, and you feel even worse now.

Uraume grabs your shoulders and looks you intently in the eye. What they say sounds like the most sincere thing that’s left their mouth so far during your conversations. ‘’You will be fine.’’. With that, they open the door and enter before you. You try your hardest to stop yourself from crying.

��’Master, I’ve brought them.’’, they say, bowing deeply. There’s no answer from the inside, but he must’ve approved, since Uraume opens the door fully and lets you in.

You exchange one last stare with them and step into the room. You do as you’ve been told and keep your gaze fixed to your feet. The atmosphere engulfs you instantly. The air is thick and heavy, the room smells like death. You pass by a couple of pools of blood, fresh and dry ones, and you feel your hands start to shake. There are bones piled around his throne. The weight of the air, his four eyes watching your every move, and the aura of evil, pure evil. You feel as though you’re pushed onto your knees. You weren’t instructed to do so, but it comes to you as an impulse. You do it out of reverence, out of instinct. Out of paralyzing fear. You plant your hands in front of you and kiss your forehead against the cold ground.

‘’Master..’’, you say. It comes out shaky and desperate. You get no approval from him either. You feel his stare in your bones.

When he finally speaks, it’s not directed at you. ‘’Leave us.’’, he says, and you hear the doors close a moment after. You feel his stare lift from you for a second, before you’re granted his full attention. He observes you for another moment, that feels like an eternity.

‘’Stand up.’’

You stand up immediately, straightening out your robe with your hands. You stare at the bones before his throne. Some of them human, some animal. Some old and dusted, some fresh with hints of pink flesh and blood on them.

‘’Come to me.’’

You raise your gaze enough to scan where exactly you should come to. You’re disheartened to find that there’s no such thing as stairs to take you to where he’s sitting. You don’t hesitate for too long, suspecting it may anger him. You place your foot on the pile of bones and climb towards him, quite unceremoniously. You come to a stop a couple of steps away from his feet. You needn’t look directly at him to see how huge he is, sprawled in his seat. His head is leaned against his palm. One of his hands taps the armrest impatiently, the other two sit still at his sides.

Your eyes are fixated on the bones, trying your best to maintain balance on the uneven surface. You hear him tap his thigh twice, signaling for you to come closer. You choose your steps carefully as you enter his personal space. There’s nothing but him to hold onto if you fall. You sit on his knee clumsily, keeping your hands in your lap so as not to touch him without permission. One of his hands comes down on your back immediately, and you shiver.

,,Obedient.’’, he notes. ,,But that’s not what I meant.’’

In a moment, his hands are on you, pushing you back up and guiding you into a different position. He grips your hips, and heavy hands settle you in his lap, making you straddle him. Your legs struggle to stretch far apart to accommodate you in this pose. Your heart pounds in your chest, so loud you’re afraid he may hear it.

Once again you fail to control your words. ‘’Master, I’m sorry, I misunderstood...’’, you cut yourself off before you go into babbling. He must have accepted your apology, because his hands pull you closer by the hip, grinding you against his bulge. Your insides throb at the contact, and you don’t know what to do with your hands.

He finds your flustered reactions amusing. ‘’You may look.’’, he says, and meets your eyes with a smile.

You do as you’re told, returning the stare. Your eyes explore his face for a second before settling on his eyes. Everything you do is unsure, even looking at him. You don’t want him to find it offensive. You don’t have any ideas what exactly you’re dealing with. He stares back only for a moment, before he moves on to your body. He feels your cheek, hair, the fabric of your kimono, your hands and nails. You shudder against the gentle touch. You didn’t expect to be handled with such care, even for this short moment. You don’t think for a second that he will stay this gentle. But you want to cherish it while it lasts. You relax into his touch and observe him. Four eyes judge every detail of your presence. Strawberry blond hair slicked back, strands tucked behind his pierced ears. Strong jawline, accentuated by his tattoos. Wide shoulders, bearing four arms. You feel small and weak in his lap, more aware than ever before of just how powerless you are. Just how much your life hangs by a thread that is his good will and mercy.

‘’Beautiful.’’, he observes you, not quite meeting your eyes yet. His gaze lingers on your lips, nose, cheeks. ‘’Well behaved too, it seems.’’. You shudder under his praise, and the hand that trails gently down your back, teasing you. Two hands sit snugly on your hips, holding you in place. The last one travels from your shoulder, to your neck, lingering for a moment as he drags his finger against your throat. It crawls up to your cheek, cupping it, brushing the soft, flushed skin.

‘’Yes.’’, you say, catching yourself spilling words again. Your mind doesn’t quite work in this moment. You’re completely dazed by his energy, his touch, his gaze. You’re helpless as you feel yourself clench around nothing, slick pooling in your most sensitive parts in response to his advances.

‘’Yes what?’’, he asks, thumb hooking under your chin and tipping your face up.

‘’Yes Master.’’, you correct yourself quickly, catching immediately what it is he wanted you to say. In this moment, you think of Maki. You think of how she would have done anything to get herself killed before ever uttering the words of compliance that just escaped your mouth. You have no spine at all. You’re not, and never were nearly as brave as her. You’d always crumble in the face of danger. You imagine the look she’d give you, if she knew what you were doing in this moment.

‘’Good.’’, Sukuna’s low voice snaps you back to the present moment. His thumb finds your lips, swiping over them for a moment before stopping against them. You part your lips in response, and he inserts his thumb into your mouth, pressing against your tongue. You let out a tiny noise in response. You don’t need to be told. You seal your lips around him and start to suck. You close your eyes in focus, feeling the taste of his skin in your mouth. In a moment, there’s a hand on your throat, pressing just lightly enough to warn you. You open your eyes and blink at him, compensating for another mistake by sucking harder. Underneath yourself, you feel his bulge awaken, twitching in response to your efforts. So snugly pressed against him, you wonder if he feels you throb too. Your body works against you. You’re enjoying this.

‘’So willing to please..’’, he says. ‘’As you should be. You have quite a favor to return.’’

You lower your head, his words reminding you why you’re here. He must’ve sensed that you forgot, even for a moment. You pick your words carefully. ‘’It’s true, Master.. you saved my life, and for that I don’t know how to thank you enough...’’, you sound pathetic to yourself. Maki’s eyes loom over you again. She is the devil on your shoulder, whispering to run, kick, scream obscenities. Anything, just not to give in to his command. But you already have.

‘’You needn’t concern yourself with that.’’, he says. The hands on your hips guide you slowly into a grinding motion against his crotch. You sigh at the contact. ‘’You’re here to serve me.’’

‘’Master...’’, your words come out in form of a whine. Your hips move slowly in sync with his hands, your body assumed in complete submission. Pleasure builds inside your core, making you almost forget you stopped mid-sentence. ‘’Whatever you need.’’, you stare into his eyes intently. You’ve truly sunk so low.

Sukuna huffs in amusement, watching you move against him desperately. He’s satisfied that you catch on quickly. But his stare is focused on where your body meets his. He’s leaned against his palm again, pondering what to do, how to test you next.

That’s when the doors open. You freeze in panic, and look back to see Uraume, bowing deeply once again. Next you start to feel shame. You’re straddled snug against the man who razed a city, killed people, innocents, maybe even your friends. And now there’s someone watching you while you’re at it. Uraume pays you no mind, or they pretend not to. They look straight through you, into their master.

‘’Master, I apologize profusely for interrupting. It’s an urgent matter.’’, Uraume says, and looks at the ground.

Sukuna’s finger taps on the armrest in frustration. His demeanor changes, pleased expression exchanged with a frown. You feel the switch in energy in the core of your being, and fear grows in your chest again. He stares at Uraume for a while, then he reverts back to you.

‘’Come back to me tonight.’’, and with that, his hands push you off his lap and you stagger back to your feet. Your body mourns the lack of contact.

‘’Yes master..’’, you mumble and bow, then make your way down the pile of bones again. Sukuna doesn’t react, at least not that you can see or feel, so you guess he doesn’t have a complaint on how you said your goodbyes to him. You walk back to Uraume, swallowing your shame. They wait for you at the doors and lead you outside.

A couple of turns later you’re back in the room you woke up in. Your bed was made in the meantime and a new set of sleeping clothes waited for you nicely folded on top of it. Your eyes linger on the door to the terrace.

‘’Can I see the garden?’’, you ask, and turn back to Uraume.

‘’Master doesn’t allow it yet.’’, they say.

‘’Yet?’’, you narrow your eyes. Uraume starts to get visibly annoyed by your questions. Their voice however remains unchanged.

‘’Good behavior earns privileges.’’

,What a privilege, to go outside.’, you think to yourself, and look back through the window.

‘’You seem to be in Master’s good graces already. I’m sure you’ll be allowed outside in no time.’’, Uraume speaks what sounds like words of comfort for the first time.

Of course you are in his good graces. Because you left all dignity at the doors of his throne room. He stripped you of it, without any effort. His energy alone forced you to your knees, his words struck directly to your core. You wonder how much more you’ll have to endure before being granted the simple mercy of feeling the sun on your skin. ‘’Thank you.’’, you say to Uraume. You appreciate their sentiment.

‘’Are you hungry?’’, they ask. You wonder if anyone in these premises knows, or cares about your name. Or are you that worthless to them.

‘’Yes.’’

Uraume nods and leaves the room to bring you some food. You sit by the terrace door and look outside.

You can’t see the sunset from where your chambers are located. All you’re left with is the little piece of sky, uncovered by the surrounding trees, and the limits that windows impose on your view. The outside of the estate looks weirdly peaceful, like it’s not a home to a monster. All sorts of animals appear in the garden, from bugs to birds. As the night falls, you hear the faint sounds of frogs, and even catch sight of a little hedgehog, trotting from one bush to another. The garden truly seems like a little piece of heaven inside what effectively is your prison. Your heart longs to see it, to spend time in it. To smell the grass and feel the earth, your mother, against your skin.

You’re called to him again when the sun has already set, and the last bits of light leave the night sky. Uraume holds the door open to you without a word. You’re forced to part your eyes from the outside, and look to them instead. Their head is low, their stare adorned with what you recognize as pity. You haven’t felt fear about the imminent encounter until you’ve seen them look at you like this. Now it’s starting to creep up on you all over again. Static. Tingling and restlessness. Maybe they know something you don’t, perhaps about what kind of mood your master is in now. You stand up and follow them out. It’s easier to just get it over with, you think again.

Uraume knocks on the door and opens just a crack. ‘’Master, as per your request.’’, they bow. Once again there is no verbal confirmation. You know he’s reacted when Uraume moves to make space for you to come in. You start to see patterns in their interactions.

His chambers are dimly lit, the interior hard to see. He sits on the edge of his bed and stares your way. You feel it again. A lump in your throat. A force of understanding that has you picking up your robes and falling to your knees. If he wasn’t in the mood before, your willingness to serve now puts a smile on his face. You don’t get to see it though. Your face is touching the ground.

‘’Leave, Uraume.’’, he says. You hear the doors close shut, and note that he sounds a bit more impatient than before.

You feel a bit easier when Uraume isn’t there. Something about another pair of eyes observing your ordeal made it all the more difficult.

‘’Come.’’, he says, and you hear the familiar tap. You look up to see his hand on the spot next to him on the bed. You struggle back to your feet and walk over to him hesitantly. Your hands sweat, and you try to wipe them off of each other. You overthink every little detail. How close to him should you sit? Is it better to sit further away and be lulled closer, or sit closer and be pushed away?

‘’Well?’’, he asks, eagerly watching you debate with yourself. ‘’Or do you prefer my lap?’’

You’re not quite sure what’s the right answer. ‘’Wherever you wish, Master…’’, you reply, reminding yourself to stare at the ground.

He sees every doubtful thought reflect on your face. He knows you’re being diplomatic, neither wanting to refuse him, nor make requests. ,,Pick.’’, he challenges you.

Your mind races as you think through the positives and negatives of either choice.

,,I’m waiting.’’, he follows up with a warning. It sounds sinister. Giving up any further mental efforts, you pick up the fabric of your clothes and climb onto his lap again, dipping your knees into the bed besides him. He hums in response, seemingly satisfied with your choice. A pair of hands quickly finds your hips again, drawing you closer, he seems to like to hold you in place. Once again you’re seated snugly against him, layers of fabric being the only thing parting you from his bulge. ‘’Look at me.’’, he says, tilting your chin up. ‘’Let’s continue where we left off.’’

You do as he says, meeting his eyes. You try to gauge his mood. For now, he seems content with you. You let yourself relax. So far, there’s nothing unenjoyable about your encounter. Other than the nature of being made into a servant, of course.

‘’Do you know why you’re here?’’, he asks, rocking you slowly against him. Your hands sit at his hips, clinging to the scrunched up fabric of his kimono. You’re not quite sure you’re allowed to touch him deliberately. You wish to, though. You yearn for a connection, after all you’ve never been in this position before.

‘’To serve you, Master.’’, you reply, blinking at him with doe eyes. Nothing about this situation should be arousing, yet you find your insides clenching at your own words. Effectively you’re trapped, with no chance of another untimely interruption. You’re going to be made to do things even if you’re unsure of yourself. Even if you don’t want to. But you’re still pushing against him, searching for more of him, on your own accord. He has a power over you.

‘’True.’’, he tucks your hair behind your ear, leaning closer into you. You can feel his breath on your face, hot, dangerous. ,,But you’re not my servant.’’, he thinks out loud. ,,Or a slave, for that matter. Let’s crown you as my pet.’’

Another throb.

,,A source of entertainment. A subject of training. My little human jester.’’

You imagine looking at yourself in the mirror, at what you’ve become within a day of being under threat. A piece of you wants to mourn, a piece of you wants to spit on your reflection. What comforts you is that, even if your friends are alive, they will never know the extent of your compliance. They will never know the words that leave your mouth as you sit upon a monster’s lap, wanting more. ‘’How can I entertain you, Master?’’, you ask.

A reserved, but wicked smile graces his face. ‘’Undress.’’

Your heart sinks. But you move, standing up from his lap and taking a step back. So he has a better view. You hesitate, but eventually undo your obi and unwrap your kimono and undergarments, discarding the clothes on the ground. The cool air touches your skin, making you shiver. Your hands sit at your sides, feeling your goosebumps. He observes you carefully from his seat, his eyes exploring your naked form. When he’s satisfied, he motions for you to come closer with his finger. You follow, drawn in by desire.

He doesn’t let you sit back yet. You stand between his legs, as his cold hands start to feel you up. Plush soft skin, reactive to his every advance. His touch is gentle, but hungry. Impatient. He grasps at your waist and behind, fondles your chest between his fingers. One of his hands teases your thighs, your stomach, before finally dipping between your folds. You whine out loud as his finger brushes against your sensitive bud, and feels up your wet entrance. Pleased with your reaction, he draws his finger back to your bud, spreading your essence to ease friction. Your knees buckle and you gasp again.

‘’So responsive.’’, he comments, as he starts to rub circles around your sensitive spot. ,,Has anyone touched you like this before?’’

‘’N-no, Master, just me..’’, you say, hiding your face in shame.

He likes your response. He likes your shame. He will make you feel so much more of it than just this. You’re all his for the taking. ‘’Lay down.’’, he commands, and withdraws his hand from between your thighs. He stands up, and just for a moment before you climb into the bed, you get to see how tall he is in comparison to you.

‘’Not that far away.’’, he says. You wiggle back so you’re closer to the edge of the bed. You lay on your back, propped up on your elbows, legs spread wide for his viewing. You try to do your best. He looms over you now, fingers finding your private parts again. He rubs you carefully with one hand, the other feels your entrance again, and one finger dips in. You sigh, head leaning back at the foreign feeling. Two fingers and the pain of the stretch already pricks at you. A whimper escapes you, but you lull yourself to be quiet. It’s only his fingers, after all. They’re thick and long, and practiced, as they explore your insides. He’s doing you a favor.

‘’You’ve been such an obedient little human. You deserve a reward.’’, he says, his words making you squeeze his fingers. You moan as sparks of pleasure rattle your body, his fingers effortlessly finding the spot inside you that makes your leg shake. You forget about your manners. He stops, and you look back to him in desperation. ‘’What do you say when I reward you?’’

‘’Thank you Master!’’, you look at him through hazy eyes. Standing above you like this, he looks like a god. In complete ownership of your smaller, sprawled out body. You feel filthy, but his fingers inside you make you see stars, make you completely forget how you got here in the first place. You’re overtaken by a perverted, primal instinct, as you near your orgasm and force your legs open wider. The squelching noises of his fingers working out your hole fill the room.

Sukuna responds to your movements with a devilish grin. ‘’’Close, little pet?’’, he asks you, almost mockingly. His fingers massage your spongy walls, the sensitive spot in the depths of your fragile body.

‘’S-so close… Ahh!’’, you mewl through the moans, squeezing your fingers in a fist.

‘’Don’t hold back.’’, he says, eyes fixated on you, his own erection starting to strain unbearably against the fabric of his clothes. ‘’I may be generous, but that doesn’t mean I’m patient.’’

His words are truly your command. His energy, his presence, it strips you of any agency you have over yourself. Your body shakes to his words and pleasure washes over you, blacking your vision out as your eyes roll back. It rocks you, your hole throbbing, squeezing hard around his fingers. He rubs you through it gently but persistently, until you’re so sensitive you’re closing your legs to make him stop. You don’t have time to be embarrassed, coming down from your orgasm. He is entertained, but his hands are on your knees in no time, spreading them back apart, reminding you you’re far from done. When you look back up at him, his stare spells a warning. You quickly react by symbolically spreading a little wider, and tilting your hips to give him access.

‘’Would you rob me of my turn, pet?’’, he asks, undoing his obi.

‘’No! Never, Master..’’, your eyes travel down his figure as he discards his clothes. Even from this angle, his sculpted body looked massive in comparison to you. You wonder if it would engulf you if he lied over you right then and there, leaving only your clinging arms and legs as evidence that there is someone underneath him at all. Adorned by tattoos and muscles, he looks monstrous, imposing. You look at him with admiration, as your gaze drops to his hips, and the essence of his manhood. The two of them that hang from his crotch, rock hard and throbbing at the sight of you. At first you are taken aback, but after a moment you realize the math is right and it’s weird this hasn’t crossed your mind earlier. He does have a pair of everything else, so it makes sense he’s double gifted down there too. The base of his cocks is crowned with a low hanging set of balls, plump and ready to be drained. Nervousness that paints your face and changes your demeanor. You’re suddenly very aware of just how small your frame is compared to him, and the size of his cocks.

He likes watching people’s reactions. He is a cruel man after all. He likes his subjects nervous, fearful. A little resistance even excites him. But your pale face and tense body almost make him feel sorry for ruining your relaxed composure. Almost. It also happens to make him throb with desire. Underneath him, your face is contorted in fear. You think he might just kill you. What a painful and degrading death it would be, to die split on his cock like at the stake.

‘’Don’t like what you see?’’, he smirks at you, teasing, his demeanor seeming to change in an instant.

‘’Master, it’s not that... it’s just that...’’, you stutter over your words. Embarrassment and horror cojoin in your excuses. ‘’I’ve never done this before. I don’t think I can…’’, your eyes meet his and you trail off, leaving your thoughts unfinished. Sukuna doesn’t consider his subjects. He is a man who takes and takes, without a second thought, or a look at the person he’s taking from. His stare does linger on your fearful eyes though. He notices that in himself, feels himself slipping up from his usual behavior. An impulse comes to him to assert dominance aggressively, but he doesn’t react. He remembers how easily you submitted to him in the first place. He doesn’t need feats of aggression to scare you into compliance. You’re very compliant anyways. It’s just that you make him feel the closest emotion he’s felt to guilt in a very long time.

‘’Scoot back, pet. Hands and knees. Just one will do for tonight.’’, he says. You doubt he tried to comfort you, but thinking of it like that makes it easier to bear.

You obey him and turn around, crawling further onto the bed on all fours. He follows you, knees dipping into the mattress. His words are of little comfort as he crawls over you like a predator over his prey. Fear rises in your chest and you feel your heart start to pound again. He settles over you, heavy hands landing on your hips and pushing your thighs further apart to accommodate him between them. Another hand lands flat on your back, the plane between your shoulder blades, so small against his massive palm. So fragile against his brute strength. He could break you if he wanted to. Yet, he barely even pushes you.

‘’Down.’’, he says, urging you to bend, allow him better access. You follow instructions, letting his hand guide your torso lower until your chest is pressed into the mattress. You feel uncomfortable, bent into this position that is completely new to you. Your slick folds are exposed for his viewing, your opening gaping with a shameless noise. He’s going to take you from behind, like an animal. You won’t even see, or feel your suitor, the man who will claim your innocence.

‘’Master..’’, your voice trembles and you turn your head to the side, searching for his gaze. He looks from your body back to you, listening. ‘’I’m scared..’’

He huffs, his expression not changing to signal he’s unhappy. Rather, he seems amused. Noticing that doesn’t help you feel any less scared. His first reaction is ,you should be.’. But he doesn’t want to send you into hysterics. He likes the peace and quiet. ‘’Relax pet.’’, he says, more of a command than a suggestion. ‘’It’ll hurt less.’’

You will yourself to relax, trying instead to focus on something else. However there’s little else to think of in a position like this, just him, his hands on your hips and back, keeping you snugly in place for him to use and enjoy. Your mind wails in anticipation.

You feel his wet tip grind against you, feeling the familiar need slowly come back to you as it rubs at your clit. His grip is unfaltering on your hips, holding you in place as he starts to enter you. You cry out loud, and your body instinctively tries to wriggle out of his grasp, escape the intrusion.

Sukuna growls, his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise, and he pushes you back onto him.

‘’Where do you think you’re going?’’, he says, audibly displeased. His rock hard member protrudes deeper into you, and you shut your eyes tight and grip the sheets so hard your knuckles go white. You wanted to be brave and quiet, wanted even to babble an apology, but as he advances, stretching you open painfully, you cannot help but cry out loud. Tears drop from your eyes and you bury your face into the bed.

He grunts as you envelop him, coating him in a mixture of your blood and wetness. He pushes through your resistance, the feeling overwhelming, even for him. Your walls cling to him so tightly he has to put mental effort into not releasing right then and there. He moves slowly, caring just enough to not break you. In no time he’s fully sheathed in, his balls pressed against your clit. You’re so incredibly full, you think you may just pop. Sukuna bends over you, and you feel his hot breath on your back. You turn around to see him through a blur of tears. You’re a sobbing, mewling mess. Filled to the brim with his want for you. It brings a smile to his face.

‘’How does it feel, pet?’’, he asks. He truly doesn’t care for your answer, he’s just entertained by your measly crying voice.

‘’H-hurts..hurts so much, Master!’’, you sob.

‘’Shame.’’, his head leans in closer to yours, and you can see nothing but his glowing red eyes. ,,Because it feels heavenly to me.’’

With that, he starts moving. You gasp, holding onto the sheets as he rocks your body with his thursts. Slow and deep, mercifully you think, his cock heavy inside of you, spreading you thin. His hips meet the soft flesh of your ass with a slap at every stroke. The stretch burns, but the discomfort dissipates slowly, as his fat tip stroking your sensitive walls, sending hints of pleasure through you. You feel him whole, every vein and ridge and curve of his cock.

Slowly your tears begin to dry, and your painful sobs are replaced by lustful gasps and moans. His eyes keep coming back to you from time to time, observing your reactions to his every move. Your head is turned to the side, and at first you avoid his gaze, ashamed of crying like a weakling. You know there’s nothing he despises more than that. Now that you’ve began to accept him, welcome him inside of you, you look back. Eyes blinking back at him idly, innocently, as your mouth drops open. He grunts as he fucks you, the sound low and masculine. He picks up the pace and the room echoes the sounds of your squelching wet cunt and the skin of his hips, thighs and balls meeting yours with every push. His cock rummages through your depths with abandon. Your moans follow his frequency, as you feel pleasure build in your core slowly, each of his movement coaxing you closer to another orgasm.

Your hands ache with the need to touch his body, to feel him close, feel his muscles tense and relax as he breaks you. The pleasure sparks inside you and you’re restless, craving another release so bad. Your legs tremble, toes curl, you start to push back, meeting his hips mid stroke.

‘’Enjoying yourself, pet?’’, Sukuna asks, dipping his head closer to you again, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. Straight to your core. You tighten around him, nearing your release and he growls.

‘’M-m, yes Master! So big... Feels so good!’’, you stutter, reduced to a trembling mess, clinging desperately onto anything you can get a hold of, in hopes of delaying your orgasm. He hasn’t moved a finger to please you this time around and you’re already fluttering around him. ‘’M-master..please.. Wanna touch you, feel you..’’, you open and close your hand in tune with your words.

His hand digs into your hair and tugs, picking the upper half of your body up from the bed. ,,What was that, pet? A demand?’’

‘’No! No Master.. I wouldn’t.. I-I was begging!’’, you backtrack immediately, your neck straining from the force he’s pulling you with.

He relaxes the hold and you fall back into the previous position. He is satisfied with your answer, but he won’t grant your wish. ‘’You may not.’’, he says, and exhales shakily as you tighten at his words again. ‘’But you’re cute when you beg.’’, you do it again, and he knows you’re close. ‘’Such a horny little human. How quickly you’ve changed your mind.’’

‘’A-ah, Master.. Gonna, gonna cum..’’, you whine, his cock hitting your insides perfectly, his pace steady, unfaltering.

‘’I’ll allow it. Whore.’’

With his last word, you’re tipped over the edge and your orgasm drowns you. Your breath hitches, hands grip the sheets, and the whole world stops as pleasure shakes through your body like electricity. You trash against him helplessly, your body not fully under your control. His hands finally release your hips, and your quivering body slumps against the mattress, your cunt fluttering around nothing as you lose contact with your master. You’re left a moaning, sensitive mess, sticking to the sheets in your sweat and juices. Your shaking legs still, and you feel numbness envelop your body

Sukuna gives you a moment to ride out the aftershocks. Then he straddles you and leans his weight against you. His hand crawls under your body, stopping to grip your breast and continues to pick up your cheeks between his fingers, turning your face towards him. His eyes are threatening, and he doesn’t need to tell you anything. You know what he wants.

‘’T-Thank you, Master. S-so good... Thank you! ’’, you say, your hand itching to feel his face. He chuckles, takes both of your hands and traps them underneath his on either of your sides. Tonight, he is adamant on not allowing you to touch him.

Satisfied with your answer, he guides his cock back into you and continues where he left off, chasing his own end. With your legs closed like this, you feel even tighter around him. You’re trapped between his heavy body and the mattress, unable to move a muscle as he picks up the pace, withdrawing and snapping back in with each powerful thurst.

‘’Good pet. You know where you belong.’’, his grip tightens on your wrists as he nears his release, growing weary and relentless. ‘’Under me. Always.’’, he growls into your ear.

You meet his eyes and hold his gaze, enticing his pleasure with your words. ‘’Yes Master! When-whenever you need me!’’, you moan, and let your mouth hang open in an ,o’ shape.

His pace slows, strokes getting sloppy as his orgasm draws close. He breathes hard, face close to yours. You feel him waver, feel him slowly lose his composure. Feel him come apart slowly nestled in the warmth of your insides. His brows are furrowed, eyes tight shut, mouth hanging loose. One of his hands crawls under your belly, propping your ass up just a bit, for a better angle. He feels himself inside you, a bulge protruding in your lower belly as he holds you in place. This is the final push that makes the coil of pleasure inside of him snap. He comes with a guttural, animalistic groan, and comes down biting your shoulder. His cock twitches violently, kissing your womb as he empties his load inside you. He groans through every spurt, hot and sticky as he paints your inner walls. His thighs shake against yours, his whole body rocked by the powerful orgasm. One he hasn’t experienced in what could be hundreds of years.

You feel so completely full of him. As he comes down from his high, he licks up the blood off your shoulder, tongue hot over the place where his teeth punctured your soft skin. He finally lets go of your wrists and sits up, slowly withdrawing his cock. Beads of his cum follow his cock, leaking out of your empty cunt. So much of it, you feel dirty letting it drip out of you like this.

He takes a moment to observe you, laying there fucked out, marked and utterly claimed by him. You let out a helpless noise, feeling your hurting wrists. The bite on your shoulder will leave a bruise, same as the place his finger dug into your hips. Your cunt aches from the assault of his cock inside it. Weakness takes over you, and you feel like you can barely move. He doesn’t consider healing you. He wants you to be reminded of him, constantly. When you stand up on wobbly legs, when you take off your clothes to go the bathroom. When you turn in bed. When you look into the mirror. He won’t let you forget, even for a moment, where you are, and who you belong to.

He stands up from the bed, and you turn your head to search for him. ‘’Master? Have I..’’, you stutter when you meet his eyes. His gaze is attentive as he fixes his ruffled hair, slicking it back. He gives you a moment to finish your sentence, but you don’t. You just sit up in his bed, pulling your knees to your chest. Hiding from him, as if in shame. Your hand searches for covers to pull over yourself. You’d most like to disappear under them. How pathetic you are, you think. Searching for approval, for praise, from a man who took you with no regards to your wishes or feelings. Why would he compliment you? You’ve hardly been anything but a fucktoy for him, not even worthy enough for him to fuck you looking at your face. Tears begin to pool in your eyes, emotions from your first experience overwhelming you. You crave touch, affection, anything to contrast the treatment you’ve received until now. If he would let you, you would cling to him like a newborn would to it’s mother. Like your existence depends solely on him, and he is your entire world. But he is not a man who likes to be touched. Not a man who likes intimacy. You could only dream of a kiss, of tenderness of any kind.

When you look back, Sukuna is standing above you, a piece of clothing already wrapped around his waist. His hand feels your cheek, the expression on his face almost soft, but still dominating. Seeing you cry in doubt you haven’t done a good job truly somehow makes him more satisfied with you. You show a great concern for your master. He likes to be the center of people’s worlds.

‘’Weep not, my pet. Your efforts will not go unnoticed.’’, he says, voice still as stern as ever. ,,I’m happy with your servitude.’’

Your eyes lighten up as you look up to him. His stare is docile, but threatening, as you remember that after all you are supposed to keep your head low. You duck down in apology. ‘’T-Thank you, Master.’’, your voice falters, but Sukuna is still satisfied with how quickly you pick up on your mistakes. He finds you’re quite easy to work with. He turns and leaves you, for only a moment, to sit and reminisce about this whole encounter on his bed.

‘’Uraume.’’, he then says, in a relaxed, almost quiet voice. You don’t think you’ve even heard the doors open, but the white haired monk stands in the corner of the room. Have they been there the whole time? You spiral in shame as they nod and approach you, their hands finding yours. They pull lightly, urging you off the bed. You didn’t think about where you’ll spend the night, but it makes sense it won’t be here. Sukuna wouldn’t let you touch him, see him, he wouldn’t kiss you, much less let you share his bed while he sleeps. You feel used, dehumanized. It hurts, but you stand up. Uraume picks up your clothes from the floor and wraps them around you lazily, doing enough just to cover you up until you’re back in your room.

‘’Rest up, pet. I’ll keep you quite busy during our times together.’’, Sukuna tells you, and gives you one last look, before he disappears in the shadows of his chambers. You bow to him and follow Uraume out.

What follows is a walk of shame. There is no one in the hallway, and Uraume walks in front of you, but you feel the weight of a thousand eyes. You watch each wobbly step with care, so as not to make further cause for embarrassment. Uraume lets you in your room. It is lit by a single candle. You stare at it’s faltering flame as Uraume disappears, leaving you alone for a moment. So this is what your life will look like from now on.

Uraume returns with a warm, wet towel. ,,Clean yourself up. You have a fresh set of clothes on the bed.’’ Their stare, empty as ever, finds your eyes and lingers for one last moment. ‘’Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast.’’

You stare at the towel in your hand, not returning their gaze. They eventually move, closing the door behind them and leaving you alone in the room. You do what you can to clean yourself, wrap yourself in sleeping clothes and lay on the bed. Squeezing your knees to your chest, you long for comfort, for warmth. For any reminiscence of humanity that you’re yet to find in this mansion.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna smut

655 notes · View notes

lightwing-s · 9 months

Note

hi, I was wondering if you’re still taking requests from your list of prompts?

If so, could you write something with the prompt 62 (along the lines of have we met before?)? Where the reader gets saved by the Red Hood for a minor crime or is a witness and quickly interacts with him. Being fan fiction, either Jay or the reader is smitten. Then when she meets Jason, his siblings notice that they know each other and poke fun at the situation? Like a public setting?

If you want to of course! Have a nice day/evening!

“Did we meet before?” you asked Jason, after what felt like an eternity waiting together in line for drinks at the skimpy bar Barb had dragged him to. You need to socialize, she had told him. Bullshit.

Or maybe not.

You two had been talking since the moment you approached him to wait for your drinks, joking about the waiting time, joking about the people dancing at the bar. He was having fun with you, enjoying the sound of your laugh like he had done earlier that week.

The fact is, you two had met before. But you didn’t know.

After rescuing you and other hostages from a robbery at the jewelry shop you worked at, Jason, or the Red Hood, paid a lot more attention to you, making sure you were okay, that you weren’t hurt. You, on the other hand, made sure you were alright and lightened his night with your bright personality and unforgettable charisma.

Jason was hooked. He had thought about you all week, how you reached for his arms to assure him you were alright, how you thanked him with a tight embrace, a few tears falling on his jacket, after he saved you from nearly being shot.

You surprised him with how fast you recovered, or at least how you seemed to, throwing jokes and sweet smiles at him, but deep down he could see your hurt, your fright. So he had to ask again, he had to make sure, and then you broke into his arms, cried for a while, and when you pushed yourself away, you still gave him your brave smile.

“No, I don’t think so.” he replied to you, turning to face the other side of the bar, avoiding your eyes and the lie that hid in his own. Finding the table him and his friends were sitting at, he received eyebrow jiggles and annoying smirks in return, as he recognized the girl by his side.

“Weird, I could’ve sworn I recognized your voice from somewhere. You look really familiar.”

“Really?” he questioned, he was wearing a helmet all night.

“I mean, I think I would recognize those large… s-shoulders if I saw them.” you replied, awkwardly changing your sentence in the middle, the words falling off your mouth without you really paying attention before you could take a hold of yourself and reply with something that wouldn’t leave him weirded out.

He chuckled, amused by the growing pink on your face.

“Next.” he heard coming from the bar, announcing his turn to order his drink.

“And for the lady…?” he looked back at you after ordering his drink, eyebrows high waiting for you to answer.

“You don’t have to.” you tried to argue, but Jason’s voice was adamant.

“Bullshit.” he said, rolling his eyes in a way that had your tummy spinning. “What are you ordering?”

Biting on the nail of your thumb, you shyly reply. “A negroni.”

“And for the lady, a negroni.” he repeated to the bartender. As he walked away to prepare your drinks, Jason turned to you, one elbow rested on the bar.

“You didn’t have to.” you tried again, shaking your head and holding a smile.“Yes, I did.” His reply was sharp. “How else would I get more time to talk to you and find out about this guy that has shoulders as nice as mine?”

#i forgot about this prompt list lol #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd blurb #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x yn #jason todd x female!reader #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fluff #red hood blurb

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apomaro-mellow · 6 months

Text

King and Prince 16

Part 15

El and Max recognized Eddie, even under the hood as he kept his head low. His music was too familiar for him to be anyone else. A few others in the crowd had their suspicions, but knowing their mischievous king could change his form, most didn’t think much of it. Either it wasn’t him and was simply another musician. Or it was and he had come down to grace the people with his presence. Either way, they loved it enough to dance with it.

El clapped her hands and then grabbed one of Steve’s to pull him into the crowd of dancers. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he danced. It had to have been years. As he got older, his parents warned him against making a fool of himself in public and that included dancing. His steps were unpracticed but when he looked at El’s jubilant face, it didn’t really matter. Max was clapping her hands from the side and in Steve’s eyes that just wouldn’t do.

He grabbed her hand too and pulled her in too, twirling them both as they laughed along. It was freeing, just being able to laugh and dance like this. El took both of Max’s hands to lead her in their own dance. Steve was about to fade to the side just to watch when he felt a poke at his shoulder. When he turned, there was a beautiful young lady there, offering her hand. Without a second thought, Steve took it and joined her in another dance.

He missed this, he realized. Having another body so close. Even the kids, he kept at a distance. But this had him remembering what it was like, just being with someone so near and neither meaning to hurt each other.

When the song switched up, Steve found himself with another partner, this one a young man and much more bold with his touches. They lingered as much was decent in public but Steve got the message clear. For the first time in a while, Steve wondered if he could get away for a quick moment.

But then, the song was over and people were clapping. The man was still gazing at Steve as he gave his name.

“What’s yours?”, he asked.

Steve’s voice was caught in his throat, trying to think of what to say. His name wasn’t uncommon but how much should he say? He was saved from having to answer by the girls grabbing his elbows and pulling him away. Still, a part of him wondered if it could’ve gone further. What could have happened? Would he see him later?

When lunch time came, they met back up with the boys to eat. Steve didn’t realize how hungry he was from all the games until the first bite passed his lips. He was so busy making sure the kids didn’t mess up their own clothes, that he ended up getting a couple of stains on him. He led the kids to go and see the illusionist and then left to get himself cleaned up a little.

“Made a bit of a mess, didn’t you little prince?”

Steve stiffened at that voice and turned to see the red hood from before. He didn’t know why he didn’t catch on sooner. “It’s you…”

Eddie lifted the hood just a bit. “That it is.” He looked Steve up and down. “Follow me.”

Steve watched as Eddie walked into a dress shop. He looked around to see if anyone else noticed the presence of royalty, but no one was looking their way. He went inside and saw it was more of a general tailor’s. Eddie went to the counter and leaned forward, putting his hands on it.

“Were you able to finish it in time, dear friend?”, Eddie asked as he lowered his hood.

“A rush job outfit with very little input to the customer’s measurements. You’re lucky I took it on in the first place.” The tailor herself was a middle aged woman and Steve wondered if she knew she was talking to the king.

Eddie beckoned Steve over and they were led into a dressing room. Hanging there was something in a lovely dark green. Unable to help himself, Steve reached out to touch the material. So fine.

“Do you uh, like it?”, Eddie asked.

If Steve didn’t know any better, he might think the man was nervous. A previous version of him would have set that target and drawn to attack but…well he wasn’t that sort of person anymore, was he?

“It’s a very handsome garment. Are you wearing it for later?” Seeing the king in green would be quite the change from the reds and blacks he was known for.

“Actually… it’s for you.”

Steve turned his gaze from the clothing to Eddie and saw him looking…it was odd to say but he looked bashful. Like he was anxious about whether or not Steve would appreciate the gift. And that’s what this was, wasn’t it? A gift.

“You had this made for me?”

“Only if you want it. I mean, I didn’t even ask if you liked green and the madame was right, I wasn’t able to give your measurements, so it might not fit, but I thought you’d want-I don’t know why I was thinking about what you want but-”

“Your Majesty”, Steve cut him off. “I like it.” He did. Very much. “Can I change into it now?”

“Y-yeah, yes, of course. I’ll um, I’ll just give you some privacy”, Eddie said, stepping backwards. “Unless you think you’d need some help”, he chuckled.

“Well, normally…”, Steve said as he started to undress. “I’d have a servant attending to me. But I can’t very well as a king to assist.”

Eddie already eschewed social norms and was already forgetting why Steve would have an issue with him helping out. He just knew, somehow, that doing so would be crossing a line that neither of them were ready for. But looking at Steve’s bare back made it easy to forget.

“I’ll just wait outside then!”, he said quickly, making his escape.

Steve couldn’t help but smile to himself. Today had been a day of rediscovery. He still had the looks and charm to turn heads. It also seemed like the king himself wasn’t immune to those charms but Steve was trying not to think too hard about that. He got dressed, shedding the bland colors with stains for something more vibrant. More him.

“I’ve got to go and get ready for the show”, Eddie said from beyond the door. “I’ll wrangle the little ones. I’ll see you there, okay?”

Steve answered in the affirmative, taking his time to make sure the outfit looked right. There wasn’t a mirror in here, so hopefully the tailor had one so he could look himself over before going out in public.

Meanwhile, Eddie was having not a crisis. It wasn’t that serious, definitely not. But he was definitely thinking a lot of things as he made his way to the grand stage. He nodded to the elderly, those that knew him when they saw him. He had to focus. He’d be playing to a larger crowd soon and he couldn’t think of Steve. At least, not in the way his mind was trying to make him think. Eddie wasn’t blind.

He knew Steve was handsome, objectively. But today was the first time he got to see that charisma in action. He had watched as Steve impressed the crowds at the games. And then later when he enthralled others to dance. His expression had been so…free. Free and happy and with none of the stress or worry or hatred that Eddie had been used to seeing on him.

Eddie found the children and told them that Steve would be along later. At the stage, their instruments had arrived and each of them took some time to prepare. When it was set to begin, Eddie shed his red cloak and stepped onto the stage to applause. These were his people, who he loved and adored. Folks that were either born here and trusted him with their lives or who had had nowhere else to go and came here for refuge.

As their ruler, he would give them anything. Thankfully, all they required right now was some entertainment. So he introduced his wards and they took to the stage to play. Eddie was so proud of the work they put in and how good they sounded together. There were still a couple of slip ups but nothing an audience pouring on their adoration would notice. And Eddie was too euphoric to even dwell on it right now.

As the song finished, Eddie’s eyes went over the crowd and he saw a beacon of green. Steve, looking fetching in his new clothing. The kids took a bow and then exited the stage, leaving Eddie by himself.

“Good evening to you all”, Eddie greeted, letting his voice boom over the crowd. “You’ve worked hard all fall and had to hide away for most of winter. Now is the time for freedom and frolicking!”

“And fucking!”, someone from the audience shouted.

“And a healthy dose of loving on one another, yes”, Eddie humored. “But as we say goodbye to the cold, I want us to remember that winter is not to be hated or abhorred. It is just as necessary for our lives as is the other seasons.”

Winter was when the demobeasts were most active. It was the coldest part of the year and the darkest. It was a time for humans to huddle up for warmth and appreciate each other. The last thing Eddie wanted was for anyone to associate winter with bad things. He smiled at his people as he strummed again, starting a traditional song. One his people knew well.

One that Steve was surprised that he knew.

The melody started off slow and somber, representing winter. And Eddie looked like winter incarnate with his dark colors and the way his hair framed his face. The crowd started to sing and Steve joined along without even thinking. The song was about winter falling asleep and giving way to spring, like two old friends crossing paths, catching up before parting ways again.

It brought back memories of singing the same song back home, with his own subjects. How could two different places share the same song? Well, he could also ask how winter and spring could be friends when they were so different. When the song finished, Steve watched as Eddie looked on the crowd with what could only be called adoration.

Steve was realizing that Eddie was different from his father. He loved his people and the feeling was mutual. Steve’s father only cared about subjugation, from his subjects and his family. Eddie introduced other musical acts, artists who had played on the street earlier now got a chance in the spotlight.

Day officially gave way to night and Eddie joined back up with Steve, hood on and children in tow.

“Time for these puppies to return to the litter. But as an adult, you do not have a curfew, little prince.”

The suggestion was obvious. Eddie was allowing him the freedom to explore on his own. Even though he had enjoyed himself all day, Steve wasn’t sure how he would even go about it. Did he tell people his real name? Anything true about himself? Would they be as welcoming if they knew who he was?

“I think I’m ready for a hot bath and a soft bed”, he said. “Some of us actually worked up a sweat today.”

“Yeah, but you totally dominated the games!”, Dustin exclaimed before letting out a yawn.

Lucas nodded. “It was awesome. You should’ve seen it, Eddie.”

“Oh I’ve got eyes everywhere”, Eddie said. “And I caught a little glimpse of his feats.”

“What do you mean you have eyes everywhere?”, Steve asked with a brow raised.

“He means exactly what he said”, Max said.

A bird landed on Eddie’s shoulder and he scritched its head. “You know I can see through the eyes of different beasties. I can transform into them too. Anytime I need eyes in the sky or on the ground and can’t be there personally.”

Steve thought about all the times he got a visit from one of these birds. He assumed they were all the same bird but were they different? Were some of them Eddie? Steve considered being indignant, or even outraged. But it wasn’t like the ravens ever saw something he didn’t want them to see.

“What’s on your mind?”, Eddie asked as they loaded onto the wagon to be taken back to the castle.

Steve grinned. “Nothing. I just had no idea the king was a peeping Tom.”

Part 17

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell @anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690 @autumncrocusandladybug @lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #the party

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its-time-to-write · 11 months

Note

Could you write a fic with a writer who’s just found out that the guy she’s seeing really isn’t what she thought he was and she’s feeling really down about it/him and Jamie comforts her?

hope this is what you were looking for😊 thanks for the ask!!

we could be so good

It’s a sad drive from the restaurant to Jamie’s house. You walk straight in and crash on the couch.

“That bad, huh?” Jamie says.

You nod. “We’ve been going out for over a month, and it’s like a switch flipped. He’s a complete prick.”

Jamie awkwardly pats your head. “I’m sorry love.”

“How could I be so- so- blind?” you continue. “I should’ve known he was too good to be true. I fucking hate dating and I never want to fucking do it again.”

“You’ve been with a lot of shit blokes,” Jamie muses. You’re both silent, thinking back on all the guys you’ve dated over the past eight years.

He snaps his fingers. “Ronald Spencer.”

You sigh. “Ah yes. Ronald Spencer. The absolute love of my life. Fuckin’ shame we met so early in life.”

Jamie shrugs. “You were pretty mature for a pair of five year olds. ‘Course, I’d already had two girlfriends at that point, so I was way ahead of you.”

You wrinkle your forehead. “Okay, you were eight. You had three years on us and he broke up with me because you scared him away.”

“It’s my job to take care of you, and I think you could’ve done better. Speaking of-” Jamie gets up off the couch. “You want a snack?”

“Ooh, yes please.” You follow Jamie to the kitchen and hop up on the counter. He rummages through his cupboard and pulls out two bags of crisps and a chocolate bar.

“Told Roy these were for you so he wouldn’t throw them away,” he tells you. “Fucking mental, that one. Went through me whole house and got rid of so much shit.”

Jamie hands you the prawn cocktail chips, keeping cheddar for himself. “Don’t tell Coach.”

You zip your lips as he sits on the counter next to you.

“Oi.” He knocks his shoulder against yours. “Forget about that fucking nutter, yeah? You can do better.”

You shrug and say, “Don’t really think so at this point. Maybe I’ll just move back to Manchester.”

Jamie whips his head around to look at you. “Fuck. No. This house is too fucking big and too fucking quiet. Plus, I save so much money on house sitters.”

“Like you need to save money,” you snort.

“I’m serious,” Jamie insists. “The fuck would I do all alone here?”

You give him a strange look. “Um, I don’t know, bring a girl ‘round? Go out at night instead of watching telly with me? Not listen to me complain about shit dates?”

“Or,” he suggests, “I could not do any of that and we could go on un-shit dates together.”

You laugh. “Un-shit? That’s the best you could come up with? Wait- what?”

Jamie’s words finally register.

It’s silent except for the crinkle of the chocolate wrapper. Jamie hands you half and you snap it into smaller pieces.

“Yeah, I mean, might as well shoot my shot now, right? Not to be fucking weird, but I’ve had a crush on you for ages. Since we were kids. Like I said, didn’t want to make it weird ‘cause, like, we live together. Didn’t want things to be awkward. Or for you to fucking move back home. I mean c’mon love, with your mum? Wouldn’t do that to you.”

You smile. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Jamie parrots.

“Yeah, okay. I guess- I think I always figured we’d end up here. I liked you since I was six and you kicked a football through the window, then picked all those flowers to apologize. I kept every article that was ever written about you. I dunno, I thought either we’d figure it out in our thirties or maybe just be weirdly platonic for the rest of our lives.”

Jamie cocks his head. “That’s weirdly specific.”

You shrug. “Am I wrong?”

You’re not.

Jamie says, “So…” as he swings his legs.

You turn to look at him. “Yes?”

“Can we like, kiss? Because I’ve been thinking about it for fucking years.”

“My breath smells like crisps,” you warn.

“Don’t care,” Jamie replies as he hops down from the counter. He pulls your legs to hook around his waist as he tilts your chin downward.

“Is it too early to say I love you?” he murmurs.

You wrap your arms around his neck and smile. “I think it’s the perfect time.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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soaphawk · 4 months

Text

bright blue, honey brown

w/c: 5.5k warnings: canon-typical violence, blood and injuries, hospitals written for ghoap soulmay 2024 <3 | posted to ao3

It’d been said that when you and your soulmate first touch, the colour of their eyes will bloom across your skin. Simon had seen it before, he knew it was real, but that didn’t change the fact that experiencing it for himself was infinitely more terrifying than he could’ve ever imagined.

“Soap, keep up!” Ghost barked, long legs propelling him forward. Occasional grunts would meet their stumbling footfalls as they fled through the treeline, relying on compasses to find their way back to relative safety. Thankfully, the sounds of barking and machine gun fire behind them had ceased, leaving the woods silent save for their laboured breaths and the whispers of the windy evening air.

”Right behind ye, Lt,” Soap wheezed, his stride unsteady and slowing behind him.

“Y’allright?” Quickly surveying the area for hidden threats, Ghost slowed his sprint, giving his sergeant a moment to catch up.

“Solid,” Soap replied, voice still strained in a way that had Ghost narrowing his eyes as he limped closer. One hand clutched his side, chest heaving with shaky breaths. Breaths that rattled in his chest, that set the hairs on the back of Ghost’s neck on edge with how… exhausted Soap sounded. “How much… further?”

”Half a klick. Come on, we’re both proper rank.” Ghost frowned under his mask as he watched Soap stumble forward for a few steps before tripping. He reached out, grabbing at his sergeant’s arm to steady him before he could fall. “Almost ‘ere, Johnny. Come on, put your arm around me.”

”Didnae take ye fer th’ touchy-feely type, sir.” Soap offered a cheeky smile as Ghost pulled his uninjured arm over his broad shoulders.

Ghost suppressed an eye-roll while he slid an arm around the other man’s waist. “Yeah, well, you’re not gonna quit your wingin’ unless I fuckin’ carry you, MacTavish.” Not that I’d mind it one bit, holding you close like that. I’d make sure nothing else could ever hurt you.

Together—with Ghost supporting most of Soap’s weight—they trudged onwards. No words passed between them, save for his sergeant’s pained grunts every so often. Out of the corner of his eye, Ghost watched him grit his teeth, face unusually pale. Soap’s silence worried him; the man barely stopped talking, even in the middle of an op. Nope, don’t like this, he thought, clenching his jaw. Usually can’t get him to shut the fuck up. Both lost in their own thoughts, Ghost’s kept tearing back and forth between the mission at hand and wanting those distressed noises to stop, because something hurt his Johnny.

”Almost there,” Ghost murmured, as much for his benefit as for Soap’s. The rattling breaths had weakened slightly, only reminding Ghost that he couldn’t slow, couldn’t falter, Johnny needed him. Thankfully, the safe house drew closer, hurrying their steps towards it as much as either man dared. Ghost left Soap stationed just outside of the front door, gun in hand while he worked to crack it open before sweeping the rooms one by one.

Once he felt satisfied that the area was safe, Ghost finally helped Soap inside, settling him on a rarely used, dusty sofa, wishing for something more comfortable as Soap winced. He himself stayed standing a few paces away as a gloved hand reached for his comms.

“Watcher, this is Bravo 0-7, how copy?”

“Good to hear your voice, Ghost.” Laswell’s voice crackled through his earpiece. “What’s your status?”

”Made it to the safe house. Just need an ETA on extraction. Soap’s hurt, gonna get him patched up in the meantime.”

”Roger that. Stand by for ETA. I’ll get a bird out to you ASAP.”

”Gh’st…?”

His heart fell as he turned, seeing Soap—no, Johnny—even more inexplicably pale. Slowly, too slowly, he followed the line of Soap’s newly exposed chest, all the way down to the red blossoming beneath his shirt. Forcing his eyes back up, Ghost’s gaze locked on his sergeant, noting with almost clinical detachment how fearful his bright blue orbs looked in this moment. No, Johnny… you’re not supposed to be afraid. You’re not supposed to be hurt!

Ghost wracked his brain, every detail of the mission flashing through in overdrive until—

“Think ‘m bleedin’…”

That snapped Ghost back into action. Panic flooded his veins as the stain grew larger, crashing to his knees in front of Johnny in an instant. No longer feeling like everything existed in slow-motion, his entire thought process honed in on his friend, his teammate, his…

No, no. Focus on the task at hand.

“No fuckin’ shit,” Ghost heard himself say before he fumbled single handedly with his comms. ”Watcher, we’re gonna need that evac sooner rather than later,” he rasped into his mic, pulling Johnny’s shirt up and exposing the bloody hole torn in his side.

The man in question went quiet, save for a pained whimper. “Soap, I need you to keep talking!”

Soap grunted softly as Ghost’s fingers probed the wound, already reaching for his emergency kit as crimson blood flowed like an angry tide across his fingers. Frustrated, he tore his skeleton gloves off, exposing his pale digits to the thick, warm fluid.

“‘S nothin, sir. Dinnae need t’ fuss…” Soap groaned, eyes focusing and unfocusing.

A low, pained whine fell from his lips as Ghost pressed hard against the gunshot wound, using his free hand to pack as much gauze as he could into the mess—anything to stop the bleeding—terror thrumming through his mind at the fact that, with the amount of blood pooling under his fingers, he may very well lose the man he’d inexplicably fallen in lov—

”Bloody hell, Soap!”

Even with the wound plugged, the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Everywhere he looked, Ghost saw red—blood red—and watched as discoloured marks bloomed over where their bare skin touched. Fear truly gripped him as Johnny gasped again, a pained noise but also—

—shocked as he grabbed onto Ghost’s bare wrist, holding on so hard he nearly crushed the bones.

“Huh, that’s never… happen’d b’fore…” Ghost refocused his gaze, blinking down at where they linked in shock. Down to where the Scot’s hand gripped, as blue—bright blue, the exact colour of Soap’s eyes—spread across Ghost’s skin like ink. A shaky breath in and Ghost pressed his fingers against one of the few unmarred spots on Soap’s chest, watching with horrified fascination as honey brown bloomed across the pallor.

The exact same way that, as a kid, as a teenager, as an adult, Ghost had been told people found their soulmates. The exact colour of their eyes blooming across the skin wherever they happen to meet.

My soulmate…?

Johnny… Johnny’s my… my soulmate?

But… this can’t be the first time we’ve ever touched, right? It can’t be, this has gotta be a dream, there’s no way Johnny’s bleeding out in my arms and I’m just now realizing he’s my bloody fucking soulmate—!

“Looks like yer eyes, Si…” Soap slurred out, lidded gaze trained on where Ghost still pressed against his ravaged skin. “S’nice. Like it… on…”

”Johnny—“ Whatever Ghost wanted to say next died in his throat as Johnny’s eyes rolled back, his body sagging against the cushions. “Soap? Johnny! Shit!” Scrambling for his comms once again, his hands shook as they depressed the button. “Watcher, we need medevac now! Soap’s down!”

— — — — — — —

While he swirled patterns over Johnny’s arm with his bare fingers, Simon did his best to not think about the marks left behind on his mother’s face.

Every time honey brown followed his carreses, images of father’s handprints leaving green splotches in their wake flashed through his mind. An almost perfect contrast to his mother’s stark white skin, covered in a collage of purple and yellow bruises.

It had always been a distinct fascination. Something that most people craved—some even going their entire lives searching for it—yet one of the most terrifying things Simon could imagine.

Riley’s didn’t do love, they didn’t deserve soulmates. Loving another in that way only brought pain and heartache. Especially in this line of work, especially because his bloody fucking soulmate just so happened to be Johnny Fucking MacTavish, the biggest and most wonderful pain in his arse he’d ever had.

Simon Riley-MacTavish. Nice ring to it.

Fuck, Johnny deserved better than him. If it weren’t for Simon, Johnny wouldn’t be lying broken in this bed, relying on a machine to breathe for him. If he had just been faster, kept his finger on the trigger and kept firing even as they ran for their fucking lives—

Simon’s parents had been soulmates. Their relationship ended in tears and bloodshed, bruises in the shape of hands that were supposed to love and nurture and not break and destroy. In blood on the floor and broken bones, shattered as easily as glass. As easily as a heart.

A lone tear beaded in the corners of Simon’s eyes. He had those same hands.

How many things—beautiful things—had he destroyed with these hands?

He couldn’t stand to look at them, knowing how much pain and fear and hurt and anguish they caused. Slowly, carefully, he pulled the gloves back on, waiting for his body to stop shaking. He didn’t want to look at the bare skin anymore, the scars and the bruises and the crooked finger that broke and never healed correctly under his father’s boot.

Tommy and Beth were soulmates, too. And while Tommy never laid a hand against her or their son in anger, he knew those demons haunted his brother like they stalked Simon himself. One of the few things they could bond over as adults, something they maybe could have recovered from together until…

Every good thing in Simon’s life disappeared. How many more things could he lose before he lost the rest of himself? Before Simon Riley finally gave himself over for the Earth to swallow whole, until there was no point where Ghost ended and Simon began anew?

Simon rested his head on Johnny’s chest with a soft sigh. Soulmates were for good people, like the man laying stone still in this bed. Not for people who destroyed every good thing in their lives.

It wouldn’t stop him from loving the man before him, though. It hadn’t, in any case. Simon had loved Johnny from the moment the annoying, pain-in-the-arse Scot managed to worm his way into Simon’s life.

Fucking hell.

Simon watched the slow rise and fall of Johnny’s breathing for a few long minutes. This would be as close as he ever got to the man he’d inexplicably fallen for ever again. He’d already failed to keep Johnny at arm’s length, instead working to pull the man closer, to protect him under his mask. A silent shadow, daring anyone to come close to the man he so desperately wanted to be his. The man he loved more than anything he’d ever loved before.

Simon had promised himself he’d just… love from afar, that’s all. It’d be enough.

He could stay out of Johnny’s life, but still keep him safe.

And yet here Johnny lay, straddling the barrier between life and death, all because of him. Simon had been foolish to believe he could be the knight in shining armor, whether as Ghost or not. But he couldn’t deny being helplessly caught in Johnny’s orbit, like a moth to a flame every damn time.

He hadn’t been fast enough. Maybe if he could have stopped the bleeding earlier or at least realized something was wrong—

“I’m so sorry, Johnny.” Simon whispered.

The silence didn’t respond.

Simon didn’t deserve a response, anyway.

I love you, he longed to say.

He couldn’t.

It wasn’t safe to be loved by a man like Ghost.

— — — — — — —

Honey brown flashed across Soap’s mind and his skin in his dreams. Every time he felt like he tumbled further into the abyss, warm eyes and a gentle touch pulled him back. A deep, rough voice with words he couldn’t make out played over and over, but the emotions were clear: fear, urgency, care, love…

“…hear me? Soap?”

Head swimming, Soap only groaned and tried to bat the presence away. His hand seared when he lifted it, eyes blinded by the bright white light as he hissed in pain and screwed them shut tight.

”Sorry, son,” the voice gained some clarity at the same time the light shining through his eyelids dimmed, making way for a familiar beard and kind blue eyes when he dared crack his open again. Disappointment speared his gut for a second. For a moment, he had been convinced that Simon was sitting silent vigil beside him. ”Still with me, lad?”

”Yessir,” Soap slurred, tongue heavy and dry in his mouth. Without needing to ask, Price tipped a straw in his direction, allowing him to take long, greedy sips of ice cold water. He gasped as soon as it pulled away. “Thanks.”

”Gave us quite a scare,” Price fake-scolded, voice and expression betraying the fear he clearly tried to push away with a joke. ��I told you boys to not break yourselves.”

”Aww, wasnae intentional!” Soap pouted at his captain, pulling a quokka-like smile from the older man.

“Sure it wasn’t. Danger magnet,” an affectionate hair ruffle followed the captain’s words before his voice dropped to a more serious tone. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I…” Soap trailed off, scouring his thoughts. All he could find were disjointed memories and fragments of the op after everything had gone to shit… “Not much. I—fuck, where’s Si? Is he okay?!”

The heart monitor next to the men beeped louder as Soap fought to sit upright, only stilling when Price physically held him down, pushing his shoulders as deep into the bed as he dared. “He’s fine! He’s fine, John. Battered, but he’s fine. I promise.”

Soap breathed a sigh of relief at that. Price wouldn’t lie to him, not at the same time he called him by his actual name. Ghost’s—no, Simon’s?—face flashed through his mind, so ridiculously expressive even behind the mask, but only to those who really took the time to understand.

And Soap did, because he loved the daft bastard. Simon, without a second thought, saved his life yet again… someday maybe he’d get to repay the favour. At the very least, though, he could tell his lieutenant—the man he loved more than anything—thank you with a round of drinks once he was free. “Where’s he at?”

“Sent him to his room to rest. Same thing you need to be doing, ay?” Price replied gruffly. Soap laughed as he leaned over to ruffle his hair again, leaning into the contact with a barely restrained sigh of pleasure. As much as he wanted to see Simon, to beg Price to drag the man to the medical wing… Soap couldn’t deny how tired he felt, eyelids drooping steadily as his captain’s hand radiated warmth into his skin.

“Just sleep, son. I’ll tell Simon you’re up. Kyle, too. We’ll be back soon enough.”

Soap nodded, mumbling something soft and unintelligible under his breath. He drifted to sleep with a smile, the memory of his lieutenant’s beautiful brown eyes front and centre in his dreams. Simon would be here when he woke up, and he’d reach out and hug the big bastard and pull him close, finally brush their lips against one anothers…

— — — — — — —

Soap—once he finally escaped the clutches of the medical wing—seethed his entire way back to the 141’s barracks.

Soldiers all but leapt out of the way as he barrelled down the hallways, flinging the doors open and stalking outside. Sunlight kissed his skin, rare warmth radiating across his body after weeks of sterile white lights, but he couldn’t give a single shit.

After weeks of seeing nothing but scrubs, blue masks, physical therapy… his best friend, his lieutenant, the man he bloody fucking loved, hadn’t come to see him once.

More than just angry, Soap’s heart ached like someone had taken a vise to it and squeezed. Price and Gaz had stopped by more times than he could count, preventing him from going entirely insane in his room, but never once did he see the man in the mask.

Every time he asked after Simon, their smiles faded, heads shook as they told him we tried and he’s not talking to anyone and he hasn’t been back to his room in days.

Furious, Soap’s feet brought him all the way to the lieutenant’s office… but he couldn’t bring himself to knock, to shoulder his way in, to demand the man’s time. His radio silence made it obvious; Ghost didn’t want to see Soap.

Except… Soap saw Ghost. Saw flashes of Simon on base every single day. In the mess, in the showers, training recruits, sparring…

And every day that passed had the pain in his chest taking root, expanding through his veins, twisting his smile into something ugly. Something venomous to hide the hurt festering in his heart. Something far, far from the roses he’d assumed would bloom once he finally got off his dumb arse, stopped waiting around for Simon to be less oblivious, and told the man he loved him.

Oh, the roses grew all right. Except no flowers could be seen, instead the thorns grew bigger and bigger until they choked his life from the inside out.

Johnny missed Simon.

He wanted Simon.

Needed him, really. Just needed to know it was all okay.

Except Soap also wanted to clock the man.

Seriously, not a single visit? Not a single word from the man every time Soap begged Price and Gaz for information? What, did Ghost think him weak and pathetic, was that it? Had Soap done something wrong, something so heinous that ‘the Ghost’ couldn’t stand to be seen with him?

Those thoughts plagued Soap’s restless nights. He already struggled with turning his brain off enough to sleep, especially without the exhaustion of running ops and coming back bone tired. Instead, he tossed and turned, ruminating after the sting of his nightmares faded enough that he could focus on anything aside from the sting of rejection.

Why didn’t Simon want him anymore? Was he that angry about the op? Disappointed in Soap for fucking it up? Did he discover how Soap truly felt about him and became too disgusted to even be seen near the other man?

At first, Soap thought he’d just imagined the whole thing. That the bright blue across Simon’s wrist had just been a trick of a dying man’s thoughts. Some fucked up mainfestation of his dreams and fantasies to soothe him to the other side. Or maybe that the honey brown across Soap’s belly had just been dried blood captured at a different angle.

The thought plagued him, so much so that sleep became nothing more than a fleeting thought, a passing entity in the night just out of reach. Just like Simon.

After Soap’s fourth night in a row storming through the 141 barracks towards their small gym, bloodying his barely healed knuckles over and over on the punching bag, Price caught up to him. He didn’t resist as the captain peeled him off the floor, leading him back to the office with the promise of some (decaf) coffee and conversation.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Price finally asked, voice thick with sleep.

“I…” Soap audibly gulped. How could he even say what he needed to? That he was a lovesick puppy whose owner kicked him to the curb? “Ma heid’s mince. Did I do summat wrong? ‘S that why Si won’t look at me?”

Price sighed softly, offering a kind smile. “You did nothing wrong. Simon’s… struggling.” Soap rolled his eyes hard in response.

“Am too! Fuck, am the one who’s bin in t’ hospital!” He managed to grind out. “I dinnae understand… jus’ wanna know how I can fix… whatever ah did. Wanna ken why he… won’t talk t’ me anymore. Hurts.”

“I know. But beating yourself bloody isn’t going to fix it,” Price replied, taking a drag from his cigar. “I’ll talk to him when I see him again, ay? See if I can figure it out?”

“Sir…”

“Let me do this for you, son.”

“I… I think he might be my… my soulmate, sir.”

Price didn’t seem surprised, only humming softly in response. “What makes you say that?”

“I cannae remember much, but in t’ safe house… he was jus’ patchin’ me up. Coulda sworn I saw blue on ‘is hands. Like mah eyes. More ah think on it, though… Dunno. Maybe it was jus’ a dream. A hope.”

Silence spanned the room for a few minutes. “Get some rest, Johnny,” was all Price replied, though the knowing look in his eye reassured Soap slightly. “We’ll sort this out.”

With nothing to do the next day, Soap sat in his room. At first, he’d tried sketching, but photos of Simon’s handsome face stared back up at him. He slammed the book closed in disgust.

Movies were out, no way he’d be sitting still long enough to focus.

Training was still off the schedule for the most part, Price adamant that he rest and not strain himself any further, lest the stitches holding his guts together popped.

Soap glared at the wall as the same anger from the past weeks welled inside of him, fidgeting enough that it didn’t matter what he did, he just needed out.

At first, he walked aimlessly, picking a direction and letting the cool air soothe his mind. It didn’t matter where he ended up, so long as he found a spot where he could sit and scream and fall apart with no one there to witness it. That way, when he went back, he could smile again and pretend like everything was fine.

That’s how Soap found himself on a scarce path leading towards the edge of the forest. A spot Simon himself had taken him to, the same place where he knew the man would sit to have some quiet. And seeing the lone figure on the ridge, clad in all black with his blonde hair exposed—

—Soap saw red.

”Oi, ye bloody bawbag!” Soap screamed, watching the figure jump with a sadistic kind of glee. He already had the upper hand if he’d startled the man.

“What, ye think ye’re so bloody fuckin’ special, ‘s that it? Made it oot in one piece, no thanks to yer eejit of a sergeant?! Are ye so bloody ashamed of me that ye couldnae once come t’ visit? Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell, sir, am I that much of a burden to ye?!”

Drawing closer and closer, Soap kept hurling his anger and hurt at the man, reaching out to grab at the lieutenant as soon as he could, intent on bowling the man over and over into the dirt until the aggression worked its way out of his system. He ground his teeth as he watched Ghost’s shoulders shake, the sound coming from the bastard almost like a laugh.

“What, not gonnae turn an’ face me? ‘S that it? ‘S this fuckin’ funny t’ ye?! Seein’ me loose my bloody fuckin’ mind?!”

Close enough to the man, Soap all but slapped down onto Ghost’s shoulder, the feeling of skin on skin reverberating up his arm as he gripped as tight as he could, trying to force the larger man to turn and meet his gaze.

Ghost—no, Simon?—curled in on himself, flinching away with a harder shudder.

He wasn’t laughing at Soap. He was sobbing.

Simon was… crying? Startled, Soap dropped his grip in an instant, reeling back.

”Si?” Soap voiced hesitantly. “I—“

”Johnny…”

All of his anger melted away at the fear and despair in the man’s voice. Days, no weeks, of built-up frustration drained from his bones, leaving weary exhaustion in its wake. Johnny crossed to crouch in front of Simon, angling so he could see his face. “Simon, what—can ah hug ye?”

Simon pulled away the moment Johnny reached forward, as soon as his fingers brushed the man’s chest. “You’re still healing, I don’t—“

“No, ye don’t get t’ do that!” Johnny barked, momentary softness forgotten as he grabbed for the taller man, ignoring his shaky, fearful breaths. “Why’d ye fuckin’ leave me?!”

God, how he hated that his voice broke on the last word.

Finally, Johnny grabbed Simon’s hand, his pale skin nearly glowing in the waning light without his usual skeleton gloves on. Part of him wanted to marvel at how rough Simon’s fingers were, but didn’t get the chance as time slowed, a belated gasp falling from his mouth as the skin beneath his turned bright blue—

—and where they touched, Johnny’s own turned honey brown.

The world went silent and still. Both men locked eyes, staring at each other, souls laid bare. So much swirled through Simon’s expression: fear, desperation, hope, terror, love…

”Si?” Johnny breathed. “It… it wasnae a dream… ye’re… ye’re my—“

”I’m sorry…” Simon whimpered out, cutting Johnny off with a voice so small and scared it cracked his heart. “I… you don’t… I’m so sorry!”

Johnny didn’t move, didn’t react as Simon curled in on himself, pulling his limbs away to tuck them into safety. He sounded so scared, breaking Johnny’s heart. His soulmate… scared of him?

Had… had he actually done something wrong? Why was Simon afraid of him?

Shit, shit, shit shit shit—

”What are ye on about, love?” Johnny asked, wanting to reach his free hand across and gently grasp his soulmate’s chin. He couldn’t, though, not when tears cascaded down Simon’s cheeks, weak gasps punching from his chest as he screwed his eyes shut. Not when the taller man shuddered and shook and made such unhappy noises, like the thought of being touched was more harrowing than torture.

“You don’t… want me…” Simon managed to sob out, crying openly now. “I… you deserve… more…!”

”Oh, Si…” Johnny sighed. He teared up too, reaching out to rest a hand on his soulmate’s knee. He frowned as Simon flinched again. Definitely fear. My poor bonnie lad… I knew he’d had a tough go of it, but this… my poor bonnie lad. “Can I hug ye, please? Promise, jus’ wanna hug. Not gunna yell, am so sorry, Si…”

Simon didn’t respond for several moments, long enough that Johnny nearly asked again until he found himself with a lapful of anxious, upset, bloody fucking brilliant bonnie Manc. Didn’t matter that it hurt, that the strain on his body definitely popped a few stitches, Johnny took it in stride.

He wrapped his arms around Simon’s body, pulling the man as close as he could. Wishing he could draw his soulmate into his body, to settle him within his ribcage right next to his heart where Simon belonged, protected and loved and wanted forever. One hand drifted up, carding through the short blonde hair as Johnny guided his head to rest in the crook of his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” Simon sniffled, trembling in Johnny’s arms.

“Simon Riley, I’ve spent my entire life searching for ye, an’ ye were here all along? Beautiful bastard,” Johnny breathed out in awe. “Why are ye sorry? Ye’re so bloody perfect for me already. My bonnie lad—”

“No…” Simon sobbed, “No, you… you deserve… better…! Not… broken… worthless…”

“Shh, love. None of tha’, now.” Johnny stroked his hair again, relishing in the feeling of Simon slowly relaxing against his chest. Cradling the man close, brushing his nose across the ridge of his hairline. “Ye’re bloody perfect, baby. How could I want anyone else, knowing I got lucky ‘nough fer someone as bonnie as ye?”

Simon’s struggles faded and fell away under Johnny’s soft words, now clutching him so tight he knew for sure both would be sporting bruises. It didn’t matter, though. He had his soulmate in his arms, the man he’d pined after for so long now… chest swelling with love and care as Simon fell apart.

Despite it all, Simon trusted him enough to fall apart like this.

Johnny wasn’t sure how long they spent there, Simon crying until no more tears came out. His sharp, shuddering breaths eased off, and he didn’t pull away or flinch as Johnny cupped his face, wiped his bright red cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, that same fear and guarded hope simmering in Simon’s eyes. “There ye go… such a bonnie lad. Please… Simon… please tell me ye want this too…”

”Yes,” Simon whimpered, squeezing tighter as if Johnny would disappear into thin air should he let go. “I’m so scared…” He didn’t need to say anything else for Johnny to understand. He’d known the man long enough to know some of his dour history, able to fill in the blanks even without the added context.

In that moment, Johnny silently vowed to never, ever become another facet of Simon’s nightmares. He breathed that promise into the air, holding the man just a little bit tighter.

”I know, m’eudail. Ye dinnae need t’ tell me anythin’ noe, just… lemme hold ye? Waited so long for ye… hoped ye’d look in mah direction someday…”

”Don’t let go…” More tears brimmed in Simon’s vulnerable, bonnie eyes, threatening to fall until Johnny leaned in to press a soft kiss to his soulmate’s forehead. “Always wanted to… hold you like this. Couldn’t… didn’t deserve it. Don’t… don’t let go please Johnny, I can’t—”

”Never. We’ll figure it out together, aye?”

Simon nodded at Johnny’s words, pulling away slightly to look at him again with barely disguised wonder.

Johnny smiled in response, the edges of his lips tugging up into the most genuine, loving smile he’d ever worn. ”I’ve got ye. Not gunna let go, not noe tha’ I finally get t’ have ye.”

“Don’t… don’t wanna hurt you…” Simon rasped pitifully, glaring down at his hands when he pulled away to settle back on the ground. He remembered, back when they’d first become close, how Simon told him about his ‘father’s’ hands. Johnny had only been teasing when he said something along the lines of Ghost having talons instead of fingers to explain why he always wore the gloves… An idea sparked in Johnny’s head at that, making a soft noise to get the blonde’s attention.

“Can I see yer hands, Si?”

Simon cautiously extended them out, frowning as Johnny took them in his. “Ye always cover them, no matter what.” Turning them over, brushing the pads of their fingers together, tracing the veins and tendons and muscles… he pressed a soft kiss to every spot he could before holding them tight to his chest.

And how bloody fucking beautiful the colours blooming across their bodies were as Johnny laced their fingers together, gripping tight. “Bonnie hands, attached to mah bonnie lad. Ye’re a gowk if ye think am not gunna love these hands when ye’re always protectin’ me with ‘em. Strong an’ soft an’ so fuckin’ braw, mo ghraidh.”

Simon’s gaze shifted, softened. Slowly, he reached out, pulling Johnny close again and nuzzling against his head, still sniffling, but calmer. Johnny petted at the blonde locks once more, feeling Simon hum in appreciation against his skin. There’d be plenty more time later for discussion. For declarations of love, promises of support, lazy mornings spent in bed until they needed to face the world again. For now, he had Simon in his arms. Exactly what Johnny needed, and—by the feeling of the blonde sagging against him, nuzzling his shoulder now before shyly planting his own tender kiss to the skin to watch the colour blossom—exactly what Simon needed too.

“Come on, m’eudail. ‘S gettin’ cold oot, an am ready t’ coorie in a bigger bed.”

Simon chuckled softly, wiping away tears as they both stood. “It’s not that much bigger.”

“But ‘s gunna have ye in it.” Johnny wiggled his eyebrows, pulling a genuine laugh from Simon as they walked together, hand in hand. He took the lead in bringing them to the barracks, catching a quick glimpse of a smiling Price before the captain disappeared. Pushing Simon into his room, Johnny kicked the door shut and made sure it locked before crowding Simon against the bed, watching with wide eyes as the blonde melted under his hands.

After so long waiting, Johnny finally bridged the distance between his and Simon’s lips, brushing them tenderly at first before diving in for more. Intent on searing his name, his touch, his love into Simon’s skin one kiss at a time.

Their bodies melded together as they curled up, hands grasping everywhere they could reach. Tangled together, Johnny kissed away each and every one of Simon’s lingering tears, a smile on his lips as he whispered every single loving word he could think of to the man he loved beyond all reason.

Finally, when the night began to draw to a close, when they yawned more than spoke, they crowded together on a single pillow. Their twin breaths mixed in the space between them, eyes filled with wonder and joy.

For once, even if just for a moment, the stars had aligned to make everything perfect. Even knowing they had jobs to do and a world to face when the sun rose again, an unspoken promise filled the air between the two soulmates. They had finally found each other, the rest could come later.

Nothing mattered to Johnny in this moment except for the—no, his—Ghost.

His bonnie, braw, pure dead fucking brilliant Ghost.

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